CHAPTER EIGHT

"THE FIRST THING you will learn today is how to shoot a gun." I say. "The second thing is how to win a fight." I pace the line of tense initiates, passing a gun to each person without looking at them. "Thankfully," I continue, "if you are here, you already know how to get on and off a moving train, so I don't need to teach you that."

Initiates here shouldn't expect anything less. This is Dauntless; they've made their choice. I've heard that Dauntless didn't always function this way, but it's evolved into a much more … brutal practice. It's normal to me now; this is what Dauntless is. I hold each of the initiates' gazes for a half second before continuing my talk.

"Initiation is divided into three stages. We will measure your progress and rank you according to your performance in each stage. The stages are not weighed equally in determining your final rank, so it is possible, though difficult, to drastically improve your rank over time."

I watch the initiates, some nervous to have a gun in their hand, some curious. A Candor girl with darker skin and brown eyes examines it as if she's inspecting its quality. I want to snap at her; I'm on edge. I must not have gotten enough sleep last night, I feel tired. I continue to monologue.

"We believe that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear," I recite. "Therefore each stage of initiation is intended to prepare you in a different way." Despite not having gotten enough sleep, I feel sharp, which will help when I'm demonstrating skills, though I was never worried. "The first stage is primarily physical; the second, primarily emotional; the third, primarily mental." I stare around at the initiates. Then a Candor boy speaks up.

"But what…" He yawns, and I remember that his name is Peter. "What does firing a gun have to do with… bravery?" Some of my patience dwindles, and I feel my eyebrows draw inward. I flip my gun in my hand, just for show, press the barrel to the Candor's forehead, and load the gun. He freezes like a deer in headlights, the yawn practically sucked from his mouth. "Wake. Up." I snap. "You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it." I lower the gun and walk away, scowling a bit. "And to answer your question…" I add, "You are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if you're prepared to defend yourself." I reach the end of the row and stop walking.

I turn to look at the initiates, looking at each one in turn. I notice Tris, whose name I remember quite well (somehow?), clutching her gun with white knuckles and staring at me with wide eyes. I avert my eyes and look at the Candor girl, Christina. I continue. "This is also information you may need later in stage one. So, watch me." I breathe in.

I face the wall with the targets on it, basic plywood with red circles. I place my feet where I know I can shoot well from and hold the gun carefully in both hands, firmly. My eyes focus in on the inner circle, narrowed, and I squeeze the trigger with my index finger, exhaling quickly. A long bang rings out from the gunshot, and out of the corner of my eye, I see some of the initiates, including Tris, wince a bit from the noise. I don't have to look to know it went through the middle circle. For a second, I turn to calculate how the initiates respond. Peter looks disgruntled, whispering something to the heavily built Candor girl next to him. She laughs, snorting and gasping. I try not to roll my eyes. Tris looks intimidated but impressed, which, for some reason, causes a smile to tug at the corners of my mouth. I look away. Why does it matter? Christina stands with her eyebrows raised, looking both surprised and nervous. I wait for the initiates to start shooting. Tris is the first to turn toward her target, looking conflicted. I'm guessing she's thinking of Abnegation. Abnegation would not approve of gunfire. They'd find some way to make it sound 'selfish'. She holds the gun too far away from her face; I can see it's against every nerve and cell in her body to even hold it, let alone fire it. Hesitantly, she squeezes the trigger, and as the gun goes off, she cringes away from the noise. She stumbles, pressing a hand to the wall, and I wonder if she will try to adapt. Try to understand what she did wrong. I turn away, watching the other initiates try to shoot.

Peter, I notice, is doing decently. Half of his shots have made it within six inches of the board, and I see one or two shots on the edge of the board. I nod to myself. At least he seems to have woken up. I glance back down the row to see a boy with a large frame, who I think is Candor too, holding the gun too lightly, and I know he will recoil when he fires. He isn't taking into account his size and body weight; even if he watched me, he would be slightly off because he has a different frame than I do. I turn to watch a messy haired Erudite boy talk to Tris. Her expression doesn't change, but she responds; I'm too far away to hear. She refocuses on the target, tensing her muscles. I walk forward a bit, curious. She looks ready. She looks… stronger.

I shake myself.

There are other initiates that I need to keep an eye on as well. Peter; Christina; the large Candor boy (Al, was it?). There's something about Tris that seems almost magnetic, and I don't know if it's because she's a Stiff, like I was, or something else. I grit my teeth, taking a breath, blocking out the noise around me for a few seconds. As I begin to pace around again, I hear a gunshot behind me. I turn to see that Tris has hit the middle of the target, and is the first one to do so. And as she lowers the gun, her eyes wide, I can tell that she's experiencing the same powerful feeling I felt when she was me. I smile for her, still wondering why I can't seem to take my eyes off of her, and turn away, composing myself once again.

After lunch, I feel a bit less on edge. I lead the initiates to the combat room and remember training here, not too many years ago. The initiates thankfully line up behind the faded black punching bags without me asking, and I stand in the middle, so that they can all hear and see me. "As I said this morning, next you will learn how to fight. The purpose of this is to prepare you to act; to prepare your body to respond to threats and challenges - which you will need, if you intend to survive life as a Dauntless."

This is all true, but I can tell some of the initiates, especially Peter and his friends, think I'm being dramatic. I sigh to myself, wishing I could call them out, but knowing I don't have the time. I continue.

"We will go over technique today, and tomorrow you will start to fight each other," I say. "So I recommend that you pay attention. Those who don't learn fast will get hurt."

I walk up to a punching bag. I get into my ready stance, hands protecting my face and ribcage, bouncing slightly on my toes. This is one part of Dauntless that makes me feel alive. "This is a jab." I tell the initiates, striking out quickly with my left arm. "It's not meant to be particularly powerful, unless you have a strong punch." My eyes find Al's. "The success of this punch depends more on speed." This time, my eyes find Tris, who I know can be fast. And that will have to be her strength. I demonstrate a few more punches, first against air and then against a punching bag. I lean back, sweating a bit. Once I'm finished, each initiate lines up in front of a punching bag and begins to practice. I wander among the initiates, observing, but not interfering. When I get to Tris, I stop. She's going to need some extra help, because of her small form and lack of strength and muscle. I watch her movements; my eyes go from her head, to her arms, to her core, to her legs. I can tell she knows I'm there; that she's nervous.

"You don't have much muscle," I remark, not trying to be rude, "which means you're better off using your knees and elbows. You can put more power behind them." Her eyes are dropped to the floor nervously. I don't remember deciding to, but my hand drops to her stomach. Her gaze darts up at me, confusion and nervousness battling in her eyes. Her frame is so small that the heel of my hand touches one side of her rib cage, but my fingertips still touch the other side. I guess I also do have long fingers. I can hear and feel her rapid breath. "Never forget to keep tension here." I tell her quietly. I hold her gaze for an instant, and then walk away.

I glance back to see her take a deep breath, briefly touch her stomach where I did, and then go back to her punches. I hope she takes my advice seriously, because she's going to need it. An hour later, I announce it's dinnertime and the initiates file out of the combat room.

CHAPTER NINE

I can feel dread as if it's lodged in my throat. My algorithm for deciding today's opponents in combat is random; too random; that I assigned Tris to fight Peter. I don't usually feel this way about an unfair fight, but for whatever reason, I feel a bit queasy and nervous for Tris. I don't want her to get hurt, but at the same time, I want to see how she handles it. The initiates enter. I watch Tris as she reads the board. She stops mid step as the Candor girl, Christina, says next to her, "Oh, no." Al is talking to her about faking being unconscious. She looks slightly sick, but quickly composes herself again and says, "Yeah, maybe." I silently will for her not to… I want to see her try. I lean back and watch Molly fight Edward. I already know who will win, it's not a fair fight, but in Dauntless, things are not fair.

Before I know it, Tris is up.

She walks into the ring. She looks strong and confident in every way. I am confused. Is she no longer nervous? Then I see her shaking hands, which she presses into her jeans to stop them from shaking as hard. She's trying to hide her fear, but aren't we all, in Dauntless? Tris and Peter get into their ready stances.

"Come on, Stiff," I hear Peter say, "Just one little tear. Maybe some begging." The lump in my throat grows larger. Tris grits her teeth angrily. Breath hisses quietly through my teeth. He's getting to her head.

I know Tris will not win. It is her first fight. She isn't strong. She isn't prepared. If only she'd had more time, but instead I have to watch her fall. I watch them tensely as they fight, Peter easily throwing in punches when she's not recovered from the last attack. I turn my face away. He's teasing her, it's cruel. Then Eric mercifully says, "Stop playing with her. I don't have all day."

Peter swings a hard punch at Tris's face, connecting with her jaw. She's off-balance. He comes at her again, knocking her to the ground. She's trying to scramble to her feet, but she's too disoriented. I push myself off of the wall and head towards the door. I don't know if she sees me, but I leave the sounds of the fight behind me.

That isn't something I want to watch.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

I stand ridiculously close to the tracks, waiting for the train to come, like I have almost ever since I joined the Dauntless. The initiates gather behind me, I can hear their footsteps and murmuring voices. I step backward so some of the others can get on first. Once a few people have boarded, I pull myself into the train with ease. As I stand close to the door, I realize I'm thinking about her again. Her eyes; her spirit. Al leans out to pull Tris into the train, and I'm grateful for that, though careful not to let it show on my face.

"Feeling okay there?" Peter says mockingly to tris. "Or are you a little… Stiff?" He bursts into laughter, and I turn away, annoyed. I can't help but notice what an ugly laugh Molly has, though I feel slightly guilty thinking that about an initiate. She's snorting and shaking; I actually turn to see if she's okay and get concerned for Drew, who looks like he's in pain.

No.

He's laughing.

?

"We are all awed by your incredible wit," says Will, and I sigh, knowing where this is going.

"Yeah, are you sure you don't' belong with the Erudite, Peter?" Christina jumps in. "I hear they don't object to sissies." I roll my eyes inwardly.

"Am I going to have to listen to your bickering all the way to the fence?" I ask. I almost think that Peter is going to say yes. Everyone gets quiet, so I turn back to the opening in the train, leaning forward so I'm mostly outside the car, and I can feel the wind on my face. This is the rush that I love from Dauntless. For a second, I think I can feel Tris's gaze prickling into the back of my shirt. I listen to a bit of the conversation that goes on inside the car, just for entertainment.

"Monsters!" Christina says behind me. I imagine Tris rolling her eyes. They're discussing what they think is outside the fence. For Dauntless, they might as well have been discussing the weather today. I learn back out of the car, letting the wind blow away the voices in the train car.

It isn't long before I hear the train brakes squeal, so I jump out of the car. "Follow me." I say. I walk towards a nearby gate. Time to enforce part of my job that I feel comes a little too naturally to me, intimidation. "If you don't rank in the top five at the end of initiation, you will probably end up here." I say. "Once you are a fence guard, there is some potential for advancement, but not much. You may be able to go on patrols beyond Amity's farms, but -"

"For what purpose?" Will interrupts, though I'm not too upset. I casually lift one of my shoulders. "I suppose you'll discover that if you find yourself among them. As I was saying. For the most part, those who guard the fence when they are young continue to guard the fence. If it comforts you, some of them insist that it isn't as bad as it seems."

I see Christina whisper something to Tris and wonder what she said. "What rank were you?" I hear Peter ask me.

I look at him levelly. I doubt I will win any respect from this, but I say evenly, "I was first." "And you chose to do this?" Peter's eyes are wide with innocence. "Why didn't you get a government job?" My stomach lurches. "I didn't want one." I say as flatly as possible. I give them a few minutes to talk and discuss whatever; most are talking about school and factions and jobs. Then I hear a small voice say, "Beatrice?" I turn to see what's happening. An Amity boy is staring at Tris. Beatrice? I guess that's her full name. I tune out their conversation because I don't want to eavesdrop. I respect Tris too much. She should not be talking to him, though. The woman at the gate walks up to me. She nods towards my initiates. "It's their first time, right?" she asks in a low, rough voice. "Yes," I respond. She nods. "It's harder to keep a natural track of time out here, even with the days and nights passing. I never really know when a full year has come 'round." Now I nod. I lift my eyes from her uniform, and they automatically attach to Tris, who's smiling and talk with the Amity boy. I notice Molly sneering. Tris ignores her. I shake my head a little bit. The woman examines me. "Who's she?" she eventually asks. My eyes flip back to hers. "One of my initiates," I say, trying to keep my voice casual. The woman chuckles a bit. "Well, you're looking at her like she's a little bit more than that." I drum my fingers against my hip, drawing my eyebrows in. "Is that so?" I ask. "Mhm." the woman nods. A moment of silence. Then: "What's your name?" I ask her. "General Lorels," she tells me, "but you can call me Carrie." I smile a little bit. "You're sharp," I admit, "you have my respect." She smiles. I glance at my watch. "I'll see you round, Carrie." I say. She waves and I step away from the fence, noting that Tris's conversation with the Amity boy is over. Casually, I walk towards Tris, Carrie's words still echoing in my head. "I am worried that you have a knack for making unwise decisions." I say when I'm about a foot away from her. She crosses her arms. "It was a two-minute conversation."

I sigh inwardly. "I don't think a smaller time frame makes it any less unwise." I furrow my brow as I notice how prevalent Tris's bruises are. Without thinking, I reach out to touch the corner of her bruised eye gently. She jerks away a little bit, but my hand doesn't lose its place on her temple. I tilt my head to the left and sigh a little. "You know," I remark, "if you could just learn to attack first, you might do better." I lift my eyes to hers. She stares at me for a split second. "Attack first?" she says with an incredulous undertone. "How will that help?" "You're fast. If you can get a few good hits in before they know what's going on, you could win." I shrug, dropping my hand from her face casually.

I glance back at her, and see steel and flint in her eyes. "I'm surprised you know that," she says quietly, and I lift my eyebrows. "Since you left halfway through my one and only fight." I drop my eyes from hers, suddenly unable to meet her gaze. "It wasn't something I wanted to watch." I say, and lift my eyes back up to hers. There's confusion and conflict in them. I clear my throat and turn a little. "Looks like the next train is here," I say, eager for a distraction. "Let's go, Tris."

CHAPTER TWELVE

I stand at the train station, waiting for Eric to appear with the initiates. I half don't want him to reappear, but then I remember that Tris will be with him. My stomach drops. Why should that matter to me? I try to squeeze her out of my mind, focus on what's ahead. I'll need a clear mind for the match. Five seconds later, Eric rounds a corner, followed by the initiates. Though I'm not trying to, I'm already looking for Tris, and there she is, yawning next to Christina. Though her face looks tired and there are dark circles under her eyes, her mind is awake. Her eyes are alight and her body is tense. I admire this, among many other attributes, about Tris. Her gaze meets mine for a split second, and I tear it away before she can notice I've been looking at her for too long.

"Everyone grab a gun!" shouts Eric. The initiates all rush to grab a gun, and once everyone has one slung across their shoulders, Eric says, "Time estimate?" to me. I check my watch, trying not to think about what's happening to me, what Tris is doing to me. "Any minute now," I say, hoping my voice doesn't sound tense. "How long is it going to take you to memorize the train schedule?"

Eric sneers at me. "Why should I, when I have you to remind me of it?" He shoves my shoulder.

The familiar anger I feel is a welcome distraction.

I hear the train approaching, and feel its light on my face. I can feel Tris's gaze on me as she watches the train approach from my left. I hoist myself up onto the train with ease. I turn to see Tris begin to run, Christina and Will and Al not far behind. Tris falls into stride next to the car and I hold out my arm. She extends her slender arm to grasp mine, and I feel a jolt of electricity go through me everywhere her skin touches mine. It's going to be difficult for me to ignore how she makes me feel tonight. I pull her inside the car, and she lets go quickly, as if embarrassed, sitting down near the other side of the car. I focus on blocking out my distractions. Once everyone is in, I begin to speak.

"We'll be dividing into two teams to play capture the flag. Each team will have an even mix of members, Dauntless-born initiates, and transfers. Oneteam will get off first and find a place to hide their flag. Then the second team will get off and do the same." The car sways, and I reach out, grabbing the side of the doorway for balance. I take a breath. "This is a Dauntless tradition, so I suggest you take it seriously."

"What do we get if we win?" I hear someone shout, not noting who it is.

"Sounds like the kind of question someone not from Dauntless would ask," I say, raising an eyebrow. "You get to win, of course."

"Four and I will be your team captains," says Eric, taking over. He glances over at me. "Let's divide up transfers, shall we?"

I narrow my eyes at Eric; nearly everything he says to me is a challenge in disguise. "You go first." I say. Eric just shrugs. "Edward." I lean against the door frame and nod. This is Capture the Flag, a game of strategy and speed and smarts, not just brute strength and talent. I take a moment to think, knowing also that my team will work better together with people who not just know, but actually like and maybe trust each other. I scan over the group, noticing Tris's eyes on me. "I want the Stiff."

I can hear laughter in the car. Color rushes into Tris's cheeks. She looks confused, like she doesn't know whether to thank me or the ask me what I'm doing. An urge to smile rushes up my throat, but I swallow it down. Now is not the time. "Got something to prove?" Eric asks me, smirking. "Or are you just picking the weak ones so that if you lose, you'll have someone to blame it on."

Eric is just trying to rile me up. I know what he's doing. So I stay nonchalant. "Something like that." I say.

I see Tris scowl at her hands. "Your turn," I tell Eric.

"Peter."

"Christina."

I see Tris look up curiously out of the corner of my eye.

"Molly."

Eric is going for brute force. Brute force will not be a powerful weapon in this game. I smile tugs at my mouth.

"Will," I say, biting my thumbnail absentmindedly.

"Al."

"Drew."

"Last one left is Myra. So she's with me," says Eric. "Dauntless-born initiates next."

We begin to choose, and I sigh a bit when I pick Marlene. She's … not subtle. I also grab Uriah, who I think will be a good pick, and Eric, once again, pick some of the more burly, strong initiates.

I bicker with Eric for a bit and end up letting our team off first.

I feel Marlene touch my shoulder and I flinch away from it a bit. "When your team won, where did you put the flag.?" she asks me in a honey-smooth voice. "Telling you wouldn't really be in the spirit of the exercise, Marlene." I say coolly, uncomfortable with her flirting, feeling like I'm betraying Tris without her even knowing. "Come on, Four," she persists, whiny. I brush her hand off of my arm, ignoring her flirtatious smile, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Tris grinning.

A thrill goes through me, and I have trouble holding my smile back.

"Navy Pier," Uriah says. "My brother was on the winning team." Zeke. "They kept the flag at the carousel."

"Let's go there, then." Will says.

No one responds, so we all walk east, towards the marsh. As we walk, I listen to everyone talking behind me. "We're close to Erudite headquarters, right?" asks Christina. "Yeah," I hear him respond. "It's south of here," and I hear an undertone of sadness in his voice. As we continue to walk, I think about our strategy. All aspects of the game are important; the offense, the defense, the strategy, the teamwork. We need to find the flag quick, but at the same time, we can't leave our flag unguarded. But I shouldn't say any of this out loud. My team needs to figure out how to work together, how to develop their own strategy.

I look up. We're close to the ferris wheel.

"Think about it!" Will says, "People used to ride that thing. For fun."

"They must have been Dauntless," Tris says, and I privately agree with her. Being that high up? For fun?

"Yeah, but a lame version of Dauntless!" Christina laughs. "A Dauntless ferris wheel wouldn't have cars. You would just hang on tight with your hands, and good luck to you!" A smile tugs at my mouth. That does sound like Dauntless today. Conversation continues as we walk down to the carousel. Once we reach it, I turn around and take the flag out of my pocket.

"In ten minutes, the other team will pick their location," I say, "I suggest you take this time to formulate a strategy." They will not. At least not successfully. "We may not be Erudite, but mental preparedness is one aspect of your Dauntless training. Arguably, it is the most important aspect."

Tris nods a little bit.

"Some people should stay here and guard, and some people should go out and scout the other team's location," Will says. He has the right idea.

"Yeah? You think?" Marlene says, taking the flag from Will. "Who put you in charge, Transfer?"

I sigh. Why is Marlene antagonizing that idea? "No one," Will retorts, "but someone's got to do it."

"Maybe we should develop a more defensive strategy. Wait for them to come to us, then take them out," suggests Christina. I sigh. None of their strategies are particularly bad, but the problem is that they can't agree. "That's the sissy way out," says Uriah, "I vote we go all out. Hide the flag well enough that they can't find it."

That's not a good idea. No defense?

Everyone starts talking at once. I sit down on the edge of the carousel and lean against a plastic horse's foot. I lift my eyes to the dark night sky, which I have always found peace from doing. There are no stars, but the moon peeks through the clouds. I rest my arm on the back of my neck, supporting my gun. For a second, I can feel someone's eyes prickling into me. I look back at the group. Will and Christina stand shoulder to shoulder, and I watch as Christina jabs Uriah's chest with a finger, raising her shoulders aggressively. Uriah pinches the bridge of his nose and argues back. Will sighs. Marlene raises her arms in an attempt to calm and quiet them. It doesn't work. Off to the side, Tris is just standing with her eyes closed. I shake my head a bit, looking back to the sky. If our team can't work as a unit, there's no way we can win. I slump a bit, letting myself relax. When I look back at the initiates, Tris is gone.

Curiosity spikes through me. I don't think she's hurt, but where did she go? I look around. Then, I see her standing at the base of the Ferris wheel, and my heart jumps nervously. She looks up and down the ladder on the side, sizing up the opportunity. I stand up and start towards her. She grabs a rung. She's going to do it. That must hurt, as she got pretty beaten up yesterday.

"Tris," I say, once I'm behind her. She doesn't jump; she is becoming Dauntless. She looks backwards at me. "Yes?" she says. "I came to find out what you think you're doing." "I'm seeking higher ground." she says, as if it's nothing. "I don't think I'm doing anything." I can't suppress my smile.

"All right. I'm coming." I say, partly because I want to make sure she's safe, partly because I just want to be with her. And I don't know why. I do know that she'll be fine, so I don't know why I still feel the need to follow her. Maybe it's just a want. She pauses. "I'll be fine," she says. "Undoubtedly," I reply, because she will. She starts to climb. Once she's a few feet off of the ground, I begin to pursue her, grabbing the rungs. Climbing. Climbing means height. Forgot about that. I take a deep breath.

"So tell me…" I say quietly as we climb. I hope she can't tell that this scares me. "What do you think the purpose of this exercise is? The game, I mean, not the climbing." I am an instructor, I should act like one. She stares down at the pavement for a moment. Then she glances back up towards the middle of the wheel. I feel the breeze press against me. "Learning about strategy," she eventually responds. "Teamwork, maybe." "Teamwork," I repeat, my laugh hitching in my throat. I'm nervous. I glance down, the pavement is already miles away. It should be about teamwork. "Maybe not," she says, "teamwork doesn't seem to be a Dauntless priority." I feel the wind strengthening.

"It's supposed to be a priority. It used to be." I tell her. She looks like she's getting tired; her hands and legs are shaking, and I can hear her breath hitching in her throat. She reaches for the next rung, almost missing it. I smile a little, ready to catch her if she needs it.

I try to keep distracting myself.

"Now tell me," I say, my breath coming in bursts, "what do you think learning strategy has to do with bravery?"

"It … it prepares you to act," she says after a moment, "you learn strategy so you can use it."

I'm not really listening. I keep looking downward at the pavement. We are so high up. My breathing becomes loud and ragged. My breaths are quick, not just from the height, but… it's something about her.

"Are you all right, Four?" she says. "I drag my gaze from the ground. "Are you human, Tris?" I ask nervously. "Being up this high… it doesn't scare you at all?" I gulp.

Tris doesn't respond, just looks down at the ground. Suddenly a gust of air blows from our left, throwing our balance off. But Tris is small, her balance is shifted almost completely to the right. She gasps, her knuckles turning white, clinging to the rungs. Instinctively I reach out my hand to catch her. It clamps around her hip, and I feel her soft waist against my index finger for a second before I gently squeeze her hip and push her back on balance. My heart pounds in my chest. I hear her breathing hitch in her chest. "You okay?" I say quietly. "Yes," she says, her voice strained. She keeps climbing, and then I see what she's aiming for. There is a small metal platform near the center of the wheel. She sits down and scoots to the end so I have somewhere to sit. I crouch and press my back to the metal support, breathing heavily.

"You're afraid of heights," she says, and I tense up a little bit. "How do you survive in the Dauntless compound?"

It's a good question. "I ignore my fear," I tell her. "When I make decisions, I pretend it doesn't exist."

She stares at me, her tranquil blue eyes capturing mine. She holds my gaze, and I feel my stomach twisting and turning, a bubble of laughter builds up. Why am I so nervous? Still she holds my gaze. "What?" I ask her quietly. "Nothing," she says quickly. She gazes out at the city. And then she says, "We're not high enough." She looks up at the wheel's scaffolding. I sigh inwardly. "I'm going to climb." she tells me, standing up. She grabs one of the bars above her head and starts to pull herself up. I shake my head.

"For God's sake, Stiff!" I say. "You don't have to follow me." she says.

"Yes, I do." I climb after her. She climbs. She keeps climbing higher and higher, way beyond reason. I'm terrified. We keep climbing.

Then she stops. "See that?" she says, pointing outward. I stop climbing when I'm right behind her and I look over her shoulder, at a tiny pulsing light. My breaths flutter against her ear. "Yeah," I say, smiling. "It's coming from the park at the end of the pier. Figures. It's surrounded by open space, but the trees provide some camouflage. Obviously not enough."

"Okay," she says, looking over her shoulder at me, and I become acutely aware of how little space there is between us. She looks at me for a moment, then clears her throat and says, "Um, start climbing down, I'll follow you." My heartbeat is in my throat. I nod and step down. I climb down, glad that my long legs make it easier for me to find footholds. I'm shaking. I hear Tris begin to climb down, and soon after I hear a splintering sound, and I bar clatters down the Ferris wheel. Tris gasps, and I look back up at her. She's dangling. "Four!" she yells out. Panic starts in me. She can't reach any other footholds. I'm already about 20 feet below her. I have an idea. I climb down, fast. "Hold on!" I yell. "Just hold on, I have an idea." It has to work. I'm at the ladder now, going down as fast as I can. I reach the bottom of the Ferris wheel and drop down to the sidewalk. "Four!" I hear her shout again. I run to the control panel and desperately flip the switches. I hear a creak and a groan and grin as the Ferris wheel starts to move. I hear her suppress a scream, and then she opens her tightly shut eyes. And she starts to laugh. I grin at her. She narrows her eyes as the pavement grows closer. Then, calculating her distance, she drops and rolls, gritting her teeth. I watch her tensely as the next car bears down on her. She looks up, her eyes full of blue fire, and rolls again, out of the way. She presses her palms to her face and I run to her.

I kneel down next to her, my hands wrapping around her wrists. I pry one of her hands from her eyes and enclose it between mine, warming it. "You all right?" I ask her. "Yeah." she says breathlessly. I start to laugh. This is Dauntless. And this is Tris. She begins to laugh with me, pushing herself to a sitting position.

Suddenly, I realize how little space there is between us, six inches at the most. Briefly, I consider closing this gap completely. Instead I stand, pulling Tris up with me. The wheel is still moving behind us. "You could have told me that the Ferris wheel still worked," she says, trying to sound casual, "we wouldn't have had to climb in the first place."

"I would have, if I had known." I tell her. "Couldn't just let you hang there, so I took a risk. Come on, time to get their flag." I hesitate, and then take her arm, holding her elbow gently. I smile down at her and we walk to the carousel. The other members of our team and hanging out by the flag, guarding it, I assume. I notice a few people are missing. "Where'd the others go?" I ask. I'm excited. We can win.

"Did you guys turn on the wheel?" one of our team demands. I tune out her angry accusations. "Three years in a row?" she finishes.

"The wheel doesn't matter," I say. "We know where they are."

"We?" Christina says, looking at me and Tris.

"Yes, while the rest of you were twiddling your thumbs, Tris climbed the Ferris wheel to look for the other team." I tell them. "What do we do now, then?" Uriah asks, yawning. I look at Tris.

She tenses her shoulders, and I watch as an idea forms behind her eyes. "Split in half." she says. "Four of us go to the right side of the pier, three to the left. The other team is in the park at the end of the pier so the group of four will charge as the group of three sneaks behind the other team to get the flag."

I grin.

"Sounds good!" I hear one of the initiates say. "Let's get this night over with, shall we?" I watch as they form groups and smile. I follow behind Tris's group and watch her plan come together. Eric's team scrambles to fend us off; suddenly the night air is filled with screaming and yelling. I watch Tris and Christina reach for the other team's flag simultaneously. Christina says something to Tris and gives her a patronizing look. A lump forms in my throat. And then Christina snatches the flag from the tree branch, giving a whoop of victory.

Tris still smiles, climbing down from the tree. Uriah pats her on the back as she runs to join her teammates, eventually joining the chorus of their happy yells. Everyone clusters around Christina, who's holding the flag high. Tris stands off to the side a bit, smiling. I walk over to her, touch her shoulder.

"Well done," I tell her, so she can know that this victory is because of her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN