Chapter Fifteen
Tobias' old sweatshirt doesn't smell like him anymore. Hasn't in years. The comforting scent of oak moss and orange blossom mingling with sweat from training that used to cling to the fabric has long since faded. Now, it smells like blood and tears. Both of which belonged to me.
I curl up on his bed. It is bare of sheets, pillows, anythings soft to cushion my battered back. Still, it gives me more comfort than my own bed just down the hall. My room is a dark place, and not only because of the boarded-up windows that are a specialty of this house. This room, however, still rings with the hollow laughter of my childhood with my brother and my best friend. One is dead. Both are gone.
Holding the sweatshirt to my nose, I climb out of Tobias' bed and into Caleb's. It's been so long since I lost my brother that I can't even remember the sound of his voice. At this point, I would even welcome the memory of his angriest face as he raised his fist to me.
The only memory I have of him is the day we returned home to find him dead on the ground, tongue hanging out from his lips, shirt drenched in blood. In my memory, flies buzz around him, biting at his quickly rotting flesh. In truth, that didn't happen. In my mind, it did.
I still don't know who killed my brother, or why.
Sigh. I breathe in the dusty air around me and shut myself away from the world. The locked door comforts me, the only lock that my father forgot to remove. Accompanied by the music of the birds, the sun drifts through the only open window in the house, and I soak it up, despite the heat that sets my body on fire. It is blissful, despite the pain. It seems that pain has even infiltrated my paradise.
The door hits the ground with a loud, and the birds all fly away, to somewhere safer, somewhere far away. As his fists close around my shirt, lifting me up, I wish desperately that I had wings. Before I can see his face, I squeeze my eyes shut. I don't wish to see his face.
The dark figure drops me, and I scramble to my feet. "This room is off-limits, bitch," he snarls, the sound demonic to my blind ears.
Anger wells up inside of me. This room is mine. "Woof," I reply mockingly. Then pain shoots through my face and I turn and spit, blood coating the carpet. He shakes out his hand, knuckles split.
"Hmm," he hums. "That's the same spot on the carpet your mother had to replace, is it not? I suppose it's symbolic or some crap like that, the siblings and their blood bond."
"There's a bruise on my face," I respond, startling him. "Today is my aptitude test, which means I have to go to school. You're screwed, Andrew."
He scowls. "No one would believe you, child. I am in no danger."
"And if they did?"
"They would be gone."
I scoff. "As if."
"It's already happened, my darling," he drawls. "Did you never wonder what happened to your buddy? The old man?"
"Thomas," I breathe. "What did you do to him?"
"He didn't have much time left, anyways," Andrew replies, turning his back to me. In a way, it sounds like he is defending his actions. Like he is pleading with me to understand. But then he turns around, and his face is stone hard and bloodthirsty and his fists are raised again.
His fingers close around my throat, and I close my eyes, thrashing desperately against his grip. As spots cloud my vision, my mind only becomes clearer, running wild with thoughts and ideas, connecting pieces and putting things together. Thomas is dead. Andrew killed him. A pause. How did he know that Caleb died in this exact spot? Another. I hadn't wanted to believe it, but…
I am suffocating. Andrew must have. He must have… I can't breathe.
He drops me, and I crash to the floor, hitting my head on the side of Caleb's desk. I raise my fingers to my scalp, touching something wet. My vision blurs, and the foggy image of Andrew shutting the blinds registers in my mind. The lights breaks around him, casting him in a dark shadow. He turns, glaring, as I cough, grasping at my throat, clawing, trying to tear away the pain.
Stalking towards me, he stops at my head, staring down menacingly. "Wear a turtleneck to school," he says, crouching beside me and caressing my hair. Pain shoots through my scalp. "Or a parka."
"It's 90 degrees out," I croak.
"Well," he drawls, stroking my cheek with his long finger. "It won't matter. You're very fond of that coat of yours. Take it for a spin." His nostrils flare like a bull's. "I doubt you'd want anyone to see what's under it."
He kicks my abdomen with his steel-toed boots, and a crack resounds through the room. Red floods my vision, and the last thing I think is that I should never have stopped training for Dauntless.
Luckily for me, it's never too late to be brave.
Uriah picks at his lunch. Christina picks at her nails. I watch the both of them without speaking, allowing the rest of the room's noise to fill our bubble of silence. It's easy to tell who will stay and who will leave their home faction today.
"From Amity: Danielle Pohler and Lark Danvers." As they rise, I notice the beaming smile on the girl's face. She will stay. But the boy is solemn, fists clenched, haunted by something unseen by the rest of us as he walks into the room. None of us know what will happen to him in there. Or to us.
"Sucks to go first," Uriah mutters as the doors shut behind the two.
"Like they care that they're going first," Christina snipes. "A pair of banjo strummin' hippies…"
"Christina!" I chide. She offers a half-hearted apology. I want to be angry with her, but I understand why she's upset, so I sigh and let it go, telling her not to do it again. I'm not fond of the Amity, but I know what it's like to be called names.
We sit in silence for another moment, until the boy and girl emerge from the rooms and the next pair are called in. As he sits back down, I notice the subtle smile on his face, and how light his shoulders look. I wonder what he got on the test. I wonder what he's just been through. I notice his fingers close around some invisible thing in the air under the table, like the handle of a sword.
"Did your brother tell you anything about the test?" Christina asks. Uriah shakes his head adamantly.
"Not a thing. Hey, it doesn't matter anyways. I know I'm staying in Dauntless."
"Yeah," she replies weakly, "it doesn't matter. I love Candor, and there's nothing I hate more than liars. That's that."
"No, it's not," I reply quietly. "Just because you love Candor doesn't mean you have to stay."
"Aren't you? Staying, I mean?" Christina asks. Uriah turns to me, listening. He knows I stopped training, and he wants to know why. Every time he's tried asking, I've shut him down.
"I… I am," I say under my breath. My resolve is to stay. I am not strong enough for Dauntless anymore, not after years of being torn down. Now, I am a weakling, a fragile, breakable little girl. I would never survive as a warrior.
Christina sighs, defeated. Uriah looks heartbroken, and my chest tightens. Suddenly, I feel the need to explain, but I can't. So I try to help Christina.
"Chrissy, do you remember my… my mother?" Her lips part in shock, but she nods. I never talk about my family. Ever. "I… I want to tell you a story about her."
"Please," she replies, eyes shining. Uriah's eyes are wet with tears as well. They know how hard it is for me to talk about her, and so me telling them this shows them how much I care.
I take a deep breath. "It was… the day we met, Christina, when we were seven years old. I was upset because my brother… yelled at me. And I was crying on my bed, when my mother came in and sat with me and told me that she understood that I felt like my childhood was empty, joyless, that everything other children had was taken away from me. That she couldn't relate, but she understood…"
"Your mother wasn't Abnegation-born?"
"No, she was Dauntless." A smile spreads across my lips as I remember her in black clothing, throwing a knife that arched perfectly and stuck into the center of her target.
"Her mother was a badass," Uriah interrupts. I shake my head at him, smiling slightly.
"I suppose she was. Anyway, we read the manifesto together and she told me that she supported me, that I was free to choose my own path and that I didn't have to follow in hers. Then she took me out, and we distributed supplies to the factionless for hours. It's gracious work, honourable. She showed me that Abnegation is not just grey colours and good behaviour. Still, she always let me decide who I was." I soften, remembering that day, that monumental day. The day I met Tobias and his whole life changed. My whole life changed.
"That's great Beatrice, but not everyone is as lucky as you," Christina spits. Then she realizes what she's said, and her eyes widen, and just as she's about to speak, they call her in for the test. "I… I'm sorry." She walks away, through the doors of uncertainty and fear, without looking back.
"She didn't mean it," Uriah says.
"I know she didn't," I reply. "She's just anxious. Afraid. I'm sure she feels like she's been lying to her family her whole life."
"There's nothing she hates more than liars," he echoes her previous words.
After a moment, I speak. "So are you—"
"Why?" he interrupts suddenly. "Why did you tell her that you're staying in Abnegation?"
"Because I am!" I cry out, quietly so that no one can hear us.
"What the hell? You trained for four years, Tris. Four years! Now you're just going to throw that all away? Because of what?"
"It's.. it's not…"
"It's not what?" he screams. Everyone turns to look at us. He narrows his eyes and barks, "There's nothing to see here." At that, everyone continues their conversations — he can be scary when he wants to — and Uriah drags me out of the room and into the hallway where no one can hear us. The same hallway where I spoke to his brother exactly two years ago.
He turns to me and says, softer, "It's not what?"
"It's not the same. Without my mother. Without… Tobias."
"You told him to go!"
"I know I did! I know! And I don't regret it, I never have, because he is where he was meant to be."
He melts against the wall, pinching the spot between his eyebrows like an old man. "He thinks you told him to go because you hate him."
I cross my arms over my chest and grit my teeth. "I do."
"No, you don't," Uriah says. "You don't hate Tobias. You could never hate him. You don't want to admit it because of what he did, but you love—"
"I hate him, Uriah! I hate him! I hate Tobias so much…" I scream, tears streaming down my face. Something snaps inside of me. My body shakes with sobs, and my voice trembles, and when Uriah pulls me to his chest I pound against his shirt with my fists. Pain flares through my abdomen, but I ignore it. All I know is pain. Can you feel my pain?
"This is why!" I cry out. "This is why I have to stay here! I'm too weak for Dauntless, Uriah!"
"You can train—"
"No, in my head. My head is too weak. My mind, my heart… All I do is cry…"
Suddenly, Uriah is drowning in laughter. I pull away like he's burned me. Does he think I'm pathetic? I wouldn't blame him. "That's why? That's ridiculous!" He stops laughing when he sees my face. "Oh, no. No, I'm not laughing at you. Just- listen, okay?"
I nod, and he continues. "You have lost everything. Everything. Your best friend betrayed you in an unimaginable way. You lost your brother, your mother…" My father, Thomas… "And I have a feeling that you've been through more, more than you've told me."
"Thanks for laying it all out there, Uriah. I feel so much better," I reply, tone dripping with sarcasm. Shaking my head, I turn to leave; he grabs me, spins me around, and firmly holds my arms.
"If I had gone through half of that, I wouldn't have the strength to get out of bed in the morning. You do, and you still smile, still laugh, through all of that pain. That's how I know that you are strong, and brave, and perfect for Dauntless."
I wipe away my tears, training my gaze on the floor. Light glances off the marble, and the familiar rumble of the vending machine fills my head. He lifts my chin. "And crying, Tris, does not make you weak. Let's think of it as… expelling the weakness from your body. In the… form of tears. Yeah, that's what I was going to say."
Rolling my eyes, I let out a small laugh. "So you're saying I'm not a pansycake?"
His eyes widen excitedly, and he does a jig. "Yes! I brought it back! Take that Ezekiel!" Then he stops. "And, for the record, you are not a pansycake, Tris Prior. You're the opposite. A… fearless pie."
I raise my eyebrows. "A fearless pie?"
He nods firmly. "Yup, because fearless is the opposite of pansy."
"And pie is the opposite of cake?"
"That is correct."
I laugh, wiping the last tears from my cheeks. "And you say I'm the ridiculous one."
He sobers. "Tris, you are going to make it to Dauntless, I promise. But… when you do, please don't shut Tobias out."
"Uriah—"
"Please, for me. No, for him. Because you don't hate him, no matter what you say, even after what he did."
"He killed my mother, Uriah." Tears fill my eyes again, but not because I am crying. No, I'm done with crying. Forever. This time, it is because I will not shut my eyes, because I cower from the monsters that hide behind my eyelids. Because I am a coward.
"You know he was aiming for Marcus," he replies.
"It doesn't matter."
"Would you… still have been upset with him? If he killed Marcus?"
"I don't give a shit whether or not Marcus Eaton lives." I scoff. "Actually, that's a lie. I would prefer if he dropped dead right now."
Uriah sighs. "It was Tobias' first time firing a gun."
"He couldn't have practiced on somebody else? He killed my mother, Uriah! My mother! "
"I know, I know. It's hard, still hard, and she's gone. But he didn't mean to, Tris. He has a good heart. Please, even if you can't forgive him, don't hate him."
I fold my lips together. "You were right. I could never hate Tobias. But I still don't know if I can forgive him, Uriah."
"That's… okay, for now. I think he will accept that, too. As long as you're happy, as long as you're where you belong, Tobias will accept that."
"Because he loves me?"
He smiles. "Yes, Tris. Because he loves you."
"URIAH PEDRAD!" It's faint, but the voice reaches us — the Candor lady who runs the tests. I realize that we have been gone from the room for too long, and that Uriah's turn has arrived. I wanted to tell him what Mama told Tobias and me, because I suspect Uriah is divergent, but I have run out of time. I can only hope that I am wrong.
"I'm guessing that she's called your name more than once," I tell him, pushing him towards the room. "Go, and be careful." He nods, doesn't ask me what could possibly be dangerous in a test. He knows something, at least that what happens today will change his life.
Please, don't let Uriah be divergent.
For a moment, I watch him disappear down the hall, and I am reminded of the last time I saw Tobias, two years ago today. His body appears in my mind, and I remember his touch, his fingers around mine, his laugh and smile. I could see him tomorrow if I tried… if I choose Dauntless. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that there is a possibility that he's not even there — Uriah never talks about him, how he's doing, and I never asked. It's entirely possible that he flunked initiation or left, but he is stronger than that. He is the strongest person I know.
I slip through the bathroom doors, splashing some cold water on my face to hide my red and puffy eyes and the tear stains on my cheeks. The harsh bruise that my father left on my this morning glares back, and I pat my face dry before pulling out the concealer that Christina gifted to me for my fifteenth birthday. Because you're so clumsy, she'd said. No one wants to walk around all black and blue.
After applying it generously, I return to the cafeteria, noticing that Christina isn't there. Sliding into the seat beside Susan and Robert, I ask them where she has gone. "She felt sick so she went home early," Susan replies. "She told me to tell you and Uriah that she's fine and she'll see you tomorrow."
"Thank you," I reply. For the next half hour, I listen to her and Robert talk about random things. Susan avoids looking at me, even when we speak, and I think that it's because I remind her of Caleb. Neither Robert nor I call her out on it.
"From Abnegation: Susan Black and Beatrice Prior." As we stand up, I feel a slight pressure on my hand, and then it's gone. Without looking back, Susan makes her way to the front of the room. I almost doubt that it happened, but it did… she squeezed my hand. As I follow her, I realize how hard it must have been for her, and a grateful smile pulls at my lips.
Before entering the room, I take a deep breath and brace myself for whatever could be awaiting. The doors open, and I step inside.
The moment that the simulation serum takes effect, my heart sinks into my toes. When I open my eyes, I am in the cafeteria, but there are no tables or chairs or large crowds of dependants separated by faction. Through the large window on the far side of the room, the one that takes up almost the entire wall, I see snow drifting gently onto the pavement outside.
I know it's a simulation as soon as I open my eyes. Which could only mean…
I am divergent.
There was a chance that I wouldn't be, a small chance, but the odds were not in my favour. Still, the one person who crosses my mind is Tobias. If he did this same test, if he knew as soon as he opened his eyes, if he's even divergent himself…
In front of me is a table holding two baskets, one of a hunk of cheese and the other a knife. Behind me, I hear a woman say, "Choose."
Suddenly, in one horrific, life-changing moment, I realize that Mama never told me how to hide my divergence during the Aptitude Test. We spoke about the Dauntless simulations, how to conquer fears like a Dauntless would, but never about today, about what to choose.
"Choose!" she yells. In a panic, I try to think logically and assess the options. I grab blindly, but my hands go through the table, and it disappears.
Forget Andrew, I'm the one who's screwed.
"That was… perplexing," Tori says as she types something into her computer. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Excuse me, I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?" I ask her, averting my eyes. I still feel guilty from the last part of the simulation. Then I realize that she probably knows that I'm divergent, and for a moment I think she might be going to get someone to kill me on the spot.
"Just… out for a moment," she says. "I have something I need to do."
"Don't," I plead quietly. She stops in her tracks. "Please. I haven't done anything wrong."
"Beatrice?"
"Please don't tell them."
Wide, her eyes shimmer in the fluorescent lighting overhead. "What are you talking about, Beatrice?" I hesitate, realizing that I shouldn't be the one to say it. She could be clueless. But she's administering the test, so that is unlikely. Why hasn't she killed me yet, if I'm so dangerous?
I sigh. "I'm divergent, right? That's why you won't tell me what my result is?"
"Wh… what? How do you—"
"My mother told me. She's dead. Please answer the question."
Tori swallows loudly and runs her hand through her hair. "Geez. Alright, um… yes, you received three aptitudes. Typically, each stage of the simulation eliminates one or more of the factions, but in your case, only two have been ruled out."
"I have an aptitude for three factions?"
"Yes, it's pretty much unheard of. By refusing to choose, you eliminated both the Amity and Dauntless lines which would have further confirmed or ruled out that particular faction. So I manually put you into the stage with the man who needed help… where I could have confirmed either Candor or… Abnegation."
"Then I'm not Abnegation? Because I lied to the man?"
"Not exactly. When the man told you that the truth would save him, you still refused to tell it. Not an Abnegation-oriented response. But, when you threw yourself on the dog rather than let it attack the little girl, you displayed an Abnegation-oriented response. Not running from the dog suggests Dauntless, but so does taking the knife, which you didn't do."
"So which is it? Yes or no?"
She hesitates. "Your intelligent response to the dog indicates strong alignment with the Erudite. I have no idea what to make of your indecision in stage one, but—"
"Tori! Am I Abnegation or not?"
"Yes." She pauses, as if to assess my reaction. I keep my face emotionless. "My conclusion is that you display equal aptitude for Abnegation, Dauntless, and Erudite." I sigh in relief — Dauntless! "I've erased the results to prevent any detection. I assume you know about the dangers of being… you know. But you do need a result so I'm going to manually enter Abnegation into the system so whoever checks—"
"No," I interrupt. "Don't enter Abnegation. Enter Dauntless."
She freezes. "Beatrice—"
"Tris."
She clears her throat. "Tris, that's not a good idea."
"Why? I'll be choosing Dauntless tomorrow. It will look less suspicious if I have an aptitude of Dauntless, will it not?"
"I guess, but Dauntless is not safe for people like you."
"I'm tough," I tell her, rubbing the back of my neck. Her eyes fall to my collar, where my shirt has dropped. I pull it back up, praying she doesn't see the finger-shaped bruises, think I'm weak, and refuse to enter Dauntless as my result.
Her gaze locks on mine, and there is fire in her eyes. "It seems that you are tougher than you look, Tris Prior." She turns her computer to face me, and I watch as she enters Dauntless beside my name. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Christina's name with the same result beside it.
"You should head home," Tori tells me. "If anyone asks, the serum made you sick. That's why I had to manually enter your result. Don't speak of what happened here to anyone."
I nod and make for the door. "I've got to tell my friend Uriah where I'm going first."
"Pedrad? You won't find him out there. I… sent him home a while ago."
My heart sinks further. I had a feeling, but this is confirmation. Uriah is divergent, like me, probably like Tobias. "I'll see him tomorrow, anyways." I extend my hand to her, the Dauntless greeting and farewell. She takes it, and I shake firmly like my mother taught me. "Thank you, Tori. Goodbye."
"See you soon, Tris."
Water rushes, spraying me, soaking my training clothes and washing the sweat off me. I crouch by the stream, collecting handfuls and splashing my face in the cool liquid. Standing upright, I grab another knife and throw, sticking straight in the center of the target.
Just like riding a bike.
My grey robe and tights are discarded in the corner of the cave, sheltered from the running waterfall, and I am liberated in my black training gear once again. Set up around the cave are wooden targets for knife throwing, punching bags for combat, weights for muscle building, and an untouched gun station.
Tobias set this place up five years ago after we stopped training in my backyard. He invited me every day to train with him, but I never did. Today, I am making up for lost time. Today, I am pushing my body to the limits.
As I rest on the black rocks, I eye the gun station. There is only one weapon resting on the table a few feet from the targets. I realize as I stare at the pristine targets that even Tobias never touched the thing, save from getting it here.
It's the gun he used to kill my mother.
I don't know why, but I pick it up. Visions flash in my eyes — Zeke lying on the ground, Tobias lifting the gun, my mother's grey shirt soaking with blood, everything going black. But I don't drop the gun; instead, I lift it clumsily to the target, click a bullet into place, and fire. I miss the target entirely, and I don't even see where it hits as I am knocked to the ground from the kickback.
It's easier to see now how Tobias missed his target.
I abandon the gun station after that, leaving the gun on the floor of the cave. I don't fall easily into my old workout routine — my muscles have grown weak, and my body is injured in many places. But with a newfound determination, I work harder I ever have. Once my hair is glued to my forehead with sweat, I decide to call it a night.
As I lean over the stream, I see that it has calmed over the last few hours. Amazing. It's never been this calm before. The water flows cleanly, showing an uninterrupted reflection of my face, and it is the second time today that I see myself. The second time in many years.
"I will become my undoing if I become my obsession," I whisper, gazing at the way my lips form the words. "I will forget the ones I love If I do not serve them. I will war with others If I refuse to see them. Therefore I choose to turn away from my reflection, to rely not on myself but on my brothers and sisters, to project always outward until I disappear."
But I do not turn away from my reflection. Instead, I examine myself. Finally, I see that my nose is too long, that my eyes are practically the size of my fist, and I realize; I am no longer a kid. The chubbiness has disappeared from my cheeks, the innocence from my eyes.
Somehow, the words don't feel right coming from me anymore. The Abnegation manifesto no longer suits me — I wonder if it ever did. So instead, I reach into my pocket and pull out a black stone, the Dauntless stone, and say, "I believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another."
Those words feel right.
In that moment, I know that it's true. I am Abnegation, I am Erudite, but I am meant for Dauntless. Tomorrow, I will not be Beatrice Prior anymore.
I will be Tris.