Chapter 15
Four pov
We all have read now so I guess we are just going to go around again. Will offers to read the next chapter and takes the book.
THE NEXT MORNING, when I trudge into the training room, yawning, a large target stands at one end of the room, and next to the door is a table with knives strewn across it.
"Oh this is going to be good" Will says. I groan internally now we get to read about me throwing knives at her. "What's going to happen?"Andrew asks. I can see the curiosity and concern in his eyes. "You'll find out" Will replies.
Target practice again. At least it won't hurt.
"You think Tris" Cristina says "Oh shut up" She says it jokingly but i'm pretty sure she is only half kidding. "Seriously what happened" zeke says "You don't know" Will asks confused. "Do you seriously think Four would go around telling people about it" Christina banters back. No I wouldn't. "All I know is that he seemed to be in a very bad mood," Zeke says. "Can we just get to reading?" Tris speaks up. I can't help but relax a little at her voice.
Eric stands in the middle of the room, his posture so rigid it looks like someone replaced his spine with a metal rod. The sight of him makes me feel like all the air in the room is heavier, bearing down on me. At least when he was slouched against a wall, I could pretend he wasn't here. Today I can't pretend.
"Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one," Eric says. "You will resume fighting then. Today, you'll be learning how to aim. Everyone pick up three knives." His voice is deeper than usual. "And pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them."
At first no one moves.
"Now!"
We scramble for daggers. They aren't as heavy as guns, but they still feel strange in my hands, like I am not allowed to hold them.
"He's in a bad mood today," mumbles Christina.
"Is he ever in a good mood?" I murmur back.
But I know what she means. Judging by the poisonous look Eric gives Four when he isn't paying attention, last night's loss must have bothered Eric more than he let on. Winning capture the flag is a matter of pride, and pride is important to the Dauntless. More important than reason or sense.
I watch Four's arm as he throws a knife. The next time he throws, I watch his stance. He hits the target each time, exhaling as he releases the knife.
"You have always had impressive aim." Max says.
Eric orders, "Line up!"
Haste, I think, will not help. My mother told me that when I was learning how to knit. I have to think of this as a mental exercise, not a physical exercise.
All the dauntless laugh and tris blushes a little. "You seriously did not just compare knife throwing to knitting." Uriah says through laughter. Tris reddens more and when the laughter dies down we continue reading.
So I spend the first few minutes practicing without a knife, finding the right stance, learning the right arm motion.
Eric paces too quickly behind us.
"I think the Stiff's taken too many hits to the head!" remarks Peter, a few people down. "Hey, Stiff! Remember what a knife is?"
Ignoring him, I practice the throw again with a knife in hand but don't release it. I shut out Eric's pacing, and Peter's jeering, and the nagging feeling that Four is staring at me,
"Hey for once you actually noticed him staring at you" Shauna remarks I don't react to her comment. But I can feel the heat start to rise to my face.
and throw the knife. It spins end over end, slamming into the board. The blade doesn't stick, but I'm the first person to hit the target.
I smirk as Peter misses again. I can't help myself.
"Hey, Peter," I say. "Remember what a target is?"
We all laugh this time and I think I see Andrew and Natalie join in as well. "Nice one Tris" Marlene says getting up to give Tris a high five.
Next to me, Christina snorts, and her next knife hits the target.
A half hour later, Al is the only initiate who hasn't hit the target yet. His knives clatter to the floor, or bounce off the wall. While the rest of us approach the board to collect our weapons, he hunts the floor for his.
"Can he do anything right?" Max says.
The next time he tries and misses, Eric marches toward him and demands, "How slow are you, Candor? Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?"
"This isn't going to end well" Tori says. I can't help but be a little bitter. It ends fine for him. But not for me or Tris and I'm pretty sure she is still a little mad at me for it.
Al's face turns red. He throws another knife, and this one sails a few feet to the right of the target. It spins and hits the wall.
"What was that, initiate?" says Eric quietly, leaning closer to Al.
I bite my lip. This isn't good.
"It—it slipped," says Al.
"Well, I think you should go get it," Eric says. He scans the other initiates' faces—everyone has stopped throwing again—and says, "Did I tell you to stop?"
Knives start to hit the board. We have all seen Eric angry before, but this is different. The look in his eyes is almost rabid.
"Go get it?" Al's eyes are wide. "But everyone's still throwing."
"And?"
"And I don't want to get hit."
"I think you can trust your fellow initiates to aim better than you." Eric smiles a little, but his eyes stay cruel. "Go get your knife."
Al doesn't usually object to anything the Dauntless tell us to do. I don't think he's afraid to; he just knows that objecting is useless. This time Al sets his wide jaw. He's reached the limits of his compliance.
"No," he says.
"What an idiot. He chooses the day you are throwing knives to finally grow a backbone." Zeke says. I agree it was a dumb move on his part and he didn't even pay the price for it.
"Why not?" Eric's beady eyes fix on Al's face. "Are you afraid?"
"Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife?" says Al. "Yes, I am!"
Honesty is his mistake. Not his refusal, which Eric might have accepted.
"Maybe if he was in a good mood. In the mood he's in I highly doubt he would even accept the refusal." Shauna says. She's right after the loss there is no way he would have accepted that either.
"Everyone stop!" Eric shouts.
The knives stop, and so does all conversation. I hold my small dagger tightly.
"Clear out of the ring." Eric looks at Al. "All except you."
I drop the dagger and it hits the dusty floor with a thud. I follow the other initiates to the edge of the room, and they inch in front of me, eager to see what makes my stomach turn: Al, facing Eric's wrath.
"Stand in front of the target," says Eric. Al's big hands shake. He walks back to the target.
"Hey, Four." Eric looks over his shoulder. "Give me a hand here, huh?"
Four scratches one of his eyebrows with a knife point and approaches Eric. He has dark circles under his eyes and a tense set to his mouth—he's as tired as we are.
"Yeah I was practically up all night." I say rolling my eyes. We didn't get back until very late at night and I couldn't sleep when we got back. To wound up in my thoughts and when I did get to sleep it didn't last very long.
"You're going to stand there as he throws those knives," Eric says to Al, "until you learn not to flinch."
"Is this really necessary?" says Four. He sounds bored, but he doesn't look bored. His face and body are tense, alert.
"Stupid sledgehammer" I say without thinking. "Sledgehammer" Will asks. I shrug "It's the nickname I gave him. He's all power no finesse like a sledgehammer." "You seem pretty mad at him for that." Will remarks. "Him doing that backed me into a corner right along with him." I say.
I squeeze my hands into fists. No matter how casual Four sounds, the question is a challenge. And Four doesn't often challenge Eric directly.
At first Eric stares at Four in silence. Four stares back. Seconds pass and my fingernails bite my palms.
"I have the authority here, remember?" Eric says, so quietly I can barely hear him. "Here, and everywhere else."
Color rushes into Four's face, though his expression does not change. His grip on the knives tightens and his knuckles turn white as he turns to face Al.
"So that's why you didn't do anything" Christina remarks. "My only other option would have been to leave the room if I did Eric would have thrown the knives and then someone really would have gotten hurt." "So Eric is bad at knife throwing" Will says. I snort "He was never good at knife throwing. Is aim is always a few inches from his actual target."
I look from Al's wide, dark eyes to his shaking hands to the determined set of Four's jaw. Anger bubbles in my chest, and bursts from my mouth: "Stop it."
Four turns the knife in his hand, his fingers moving painstakingly over the metal edge. He gives me such a hard look that I feel like he's turning me to stone. I know why. I am stupid for speaking up while Eric is here; I am stupid for speaking up at all.
At least she knew it.
"Any idiot can stand in front of a target," I say. "It doesn't prove anything except that you're bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice."
"You did not. There is no way you said that to Eric of all people" Marlene says. Tris shrugs "you really do have a death wish." Marlene shakes her head.
"Then it should be easy for you," Eric says. "If you're willing to take his place."
The last thing I want to do is stand in front of that target, but I can't back down now. I didn't leave myself the option. I weave through the crowd of initiates, and someone shoves my shoulder.
"You are seriously going to throw knives at her" Andrew asks me. "I didn't have a choice," I say. "But it was perfect situation for Eric." "Why did it make such a difference to him if you threw the knives at her or Al." Will asks.
I cross my arms "Because Tris is a suspected Divergent even at that point he was watching her for divergence. He also started to suspect I had something for her. He was trying to find any weaknesses he could exploit as well as punish her. So it worked out great for him. He had everything playing right into his hands."
I look at Tris and her eyes widen. She had no idea how bad the situation was from my point of view.
"There goes your pretty face," hisses Peter. "Oh, wait. You don't have one."
I recover my balance and walk toward Al. He nods at me. I try to smile encouragingly, but I can't manage it. I stand in front of the board, and my head doesn't even reach the center of the target, but it doesn't matter. I look at Four's knives: one in his right hand, two in his left hand.
My throat is dry. I try to swallow, and then look at Four. He is never sloppy. He won't hit me. I'll be fine.
I don't know how to feel about that. I just hope she knows I didn't want to and I will hopefully never have to do it again.
I tip my chin up. I will not flinch. If I flinch, I prove to Eric that this is not as easy as I said it was; I prove that I'm a coward.
"If you flinch," Four says, slowly, carefully, "Al takes your place. Understand?"
I nod. Four's eyes are still on mine when he lifts his hand, pulls his elbow back, and throws the knife. It is just a flash in the air, and then I hear a thud. The knife is buried in the board, half a foot away from my cheek. I close my eyes. Thank God.
"You about done, Stiff?" asks Four.
I remember Al's wide eyes and his quiet sobs at night and shake my head. "No."
"Eyes open, then." He taps the spot between his eyebrows.
"Why did she need to have her eyes open" Shauna asks. I shrug everything I do has some sort of reason behind it. I never do anything without a reason or purpose to it. I decide to say a little "there were many reasons behind it" I don't say anymore.
I stare at him, pressing my hands to my sides so no one can see them shake. He passes a knife from his left hand to his right hand, and I see nothing but his eyes as the second knife hits the target above my head. This one is closer than the last one—I feel it hovering over my skull.
"Come on, Stiff," he says. "Let someone else stand there and take it."
Why is he trying to goad me into giving up? Does he want me to fail?
"That wasn't what I was doing" I say frustrated she really doesn't get it. "Then what were you doing?" Christina asks "It seemed like goading to me". I don't reply. This answer isn't as easy and it probably would lead to more questions then I would like.
"Shut up, Four!"
I hold my breath as he turns the last knife in his hand. I see a glint in his eyes as he pulls his arm back and lets the knife fly. It comes straight at me, spinning, blade over handle. My body goes rigid. This time, when it hits the board, my ear stings, and blood tickles my skin. I touch my ear. He nicked it.
And judging by the look he gives me, he did it on purpose.
"Well shit you actually hit her with a knife" Zeke says surprised. "He would have been throwing knives at her all day if he hadn't," Natalie says. How is she the voice of reason in this. I see anger on Andrew's face but a look from Natalie keeps him quiet. "Besides, it's not like he hit her where it would have actually hurt her." she continues. "At Least you get it there was a reason I hit her ear."
He squeezes my shoulder. His fingers feel dry and cold, and the look he gives me claims me, like he's taking ownership of what I did. I don't return Eric's smile. What I did had nothing to do with him.
"I should keep my eye on you," he adds.
Fear prickles inside me, in my chest and in my head and in my hands. I feel like the word "DIVERGENT" is branded on my forehead, and if he looks at me long enough, he'll be able to read it. But he just lifts his hand from my shoulder and keeps walking.
She's so cautious and scared of being Divergent yet she puts herself in these situations? What she did practically screamed divergent.
Four and I stay behind. I wait until the room is empty and the door is shut before looking at him again. He walks toward me.
"Is your—" he begins.
"You did that on purpose!" I shout.
"Yes, I did," he says quietly. "And you should thank me for helping you."
I grit my teeth. "Thank you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you?"
"You know, I'm getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!"
"Catch on to what" Tris asks. She really doesn't get it. "That he had a crush on you" Zeke says. I roll my eyes "I didn't even realize I had a crush on her at this point Zeke." As soon as it comes out of my mouth I regret it.
"How do you not know you have a crush on someone?" Christina asks. I'm not going to answer but Shauna decides to give her theory. "Probably because he wasn't used to feeling emotions towards anything really."
I am surprised at how right she is. I have always been able to shut down my emotions. So when I couldn't shut down the feelings around her it took me a while to realize why and what it actually was.
He glares at me, and even when he glares, his eyes look thoughtful. Their shade of blue is peculiar, so dark it is almost black, with a small patch of lighter blue on the left iris, right next to the corner of his eye.
"Even when you're mad you took the time to observe him" Shauna teases. Tris blushes. Does she realize how cute she is when she's embarrassed.
"Catch on? Catch on to what? That you wanted to prove to Eric how tough you are? That you're sadistic, just like he is?"
"Ouch" Zeke says.
"I am not sadistic." He doesn't yell. I wish he would yell. It would scare me less. He leans his face close to mine, which reminds me of lying inches away from the attack dog's fangs in the aptitude test, and says, "If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have already?"
He crosses the room and slams the point of a knife so hard into the table that it sticks there, handle toward the ceiling.
"I—" I start to shout, but he's already gone. I scream, frustrated, and wipe some of the blood from my ear.
Trust me I was just as frustrated. Luckily no one makes any further comment.
"Chapter over" Will says