Chapter Sixteen
"Are you excited?" Thea asks as her fingers expertly braid my hair. The sharp gravel digs into my thighs as I shift, and I nod lightly. Her eyes shine with glee, and she rambles on about the Choosing Ceremony and the factions with an enthusiasm I could never match, if only because I take my dependancy for granted.
She sighs heartily. "If the factionless could choose, I would go wherever Toby is so I could see him again."
"He still hasn't come to see you?"
"Not since he left Abnegation. I thought he would. I thought he cared about me."
"He does," I reassure her. "He loves you, Angel." She smiles at the nickname he gave to her. It's fitting, really; at fifteen years old, her skin glows against her black hair, radiating warmth, sincerity, love, and her large, blue eyes are almost unchanged from when she was six, still innocent despite the hardships she's been through. I scoot back against the brick wall, and she lays her head in my lap, letting me run my fingers through her dirty, knotted hair as she rests.
After a moment's silence passes, she opens her eyes. "Where do you think I would end up if I could choose?"
My heart feels heavy in my chest as I am reminded that she will be here forever, alone and factionless, nowhere to call home. It hurts me to break her hopes but it will only be more painful this time next year if she doesn't make peace with her reality. "Sweetheart, you know you shouldn't think like that."
"I know," she replies, dejected, "but I can't help it. I've never known anything other than this, than factionless, but I just want the same chance everyone else has, you know?"
"It's not fair. I wish you could come with me," I whisper helplessly. "I wish I could pack you in a bag and take you with me to Dauntless."
She laughs. "I'd probably fit in the bag." It's true — for a fifteen year old, her underfed, malnourished body is small enough. Then she realizes what I've unintentionally revealed to her. "Dauntless?"
I nod. "That's where Tobias is, too. At least, I think so."
"I haven't seen him around here, if that's what you're thinking."
"I didn't…" Shaking my head, I stare up at the cloudless sky. "Sorry."
"He's fine, Tris. You know him. He's strong. You are, too."
"Dauntless is no joke," I muse, imagining the blood and sweat the place must smell of. In that way, it will be no different from here. But it will be free, unrestrained, and in that way, it will be worlds different.
"I miss you already," she tells me, shifting in my lap and closing her eyes. "Mom will, too."
"I'll visit."
"No, don't," she replies ardently, startling me. "Stiffs visit the factionless, Tris, not Dauntless. At least, unless they're beating us into submission. Either way, you can't afford to look weak. Once you leave, you don't know us."
"But you and Anna—"
"Will be okay on our own, promise. Look after yourself and Tobias, and we'll be happy." She straightens and wraps her arms around my neck; I can smell her tears, but I keep quiet.
"I love you, Thea," I whisper into her hair, struggling to keep my voice even. Her fingers dig into a new wound, and I flinch back and press my fingers to the fabric covering my collarbone; they come away red. Thea cringes away like a scolded puppy, eyes wide.
"Tris? You're bleeding…"
"What, this?" I answer dismissively, waving her off. "It's nothing. I tripped and knocked myself on the kitchen table."
Her finger pry at the shirt, pulling it back. "Okay, as someone who has seen a fair share of knife wounds, I can say with certainty that this is one. Who did this to you, Tris?"
I laugh nervously. "You caught me. I was sparring with Uriah and things got a little out of hand. It won't happen again. Really, don't worry about it."
"Why are you lying to me?"
"I'm not—"
"Tris! Don't lie to me!"
I stand angrily, tearing myself away from her. "Stop prying, Thea! I already told you, it was a fight and it escalated. That's all."
Her watery eyes burn with passion. "Why don't I believe you, then?"
"I don't know, because you don't trust people. That's not my fault. I cant do this right now, Thea. See you." I start in the opposite direction, not looking back even as she calls out my name again and again. The sun is already up, indicating that I'm a few hours later than I should be and that my father is probably already up and getting ready for the Ceremony. My footsteps quicken like my heart does when I realize what that means for me and my bruised body.
It's only two hellish hours and a roll of bandages later that I realize that I won't see Thea again, and that I've spoken my last words to the girl I gave my coat to nine years ago.
My father's fingers dig into my shoulder a little too hard as he leads me off the bus. He's smiling, but his eyes are steely grey like the robes we both don. I've always found it interesting how he can walk through the streets with me and pretend that my scars aren't his fault, that he hasn't just dragged a blade across my skin or kicked me with steel-toed boots. Becoming part of the blur of grey, we project outwards as we march as one towards the towering building known as the Hub. At least, we pretend to.
When we left the house this morning, I took one last look at my childhood home, my bedroom, my brother's, and it really hit me that I may never return to that place, sleep in that bed, eat bland oatmeal at that kitchen table if I could sneak it without Andrew noticing again. I had dressed in clothes that wouldn't restrict my movement and slipped the Dauntless stone into my pocket before leaving without looking back. I had nothing else to remember my happy memories by, not even a photograph of my mother.
Now, as we march towards the Hub, the air is suddenly electrified by the shriek of train tracks and the holler of Dauntless dependants and their families throwing themselves from moving trains, landing on their feet and running towards us in a way that makes most Abnegation flinch, but that makes my legs twitch with anticipation. Then my father's grip moves to my head, and he forcefully turns it forwards, keeping it there until we reach the steps.
He stops me. "I'll see you soon," he says pointedly, his final warning for me to stay. Maybe in a different life, these words would have made me sad, but instead they fill me with determination. Determination to leave, to make my own life, to be my own person.
"Of course, father," I answer obediently.
We have to walk up twenty flights of stairs, a feat that should tire me out but only serves as a workout for my legs which I can't help but appreciate. When we reach the top, my father stations me at the door and leaves me there, so I hold it open for thirty minutes at least, warding off the polite thank-you's with a simple nod.
I am the last person inside, and the view is breathtaking; the circular room is divided into five sections, each with its own colour, but at the base of the stage is a single line of sixteen-year-olds, organized reverse alphabetically instead of by faction. Their faction colours create something of a rainbow.
This is the kind of unity between the factions that will only last a few hours, until the last of us have chosen and we are all separated by colour again. I take my place beside a boy whose name I don't recognize.
I try not to think about the fact that it should be Caleb beside me instead of this unknown boy.
The Ceremony begins, and Marcus takes his place at the podium, my father lingering behind him like some sort of lost dog. I glower at them, willing a fire to swallow them up as suddenly as I lost my brother, or my mother, or Tobias. Instead, he gives his routine speech about the formation of our society and reads each faction manifesto, unable to hide his contempt as the Dauntless cheer loudly when their time comes.
I look anywhere but at him, deciding instead to search the room for my friends. Uriah is only a few people down from me, but Christina is near the front of the line, twiddling her thumbs nervously and playing with the tips of her short hair. I wish I could reassure her, tell her that she will make the right decision, but she's too far away. Instead, I catch Uriah's eye and give him a comforting look, mouthing you got this because I know he's thinking about the fact that he's divergent (and so am I).
When the dead-boring speech is over, we all stand in unison, as though we've practiced it (which we haven't). Marcus begins calling out names, and the line moves forward like a slow train, makes the same quiet groaning as the tracks crash against the wheels. By the time Christina takes a knife from Marcus' hand, I can see the sweat glistening on her neck. I notice that she is wearing more black than white.
She slices her palm and holds her palm over the coals, welcomed to her new faction by cheers louder than anything the Candors could ever muster.
The rest of the ceremony moves on like that, with very few transfers like usual. The boy in front of me, an Erudite, stays. I don't remember much about my brother, other than he was smart. I am grateful for the boy who decided to stay, because he will live the life my brother would have.
"Beatrice Prior."
Now it's my turn.
I wonder if I should be nervous, if my stomach should be churning until it turns to butter, if my feet should feel like thousand pound weights or my hands should be sweaty; all I feel is disbelief, really, like this day is only a dream, a dream that I've been waiting for since my mother's death.
The only thing I am scared of in this moment is that I will wake up. That all changes, however, when Marcus offers me a knife.
As I take it from him, anger flares inside of me, burns like a fire, so strong that it consumes me entirely, and I have to stop myself from doing something rash (like, I don't know, killing him). I remind myself that after today, I will never have to see him again, and that Tobias is safe, and that my father will be lost without someone to beat. So I take the knife, still shaking with anger — luckily it will be construed as nerves — and cut my palm a little too deep.
Blood pools in my hand. Blood is suspended in the air. Blood sizzles on hot coals.
Gasps and shouts of protest fill the echoey room, and as I bandage the cut, the last cut of many as an Abnegation, I am free. Free with the cheers from the Dauntless, louder than anything I've ever heard. Louder than the rest, because a Stiff transferring to Dauntless is all but unheard of. Because the last time they had a reason to cheer this loud was two years ago for my best friend.
The defeated look on my father's face makes my heart explode with happiness. Now he has no one to break, no one to suck the life out of, no one's neck to wring between his hands. I grin, making my way over to the Dauntless, and wrap my arms around Christina, which makes them cheer even louder.
Suddenly it's Uriah's turn, and I can tell he's not even thinking about transferring and then his arms are around me as well and the crowd is deafening.
"I'm glad you changed your mind," he tells me, voice heavy with affection. "I don't know what I would have done if I lost you forever."
"Me neither, Uri," I reply, sitting down beside my two best friends. "Thank you for making me see clearly."
Christina slumps on my arm, almost like she's drained of energy. "It's over, finally. It's over."
"I know that was hard for you," I whisper comfortingly, "but all of us are where we belong now, and we're together." I realize that this decision was hard for her, too, but in a totally different way. She had to say goodbye to her family, and I had to say goodbye to myself. Goodbye to my old self.
Goodbye to Beatrice.
I pull my hair from its bun, and the wind whips through it, tugging harshly at my scalp. The other transfers pant heavily behind me, but Uriah is at my side, whooping loudly like the rest of the Dauntless born. I join in, letting my laughter get carried away by the wind, feeling the tight burn in my chest from exertion that, while once unpleasant, now makes my heart quicken in a delicious way.
As we run alongside the train, slowing down in order to stay with the other initiates, I remember the first time I jumped onto one: the day my mother was killed, the pouring rain, the flashes of lightening, the gyrating metal trying to swallow me whole. Today, the sun beats down on us, our skin soaking it up graciously, and I pull myself up easily and fling myself onto the floor, taking Uriah with me. Christina pulls herself in after a moment, and the three of us sit against the wall, laughing hysterically.
"Damn, that's easier when there's no thunderstorm outside," I muse lightheartedly, leaning against Uriah's shoulder.
"I still can't believe you did that," Uriah laughs. "You were a badass even then."
"Excuse me, she did what?" Christina interrupts, utterly perplexed. I giggle at her confusion, patting her on the shoulder.
"You had to be there," he answers nonchalantly, rubbing her hair and making her complain loudly. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the only transfer from Amity, an olive-skinned boy in a brown shirt, standing too close to the door as the train picks up speed.
"Hey," I call out to him warningly. "You might want to get down before—" I'm too late, and the wind rushes through the car, knocking him down and dragging him through the door. Sprinting, I grab his arm and yank him back inside as tears stream down his cheeks.
"Thank you," he sputters loudly; I can barely hear him over the roaring wind. "You saved me."
I smile softly. "A fast train means wind. Wind means falling out. I couldn't let the only Amity transfer get crushed beneath a train. That's not very peaceful."
"How selfless of you." He laughs shakily, extending his hand. "The name's Lark."
I shake his hand. "Tris. And trust me, I'm far from selfless."
"My name's Christina!" she pipes in, making us laugh. Uriah introduces himself as well. While they talk, I look around the cart, assessing the competition. There are ten of us on the train — I could have sworn we started with eleven. I notice an Erudite girl in the corner, sniffing quietly while a large boy rubs her back, and I assume that someone she knows has already failed. Factionless. It could happen to any one of us at any moment. I close my eyes and curl up against the wall, listening to the wind die down.
"Why did you transfer to Dauntless? I mean, not a lot of Amity do," Christina questions.
"I guess from outside Amity looks like an accepting place. But they don't do well with people who are different there," he explains, resting his head on his knees. I can't help but notice how short he is.
"Different?" I repeat.
"In any way, really. Because it breaks the peace, because not everyone agrees with it, not that it's any of their business," he sighs. "My parents tried to have me kicked out of the faction."
Christina gasps. "Your parents? Why would they do that?"
"Because I'm gay," he replies simply. "Johanna wouldn't kick me out, though. Still, my parents refused to let me live with them. They never spoke to me again after that."
"That's rough," Uriah adds. Then he smiles and nudges Lark's shoulder. "Hey, rough times just make you tougher, and you'll need that here."
"I don't feel tough."
I shake my head. "Trust me, someday you will. Someday, something will happen that will make you realize how strong you really are."
"You sound like you're speaking from experience."
"Maybe I am." I suppose it could have been my mother's death, or the first time my father took a knife to my skin, or the day I lost Tobias… but I believe that it was today. Today, I realized that I am strong.
No one needs to know about my past here. I can start over.
Breaking away from the conversation, I watch the city smear past us in blotches of colour. Now, in the calm of waiting, I allow myself to think about Tobias. His beautiful blue eyes flash in my memory, stunning as the view of the city sky from the train. His pointy ears, strong nose, wide lips… I wonder if I will see him today for the first time in two years, or if I will have to search for him. I wonder if I will ever even see him again. Even if I do, I don't expect him to be the same person he was when he left; I certainly am not.
I wrap my arms around myself, trying desperately to remember how his arms felt around me, just in case I never feel it again. I can't even find it in myself after all this time to be angry or upset with him. Now, in this new life, this chance to start over, all I want to do is feel his presence again.
After what must be around thirty minutes, the train begins to slow. Everyone has fallen into a quiet, contemplative state, leaning against the walls, head tucked into chests as the train rocks us.
The peace is broken by a loud cry. "They're jumping off!" Sure enough, the Dauntless in the cars ahead of us are leaping onto rooftops several feet away. Several stories up.
I've jumped off a train before, but never this high up. Honestly, the thought makes me want to throw up.
"Well then we have to jump off too!" says the goblin-looking Candor girl from the bathroom.
"Great, because that makes perfect sense, Molly," replies the boy who beat me up years ago. I can't remember his name. "Leap off a train onto a roof. I'd rather not be a sidewalk pancake."
"More like pansycake," Uriah mutters under his breath. I stifle a laugh.
"This is kind of what we signed up for, Peter," Molly replies.
"Well, I'm not doing it," Lark says from behind me. His cheeks shine with tears.
"You've got to, Lark," Christina says, "or you'll fail. Come on, it'll be alright!"
"I'd rather be factionless than dead!" Maybe I would have disagreed with him in another life, but I think of Thea and how alive she is and I realize that the factionless are still very much human. It's easy to forget that, sometimes. Still, I won't let Lark fail. Not like this.
From the way he trembles in his shoes and the pale sheen that coats his face, I realize he'll never do it on his own — but I won't leave him here. Because it's not weakness I see in him, it's strength.
"Hey," I coax, taking his hand. "This is it. This is the thing that will make you realize how strong you are. Because even though you're afraid, you're going to take Christina's hand and mine and we're all going to jump together. Okay?"
He nods, breathing heavily, and takes the hand that Christina offers. We all stand at the edge of the car, and as it passes the roof, I count, "One… two… three!"
On three, we leap from the car at the same time. For a moment, I am suspended in the air, floating, and I barely registers the scream that escapes from my own lips. Then my feet hit the ground, a crushing pain in my shin that knocks me down. Gravel under my cheek, stinging from yesterday's punch to the face from father.
"That was awesome!" Christina shrieks, laughing hysterically, and I shake my head at her.
A wail suddenly pierces through the air, and all heads turn to the edge of the rooftop where a girl shakes with sobs. Uriah's brown eyes widen and he rushes over to her. He turns green when he looks over, then pulls her into his arms. "Rita," he says. "Rita, calm down. Rita—"
I don't look, because if I do, I know I will either throw up or cry. I just walk away, having faced enough death already. As I walk away from the edge of the roof, I roll up my sleeve to check the cuts. Silver scars dance across my arms, but in this moment, I don't care if anyone sees them. Still, I let my sleeve fall when the Candor boy makes a pointed comment that makes my cheeks burn.
"Listen up! I am Max, and I am one of the leaders of your new faction," shouts an older man at the other end of the roof. He stands on the ledge as if it's a sidewalk. As if someone didn't just fall to her death from it. "Several stories below here is the member's entrance to the compound. If you can't muster up the courage to jump, you don't belong here. As usual, initiates are extended the privilege to go first."
Silence falls upon the group, and for a moment, I am confused. How else did they expect to get off this roof? Of course they would make us jump. Besides, he just told us that the entrance is below here. I am not afraid to jump, not off a ledge that a man stands so carelessly on. There is a difference between recklessness and bravery.
"You want us to jump?" says a mousy brown haired girl, the one who was crying on the train. It seems the others don't feel the same way as I do.
"Yes," Max says. He looks amused, which only fuels my theory.
"Is there water at the bottom or something?" Peter asks, picking at his cuticles. Casual. I snort; even if there was, at this height it would be like hitting concrete.
"Who knows?" he replies cryptically. The crowd of members parts in half for the initiates, and yet no one comes forward.
I am proud. It will get me in trouble someday, but today it makes me brave. "Make sure Lark jumps," I whisper to Christina before walking towards the ledge, hearing snickers behind me. Max moves out of my way, and I hoist myself onto the ledge with the knowledge that this is just a scare tactic and I will land safely at the bottom.
Although this could be a test of blind faith, I suppose.
There is a hole in the center of the square of buildings, so deep and dark that I can't see what's at the bottom. The wind whips through my clothes almost painfully, and my teeth chatter. Quickly, I pull of my robe and hold it to my chest (despite how much I want to throw it at Peter), making sure the Dauntless stone is secure — if I'm going to die, I'm going to die holding it in my arms. Ignoring the catcalls and shouts, I close my eyes, bare arms prickling from the cold and anticipation.
I don't think. I just bend my knees and jump.
Wind and pressure surge through me as I fall. A desperate ache runs through my body, and I feel so closed-in despite free-falling from a roof. My muscles burn wildly, and my heart tightens, and for a moment I really do think I'm about to die.
I hit something hard, and I know I am going to die.
It's a net.
Nothing has ever been more painful than this. The ropes pull taut and tug at my lacerations, tearing them open with a blinding force, and an agonized scream rips through my mouth. I black out for a second, and when I awake, I am breathing heavily and tears are streaming down my cheeks and there is a bloody stinging in my ears.
Everything is silent, but only for a moment. The buzz of conversation starts again when I stir, and suddenly there are several pairs of hands stretching over the edge of the net to help me. Wiping my eyes subtly, I take the one closest to me, head reeling from the pain, and pull myself over the edge, clutching my robe to my chest. I roll off, and I would have fallen face-first onto a wood floor if Tobias had not caught me.
… Tobias.
My mind goes blank. Nothing matters, not the pain I am in, not the fact that I just jumped from a building. Nothing. All is see are those eyes, so deep-set that his eyelashes touch the skin under his eyebrows, the same dark blue, a dreaming, sleeping, waiting colour.
But he looks sad. So sad. His fingers brush the hair out of my face.
"Put on your robe," he whispers, voice deeper than I remember it. They say the first thing you forget about a person is their voice. It makes my head spin just thinking about it.
"What?" I breathe.
"Your robe," he repeats quietly. "You're bleeding. I assume you don't want anyone to know."
"Um…" The fuzzy feeling that engulfs me begins to ebb away, and I come back to reality. We are on a ten-foot platform. I pull on my robe. "Thanks."
Tobias clears his throat and pulls away from me. Louder, he says, "What, you get pushed?"
"No," I answer dejectedly. He doesn't want to know me, here. I understand.
"Can't believe it," a voice says behind him. It's a girl with three silver rings through her right eyebrow. "A Stiff, first to jump? Unheard of."
I blink, still staring at him. He folds his lips, but they tug upwards slightly. "There's a reason why she left them, Lauren."
"Yeah, there is," I mutter softly. He tenses, taking another step back.
"What's your name?" he asks. I breathe out gently — this is the moment I've been waiting for since I was seven years old, and nothing will ruin it. Not even him.
My mother's voice rings in my head. "You can be called whatever you want. All you have to do is wait until you are older."
Today is the day.
"My name is Tris," I reply, smiling softly. I wonder if my mother is watching right now, wherever she is. I hope she is proud of me.
"Tris," Lauren repeats, grinning. "Make the call, Four." Four? I wonder how he got that name…
Tobias looks over his shoulder and shouts, "First jumper — Tris!"
A crowd materializes in the darkness as my eyes adjust, their black clothing camouflaging them. Suddenly, the room roars. Their cheers are almost louder than the Choosing Ceremony, and they chant my name.
"Welcome to Dauntless," Tobias whispers in my ear. His message is clear — this is how it will be now. Full of cheers and energy and laughter. Full of life. Maybe there's a reason he's pretending not to know me. Maybe he wants me here like I want him.
Another whoop runs through the crowd as a brown blur falls into the net. Lark. My guess is that Christina actually pushed him, and a laugh rumbles in my chest. Lauren pulls him out of the net, which is amusing considering how small he is, and I shake my head, making my way towards the crowd of Dauntless.
As I pass Tobias, I almost don't notice how his fingers curl as his hand brushes mine.