Chapter Three - Becoming a mark
I have only seen her in passing this first week. By the weekend I am working extra shifts in the tattoo parlour, it was generally a busy weekend as Initiates were finding their feet and feeling pretty celebratory having survived their first week. Music was pumping loudly and I was provided a few concealed bevys by a friend who was tending bar, it hardly felt like work to be fair. I was packing up after providing a young chap with his first marks and turned to find her standing directly behind me, her back to me, she was looking over some artwork.
I swallow hard and turn back around, I think I was going to pretend to be busy. What the hell? My whole behaviour to this girl has been at odds - first I become over involved and now I want to pretend like she doesn't exist. At first I assumed that the queasy feeling in my gut was a mixture of compassion and admiration for the girl, but her sudden, unexpected and close proximity had produced the same result. Oh, I've been here before, I realise. I've got a crush on a baby initiate, who's half my age, hilarious. It's been a good long while since I have had a crush, I shake my head and force myself to turn back.
I note how different she looks, already she has lost the stooping posture. Her grey garb has been traded for Dauntless black, more than that, her dress actually fit her body and her shiny hair hung loosely in waves over her shoulders. "Beatrice?" I ask, trying to muster a friendly smile "I didn't think I would see you again." She turned to me and smiled back, "It's just Tris now," she informs me. "Nice to see you, Tori. Do you work here?" I notice she has applied some makeup and looks older, softer and really quite pretty.
"I work various jobs, but I'm rarely far from the office," I shrug, gesturing that by 'office' I mean the parlour, "Tris - that's nice. Say, you were the first jumper?" Tris blushed and looked modestly down, she confirmed my charge with a shy smile. Oh, she was cute as a button. "Can we catch up sometime? I want to ask you about some stuff?" she asks discreetly. "How about some permanent art instead?" It just isn't safe to talk about what I knew was on her mind. Tris selects a small flying bird image, she wants three and describes the flight path from her collar bone to her heart.
I take her to a chair in the back and invite her to sit back, an act which reminds us both of our first meeting and we smile at each other. "I'm going to need access to your skin," I tuck my index finger into the shoulder of her dress and give a slight tug. She blushes easily and it's quite endearing. "Oh, of course, I'm not thinking." she turns to the side and I slide the zip down probably further than was necessary - she is not the only one not thinking. She snakes one arm out of the sleeve and with the other she holds the dress against her cleavage, and I'm reminded of her Abnegation roots.
As I draw her birds, I notice bruises on her arm. I ask her how her training is going, she unconsciously flexes her fingers and I see her bruised knuckles, the crevices still home to dried blood remnants. She cracks an eye and discharges a long sigh, "Well, I can't shoot, if I launch my whole body weight at the punching bag it barely moves and everything part of my body hurts. But I'm going to make it Tori, see if I don't." I smile at her admiringly and keep drawing, "I believe you, Tris." I was an Erudite transfer, almost as skinny as Tris and surely as weak, granted my cohort was not threatened with permanent faction eviction, but I had worked damn hard to embody the Dauntless physicality. If I can do it, so can she. It occurs to me that I could chat Four up and get the goss on the newbies, not that I think Tris is misrepresenting her situation, but it always pays to be in the know.
After work on Sunday, I head to the bar, takeaways are forbidden but I have no trouble arranging for four beers to be wrapped in newspaper, packed into a bag and stashed with security at the front door. When I leave, security calls me back and reminds me that I had forgotten my bag - all part of appropriate smuggling etiquette, security is in the know about when it is safe to risk such transactions. If it had not been safe, my beers would have made their way to my room within the hour. And all without me having to threaten anyone!
I make my way to Four's room,I take the long way round, looking over my shoulder, and give him the friendly knock. I am from a much earlier cohort, but Four has proved to be a good egg and is accepted and trusted by our fragile alliance, unlike Eric who is a very different fish. Me and mine have very little to do with him. I lean against the door frame and wonder if Four is out, I am deciding whether to knock a second time or come back later when his large wheeled door grinds horizontally open. "Tori!" he greeted me happily, I lift my bag for his notice and say "Hey Four, have you time to check out my cargo?" He grins at me.
We always sit out on his terrace when I come over, probably because I enjoy a smoke on the weekend. I dig out two bottles and twist the lids off, careful to stow such evidence back in my bag, I hand one to Four as he slouches into the chair next to mine. He takes a long swig from his bottle and gives a long mmmmm of appreciation, "Work or pleasure?" Four gives me the reverse single nod (up instead of down). "Mostly pleasure, with just a pinch of sticky beaking," I smile. "I thought as much," he grinned, he knows me too well.
I flipped off my runners and put my feet up on the railing that runs the perimeter of the patio. "How's tricks?" he asks me. I blow a cloud of smoke up over the rail and we watch it dissipate in the evening air, "I've survived peak trade" I reply, "You?" He shakes his head, "Still knee deep, I'm afraid." I nod, understanding. The initiates still had weeks and weeks of training ahead of them and that would keep Four busy. "What are they like, this cohort?" I ask. Four considered his answer, "Initiates are much the same from year to year, I find, but" He gives me a knowing look, "implications of the new training program, ratchets up initiate requirements. It gives the illusion that initiates are of increasingly inferior quality." I nod again. "I was first in my cohort, but there was not such a gap between me and the next one. There was a camaraderie amongst us, we worked together and helped each other. Trainers worked with initiates to overcome their weaknesses, there wasn't this fear of getting cut. The smaller ones are getting smashed in fight club." He sighed and sipped, he is preaching to the converted as my silence confirms.
"Eric?" I ask quietly, "... and Max and the freedom fighters," he confirms, nothing more need be said. Actually, this is an unusually frank discussion, neither of us would risk such disclosures to anyone else. I tried to think of a way to bring up Tris indirectly but I can't be bothered to work that hard, so I just asked him straight out. "What can you tell me about Tris Prior?" "Aah, the object of your sticky beak?" he raised an eyebrow. I flashed him some side eye and replied "Indeed." He shook his head as he considered my request for information.
"You know how to pick them," He finally commented, "She's a little champion, I will give you that." "She is struggling to convert that to points on the board." I point out, draining my bottle and returning it to the bag. I dig out the other two beers, unwrap them glad they are still cold, I open one and pass it to Four, "Thanks," he pops his empty in my bag. "She is awfully skinny and weak, she has zero fitness and I am surprised her core muscles can even support her to stand upright. But she trains every chance she gets, first down in the morning, last to retire at night, she took a rather brutal beating and was straight back at it."
"Is that what you wanted to know?" Four asked after a beat. "I wanted to know the truth, I just wish it wasn't that. Has she any strengths?" I ask, concerned at this rather grim picture. "Hmmm, she isn't terrible at knife throwing and I'm sure her weapons capabilities can improve." I sighed unhappily and asked "Is she going to make it?" It's a hard question, but it's possible I am nursing a far harder one. "There is something," Four began, he leans forward, elbows on his knees, "But it's complicated." "Go on," I urge him, feeling a sliver of hope. "She is fast, if she went on the attack, I am confident she could score some points." "But…" I nudge him. "She is an Abnegation transfer." "Aah," I say, registering the point. "Precisely," he smiles grimly.