Chapter Two
I run my hand underneath the dispenser, and a stream of pink liquid soap lands on my palm. Rubbing my hands together, I dip them in the lukewarm water that comes from the tap and watch the bubbles form. When I asked him about it, Caleb told me it was chemistry. I didn't ask him what that was.
The bathrooms at school have mirrors above the sinks — that's why I always watch my hands. Still, out of the corner of my eye, I see a blob of grey: my robe. I can't look; it's against the rules.
"Stiff," I hear a girl whisper. She's my age, seven, and she has a wide face and brown hair that comes down over her forehead, sticking straight down, making her cheeks look rounder. She wears black and white: Candor. Well, at least she's honest.
Another Candor girl comes out of a stall. "Shut up, Molly," she snaps — Mama said those were bad words — and comes up beside me to wash her hands, making the other girl huff and storm out of the bathroom. This girl is taller than me by a lot even though she's probably my age and has dark brown skin, eyes that match, and black hair that stops at her neck. I wonder what it feels like to have hair that short; Mama just cut mine yesterday, and it still feels long, even tied up in a bun. I can feel the weight of it pressing down on my head.
With my wet fingers, I grab a paper towel from the roll and try not to smell it. Damp, the organic ones smell gross, but Mama says they're better for the environment, so the Amity had the school put them in.
Amity and Abnegation get along just fine, but I don't like the Amity kids. They keep to themselves — most of them don't even eat in the cafeteria. They sit in the grass and take out their packed lunch boxes and eat their bread while the rest of us eat at tables like humans. We have a lot of things in common, like our shared idea that caring for others is important, but they are allowed to laugh and play, unlike us. It's not fair, but I stopped complaining after Caleb scolded me; I hate when Caleb scolds me.
I hand the Candor girl an organic paper towel when she turns off the tap, and she thanks me. Then, after wiping her hands and tossing it in the trash can, she turns to the mirror and takes out a box from her backpack, opens it, and starts putting green stuff on her eyelids. I watch, fascinated by this.
"What are you doing?" I ask. I've never seen anything like it.
She turns to me and laughs. "It's makeup. I stole it from my mom's dresser."
I don't tell her she looks like a tree with that green gunk on her eyes; she's the Candor, not me. "Makeup?"
"Yeah, she uses it to make herself prettier. I thought I'd try it."
"Why?" I ask. I should stop asking questions, but I can't help but be interested.
She raises her eyebrows. "You want to try?"
"No," I say, but even I can hear the lie in my voice. I do want to try.
"Liar." Darn you, Candor.
I take a deep breath. What harm could it do to try? "Okay," I say before I can talk myself out of it.
"Yay!" the girl says. "Oh, I'm Christina, by the way."
I reply, "Beatrice."
"That's a nice name," she says, sitting me down on the counter.
"I don't like it," I answer. It's the first time I've told anyone this.
"Why?" She fumbles with the box for a while before finding a little white stick and rubs it round the circle with orange-brown stuff. It sticks to the squishy part. "Close your eyes."
I do as told. "It sounds too…"
"Stiff?" She finishes for me, and I feel pressure on my eyelid. I jolt back, mumble an apology, and let her continue.
"Yeah, I guess." Stiff… that's the word. Beatrice is an Abnegation name.
She dips the sponge back in the orange-brown. "So change it."
"What?" My eyelids flutter as the sponge finds the other eye.
"Change it."
I pause. "It's not that easy."
"Why not?" Christina replies. Is she right? Could I be called something other than Beatrice? Suddenly, I think of Tobias and how cool his name sounds. I could have a name as cool as Tobias.
"Okay…" I mutter. "Let's say it is that easy. What would I change it to?"
She thinks for a second, pursing her lips. "Hmm… how about Bea?"
I shake my head. "That's sounds like bee."
"Well, we'll have to figure it out later…" she says, putting the sponge back in the box and snapping it shut. "Because I am done with your makeup."
I smile, thank her, and stand up. She frowns. "What's wrong?" I ask.
"You aren't going to look?" Oh, she wants me to see my reflection.
"I can't. I wish I could, really, but I can't."
"Why not?" She looks so sad now, like a kick puppy. I saw a factionless man kick a puppy once, and I got so angry that I tried to confront him, but Caleb stopped me. That was the first time I got scolded by him.
"In Abnegation, we aren't allowed to look at our reflection. We reject vanity." Every time I say that matter-of-factly, repeat the words of my mother, I pretend like I know what it means.
She hesitates. "I… I won't tell."
Suddenly, I am hit with the overwhelming urge to look. I've already let Christina put makeup on me, so why not take a little peek? If it was a hard-and-fast rule, anyways, they wouldn't make it so easy to cheat. "Okay."
I've never cheated before.
Slowly, I turn around, eyes trained on the ground. Christina's encouraging words give me courage, and I lift my eyes, raise them to the mirror, and gasp. The orange-brown doesn't make me look like a tree; instead, it brings out the blue in my grey eyes and makes them shine like stars. For the first time, I think about how I look. For the first time, I appreciate how I look. For the first time, I indulge in vanity, even if it is just for a while.
It scares me that it is the best feeling.
We walk from the bathroom arm in arm, grey, black, and white, confident, proud. For Christina, it's a normal thing. For me, it's a revolution. My heart thumps in my chest, anxious, but I'm the happiest I've been in a while. Only kids could go into a bathroom and come out with a friend, I think. And, for the first time, I am a kid. I feel like a kid. Right now, I'm not Stiff. I am me.
Caleb sees us. I smile and wave at him, my brother, and wait for him to smile back. He doesn't; his face contorts with rage, and he stomps over to me, grabs my arm, and drags me away from Christina into an empty hallway.
"Beatrice!" he yells, and I feel tears prick my eyes. I wonder, if they fall, will they be orange-brown? "What do you think you're doing! You can't be friends with a Candor! You can't be friends with anyone, in fact!" The tears stream down my face, and I wipe them away with the back of my hand. I look; they are clear, just like always. At least my makeup isn't ruined.
Then, he gets really quiet and leans in. His eyes narrow, and I see the fire in them. "Beatrice, what is on your eyes?" His voice is low, scary, and I flinch away from him.
"It's makeup," I tell him. "Christina put it on me. Isn't it pretty?"
"Pretty?" He yells, louder this time. "Pretty! Beatrice, you sound like a narcissist!"
I frown. What that word means, I don't know, but it doesn't sound good. "But Caleb… it looks nice."
"How would you know that?" he snarls, pointing an accusatory finger at me. My heart quickens, and I know I've gotten myself into deep trouble.
"I… I looked."
He's quiet again for a minute, and I start to think that he's not angry anymore. Then, I feel a stinging pain on my cheek and grab it with both hands. Startled, I look up at him and realize; he hit me. A sob builds in my throat.
"Go home, Beatrice, and tells our parents why I sent you back." I nod quickly and run, quicker than I've ever run before, desperate to get away from him. I don't take the bus; instead, I run all the way home. By the time I reach, my lungs feel like Dauntless' hot coals in my chest, and my heart is beating like it will jump out of me. I drop onto the front steps and heave, feeling the contents of my lunch rise up.
Mama opens the door — she's home early from the shelter today. She calls for Papa, who sprints over to me and carries me inside. I'm crying now, sobbing, and my cheeks still stings from Caleb's slap. I hold onto Papa's shirt as he sets me down on the couch.
"What happened, sweetie?" Mama asks. I tell her everything, about Molly (the mean Candor girl), Christina, the makeup, and Caleb. She doesn't seem angry, not with me, but Papa does.
"Get that crap off her eyes." My eyes widen at his angry voice, his mean words, his temper that I've never seen before.
"Papa-"
"Now!" He growls, barking at Mama. I start to cry again, and she glares at him.
"You're a hypocrite, Andrew," she says, carrying me off to the bathroom. She called him Andrew, and she's never done that before. Today is a day of firsts.
She dips a towel in cold water. "Close your eyes, Beatrice." Gently, she dabs the cloth against my eyelids. I shiver. "Wish we had some makeup wipes," she mutters, probably not meaning for me to hear. She sounds like she knows a lot.
"Mama?"
"Yes, Beatrice?" she replies, rubbing gently. The orange-brown comes off on the cloth, and she sighs in relief.
I tell her what I've been afraid to, because I'm brave now. "I don't like being called Beatrice. It's a Stiff name."
She freezes, and I think there are tears in her eyes. I feel guilty; I didn't want to make Mama cry. Then, suddenly, she smiles with watery eyes. "Yes, I don't think it suits you anymore."
"Christina says I don't have to be called Beatrice."
Mama dips the cloth in water again. "You don't, baby. You can be called whatever you want. All you have to do is wait until you are older." Is Mama telling me to choose somewhere else? Does she know I don't belong in Abnegation? But I do belong here, I think. Or maybe I don't.
"Can you help me come up with a name? I want something that sounds cool, like Tobias." Her eyes harden, and she folds her lips together. But that is only for a second, and she's smiling again.
"Something Dauntless," she says. I nod, because it's true. I want a Dauntless name, something bold, something unique, something that makes me feel alive… but that is a lot of pressure to put on a name.
"Yes, Mama. Something Dauntless."
She thinks for a moment, as if imaging, as if becoming lost in a memory. "Tris," she says, suddenly. "We can call you Tris. Do you like that?"
Tris… "It's perfect, Mama!"
She smiles. "Let's try it out, then." She sticks out her hand — a Dauntless greeting. In Abnegation, we acknowledge by nodding heads. "Hello."
"Hi, my name is Tris." I stick my hand out and shake hers. It feels foreign, strange, but I like it.
I like it a lot.