I sit up with a jolt. I swear to god, if I have to watch the doors of Dauntless slam shut on me again I might just leave to be rid of it all.

I think the program is running out or ways to torture me with this particular fear. I've seen this one before, washing out of Dauntless; I try to turn and run back inside, pound on the doors, but the earth swallows me up. I tried something new this time, I took a breath and I walked away. I kept walking until the city began to fade around me and all I saw was light.

"Better?" I say, panting for breath I hadn't even really lost.

He frowns at the monitor then mutters, "Looks like you're really thinking your solutions through."

"Thanks," I say in between deep breaths.

"Stop it."

I look up, pressing my palms into my knees. "Come again?"

"You're over thinking this and that's bad." He drops his voice to just above a whisper, "If you don't figure out how to be proactive about fighting your fear then I think you're going to have bigger problems than the final test."

I glower. "Wasn't I just being proactive there? I didn't fight, I rode the wave"

He groans. "No. You're supposed to conquer your fear, not try to get around it."

"But I was conquering it. I walked away willingly."

"Don't you think Dauntless is worth fighting for? Don't you want to be here?"

"Of course I do!" I snap not because I know it in my heart but because I know that's what I'm supposed to say.

"Then you can't just be okay with failure. Fight it."

"And how the hell am I supposed to fight a decision being made without any of my own input that just happens to me?"

"Figure it out," he says unsympathetically. "You seem to be pretty good at that."

"Wow," I drawl as I get to my feet. "That almost sounded like a compliment. Must be a sign of the apocalypse."

He rolls his eyes. "Very funny. Get out."

My feet still feel sore from walking and I swear I can feel the tears running down my cheeks. I catch myself running my fingers over my face to wipe away nonexistent tears too many times on my way to the café. No matter how tired I am, I promised my friends we'd all meet up after training for lunch.

Marlene is sitting on one of the overstuffed couches crunching on a biscotti. She waves when she sees me and hums in greeting, a few crumbs falling from her mouth.

"Hi, Marlene." I start to walk to the counter.

"Let me guess," says the barista who seems to be here every time I am, "coffee with milk, chocolate and hazelnut syrup?"

I nod and while thy start to prepare my coffee I sit down next to Marlene.

"What did the wheel of nightmares spin for you today?" she asks, putting up her feet on the coffeetable.

"Failure," I reply.

"Really? Didn't you have that one last week?"

I shrug. "Guess so. What about you?"

She shudders. "Insects, all over my face and body. Eugh, I hate it."

"Yeah." I take my coffee from the barista with a 'thank you'. "Me too."

Just as we start to lapse into silence again, Uriah walks in followed closely by Al. The two of them are talking about a movie that came out last year I didn't bother seeing because it looked bad.

"But it's so bad that it wraps back around to being good," Uriah insists. "It's so funny, just not in any of the ways it's trying to be funny."

Al shakes his head. "No. Objectively it just sucked. There's no such thing as a good bad movie. That's not how things work. Words mean things, Uriah"

They dissolve into debate on the specifics of one scene that Uriah thought was hilarious but Al found just painful to watch. From what I remember of seeing those previews, I think it was actually supposed to be a drama not a comedy.

We trickle in one or two at a time and eat until we're stuffed, talking about everything that isn't training. I forget about the crumbling buildings of the factionless sector and the sound of the door slamming in my face.

It feels good to just be normal, as normal as we can be anyways. It makes me look forward to when everything is said and done, when we come back to this café as adults and laugh for years to come.

I eventually break away from them to relax in the art room, which Marlene is thrilled that I've taken such a shine too. Pandora is laying on her stomach painting on a sheet of parchment held down at the edges. At the sound of my footsteps she looks up and grins.

"Mimi!" the delight in her voice is like a warm drink on a cold day, it makes my chest feel full and a smile come to my face. She waves me over to sit next to her. Her painting is of the sailboat on the ocean, something no one alive has ever seen and something we can only guess at. If it even still exists at all, it might as well be a fable.

"You like it?"

"Yeah, of course. It looks…it looks amazing."

"You should make something. You should paint with me."

"No." I shake my head. "No, I really can't – I'm not very good at–"

"Well how do you become good at something?" She's quoting back an old Erudite adage, anyone can do anything if they try hard enough. I've heard it since I was a kid, and it feels strangely comforting to hear it now.

"You try."

"That's right." She sits up and crosses her legs, scooting her set of paints in between us and pushing aside her parchment, letting it roll up again. "We can just paint right here on the floor. Whatever you want."

"Um…" I look to her for a suggestion.

"Flowers, everyone likes flowers."

I think of that giant fire colored flower in the other room, Azalea Morgan's epitaph. I know the symbol of Dauntless is a flame, but a flaming flower seems cruel considering how she died.

Pandora doesn't try and talk to me about how initiation is going, we barely speak at all until she looks over at my painting to compliment me.

"Do you remember when we were kids and we'd all make arts and crafts together at the kitchen table? Your mom would get out that big box of markers and pencils and then they'd put all our stuff up on the fridge."

I nod, also remembering how at some point Mark and Pandora figured out for themselves where she kept that box and then it was every afternoon after school. They would talk about their days over sketching, and a lot of the time I would join them with my scribbles. Mark would hold me in his lap and Pandora would analyze the deeper meaning of my drawings with a comical amount of detail. Mark always liked art, and Amity is a community full of artists. But somehow along the way he became more like Mom. I wonder if Pandora regrets that.

"I miss it," she says, breaking my train of thought. "Sometimes I miss being a child in Erudite, with my dad, with your parents. It feels like these days our family's all split up, I haven't seen Mark in years."

"But you were practically attached at the hip back then? What happened?" I was too young to remember what preceded that Choosing Ceremony where they both left us. I only remember the aftermath.

"Well…before we both left, we made a promise not to get in each other's way or hold one another back. I – I would have stayed for him and he would have done the same for me. But we needed to set an example and follow what was good and right for us instead of always thinking of what the family might want. Minerva wanted to leave, I could see it in her eyes even back then; but I don't think she would have if Mark and I had chosen differently. If she couldn't have both of us always around her then maybe it would inspire her to choose what really made her happy. And I think a lot about how much that worked, sometimes it makes me sad but mostly I'm happy for her." She sniffs. "And I'm happy for you too. You didn't let anything or anyone hold you back."

But I'm not sure if I made the right choice sometimes. Pandora is Dauntless because there's nothing else she'd rather be, but I think a lot whether or not I'd rather be Erudite or Amity or even Candor and sometimes that answer changes. Maybe it would be easier sticking to what I know – or what I knew anyways – or at least not chasing down the hardest challenge possible. Maybe I should have let someone get in my way, would that have been so bad?

"Hey." She taps my chin with the wooden end of her paintbrush. "Don't overthink it. I know that's like asking you not to breathe, but just try and take things in. Enjoy this while it lasts." Minerva told me something similar on Visiting Day, to savor the last days and weeks before I was truly, truly an adult. There were big things on the horizon and she wanted me to not have to deal with them for now. She wanted me to be happy too.

When I crack a smile she seems satisfied. She shifts positions and drags a backpack toward her.

"Hate to cut the conversation short, but I've got a meeting with a client." She starts to collect her paint jars but then pulls out a small black rectangle and hands it to me. "Here, this is another paint set. Yours to keep but I'd really like to see you use it."

"Okay." I nod. "I will. Have a good meeting."

She pushes off the floor to get on her feet but bends down again to kiss the top of my head before making her exit. I open up the box of paints, the basic rainbow with a few extras and a palette for mixing. Instead of getting up to go do something else, I relax further and assume a position not unlike the one I found Pandora in when I first came up and start putting the finishing touches on my flowers.

The next time I'm disturbed, Christina is standing over me.

"Hey." I push myself into a sitting position and cross my legs. She sits down across for me and offers me a smile.

"I've been wondering where you disappear to," she says, looking around in wonder. "I guess I'd want to spend all my time here too if I'd known about this place."

"Marlene showed me," I say. "Um, the day Peter took my journal. It didn't really occur to me to tell you guys. Sorry."

She shrugs. "'S nothing. You never struck me as an artist." She looks over at my shoulder. "Nice painting though."

"Thanks. And, uh, I'm not; my, um, one of my sisters lives here now and she's an artist. I'm just borrowing her paints because she wanted me to make something."

"You have another sister?"

I shrug. "Sort of. We were raised together. It's a little complicated."

"You just know people all over the place, don't you?"

I shrug again. "None in Abnegation. To my knowledge at least. Maybe one of my sisters-in-law have friends there too that they've just conveniently never mentioned."

She nods, and suddenly seems to grow more nervous. I see it in the way that her hands twist together and her face grows tight. "Um, off topic but I've kind of got something I need to, um talk to you about."

"Should I be nervous?" I tease.

"No. Um, maybe. I don't know. I'm nervous."

I giggle. "I can see that."

She lets out a shuddering breath and mutters to herself "Oh my god. Um, okay, okay. I can do this."

I laugh again at listening to her psyche herself up, but it's more nervous than anything else. Christina doesn't get nervous. I can't imagine what she would need to talk to me about so badly.

"So, um, I kind of just wanted to tell you how much I value our friendship, and how much I care about you." She squeezes her hands together and I can see the faintest hint of a blush on her cheeks.

I nod. "I know, Chris. Your friendship means the world to me."

"Good." Her voice gets quieter. "I just…don't want anything to change."

"What do you m–" I'm interrupted by her bringing one hand up to cup my cheek. I can feel her fingers shaking as she stares into my eyes. My heart pounds and I expect her to lean in, but she doesn't. Instead she starts to pull away.

"I – I – I'm sorry. This is not, like, my wheelhouse. I can't do this. Can you just forget that we ever – that I ever–" She squeaks as I drape my arms over her shoulders.

"Do you want to kiss?" I ask.

Her expression bottoms out. For once our positions are reversed; me the blunt to the point one and her having clearly rehearsed this in her head a lot before coming up here.

"Yeah," she whispers.

"Okay." I lean in and press my lips to hers and she kisses me back, her hands coming up to my cheeks.

She pulls away first and says. "So, like, I've kind of had a big crush on you for weeks now. Sorry, this is all a bit much for me." I laugh at the way she nervously twists her fingers into her curls and her eyes flicker to meet mine and away again.

"Don't be sorry." I kiss her again.

"I just…I don't want anything to change," she whispers when we separate again. "I like the way we are – were – I don't know."

"Well then they don't have to change if you don't want them to," I reply. "We can still be friends. Will, and you, and I can still be the power trio," she laughs at that, "but we just know our feelings now. And we kiss sometimes."

"And you'll be my girlfriend?"

"Of course." We kiss again.

We stay like that a while, talking quietly, kissing every so often until the sound of feet coming up the metal staircase startles us into moving away from each other. With a red face I pretend to be in a conversation about a movie we both saw as Pandora appears.

"Oh, hi, Pandora," I greet her. "How did your meeting go?"

She shrugs sort of lazily. "He decided to go with another artist. My style just wasn't what he was looking for. Didn't matter because we couldn't agree on a fair price anyways." She smiles. "It happens. Did you get a chance to finish?"

I shake my head. "Um, Christina and I kind of got, uh, distracted." I laugh and blush. "Oh, um, Pandora, this is my…my, uh…um uh…" We look at each other, confused and giddy in equal measure.

Pandora chuckles. "That's alright, take your time. Christina, I'm Pandora, Mimette's semi-adopted older sister."

"It's nice to meet you."

Pandora sits down next to us, crossing her legs. "So, have you decided what you are yet?" She laughs at her own little joke.

My blush deepens and I can only imagine that I'm scarlet at this point. I twirl one of my loose locks of blue hair around my finger and avoid meeting her eyes. Christina doesn't offer up a response either, suddenly very interested in the wall to her left.

"Adorable," she snickers. "I remember being your guys' age and trying to figure this stuff out. Girlfriends, right?"

"Yeah," says Christina. "Um, but it's kind of new."

"Like twenty minutes new," I add with a nervous laugh as Pandora, in true older sister fashion, coos and calls us adorable. "Please stop."

"That is too cute."

"Whatever." I fold my arms.

She laughs again and begins to pick up her paints. "Well, I can take a hint. I'll leave you two to it."

"Please just go." I bury my face in Christina's shoulder, too embarrassed to even look at her anymore. Her laughter echoes all the way down the stairwell and I don't look up until her footsteps are gone.

"You know, it's funny," Christina says. "Like, as bad as that was I know I'd do the exact same thing to my little sister.

"Ah, so all older siblings are instinctually terrible. Duly noted."

She laughs. "It's only because you make yourself such a fun target to tease." A wry grin splits her lips as she pokes my cheek. "You get all flustered and huffy, it's hilarious."

I roll my eyes. "Oh whatever." I lean back against the wall and Christina's eyes follow me, just sort of lingering until I say, "What? Please don't tell me I have something in my teeth."

She shakes her head. "No. No, nothing like that. I just think that you're, like, you know…" she looks down, "really cute. Like all the time, it's amazing."

I put my hand to her cheek and tug her closer. "You're cuter."

She giggles. "No you."

It feels like the most unbelievably cliché thing that's ever happened to me. But that doesn't make it any less amazing. Christina tucks her head in the crook of my neck and we talk idly like, as she requested, nothing's changed. But as we lay there until dinner I could feel the way things had changed between us. Not much, and not in a way that I wasn't thrilled by. But things were different now, and I held that in my mind alongside the thought that change wasn't so bad.