Suddenly my day has become a lot more miserable. I can see Christina 2 desks behind me to my left, her hand over her mouth as she holds back a laugh. Will is 3 desks to her right, and I can tell he is also holding in hysterics. I give each of them a half fake glare. I sigh quietly, set my backpack down under the desk and pull out my math textbook and workbook. I set them both on the desk, and I notice Four has finally noticed I'll be sitting next to him for the next year.
He's looking at me with a look of frustration, as if his luck couldn't get any worse. It makes anger boil up inside me, but I take a deep breath and ignore it. The teacher starts the class and gives us a worksheet to complete so she can gage our algebra skills. I don't very much like algebra, I mean it's math, why do we need letters in there too?
I pay no attention to Four, but I can tell he's quite a bit faster at this than I am. I ignore him and focus on what I'm doing. The questions are pretty easy at first, but the further I go down the harder it gets. I hate worksheets like this. It makes it easy for the smart people to go straight ahead and makes the people like me who are pretty average at math get stuck towards the end and look stupid.
After sitting and working on that one question for at least 10 minutes, I turn to Four. I hope this isn't too awkward.
"Hey, do you know how to do question 23?" I ask, and to me it seemed perfectly polite. He doesn't seem to think so. He looks straight into my eyes with a look of disbelief.
"Are you kidding?" he asks, almost laughing at me. I very rarely get angry at people. I am human, and sometimes I do snap at Caleb, or a jerk somewhere, but today I've managed to lose it with my parents, and be very, very ticked off by this guy.
"No. I don't know how to do question 23. Do you know?" I ask coldly, showing I'm just as annoyed I have to sit next to him as I am. Quite a few people around us are now staring, all of them either putting firsts next to their mouths to hide laughter, or looking away so they don't get involved.
"What makes you think you can talk to me?" he says harshly, as if I'm the stupidest person in the world for asking him a simple question.
"Maybe the fact you have done the question, nearly threw me the floor this morning and you are sitting next to me. Or is your opinion of yourself so high you can't see sense for it?" I snap, turning back to the sheet to hear a chorus of "Ooooooh!" "BURN!" "Damn Four you just got owned!" from behind me. The teacher shoots the class an icy glare, and they all snap back to the worksheet.
I don't look at Four for the rest of the class and manage to answer the question on my own. I can feel his eyes staring into the side of my head, but I bluntly ignore him. I don't want to get angry at anybody else today. After what feels like an eternity of being the most noticeable person in the entire class, the bell rings. I let Four shove past me and deliberately knock his shoulder into mine, he's just annoyed I finally told him how rude he is.
As soon as Christina and Will see me, they break into hysterics right in my face.
"Oh my God you should've seen his face Tris! That was the best math class I have ever been in. Period." Christina says, giggling the entire way through her sentence.
"You know how to comeback my friend." Will says, and we all crack up, earing a few stares as we laugh our way down the corridors. Suddenly I'm barely nervous for training. Maybe it was being with my friends, or destroying Four in that argument, but it's definitely put me in a better mood.
When we arrive at the main gym, it's rather intimidating, but to me it looks like the most fun place you could be. Then again, I always have seen Dauntless as amazing people who were fun and free. The room is cold, it's the same one we took our Aptitude test in, but it's transformed very quickly.
One of the longer walls is lined with about 20 human sized targets, with a box of knifes standing next to them. There's so many punching bags in one section, sometimes they knock into each other. The Dauntless logo is emblazoned in black, almost like is was charred in, on the biggest wall, high up so everybody can see it. There's a fighting ring in the middle, and a silver ladder running up one side, all the way through the ceiling.
While we're walking in, my eyes catch onto Four. He's with 2 of his friends, I think their names are Zeke and Uriah. It's easy to see they're related, they have the same nose, forehead, ears, and almost look identical. I think they're twins.
A muscly Dauntless teacher walks up to us, calling us into a closer huddle and shouting for silence. He doesn't have to introduce himself, we all know he's Dauntless' leader Max. He tells us that our first lesson today is a free time, that we can walk around and do anything we choose, just try and get an idea of our skills. The second years aren't really paying intention, they're glaring at each other with identical looks and smirks, as if to say "I'm going to fight you first!" and the people they're staring at are staring right back, as if to say "Bring it on!"
I am definitely not fighting until I have to. I don't need to get myself knocked out on the first day. I'm not changing my mind, but I can see Four glaring at me with that same look. That same look that means "I'm gonna get you in that ring and kick your face in." I gulp and wish I had just been sat anywhere else in math.
I can see a lot of the other first years deciding the same thing, to not fight until they are either ready to fight or forced into the ring, barring a group of overly confident, muscly looking Dauntless. I know their names, Will told me after Four threw me to the floor almost. They were snickering at me like I was the funniest thing in the world. Peter, Drew and Molly. Add them to the list of people I have to avoid.
Max finishes what he is saying, and we set off in a million different directions. Christina comes with me to the knife throwing, as well as Will, who just met up with Al in the crowd. I take 3 shiny, polished knifes from the huge box, and stand in front of one of the targets. I'm not entirely sure how to hold it, but I pinch the end between my fingers, and throw it towards the target, hoping for the best.
I laugh in disbelief, rubbing my eyes. The knife is sticking out of the target, slightly towards the left of the head piece's bullseye, but still close to it. All of Al's knifes have it the floor or bounced off the wall, the 2 that Will threw hit the wall, and Christina's either bounced off or hit the foot or ankles of the target. All 3 of them are staring at me in disbelief, but I just laugh and say "Beginner's luck?" and turn back to my knives.
Thirty minutes later, I still haven't moved from the knifes. I can still see Four waiting for me to move so he can either try to fight me in the ring or show me up at something. Al is still standing next to me, trying his best to hit the target. Almost every knife he's thrown has hit the floor, only 2 are embedded into the wooden wall. The majority of mine are somewhere on the target, 5 in the head and 4 in the chest. A few are on the wooden wall, but for the most part, I'm pleased I have some skill with this.
That's when Peter, Molly and Drew walk up, laughing ferociously at Al. He turns red and tries to ignore them, but his knifes just keep hitting the floor. Eventually, Peter comes up and knocks Al to the floor, pinning him to the floor while Molly and Drew still laugh hysterically on the floor. Will and Christina are standing near the punching bags, looking so sorry for Al, and angry at Peter.
I know why they aren't coming to get Peter off Al, because if we did, we'd probably end up getting beat up even worse than him. That doesn't stop me though. I don't know why my head suddenly tells me to beat the crap out of Peter, to get him to stop preying on people weaker than him. My legs are suddenly rushing forward, my hands suddenly on Peter's shoulder and side, shoving him to the floor.
Of course, he doesn't fall, he catches himself halfway. I effectively shut Molly and Drew up, giving Al time to get off the floor and scarper. Peter's face is filled with rage and humiliation. I can see the majority of people in the training room looking over, as if worried I'm going to end up in A&E. I'm worried I'm going to end up in A&E.
"Think you're tough stiff? That's what you think?" he says in a taunting, arrogant voice.
"No. You must, because you prey on those who aren't as strong as you. Pick on somebody your own damn s-" I say calmly, trying to be cold, but a swift punch to my cheek silences me. The pain stings, and my cheek feels numb. I put my hand on it, but not before he's thrown me over his shoulder and onto the matted floor.
This must happen a lot, as the floor is layered with gym mats. It still hurts. I try to get back up, but he kicks me 4 times in the ribs, causing tears to start rolling down my face and hollow sobs to rack my body. He snarls at me, before lifting his foot and bringing it down on my head. Everything goes black.