"What's it going to be? Skill or bravery, Stiff?" Four questioned intently. Everyone's eyes were on me and the tension was palpable in the air.
I clenched my hands into fists and carefully weighed my options. Al was a terrified mess, but I wasn't certain that Will was doing much better under the stress. My own skills at shooting weren't tested beyond the few shots that Eric had walked me through this past hour. Except, that was only partially true. While he had given me tips and helped me to be more comfortable with the practice, all of my sighting and shots were one hundred percent my own. All I had to do was hit the massive target instead of Al, right?
I'm so sorry, Al. "I choose skill," I replied finally, mustering up as much courage as I could find to meet Four's eyes. "I pick shooting." Eric ground his teeth, grimacing before nodding twice.
"Okay then," he said shortly. Will barely even waited for him to finish talking before he passed his rifle to me with shaking hands. He mouthed "thank you" to me, skittering away from the dug out portion of ground.
I settled down into the sitting position that I'd just left only a minute and half ago, shifting slightly until I was comfortable. While I checked my magazine - entirely full - Eric laid out his rules. "You have to hit the target three times. I'll allow four shots, just in case you miss," he said with a sneer. That stung, but I didn't dare say anything more than I already had.
"Al!" he called out across the sandy expanse. "If you flinch, you have to move closer to the target. So try really hard and maybe you'll stay where you are." Through the sight I watched Al shakily nod his head. He was a good foot away from the target. If I hit him, then I probably didn't belong on this range at all.
Taking deep breaths, I focused entirely on the red and white rings that made up the target. When I focused on the bullseye I couldn't even see Al in my sight. Relax, Eric's voice from earlier purred in my mind. It made me grit my teeth and I pulled the trigger sharply.
The bullet punched through the top edge of the target, just barely within the first red ring. I felt a twinge of satisfaction, though it wasn't my best shot. I had held up my end of the bargain. "Move closer, twitchy," Eric barked loudly. Of course Al hadn't been able to hold up his.
I peered out from behind my scope. Shuffling carefully, Al inched towards the target. "Keep going," Eric continued to call out. He didn't tell him to stop until his shoulder was brushing against the very edge of the rings. At that point his held up a clenched fist, looking pointedly at me. "Again," he said harshly.
Once more I lined up my shot with the center of the bullseye. My breathing was unsteady and I couldn't seem to calm it down, the crosshairs in my sight bobbing irregularly. Al's shoulders were shaking, the only things I could see in my limited view. Keep it together, I wanted to scream at him. Having something to focus on besides my own unsteadiness actually helped, easing the tension that was knotted up my back.
Crack! The rifle sounded once more in my ear, the shot slamming thickly through the ring closest to the bullseye. Someone whistled low from behind me. Edward, I think. But Al had flinched again and Eric was already calling for him to move again.
It was like a weight had sunk into my stomach. Al's eyes were wide behind his goggles as he slunk closer and closer to the center of the target. "Stop!" Four called out. "That's close enough."
Al was maybe six inches from the center of the target, his chest level with the bullseye. I prayed that the cartridges we were shooting couldn't punch through our body armor. With Al being so close, my confidence in my own abilities was faltering. He was standing in front of the hole from my last shot.
"Should I go?" I asked hesitantly. Eric hadn't said anything after Four had interrupted his instructions. I hoped vaguely that the call to stop had been to stop this whole exercise entirely.
Fate would not be quite so kind. "Fire when ready, Tris," Eric ordered.
"You have to hit the target, remember," Four added unhelpfully. The reminder was far from welcome.
"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled under my breath. Shaking my hand to relieve a cramp that had set in, I studied Al's movements carefully. He was shaking like a leaf. Every few seconds he would flinch, waiting for the crack of gunfire that might end his-
I would not ki-
Shit. The world spun around me. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against the stock of the rifle, trying to collect myself. Relax, relax, relax, my inner voice chanted. You can't make any shot if you're like this. Counting to five, I finally wrenched myself back into a ready position.
Don't think. Just line up the shot. I carefully studied the smooth movements of the scope as I breathed in and out. With the rhythm seemingly locked into my mind, I exhaled and let off my third and - hopefully - final shot.
A shrieking scream echoed across the range. Al doubled over, rolling to the ground in a crumpling heap.
No no no no nononononono.
Four was sprinting down the range, shouting for someone to call for medical help. But there was no way anyone would be close enough. Not when it was forty minutes to get a repair team out to this section beyond the wall. Dark spots swam against my vision and I didn't dare try to stand.
What had I done?
I felt frozen in place, my fingers still resting carefully on the trigger guard as I had been taught to do - ironically - for safety. I wanted to close my eyes, do anything except stare in horror as Four ran seemingly painfully slowly towards Al. Chaos was breaking out all around me. The only ones actually remaining calm were Eric and Sergeant Roberts. The latter was speaking rapidly into a comset in practiced, calm phrases.
"I repeat, we have a man down at the long range firing range. Gunshot wound, unknown condition. Requesting medical unit from closest depot." Bile rose up within my throat and I had to will myself not to throw up.
It was all my fault. Al might die because-
"It's just a graze!" Four shouted, his voice cracking. "He's going to be fine!"
Relief flooded throughout my body, my hands and feet literally tingling as I realized I hadn't killed someone today. I must have blacked out the next few minutes after the fact. Someone got the medical kit from the truck and patched up Al's elbow. He wouldn't be fighting for a few days until the wound healed, but he'd be fine. They also shot him up with painkillers to get him to stop groaning.
I found myself sitting on the sandbags, watching everything getting packed up around me. When it was time to load up, Christina gently nudged me to break me from my fog finally.
"Lauren's group is on their way back from the fence, so we're loading up too," she said softly. Pity was all over her face, concern radiating like a beacon. I could tell she was trying her best to stay as low key as possible to keep me from getting upset. It was a welcomed gesture.
"Yeah, okay," I croaked. Standing up felt like a chore, but I forced myself to keep moving. Jumping into the truck, I cringed immediately.
Al was sitting on the bench across from the open door, propped up by Will and Edward's shoulders. "Hey Tris," he slurred, his speech numbed by the painkillers.
I couldn't find my voice to reply and waved jerkily instead before stumbling to the back of the truck. Christina piled next to me and wordlessly passed me a canteen. I took a long gulp before splashing some on my face.
My goggles had vanished somewhere between the range and the truck. I didn't even remember taking them off. "You sure you're okay, Tris?" Christina asked quietly. She was still worried; you could see it in her eyes.
"I never said I was," I retorted before shutting the world away behind closed eyes.
During the entire trip I barely noticed what went on around me. I didn't even notice whether we stopped or not when passing through the fence checkpoint. When we rolled back into the garage Four let Al go, sending Edward with him to help him to the infirmary. The rest of us were on unload duty, checking that all the gear was returned and marked for maintenance.
Every piece would be checked by hand before being put back in the rotation for use in the field. Another glorious job prospect to look forward to if you didn't do so hot during initiation.
I got stuck helping Peter haul the crates to the last storage area, hefting the grey boxes from the doorway of the garage to the storage zone down the hall. While we were moving the last box, Peter decided it was time for him to open his insufferable mouth.
"How does it feel to go from being all high and mighty to crashing and burning in one single afternoon?" he said in a mock curious voice. "That's gotta be rough."
I fought my rising temper and refused to respond. My hands gripped the edge of the crate tighter as I imagined slamming the box down on his feet.
"I mean, Four's gotta be pretty tired of your martyr complex. I know I am."
"Shut up, Peter," I growled, breathing shortly out my nose. It only seemed to spur him on.
His face became gleeful. "It's not even like you're doing it because you're a good Abnegation girl. You only stepped in because it was your friends involved. You wouldn't have helped if Edward had been the one in trouble or me," he sneered.
We arrived to the storage room and I literally dropped my end of the box. I hoped darkly that it had wrenched his shoulder when it fell. "Your point is what, exactly?" I retorted. I refused to give him the satisfaction of getting flustered.
He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to me. It was the same move he was always trying to pull, so the intimidating effect was lost on me. "I'm just saying you aren't fooling anyone, Stiff."
Feigning an innocent, wide-eyed stare, I replied in the sweetest tone I could muster after everything that happened today. "I thought you said I wasn't a very good Abnegation girl?"
"That's because you're going to be factionless instead," he growled before stomping out of the storage room. I threw up a rude gesture to his retreating back before slowly walking to the garage where I knew my friends were waiting. What an ass.
I almost didn't go to dinner that night, but Christina prodded me into going. She claimed that I was going to faint tomorrow during training if I didn't eat anything, which frankly might have happened since I didn't end up getting time to eat when everyone else had at the shooting range.
When we were in the dining hall, Uriah and his friends joined us for the first time to eat with us. Unfortunately all they wanted to talk about the whole time was the incident at the range. Every time I tried to change the subject, one of them would bring the topic back around. My appetite vanished and I pushed around my meatloaf on my plate until Christina was ready to go.
We politely declined their invitation to join them on the roof of the complex and I hoped to escape to the dorms to hide. But that wasn't going to happen either as Christina tried her hardest to convince me to go shopping with her. "It's something you've never done before! Just me and you. No boys, no guns, just fun!" she insisted.
I couldn't find it in my heart to say no, so off we went to the shopping ring of the edge of the pit walls. We steered clear of the surplus supplies store - not that they'd sell anything to initiates anyway - and went into the clothing shop.
Despite spending my entire young life going to school with dependents from other factions, it had never occurred to me that there would be styles of dresses that could actually have some flair to them. I'd mentally sworn off dresses due to my abnegation heritage - I loathed the plain, grey tents that my faction wore - but being in the store with Christina changed my mind.
She was convinced to find at least a couple new things for me to take home, so I happily let her pick out different things for me to try. I balked at anything see through that she tried to make me try on, but we eventually found some stuff that was both stylish and comfortable for me. The tops and denim shorts that I ended up getting were super cute, I had to admit. And Christina even found me a dress in a deep red color that would only raise my parent's blood pressure a little if they ever saw me in it.
Christina ended up with far more clothes than me, needing double the number of canvas bags to hold her purchases once we left the shop. "I don't even have to worry about Mother calling me a slut!" she said matter-of-factly.
Chuckling, I chimed in. "Me neither."
Despite spending far more points than I would have felt comfortable with at one time, she was far from done shopping. The store across the way caught Christina's eye and she made a beeline for it, with me trailing along in her wake. They had signs up promoting a discount of sorts, which must have been what caught her eye.
"Look at all this amazing stuff," Christina whispered in awe. "Why did you let me spend so much at the other place?"
I followed her inside, feeling a bit overwhelmed as well. For piercings alone they had a whole row of lighted glass cases with all different kinds of studs and designs displayed. The stretching rings made me gag, but I could almost imagine myself wearing the smaller, simpler stud earrings. Maybe once initiation was over and I wasn't worried about getting my ear ripped open in a fight.
With that in mind, I steered towards the other accessories in the store. There were a few bandanas that caught my eye, and I ended up selecting two to get right away. Christina got her ears pierced while I was looking around - clearly not as worried as I was about getting hurt in a fight - and requested that I pick out the studs she'd wear to until her ears healed up.
I was tempted to pick something totally ridiculous for her, like a pair of religious symbols or something holiday related, but I settled on a pair that mimicked her trailing flower tattoo instead.
"Damn girl, you've got a better eye than I would have thought," she said earnestly. "I love these so much!" She marvelled at her new studs in the mirror on the counter, grinning ear to ear.
I had to admit - she was right about the experience being a great de-stresser. When I started to agonize over the purchase of a leather cuff bracelet, she threatened to buy it for me herself to teach me how to chill.
"I don't want to spend every point I've got," I protested even as I was paying for the thing at the checkstand.
"I know that, silly," Christina chuckled in reply. "But it's always nice to treat yourself to something nice when you need it. They are your points to spend after all."
I tied my red bandana into a headband as she paid, nodding in agreement. I also snapped on the cuff bracelet, already glad that I'd bought it. There were Dauntless flames stamped along the edges, reminding me that I was in fact Dauntless regardless of what Peter or my aptitudes had to say.
Our next stop was a boutique decked with makeup products, just near the tattoo parlor. I wasn't quite sure how I felt about the whole makeup thing. I knew my face wasn't pretty in the traditional sense, so I didn't really know what makeup was going to do for me.
"Christina, I don't even know where to start in here," I admitted after wandering the racks for a good ten minutes.
"I know! I'm loving the selection. It's just crazy how much there is," she replied distractedly. She held up a tiny jar with some colored powder inside, looking for approval. "Like this purple shadow? Totally gorgeous."
"Uhh," I stammered. "If you say so."
Christina was aghast, her eyes wide. "Wait. You've never used makeup before, have you?" She sounded like I'd just told her we kicked puppies for fun in Abnegation. "Not even for holidays or special events?" she squeaked indignantly.
When I shook my head, Christina made a tiny squeak. "Well, then we need to change that pronto! No wonder you guys never look in mirrors in grey-ville." She took my hand and dragged me on a whirlwind tour of the "basics of makeup," which felt even longer than the lessons our Upper Level teachers used to give on science topics.
In the end she tried a few different products on me before she and the shopkeeper - who she recruited to help with the process - agreed that I looked good.
"I didn't go for 'shazam gorgeous'" - whatever that meant - "but I stuck with making you stand out," she explained cheerfully before handing me the mirror. I flipped it over and stared at her handiwork. I certainly was noticeable without delving into a ridiculous display of color like many Dauntless chose to do.
She'd lined my eyes and brushed on some dark mascara to make them pop. That with plain gloss for my lips and some liberally applied grey eyeshadow made me look determined and a little hot.
"Thanks," I said earnestly. "This, I mean I, look great. I'm going to need to beg you to do this every day." I said with a laugh. That only made her more excited and I had to immediately backpedal for fear of being turned into her test subject for everything fashion related.
Finally we left our last store of the night. Christina's hands were full from all the different things that she bought, and even my hand was starting to cramp from holding my bag of clothes and accessories. As we made our way around the pit back to the dorm, a familiar pair of voices called out.
"Tris! Christina!" Will's voice echoed against the stone walls from ahead of us.
"Wait up, guys!" Al called out as well, his s's still slurred. Immediately my stomach dropped and I felt my chest tighten up.
I forced myself to smile at the pair of boys as they jogged through the members of Dauntless who were milling around. Al's arm was bandaged with fresh, clean linen pinned neatly in place. Will kept a steady eye on his friend to make sure he didn't topple on the railing-less pathway.
"What're you guys doing?" Al asked curiously, stopping just inches from where I was standing. His eyes were bright from the medication and he was acting much more outgoing than any other time I'd ever seen him.
Will lingered behind him, leaning against the wall as we talked. Christina held up her bags in explanation. "Shopping to relieve the stress," she said cheerfully. "How was late dinner?"
"The meatloaf tasted kind of bad, but maybe that's because my sweet thing wasn't there with me," Al said with a not-so-subtle look in my direction. Oh hell no.
Both Will and Christina got the same slightly uncomfortable look on their face, which I failed to keep from spreading to me. "Er, yeah, okay then," I said after an awkward silence.
The others all tried talking at the same time next, attempting to dissuade Al from whatever he was trying to accomplish with his too-friendly statements. "What do you think of our new stuff?" Christina asked even as Will said, "I see you pierced your ears."
Al kept looking right at me, studying me carefully. "You look different, Tris," he said stiffly as the wheels in his mind turned. "Like you're super intense looking. It's hot-t-t." The ends of his sentences were starting to get dragged out, almost like he was tipsy.
Will looked even more uncomfortable and shrugged. "They didn't know he'd already gotten painkillers in the field and gave him more in the infirmary," he explained quietly. "He's been like this all night."
"I think he needs to sleep it off," Christina said under her breath. "Go back to being afraid to say more than three things to Tris." I couldn't have agreed more.
When Al tried to take another step towards me, I couldn't take it any more. "I've gotta go," I insisted, spinning tightly on my heel and walking quickly in that direction. I didn't care that it was where we'd just come from, just that I get away from Al and his overly friendliness and nearly life-threatening injury that seemed to be spotlit in its white bandage compared to the darkness of Dauntless.
I found myself at the top of the Pit, near the bridge over the Chasm. It was loud and distracting, perfect for what I needed. Tucking my canvas bag securely next to me, I sat in a small alcove near the Chasm bridge and shut my eyes against the blue corridor lights. I wasn't trying to sleep, just recover my thoughts before going back to the dorm with all my fellow transfers.
Everything had been going great until today. And then I'd missed the truck and nearly missed practice. And then I'd missed the target and nearly severely injured someone I called a friend. Too many misses and too many mistakes. My fingers played with the ridges along the leather of my new cuff, spinning the leather bracelet around and around as I played the scene from today over and over in my mind.
Al, standing terrified at the target, unable to stop flinching every time that I shot. My finger over the trigger, trying my very best to keep him safe. If I hadn't aimed at the center - if I'd aimed for the very edge of the target instead - would I have stopped myself from feeling this agonizing guilt?
"You know it's not the smartest to sit in dark corners by yourself," someone said in a low voice that seemed to tower above me. I didn't have to open my eyes to know who it was.
"I told you to fuck off, Peter," I said tiredly. "I don't want to deal with you especially not after today."
He just laughed darkly and I could hear his feet scuffling closer, just barely audible over the crash of the chasm nearby. "You know you don't scare me. You couldn't hurt me even if you tried," he sneered.
I kept my eyes shut, a silent defiance. Maybe if I kept ignoring him, he'd disappear like a bad dream. "I have half a mind to prove that to you right now, but you're not worth-"
"Do yourself a favor and shut up, Hayes," a new voice joined in over the roaring of water. "And get lost before I stop being amused by your antics."
Peter didn't say anything to the newcomer. I would have bet another five points that he was livid though, storming away with his hands balled into fists.
The newcomer approached my alcove quietly, the sound of his boots grinding the sand underfoot barely audible. "Eric," I greeted simply. My eyes stayed shut still. I didn't want to deal with Peter. I didn't want to deal with Al. And I sure as hell didn't want to deal with Eric and his constantly changing moods.
"Tris," he replied in the same tone. He waited a beat before continuing. "I figured I'd give Hayes a nudge in the right direction before you two ended up brawling canyonside," he said simply.
I nodded, not wanting to say thanks but not wanting to ignore the gesture. If it was a gesture. I finally opened my eyes and looked up at my unwelcomed visitor.
"So are you going to just stand there until I leave or are you going to concoct some new punishment for me for messing up earlier?" I asked sarcastically. I couldn't have cared less about the fact that I was giving a leader shit. Everything was fucked up anyways; it wasn't like I could make it any worse.
Eric snorted a laugh. "Punish you?" That's pretty much the last thing on my mind," he said matter-of-factly.
Say what? I blinked owlishly at him for a moment before he spoke again. "And I was going to sit, if that's alright, initiate," he said. He was still acting fairly good-naturedly and I couldn't tell if it was genuine.
"Knock yourself out," I replied trying to match his neutral tone.
He slid down the wall with a sigh, sitting kitty-corner to me, his boots just brushing against my folded knees. We sat there in silence, the canyon roaring away in the distance. Finally, he turned his head to look at me. "You know I didn't actually want your boy toy to get hurt," Eric said simply.
That made my blood boil and I glared at him intensely. "He's not my 'boy toy' or anything of the sort. And it sure as hell didn't seem like that at the time," I spat. "I might have gotten lucky with how I shot, but there was no way Will was going to make that last shot," I added, crossing my arms indignantly.
Eric took my raging without even blinking. "I wouldn't have had Will try to make that shot," he said smoothly.
"What's that supposed to mean? I took Will's place. He was going to have to make the same shots that-"
"No, I wouldn't have let Al move as close as he did if Will had been shooting," Eric interrupted shortly. "I was fairly confident that you weren't going to hit Mr. Teary-eyed."
My heart thundered in my ears. What kind of person was I dealing with here? Who puts someone in that kind of danger because of a hunch? "Fairly confident?" I echoed. He nodded, his trademark smirk slowly spreading across his face. "You risked his life because you were 'fairly confident' in my untrained skills?"
"This is Dauntless. Part of the job is being ready to risk your life," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Initiation weeds out those who can't make the cut. People like Al need to be shown that this isn't playtime. We don't need members who are glorified dependents. They need to toughen up or get the hell out."
When I didn't reply, he tried to explain differently. "If you're on a squad, you expect that everyone there is going to have your back. You can't have people you don't trust there, especially someone who is terrified of what it takes to do the job," Eric further clarified.
I pursed my lips and thought about it for a moment. I had to begrudgingly admit that he had a point, but I didn't think that putting an initiate in front of a sniper rifle was quite the way to show that you needed to be tough in Dauntless. It didn't actually show any of Eric's rationalization; it just made people get scared and pissed at the person putting them in that situation.
"Well your method sucks," I grumbled, looking at my crossed legs defiantly.
He wasn't affected by what I said. "Oh well. They'll get it eventually, or Four will explain it in simple terms for those still too slow to pick it all up," Eric countered. He looked sideways at me, measuring me up. "Besides, you shouldn't be discounting your own abilities. That last shot was an impressive one."
I snorted, not quite ready to let go of my frustration and anger. "I shot my friend in the arm," I growled. "Not very impressive."
"No," Eric corrected swiftly. "You clipped his elbow because the idiot flinched and still managed to hit the bullseye. Not a single initiate today managed a shot even close to that today. Except you."
My anger vanished at his words. "Beg pardon?" I squeaked, refusing to believe what he was saying. There was no way I'd hit the bullseye. It just didn't seem possible.
He quirked his pierced eyebrow. "You did great today, even if your little stunt pissed me the hell off," Eric admitted with a chuckle.
I settled back against the wall, frowning as I considered what he'd told me. "Oh." He was complimenting me. Eric, god awful, terrifying, damn-good-trainer, selectively-nice Eric was actually complimenting me. "Thanks, I think," I mumbled.
He grunted in reply. "Forget about it." A much more amicable silence fell between the pair of us. My fingers drummed aimlessly on my knees after I stopped crossing my arms in a huff. It was nice for a minute, but as time dragged on I started to regret being in such close quarters with the young Leader. He kept looking me over, eyes lingering just a little too frequently on my face and new accessories.
"What's in the bag?" he asked. Once again he sounded completely genuine in his curiosity. "Retail therapy after a terrible day spent with the likes of me?"
I rolled my eyes at his joke. "Something like that. It was Christina's idea," I admitted. "She bought way more than I did, though."
That made him laugh. It was infectious and I felt a small smile spread across my face. "Well, for what it's worth you're better off not spending all your points like crazy. When you bulk up after all your training, you're not going to fit in your old shit."
"I'll keep that in mind," I promised. Somehow the idea of Eric giving shopping advice just seemed funny to me, and I had to resist the urge to laugh.
He pushed off the wall to tower over me. "I can see you're not taking my very important advice seriously," Eric said with a sigh, "so I'm going to let you get back to your sulking in the dark."
I stuck out my tongue at him. "How kind of you," I said dryly.
He stepped backwards from the alcove, giving a mock salute. "You should wear that makeup more often," he added in a low voice, just barely over the sound of the chasm. "It makes you look intense. Very Dauntless." With a wink he turned and walked away without another word.
He was gone before I could even formulate a response, a blush swept across my face. Dammit, how did he do that? He made me go from wanting to punch his lights out to blushing at his compliments in ten minutes flat.
"Arrogant bastard," I growled to myself, burying my face in my arms to hide the flush. It took me another ten minutes to compose myself to head back to the dorms. What a jerk.