CHAPTER 2 – LEGENDARY FOUR
Tris Prior's POV
I'm nothing like my brother, academically.
Christina is half asleep to my right while I keep glancing at the clock. We've already been chastised once for not paying attention, I don't plan on making a habit out of it. I tuned out most of the lesson, though I heard enough bits and pieces to know what she was talking about.
Sort of like an old caste system, '...the segregation of people based on values is in our future...' She sounds like a fortune teller, but a part of me believes she's right. We all know enough to understand that our society is not perfect, and that sooner or later they're going to try and keep order any way they can.
"I'll stop there," she sighs, "since most of you aren't paying attention anymore." It's not like we want to ignore her, it just happens. Christina perks up, nearly bouncing in her seat.
"What are you suddenly so excited for?" I ask her. There's a look in her eyes – like adrenaline swimming beneath the color – and she grins at me like an idiot. I'm not sure if I should be scared, I've never seen this much extra energy from her.
"Uriah wants us to meet him at the pit tonight – you, me, Will, Al...we're meeting him and his brother. They have a surprise, and Uriah says it's amazing!" I can't help my own excitement bubbling up inside me. I can't tell if it's from thinking about it, or being included.
"Do we get to know what it is before we go?" Christina shrugs her shoulders.
"I'm not sure, but Uriah wouldn't get us into anything dangerous." I have to take her word for it – and this feeling that tells me she's right.
xXxXx
I sit on the bathroom sink while Christina reapplies my make-up. Most of it had worn off, which bothered her since lunch. Her sighs of frustration when my eyelids twitch are quite amusing since I'm not used to having someone touch my eyes. Especially not with pencils, or brushes.
"You gotta learn to keep your eyes still," She grumbles, wiping a spot she over applied to.
"Sorry," I say, exhaling. When she thinks she's done a good job, she pulls away and throws the materials into her bag. We go back to the room so she can drop it off and get changed; I stay in the same clothes, I can't get over them. Tonight she has me in something a little more loose, the shirt is fitted around my waist, but oversized around my arms. I have on a pair of skinny black jeans and red sneakers.
"Oh, one more thing," Christina walks towards me, taking my hair in her hands and brushing through it. She pulls through knots and tangles, barely even hurting me. She reminds me of when my mother used to brush my hair; I would always sit so still and just wait for the bristles to tease the strands.
Christina has this nature about her, almost nurturing, "do you have any little siblings?"
"That's random," Christina says, but I hear her smiling, "but yeah, I have a little sister. Her name is Rose. Why?"
"You just reminded me of how my mother used to brush my hair. It made me wonder if you cared for a brother or sister at some point." I shrug, and she puts the brush up on top of my dresser. She fans my hair out, down my shoulders and my back, parting my hair on the side a little. She smiles, nodding as she finishes and we head out, meeting up with Will and Al.
I still feel too closed off around Al – so I try not to leave Christina's side on the walk there.
"Yeah, you guys made it!" Uriah cheers; he wraps his arms around me, swinging me around. I laugh, gripping his shoulders so I don't slip through, despite how strong he's holding me. He has a firm grip, which I appreciate because he doesn't let go until I'm standing, "You're gonna love it. So long as you don't have a fear of heights."
"What are we doing?" I ask. There's that excitement in his eyes, like the kind Christina had earlier today. But I don't find it nerving this time, instead I almost match their excitement.
"Kind of an initiation," Uriah says. He's being vague – the jumping off a building wasn't enough initiation, that now we have another addition to an adrenaline rush involving heights... yet I feel just as excited. Maybe Christina's right, maybe I do have a death wish.
I see Four across the room, talking with a boy, maybe about his age, who looks like Uriah. That must be his brother. It's a rare moment, since Four looks genuinely happy. This is the second time I've seen him this way, the first being when he told me I could lie to him.
"Zeke!" Uriah calls, waving him over. Four's looking at me. I smile, a little shy, and wave. He nods, returning a smile back, "they're ready to go." I see Zeke turn back to him, he asks him something but Four shakes his head.
And then Zeke is with us, greeting us. We head out one of the back ways, one that Zeke and Uriah seem to know too well, and then we're outside, sprinting across the street. I'm not sure how long we run for, my legs ache and my lungs burn as I try to keep up with them. I'm out of breath by the time we reach a polished lobby of a towering building. It's the Hancock building, I've seen it from my window in the dorm but I never thought I'd ever go inside it.
Uriah, Christina, and Zeke all bet on one of the three elevators, anticipating which will be the first to open. They push the buttons on each, and then begin to bang on the elevator doors, howling energetically. They don't even care that there could still be people in this building and it makes me laugh. Christina gets me to join, and soon my palms are slapping cool metal.
Zeke's opens first, and he tackles Uriah who was trying to get a hit in. He's got him in a headlock, dragging him into the elevator while he kneads his knuckles into Uriah's skull. Christina is laughing into Will's shoulder; Al is laughing also. I have to join in, because this is the happiest moment I've ever experienced.
When Zeke finally releases Uriah, we're on the twenty-fifth floor, "Marlene, Shauna, Tori, and some others are gonna be waiting for us when we get up there," Zeke says, looking around at us, "I hope you guys enjoy flying."
It takes a few minutes – I mostly listen to the chatter from the others while we wait for the elevator to reach the ninety-ninth floor. It's dark all the way down the rest of the shaft, the glass flooring showing us just how high up we are. We have to climb the stairs to get up to the roof, but when we do I have to stop.
I've never been up this high; I've never looked down at a bustling city, at night, from the top of a building. Everything looks so small, but the city looks huge. I see a span of lights, all across almost like a grid, and it's beautiful. It's breathtaking. I suddenly wonder why Four isn't here with us.
Zeke jumps down from the top of the vent, pulling a metal harness with him, "who's going first?" It's attached to a zip line, yet I don't see where the line ends.
"I am!" A girl, Marlene, calls out with her arm raised. She's excited, nearly jumping over the harness as she gets up. She lies, facing up toward the sky while Zeke and Uriah tighten the straps around her body. She gives them a thumbs up and they let her go, and I watch her disappear across the darkness.
I let a few people go before me; Christina sits in it, facing the way she'll be going. They tighten her in and then release her; I listen as her screaming becomes distant and I suddenly feel anxious. Uriah says something to me, I assume it's my turn because he's holding his hand out for me.
Cautiously, I take it. Again, his firm grip has subdued most of my fear and I'm lying, face down towards the ground as they tighten the harness around my ribcage and my waist. "Don't forget to pull the brake at the bottom," Uriah says over the wind. I nod, and he pats my shoulder before they tug me back and throw me forward.
The scream I was prepared to release is stuck in my throat; all I can see are blurs of light, and glares off glass windows as I zip through the air. My heart is practically in my throat, but I throw my arms out at my sides anyway.
I'm flying. This is what Zeke meant.
The lights smear past my eyes, and then I'm looking at my reflection on one of the dark buildings. My hair is all over the place, in my mouth from screaming, being whipped back by the air. I look careless and I feel free.
The building ends, and I'm looking down again across the fair ground. The Ferris Wheel is standing tall, but it's unlit. Summer is over, so it makes sense. But the lights that keep the grounds lit shine bright, so I can see the attractions and the trees around the fence.
In one building, there's a light on and I see a little girl staring wide-eyed out the window at me. She's jumping excitedly, I'm not sure she even knows I'm wearing the harness. She must have been watching the others, too. I wonder if she truly believes I'm flying. So I wave at her, and she waves back.
The line is going down then, angling me like I'm going to hit the pavement. My heart lurches, and I'm unsure of if this is when I should pull the brakes but the closer I get I see that the line still goes. My fingers grab the brake anyway, but I don't pull down just yet.
I'm lower than before, and the line dips down into a dark alley. There's a bright 'X' against a back wall, and I see people below. I spot Christina and Will the closer I get; then they're all shouting to pull the brake. My fingers are so numb from the adrenaline, that I have to pull a little harder just to get them to work.
The breaks squeal to life, sparks from the cable sprinkle down and I stop just a good few feet away from the 'X'. Cheers erupt all around me, and I let out a scream of pure triumph and pure terror because my heart is still beating rapidly. Hands tug me down while someone else opens the clips on the harness. I am down on my shaky legs, holding Christina for support. She's laughing at me, but also laughing with me.
We wait for Al, and then Uriah, and then Zeke to reach the end. The air is quiet now, without all of our screams but we're cheering boisterously through the streets as we head back to the pit. Some of the guys, like Zeke or Uriah or Will, are jumping over garbage bins. They're insane, but yet I find it hilarious.
Marlene is carrying Shauna on her back, they're laughing as they dodge invisible things and punch street signs. Christina is running beside me, howling into the air. They're shouting a chant, something about being dauntless, about being fearless.
And I know I've ever been happier.
We're wreaking havoc across the streets of Chicago; Christina tugs on my sleeve, steering me towards one of the alleys that the others have cut through. Zeke stands on a garbage bin, climbing the fence that cuts off the pathway before helping Shauna over, and then Marlene. Uriah gets onto the bin and balances on top of the chain link fence, before he careless flings himself over onto the pavement. Al and Will get over easily, while Christina climbs the bin and helps me up, "Together?" She laughs.
"Together!" I nod; we climb up the fence and grab the top of it, throwing ourselves over. My knees are sore from the impact, but we keep running. I don't even know which way we've gone, or how we got back but soon enough we're landing in the net and greeted by cheers from others in the pit.
This time I'm the last one to jump, but when I hit the net I'm the happiest I've ever been. The rush from tonight, it should be too much for one night but it's not. I'm craving more, I feel alive.
A pair of strong hands pull me down from the net, and I'm staring at Four. I must be grinning like an idiot, because he's smirking. I'm breathless from too many things tonight but the look he's giving me tops them all, "I can tell they gave you the full run," I nod, laughing. He releases me too quickly, and keeps his hands at his side. He is staring at me for a moment, and when he breathes out I can smell alcohol. He's been drinking, but by the looks of it not a lot.
"Four!" Someone calls him from across the room, beckoning him over and he checks to make sure I've got my balance before he runs off. Christina finds me, wrapping her arms around my neck and jumping up and down. Her laughter in my ear is the most euphoric sound I've ever heard. All of this, everything that's taken place tonight...it's like waking up.
"I'm gonna get something to drink," Christina says, releasing her grip on me.
"I think I will too," I say. She claps me on the back and she pulls me with her; my legs are still shaking but I keep going.
xXxXx
The next morning, Christina and I head to breakfast with the guys, and then we are on to our first few classes of the day. I feel distracted for most of the classes, thinking about the events of last night and of Four. I wonder if he was waiting for me, he was the one to pull me out of the net.
We meet up with Will and Uriah during lunch. They have our seats already pulled out for us, but I notice the last seat is empty. "Where's Al?" I ask, glancing around. He's usually always here.
"Don't know," Uriah shrugs, "I haven't seen him today."
"That's weird," Christina says, "maybe he just got caught up after class or something."
"So," Uriah says, leaning towards my chair more, "how did you like zip lining through the city?" I don't think I can even explain the feeling it gave me. Euphoric doesn't seem to be a strong enough word anymore for something like that.
"It was amazing," it's the only way I can describe it, "I wasn't expecting that." Uriah laughs, digging into the food on his tray.
"Yeah, we're gonna probably go again sometime before the winter starts. You gonna go again?"
"Yeah," I say, practically smiling from ear to ear, "I am."
xXxXx
It's Saturday night, and Eric is about to start another fight at the pit.
I think it's a rematch between the two from the last fight since the boy Eric was rooting for disappointed him.
I keep looking around for Four; it's been a few days since he helped me out of the net, and I haven't seen much of him around here since. Occasionally, I'll see him lurking around the back, only stopping to talk to someone he knows or to make sure everything is in order.
He's strange, but I think that's why I'm so drawn to him.
Christina and Will left me by myself a while ago; Uriah is off with Marlene, getting ready to watch the fight. I saw Zeke with Four earlier, but now he's with Shauna and they're laughing about something.
I see him then, standing at the railings on the upper level, glancing down. I can't exactly tell if he's looking at me, but I think he is. He nods, motioning to come up and I discreetly point to myself. He nods.
I'm not sure where the stairs are, though I don't waste a second. I don't want to keep standing down here in the midst of everything, so I watch him as he heads down the ramp toward the stairs. He meets me halfway. "Hey," he says. A shy smile comes across his face.
"Hi," I say, trying not to sound breathless from the climb.
"I didn't get a chance to ask you how the zip lining went."
"It was incredible. I'm looking forward to doing it again," I answer as we begin to walk back the way he came.
"Are you going tonight?" Four looks at me when he asks this, "Surely you don't care about a rematch fight?"
"Uh no," I say, shaking my head, "to both. But Uriah says they plan to go again before winter." He nods for a moment, "so why are we up here?"
"Do you not want to be?" He asks. I shake my head again, "It just looked a little too crowded down there."
"No, I mean I like it up here," I reply, sliding my fingers along the railing. It looks over the entire pit where we are, I understand why he likes it up here, "I'm just surprised you want me up here with you." He scoffs, but doesn't respond for a moment.
"I brought you up here for two reasons," he says, stopping just at the middle of the path, "one, because the fights can get rough down there and you won't be able to see when everyone tries to get a better look if you actually want to watch it. And two, because I want you up here." He wants me up here? Like, with him...?
"Okay," I don't really know what to say. He smirks a little at my lack of response, and then looks down as Eric begins to announce the short list of rules, "they can't concede?"
"They used to be able to," Four answers. I take this moment to look at him; even slouched against the railings he still looks so tall. His leg is bouncing, like he's anxious, "but since Eric has become the tyrant of this place nobody's allowed to concede."
"Can't you do something about it?" I ask. Four shrugs, and turns to look at me.
"I could, but Eric has more influence around here," he explains, shaking his head, "and if people want to associate themselves with him, then they'll follow whatever rules he makes. I'd rather not further involve myself." From where we're standing, I can see Eric glancing up at us. He looks like he's glaring, probably at me but given their history maybe it's directed at Four. Or at both of us.
I am not his favorite person. So why Four thinks it's okay for me to be up here with him confuses me. Aren't I supposed to be trying to at least avoid any more conflict with Eric?
"That's not fair, if there are three people in control," at least three that I know of.
"There used to be five of us," Four says suddenly, searching my face for a reaction. Something tells me they knew Eric was one and bailed, so I'm not surprised only two others stayed. But I ask anyway.
"What happened to the other two?" He turns back to the fight for a moment. Eric looks pissed; I'm assuming the fight is the same as last week's.
"Eric owes me ten bucks," he sighs, "usually he's good at picking the skilled ones." Four looks a little smug as he speaks – I bite my lip to keep from smiling. "Eric got the other two to go against each other, claiming one was more useful in his position than the other. That caused an annoying argument between the two for weeks and eventually Tori and I got so fed up we told them just to go. Eric wouldn't even try that with Tori or me, thankfully, but that still doesn't stop him from trying to mess with me." He's referring back to my question now. I nod slowly, understanding.
"Why can't you or Tori do something about him?" I want to ask if he's afraid of Eric, but a voice in the back of my head is telling me I might offend him if I bothered.
"It's a complicated issue," it's all he gives me. I sigh and watch the fight more. Eric looks deadly calm, glaring at the boy down on the ground. He tells two larger men by his side to get him off the mat and when they do I try not to think of where he's being taken.
That is if they'll even take care of him afterwards.
"I have a question that's been bugging me for a few days now," Four says, standing up straighter, "hopefully I don't offend you." Offend me? I'm wondering now if I should start walking away, but he sucks in a breath and asks, "How old are you?"
So I laugh, probably a little too hard, "Sorry." I say after a moment, "I'm seventeen. I know...I look younger." He looks relieved. Was that really bugging him? I know I probably look about fifteen, but I don't think I'd be here if I was. My fifteen year old self would be too terrified – and back in New York.
"You look seventeen," he says slowly. Now I do.
"Thanks to Christina," I say with a nod. If it weren't for her and that makeup bag... We're quiet, watching as Eric has the two men set up a new event. There's a wooden backboard, with a human shape marked into it. There are slices and dents all over the outer edges; target practice? "What is he doing now?"
"Watch," Four's eyes are glowing as he watches them set up. I suppose this must be his favorite event. Although I suddenly see Christina step out into the middle of the floor. Eric says something to her I don't hear over the noise. She goes to stand in front of the target, and Eric looks up at Four motioning him to go down there.
I'm piecing things together as I stare at Christina. When I look at Four, the color has left his face some, "wait, what is he doing?" I demand, stopping Four from walking past me. He doesn't look happy all of a sudden, and he removes my hand from his arm. His palms are rough, and calloused.
"He's picked Christina as the target," Four says, "I have to."
"Have to...!? No, Four!" Is he crazy? Christina could get hurt. She will get hurt! Somehow. It's sick – using a real person as a target. What even is the weapon of choice, I wonder, but either way I'm not going to watch Christina stand there while they aim at her.
So I'm sprinting then, ignoring Four telling me to stop and when I get back on the floor I shove through the group that's formed. "Christina!" She looks at me, shaking her head. This is not okay. I try to run to her, but I'm yanked back by the fabric of my shirt.
"Tris!" It's Four. I knew he would catch up to me. I just needed more time. The crowd is noisy, getting irritated that nothing has taken place yet. Eric steps down from where he's standing and starts towards me. I hear Four curse behind me, and his fingers release my shirt.
"What do you think you're doing, stiff?" Eric demands, towering over me. This is not good. I wasn't thinking, but at the same time I was thinking about Christina. What's my best option? Watch – or barely watch – my best friend get aimed at, or take her place? Four is dead silent behind me, barely even moving as far as I can tell.
"I'm going to take her place," I say as confidently as I can manage. I hear Four behind me, protesting and Christina staring at me wide-eyed across the gap. "I'll be the target."
"Same rules apply then," Eric says after a minute, smirking at me. "You flinch, and I give you a second strike." I know he is referring to the night he caught me trying to escape Al's advances. This is a test of bravery, now. To not flinch, I have to make myself relax. I see Christina, about ready to protest as well but she's dragged away from the target and I go to take her spot. "Do the honors, Four?"
Four is glaring at me now. He's pleading with me at the same time, piercing me against the backboard with his eyes. Honestly, I don't want to be in this position either, but I made this choice so I'll deal with it. Eric hands him a total of four knives. Knives?
Now I'm just hoping Four knows how to aim.
I release a shaky breath, and hold my hands behind my back to make myself thinner. Four turns the first knife over in his hand. Everyone is silent around us, and before I can even blink I hear the knife slam into the wood by my arm. He's close, but not close enough because Eric mutters something to him.
I have to close my eyes, if I don't watch him I can relax better, "Eyes open." Four commands. All humor is gone from him – he's being serious, his tone is like he's scolding a child and maybe he thinks I am one. I open my eyes again, just in time to catch the second knife stick a few inches from my neck. He caught my hair. A few strands land in dead strings on my sweater, "You can get closer," Eric says.
"You want me to take a little off the top?" Four asks. He's adding fuel to Eric's fire, why is he taunting me?
"Yeah, maybe just a little," Eric responds, smug. Four pulls his arm back, and in a flash he releases the third knife. I don't see where this one ends up exactly, but I know it's just above my head from the way the board vibrates beneath my skull. Any closer and I know he'll catch me.
Four holds the last knife, twisting it around his fingers like the first one. He's watching me, like he's deciding where he'll aim for next. I want it to be my shoulder, or at the very least my sleeve. But he throws the last one, and a hot, searing pain shoots through my ear for a split second, almost like a bad papercut or a shard of glass.
He cut me.
I have to blink back tears. "Points for bravery, stiff," Eric finally says, "but I'm not revoking your first strike." I didn't expect him to. I didn't flinch. This should be an achievement, yet I don't feel so proud of myself at all. Everyone disperses around the pit once again, and Four turns away from me.
I'm about to confront him about cutting me when Christina throws a rough punch at my shoulder, "what is wrong with you?" She asks, though I see the relief on her face. "You should have just let me stand there, instead of defying Eric—!"
"—I'm sorry," I automatically say, throwing my arms around her neck. She hugs me back, and starts chastising me for going against Eric the way I did. In a way, her scolding me makes me feel better. But I feel horrible, knowing that Four is also angry with me. "Um, I need to go," I say, pulling away from her.
She sighs, but nods and I run after him. He's heading into the back, probably to cool down but I have to talk to him.
I'm not angry about my ear, I don't think it even matters to me anymore the pain doesn't affect me. He stops just as he's about to turn the corner and I know it's because he hears me, "I'm sorry," I choke out, stopping just a few feet behind him.
His back is tense, his fists clenched at his sides, "Why did you do that, Tris?"
"I already got the speech from Christina," I tell him.
"Well maybe you need to hear it from me too," he says. I don't need too, but if yelling at me will get him to look at me then I suppose I'll just have to listen to it again. He lets out a loud sigh and turns to face me, "You don't know how that scared me... are you alright?"
"It's just a cut," I reply, shaking my head. It's throbbing but that's the least of my problems, I am still stuck on his words. You don't know how that scared me...
"At least let me clean it," Four offers. I'm reluctant, since I don't need it to be treated. But I want to be on his good side, so I nod and follow him further down the hall. We end up heading up a few flights of stairs. I didn't even know there was more stories to this place. There's a door just at the end, and when we step inside it's warm. Warmer than the underground air in the main room.
It looks almost like an apartment, "do you live here?" I ask, glancing around. I see why they prefer people to stay out of the hallways now. There's a bed on the opposite side of the room, and behind it are windows that look out above the city. I don't notice that I've stepped farther into the room until I hear his voice.
"Yes," he answers briskly. I take a step back, but keep my gaze on the window. It's beautiful, the view that he has. It suddenly plants an image in my mind of him, when he can't sleep, if he just stares out this window late at night, or early in the morning.
Four disappears from the room, and I hear the sound of water running. When he returns, he has a metal bowl filled with water and rag soaking in it. He steps closer to me, and lightly grabs my shoulders. He has me sit down on his bed, and I make myself sit on the edge.
He sits beside me, and brushes my hair away from my neck; his rugged fingertips tickle my skin and I can feel his slow and even breaths as they crash over me. I try not to move, I'm so anxious that I'm afraid I'll start to fall apart if I let myself relax.
He squeezes water from the rag, and holds my head still with his other hand. The blood has trickled down my ear, and some of it has stained the skin on my collarbone. Some clings to my shirt. Four presses the rag to my ear, and I wince at the cold. He has to scrub a little to get the blood that's started to dry but he manages to clean it all off.
He starts on the blood that's on my neck. I can feel his gaze, focused yet distracted as he works. I wonder what he's thinking. I know I'm an idiot, technically I did this to myself, "I'm sorry," I say again. It comes out like a choked whisper, this room is so quiet.
Four sighs and then stands, taking the bowl with him back to the other room. I can hear him dumping the water out into the sink, with the wet slap of the rag hitting the counter. I don't want him to be angry with me, and though he doesn't look like he is anymore I can tell he still feels unsettled about what he had to do tonight.
Four stands in what looks like the kitchen, his arms supporting his weight as he leans against the counter. We remain silent for another couple of minutes, before he finally looks at me and says, "I think I should get you back to your friends for tonight."
I am sad, I don't want to leave just yet. However, I don't argue with him. He follows me out of the apartment, his hand on the small of my back as I pass him. We return to the pit, the noise filling the air around us.
"Goodnight, Tris," Four says.
"Goodnight," I reply quietly. I can feel my teeth biting down on my lip. We stand there awkwardly for a few seconds, before Four gives me a small smile and heads back down the hallway, away from me.
xXxXx
It's been about two weeks since my last visit to the pit. My ear has healed for the most part, the scar is still visible. Everytime Christina has asked if I was going with her and the others I would make up a lie about some school work – I'm pretty sure she knows I've been lying, but I'm not sure what to do. I'm afraid of Four still being unhappy with me. Now that I rethink what happened, I was being a little careless. But I couldn't watch it play out with Christina as the target.
I'm sitting at the end of my bed, finishing school work when Christina and Will walk into the room. "Hey, we missed you at lunch...again," Christina says, plopping down onto her bed. Will sits beside her, so I shove my work onto the floor with a sigh.
"Yeah sorry, I'm just behind," I reply. It's only Saturday, so I have the whole weekend to work on it but it keeps me busy. They've gone to the pit without me for the last few nights, although it doesn't seem like I've really missed much anyway.
"Are you gonna go with us tonight?" She asks, begging me with a sad expression. I want to go, but at the same time I'd rather not. I keep thinking about the incident; it won't stop replaying on my mind, the glare from Four, the aftermath... Four may have cooled down a little since the last time I saw him but I still don't think I'm ready to face him.
I feel strange around him. I don't think I am afraid to face him because of what happened, I think I am afraid to face him because I'll feel something I'm not ready for.
"I don't know," I say quietly. Christina sighs.
"What happened?" I know I should tell her, and so I decide to. I don't have anything to lose, they know I disappeared with him that night. They both listen as I tell them about going after him to apologize, and then going to his apartment so he could treat the wound. When I finish, they're staring at me but Christina's face is the first one to break into a grin.
"Four never brings anyone into his apartment," she says almost high-pitched, "maybe Zeke since they're best friends but he's never, ever brought a female there! What did it look like inside?"
"Well you all said he doesn't have much friends," I point out, "he couldn't exactly take care of my cut in the middle of a hallway." Christina rolls her eyes at me, clapping her hands excitedly. I bury my face into my pillow, letting out a large groan so she knows I'm annoyed.
"I'm gonna leave you two to talk," Will says, standing up. He's enjoying my suffering. Traitor. Isn't he worried she's a little obsessed with what Four does or doesn't do? I can't ask him because the moment he leaves Christina bursts into million questions.
"I can't understand you!" I say, cutting her off. She's tripped over her words almost ten times in five seconds. Christina waves me off and kneels on the edge of her bed.
"Well what was his apartment like? Start there," Christina says. How could I forget it? Despite how small it seemed, it was comfortable.
"Warm," it's the first thing I think of, and my face heats up. "Uh, it was a decent size area. His bed was by this huge window that looked over the city." I get that mental picture of him again, the one where he's looking out at all the lights and I smile.
"That sounds amazing!" Christina comments. She's biting her lip like she has something to confess, but asks, "did you guys talk about anything?"
"No," I say, a little too sadly, "he just cleaned my cut." My fingers automatically touch it; it's been healing nicely, the sting has gone away.
"Come with us to the pit tonight," Christina says again, she grabs my hands and squeezes them lightly. "Maybe he'll be okay. Actually... I'm positive he will be."
Maybe is a strong word, despite its lack of reassurance given the situation. But I agree to go anyway. I don't necessarily have to talk to him, especially if he's still a little uneasy. She never said I had to try and talk to him.
xXxXx
Christina sets out a pair of black jeans with double zippers at the top, with a plain white t-shirt that clings to my torso and waist, and a black jacket with leather triangles fitting in like mosaic pieces. Where she gets these clothes, I'll never know, but they're comfortable to move around in.
She lets me keep my hair down, but offers to do my eyes for me. I let her, and we're ready to go.
We don't jump down to the net this time, instead we go through a door on one of the outer buildings that's just a little farther from where we usually enter. It's dim in the corridor, lit only by blue lights that are spread out quite far from each other, and it's cold.
I don't imagine myself using this passage too often; I'm glad Christina knows where to go at least, because we eventually get to the pit. Like always, it's packed full with people but by the looks of it, more so than usual.
I wonder what Eric has planned.
I try to keep my eyes from wandering, but I know exactly who I'm searching for. Four. I can feel him staring at me, but I don't know where he is; or I'm just paranoid of running into him, which should not be the case since he's usually not hanging around the main area.
"Tris!" A pair of arms lifts me from the ground. I'm too stunned to scream, but when I look at who's holding me I start laughing; I can't tell if it's from fright or relief. Uriah holds me, shaking me, "where have you been? Hiding on us, huh?"
"Something like that," I say as he sets me down.
"Well you're here now, that's all that matters," Uriah grins.
For most of the night, I stick around Christina, Will, Al, or Uriah without seeing a glimpse of Four anywhere. Maybe he wasn't around tonight. I don't care, or at least that's what I keep telling myself. I know that the others will be staying a while longer, so I tell Uriah that I'm heading back early.
Except I don't head back to the school, not right away. I head for the fairgrounds; it's quiet, and now the dark shields me pretty easily. The Ferris Wheel still stands, taller up close, but it looks sad without its thousands of lights. I pick up little rocks on my way to it, not exactly sure what I intend to do with them.
Something makes me search the area around me before I step on the first rung of the ladder. I climb up to the first landing, one of the cars is blocking me from sight, so I don't worry about being seen. I sit down, turning the stones around in my hand.
I toss the first rock, listening for the light thud against the dirt; when I hear it, I toss another one down. I don't know why I'm here, maybe to recollect my thoughts and figure out what to say to Four. The wind is noisy in my ears, being this high up, so it keeps the thoughts at bay.
I'm not sure I have anything to say to him; I apologized. I was hoping he would say something else, but he never did. I'm at my last rock; it's a materialistic thought, not wanting to throw this one because it's the last one I have. There's nothing special about it at all. It's smooth in my palms, but it's nothing more than a grey, dusty rock.
"I thought it was you up there," I recognize that voice too well – Four, who's craning his neck to look up at me. Did he follow me? I'm not as observant as I thought then, because I never once noticed him if he did.
"How did you find me?"
"You're not the only person who hides around the fairgrounds when they're sulking," he answers. I stand up and walk to the other side of the car to get a better look at him. He's watching me, looking a little anxious as I almost lose my balance. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets, with the collar of his jacket pulled up around his neck.
"I'm not sulking," I retort defensively, sitting back down. I don't plan on getting down, not with him here. I'm finding it easier to talk to him when I can avert my eyes elsewhere. Four laughs, shaking his head.
"You're the only person I know who's crazy enough to climb a death trap, you know," he says after a moment. Funny he should notice anything about me, since he's always hiding. But he's serious then, all humor gone. It's one thing – maybe the only thing – I've truly noticed about him. How he can be nice and teasing and then instantly serious. "Can I talk to you for a second?" He asks, sounding like a child who's just been scolded. I bite my lip; can I talk to you is always one of those talks you never want to have but know it needs to be said.
I'm not sure how I should feel; terrified because I don't know what to expect, or grateful because he finally has something to say to me other than silence.
"You have to come up here," I say. He's staring at me. Thinking about what I just said. I don't clearly catch what he mutters, but I know it wasn't a civilized phrase.
"You don't make anything easy, I'm finding," Four says, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. When he lets his hands drop back to his sides, he glances up at me, almost pleading. And I realize then, that he's afraid to come up here.
"You're afraid of heights," I say. I watch some of the strength, the tension, leave his shoulders. That explains why he didn't go zip lining with us the other night.
"Everyone's afraid of something, Tris." I can't argue with him, not when he makes a good point. I didn't think he was afraid of anything. He's so glorified by my friends, that his confession now makes me realize he's just human. I suddenly realize how much I don't care about the titles he's given, in a way, we're similar.
"Come up here." He doesn't move from where he's standing. I see him shaking his head, and I'm prepared to stand up and meet him down there when he reluctantly walks towards the ladder. I watch as his knuckles turn whiter the higher he climbs. I actually feel proud of him.
The ladder creaks beneath him; it didn't for me, but he must be putting more weight on them. I can hear a string of swears coming from him the closer he gets. I try to hide my grin.
He's almost at the landing, so I reach my hand out, holding onto one of the poles so I don't lose my balance. He goes to grab the last rung, and his fingers graze mine. There's a jolt, like he shocked me and maybe he did since it's colder at night, but my heart speeds up a little.
Four wraps his fingers around my waiting palm and gets up, standing directly in front of me now. He's sweating – I didn't think his fear was this bad. He won't even look down, but he tries to glance around. He eyes the skyline, and the lights, but his eyes return to my face and stay there. "That wasn't so bad," I say, smiling a little. He gives me a look that tells me otherwise, but doesn't comment on it. "So...you wanted to talk to me?"
He nods, sucking in a breath. His eyes catch the sight of the ground and then shoot back up to me. "I'm pretty sure you know why... the other night..." Four says, a little breathless from the climb. I nod. "You didn't have to apologize... I understand, now, why you did it."
This catches me off guard. I don't know what he means, "you were angry."
"I wasn't angry with you," he sighs, "not really. Not while you were in my apartment. I was more upset that I had to hurt you just to end that whole thing."
"But you wouldn't talk to me," I say, almost sadly.
"I didn't know what to say," Four replies quietly, "honestly... I stabbed you in the ear, and we were both pretty pissed at that situation. What exactly could I have said to have made anything better?"
"You could have said you weren't angry with me."
"If I had been angry with you, I would have left you standing at that target. I wouldn't have brought you back to my apartment to clean your cut—,"
"—Well I'm not a mind reader, Four!" I say a little harsher than intended. He sighs loudly, but he sounds like he's closer to me, like his lips are at my ear.
"You're right," he says calmly, after a long moment. I look back at him; every time I expect him to yell he doesn't. I find myself disappointed again. I want a better reaction from him, but he's giving me nothing. "You're not."
"I honestly wish you would just yell at me already," I say, holding his gaze this time.
"Why would you say that?" He asks, "I don't want to yell at you."
"I think I'd feel better if you did," I mutter, more to myself than to him but I know he heard me. Four rolls his eyes.
"I think you're driving yourself crazy," he answers, "for the last two weeks you've avoided the pit, you've barely looked at me since I got here... did you think I would stay mad at you this long?"
"You would barely talk to me after it happened," I say again, sounding helpless.
"I didn't know what to say," Four makes me look at him, grabbing my shoulders and lifting my chin up, "I didn't know if I should apologize for being angry with you, for catching your ear... I knew I should have apologized for something. There were so many things wrong—unnecessary and unordinary about it. When you kept apologizing, I was no longer mad at you, Tris. I just wanted you to stop feeling sorry... I started to understand why you did it."
"You could have just said that," I reply. He laughs a little, shaking his head.
"I could have. Okay? But I didn't. And when I brought you back to my apartment, all I could think about was 'is there some way to take this back' like that would have somehow made your ear stop bleeding. Like it would have somehow made me less angry with myself for snapping at you, or for hurting you..."
"You had to know I wasn't just going to watch Christina stand there..."
"Yeah, well I would have preferred it to be anyone but you," he says. I remember just standing in front of the target... his eyes never left mine, and somehow that silent connection just made me trust him. That he wasn't going to hurt me – at least not intentionally. "Do you feel better now?"
"A little," I answer, chewing on my lip. I feel cold, the wind has picked up.
"Can we get down now?" Four asks. This time I laugh, and with a nod we start down the ladder together.
xXxXx
Tobias Eaton's POV
By the time I get down to the pit the next day, my back is in more pain from the recent ink session, and Eric is already waiting for me, "you looked pretty intimidating with the stiff... didn't know the rules were so funny."
Shit.
Not what I wanted to walk into. Of course he saw that.
Of course he did. Subtle, I am not.
But what I don't understand, is why Eric would wait until it was just the two of us to chastise me. He likes making spectacles of people, without an audience, what's his point?
I don't think too much longer on that, however, because I'm too busy thinking about what that now means: I've definitely just made Tris a person of interest to him. He's gonna watch her like a hawk and wait for the moment she messes up. She's got a strike... And if he gets what he wants from this conversation, then I'd say she'll be at two before she even knows it.
The thing about the pit is it's a hangout, a club even. Except nobody pays to get in, you just fit in with black clothing, tattoos, or piercings. The only thing visitors pay for is the alcohol, or the tattoos, piercings. We have plenty of tattoo and piercing shops associated within the pit, it's how most of us make our money to live here. Tori is one of our best tattoo artists. Zeke and I, and sometimes Eric and Tori, stay up in security and review footage and we lay down rules that visitors have to follow. Others work at the bars, some we appoint to patrol the hallways if bigger events are taking place. Max runs the entire building, he is the owner.
"I explained the rules to her," it's amazing how smoothly I can lie to Eric. However, Eric hates me, so I already know that even if I were telling truth, he still wouldn't believe a word I just said. So it really doesn't matter what I say to him. He'll take it, he just won't believe it.
Eric scoffs, "And got pretty friendly with her right after? Yeah, right. Because every time I beat the rules into a stiff's mind, we become great friends afterwards." I almost laugh. He's the coldest bastard – second to my father – that I've ever met. So even just hearing the words 'great friends' come out of his mouth is pretty hilarious.
"Yeah, well luckily for her I don't physically beat the rules into people," I say, stepping around him. I've got to get away from him, "nor do I make rules up whenever I please, or break them, or choose not to reinforce them myself." Talking to him is like getting thrown into an ice cold bath, and then being held under the surface to numbly struggle through more of the torture.
My hands are itching to hit something, so I head to the training room to bust my knuckles up more.
Eric doesn't usually scare me. I try not to be afraid of him but I know how smart he is. And as disgusted as I am to admit that, Eric is very smart. He's deadly smart. And whether I always was from the beginning, or I somehow put myself there, I am one of his targets. But I put up with it, because – especially now – I'd rather it be me he watches than Tris.
If I screw up, I can take the consequences. But Tris is innocent, and she doesn't need to carry the burden that he is.
I've already rescued her once from him, I don't want to make a habit out of it. There's something about her, I don't know what, but it's got my attention. And I will only allow myself once, to admit that I am attracted to her in some unexplainable way. The best I can do is warn her, because if I constantly get involved with her, like she's a damsel in distress, then Eric will know something is up – and it will be my undoing.
xXxXx
It's not even late and I've already got a strong buzz kicking in. Maybe it's because of that whole conversation with Eric earlier, or maybe because I've just been so uptight this week.
Either way, I'm pretty sure it's only eight and I'm gonna have a splitting headache tomorrow morning if I keep drinking. I've been listening, or trying to listen, to Zeke and Uriah; they've been bickering about who's going first on the zip line for well over an hour now.
I don't plan on joining them, but they already know this.
Uriah heads in the other direction, practically sprinting. I turn back to Zeke, "so, aside from being antisocial tonight, does the Legendary Four have something to do? A girl to talk to, maybe?"
"Not likely, Zeke," I say, finishing the rest of my drink, "I'm probably not going to be hanging around here tonight. So when you get back, do me a favor...don't come and search me out to tell me how you almost pitched somebody off the roof because they weren't settled in properly." Zeke bursts out laughing.
"Don't be surprised if I ever try to pitch you off a building," he says, punching my arm. At that, I laugh because I forget what my fears are, for just a moment. Uriah is calling Zeke, which tells me everyone is ready to go.
Then I see her.
Tris. Alcohol couldn't make me forget her. She is already looking at me and I wonder how long she's been doing that, but she smiles. I return her wave with a nod, and smile back. I'm more confident, which probably makes me seem a little arrogant. She doesn't look away.
She looks good. Not just pretty, but a little stunning. Definitely different, she looks older. And she's wearing black— I feel warm all over, and I can't tell if it's from the way she looks, the alcohol, or both. I like black on her.
Her hair is down, with gold framing her face, making it look a little longer. The sweater she's wearing makes her look softer, clutching at her thin waist. But the jeans... they're tight around her thin legs. The straps wrapping around her thighs, and her calves, they make her legs look longer, she actually looks a little taller from here.
I can see the curves of her body; they looks soft. My eyes graze up, and the thoughts swarm me—stop it. A have to stop myself from thinking about her in anyway uncontrolled. She's younger than me, still in school; even if I wanted to...if she wanted to... I don't know if I could allow it.
I don't realize that Zeke is trying to get my attention at first, until he asks, "you sure you don't want to join us?" He noticed. He knows who I am staring at. I shake my head.
"No, I'm perfectly fine on solid ground," I answer.
"Suit yourself."
xXxXx
As I wait for Zeke and the others to return, I spend most of the night, hazily, watching fights. I don't usually find them entertaining anymore, but they make the time pass. Eventually I decide to retire for the night out by the net, where it's quiet.
I don't even know what time it is when I notice the first body to hit the net. It's Zeke. He jumps down, grinning from ear to ear; I step out of the shadows and join him for the other jumpers.
The last person to come down is Tris. She would look just as thrilled and flushed as she did the first time she jumped, except she looks... I can't even explain how she looks now. Maybe the happiest I've ever seen her. I smile, and I know it's not the alcohol's help this time.
I reach up and pull her out of the net. Her fingers grip into my shoulders, sending sparks through me. Looking at her is like waking up, and it leaves me breathless, "I can tell they gave you the full run."
Tris laughs, and all the color in her face returns. I can't tell if she's blushing, or if it's from laughing but she looks beautiful. Our moment ends when I'm called over by Zeke. I make sure she can stand on her own, before I let go of her waist and leave her with her friends.
"How was it?" I ask, stopping just a few feet in front of him. Shauna comes up beside me, her hair won't lay flat because of the wind-tossed knots, and she's grinning from ear to ear.
"Scary as hell," Shauna replies, "like always."
"Not that you would know, you pansycake." Zeke smirks. I know I've sobered up quite a bit, but I'm still sluggish because I don't register that he's hit my shoulder as hard as he did until it begins to throb.
"How did the stiff do?" Calling her stiff is like an insult, since she looks anything but, now. I steal another glimpse at her direction, and see that Uriah has thrown her over his shoulder and the cup she was holding is now on the ground, forgotten.
Zeke doesn't respond. I turn my head back to him to see that he and Shauna are sharing a look. A little too knowing, by the looks of it, "What?" I ask.
"You just asked us how the zip lining went..." Shauna replies. I shrug, trying to act like it was casual. When in fact, it was anything but, "you never ask how zip lining goes."
"Does the Legendary Four have a thing for the stiff?" Zeke teases, elbowing me in the ribs. I could lie and blame it on the alcohol, but I'm sober enough to stand still on two feet so I know it wouldn't get past them. To tell them the truth, however, would mean they'd never get off my back until I asked her out or until I offended her and she never spoke to me again.
"No, I just want to know," I'm a liar.
"Sure," Zeke says, "she didn't even scream out of fear. Kind of a disappointing reaction."
"Yeah, maybe she oughta see you up there," Shauna kids, throwing an arm around my shoulder.
"Ha ha," I mutter, shaking my head at them. "Like you would ever get me to go up there."
Zeke and Shauna head to the bar area, I wish them a goodnight and head to my apartment to try and sleep off the rest of my buzz. I strip out of my clothes and into a pair of sweatpants, getting under the covers. I never used to sleep on my stomach until my father thought I was old enough to take serious punishment. I often try not to think of him, or what he did to me but it's not always that easy to block the thoughts out.
Over the years of endless torture, sleeping on my stomach became comfortable when I couldn't sleep on my back. Sleeping without a shirt on became quite normal too, when the wiry cotton would rub into my wounds too much.
My most helpless of days.
I've become so different... stronger, yet the memories will never cease to make me cringe, or even cry. I get angry at how little he made me feel. How I used to cower and face the wall, gripping the dresser with white knuckles as I waited for him to return with whatever he chose to hit me with that night. I never even bothered with a brave face, I let the tears out. I had always hoped my father would see me crying, and stop. But he never did.
How I would lose count of how many times he hit me, belt or not, and have to bite my knuckles to hold back screams. Or when the pain got to be too much, I would scream into my arms. And when he finally left my room, I would sink to the ground and lay on my side and stare at the grey carpet.
My father never walked back into my room after he was done. So I could lay on that floor for hours, broken. I would try to keep my sobbing quiet. I didn't need him to come back in and start again because I was disturbing his sleep.
It was never for my own good; I've seen what power does to people. I know it was because he had the most of it. No matter if I reached eye level with him at sixteen, he always looked down on me before and after that. And I was never allowed to talk back, or lie, or fight back.
Now, I'm a leader. That may not mean much to him, but I don't take power in the same way he does. I don't claim it, if I could I think I would run from it. I'm scared it'll make me just like him. That with enough power, I'll become the monster I've always feared. And I don't want that, I never want that. I am Tobias Eaton, Legendary Four here. Around here where they only know my alias, I am not the son of Marcus and Evelyn Eaton; I am not born into a broken family; I do not have one, as far as they know.
That's the only downside to living alone; my thoughts have time to resurface.
xXxXx
Tori finishes up, putting the needle down on the tray beside me. She backs up from me to observe it. I can see her nod of approval from the corner of my eye. I can only see part of it over my shoulder, but I like it.
I don't need to see it. I just need to know it's there.
"It's a shame that'll be covered up every single day," Tori says, shaking her head, "I think it's one of my best, yet."
"Well I don't plan on walking around without a shirt on," I say, straightening up, "but maybe someone will get very lucky to see the work you did."
"Are we talking about anyone specific? Or is this just some 'in the future', 'near future' maybe, thing?" I was always fascinated by how blunt, and specific she is.
"Maybe 'in the future', type," I answer. I can tell she wants to press for questions, but she knows that if she does the only thing she's getting from me is vague answers. In a way, since I've been here, Tori has been like a sister to me. She understands my ways, and respects them, even if they nag at her.
When I leave, I relish the final stinging, prickling all over my back. My tattoo has meaning, significant to me but also a feeling of finally getting some rebellion against my father. Because it was my decision.
But instead of thinking too much about that, I head down to meet Zeke for some practice. He's already at a punching bag, consistent with his punches, never missing. There's a thick sheen of sweat covering his forehead, arms, and back, making me wonder how long he's been here already.
"I take it you didn't bother to wait for me," I say, approaching him. He stops and turns to face me, grinning.
"You were taking forever," he says, "I just assumed you were gonna oversleep."
"I've been up since five," I say, glancing at the clock across the room. It's eight.
"So have I," Zeke says, "but I've been down here since then."
"I was with Tori, she was finishing my tattoo," I reply, grabbing the roll of tape off the table. I wrap it around my black and blue knuckles, which look more purple now, and stop in front of a bag. I position myself, and take the first swing.
Pain. That's what I feel throughout my whole hand; I keep going.
"Ah, so you finally got one?" Zeke asks. I nod, breathing between each punch. "What'd you get?"
"That's for me to know," I say. Zeke rolls his eyes.
"Okay, whatever... where, then?"
"On my back."
"But you can't see it," he says.
"Don't need to." I keep punching. I can feel sweat starting to drip down my face and neck and back, so I pull back to stop for a moment.
"Since you won't tell me, can I at least see it?" I'm reluctant, but Zeke has always been my friend. He's never forced me, or pestered me, for answers when I didn't want to give them. He never even questioned what I came from. After a minute, I sigh and grip the top of my shirt and pull it up over my head.
"Holy shit," Zeke says, then laughs, "that is the biggest tattoo I have ever seen! That's sick!"
"So, has my tattoo passed?"
"I believe so," he replies, as I put my shirt back on. We start punching again, but Zeke stops halfway through and watches me.
"What?"
"Oh nothing," he says, like he knows a secret. This can't be good. I know I was drunk last night, but I doubt I said anything personal. Not even alcohol would make me bring up the darkest parts of me.
"What?" I ask again, more annoyed.
"Well, since you want to know," Zeke always has this way about making you nervous before he asks you what he wants to ask; I've been put under this scrutiny more times than I can remember. So I stop punching again and turn to face him, "...you asked about the stiff last night—,"
"—Not this again!" I should have known he wasn't gonna drop the subject completely.
"Well," Zeke looks amused; of course he does, this is my discomfort, "do you?"
"Do I what?"
"Have a thing for her?" If it's this obvious to him, I don't even want to think how Eric sees it. I sigh.
"Does it matter?" I ask.
"Dude, come on! Of course it matters! You've barely even glanced at a girl since I've met you three years ago. I mean, you've gone on dates—,"
"—that you set up," I remind him. He waves me off and continues.
"—but you've never actually pined after one." He's right. I don't have anything to say to him though. "If you actually like this girl—God, help her—," he's joking, but still I grin, "—then shouldn't you do something about that?"
"I don't know," I say, "I barely even know her."
"There's plenty of time for that," Zeke reassures.
"I am not asking her out," I shake my head, "not yet, anyways. But I will, at least, talk to her more, okay?" Zeke claps me on the back with a grin, and I wince at the stinging from the tattoo.
"That's the Legendary Four I know!"
xXxXx
My eyes refuse to focus on one thing, and I know exactly why. Because I am searching for her. It's Saturday night, almost midnight in fact. If I haven't found her at any other point tonight, I doubt I will find her now. I wonder if maybe she went zip lining again, but Zeke is here so that's unlikely.
I decide to wait another couple of minutes before I head back to my apartment, but I finally see a gold-blond head walking through the crowd. It's her—she's here.
It's been a few days since I've last seen her, or at least her friends around, and seeing her now makes me feel happy. I keep thinking about what Zeke said to me, and though he has a point, everything feels one-sided to me. I don't know if she even likes me.
I don't even notice, in that moment, that she's looked up. At me. Something brave inside of me makes me motion for her to come up, and when she points back at herself I have to smile, answering with a nod.
She's looking around, probably for the stairs, so I head toward them. When I meet her there all bravery is replaced by nerves. I still try to remain confident, "Hey."
Tris smiles, a little breathless and says, "Hi."
The first thing that comes to my mind is how she looks; I still remember how she looked the night of the zip line, "I didn't get a chance to ask you how the zip lining went."
Her eyes light up, "It was incredible. I'm looking forward to doing it again." I wrack my brain, trying to remember if Zeke had mentioned them going again, but he didn't.
"Are you going tonight?"
"Uh no," she says, shaking her head, "but Uriah said they plan to go again before winter." I nod. I still wonder if Zeke had it planned, or if it was only Uriah. "So why are we up here?" Does she not want to be? I didn't really think about that, since her friends are down there and she's up here with me, all alone.
"Do you not want to be?" I ask. She shakes her head, and relief washes over me. At least she wants to be; she didn't lie to me when I offered, so I don't suspect she's lying now.
"No, I mean I like it up here," Tris says. I watch her fingers slide along the railings, they're thin and long, and the tendons stick out with every movement. The spaces look wide enough to fit mine, but I keep my hands in front of me, "I'm just surprised you want me up here with you."
I laugh, looking over the pit. "I brought you up here for two reasons," I say, stopping, "one, because the fights can get rough down there and you won't be able to see when everyone tries to get a better look. And two, because I want you up here."
"Okay," she replies. I can't help the smirk that curls at the corner of my mouth. Eric starts announcing the rules of the fight – they're not the same from when he and I first came to the pit. The rules he made up are fight until you can't, a.k.a. until you're bloody and bruised and can't stand back up, and second no one concedes, "they can't concede?"
I shake my head, "They used to be able to," when he and I were first chosen. I notice from the corner of my eye that she's looking at me, but I don't look at her. I'm afraid she'll see the anger in my eyes, the anger that reappears every time I think about that fight, "but since Eric has become the tyrant of this place nobody's allowed to concede."
"Can't you do something about it?" She asks. I shrug, believe me I've tried I want to say. But I don't, I just take this moment to finally look at her. I feel the anger dissipate when I meet her eyes.
"I could, but Eric has more influence around here." Untrue. If I went to Max, he would do something about it. Eric just has more of a negative influence around here; I could just as easily run this place, but I refrain from trying to interfere with him. I just shake my head, "...and if people want to associate themselves with him, then they'll follow whatever rules he makes. I'd rather not further involve myself." I turn my head back down, instantly regretting it the moment I see Eric watching us. He doesn't look happy, but then again when does he ever?
Vulture. I just glare back at him.
I know she's spotted Eric, but she turns back to me and says, "That's not fair, if there are three people in control." She's right, but nothing's fair here anymore.
"There used to be five of us," I reply. I expect to see her expression turn to one of confusion, but she looks oddly stoic. I see curiosity, but that's about it.
"What happened to the other two?" I look away.
Eric looks pissed; it's because the boy he was rooting for has lost. It's also because I've beaten him in something else, yet again. Working on being kind is difficult when you're not exactly that, and I grew up around a negative environment; I find amusement in his losings. I can't help but feel smug as I say, "Eric owes me ten bucks. Usually he's good at picking the skilled ones."
I steal another glance in her direction; she looks alert, watching the fight. I see something else in her features, and it registers with me that she's horrified how deadly still the boy that lost is. He's being dragged away like a ragdoll, "Eric got the other two to go against each other, claiming one was more useful in his position than the other. That caused an annoying argument between the two for weeks and eventually Tori and I got so fed up we told them just to go. Eric wouldn't even try that with Tori or me, thankfully, but that still doesn't stop him from trying to mess with me." Or —now— you. I think to myself. Her hair is down again, which I'm finding that I like very much.
Up here, in the glow of the white/blue lights her hair looks silver. The jacket she's wearing makes her shoulders look pointed and thin. I think black is her color. Her eyes look brighter too, maybe from just being here—the excitement— or the black lining her eyes. Either way, I can't really look away from her.
Eric keeps glaring, and I know I've just made my affections for her blaringly obviously. I know I've just made her an even bigger target but I'm selfish. I thought about it, trying to fall asleep last night, that I don't want to stay away from her. Regardless of Eric's constant watch.
"Why can't you or Tori do something about him?" I wish it were that simple. Except it's not. Despite Eric being highly unlikable, Max plays quite a bit of favoritism around here. And because Eric brings so much attention to the pit, the favoritism is namely towards him.
All I say is, "it's a complicated issue." She doesn't press for more, and turns back to watch as they carry the boy out. I watch her. She doesn't look as young as she did when I first met her. The next thing I tell her just slips out, "I have a question that's been bugging me for a few days now. Hopefully I don't offend you." Since I've offended every other girl I've ever talked to.
Something tells me she's different from all of them. She's waiting for me to say it, so I suck in a breath and ask, "how old are you?" Tris laughs, holding onto the railing.
"Sorry," she apologizes, exhaling, "I'm seventeen. I know... I look younger." The second flood of relief since I've talked to her tonight.
"You look seventeen," I say, after analyzing her features a little better. She looks beautiful, it's a shame she's not eighteen yet. I may not want to stay away from her anymore, but I want some limits between us for now. I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the fact that she was younger, though, because I assume she has no more practice than me at any of this due to that fact.
"Thanks to Christina," she says. I don't know what she means by that, but thank you Christina. She's silent, watching as they set up the next activity. I'm still watching her; I move a little closer to her, but I don't know if she's noticed. My fingers are close to hers on the railing, another inch or two and I could hold her fingers with mine.
"What is he doing now?" She looks intrigued. I inch my fingers just a little closer.
"Watch," I say, so close now.
The next activity is not something we do around here that often; despite it rendering useless, it's actually a cool thing to learn. I see Eric glancing up at us again, and this time he motions at us, but I know he's referring to me. He wants me to throw.
It takes me a moment to notice who's standing at the target; it's Christina. I look over at Tris, who looks more horrified now than when they dragged that boy away. I try to walk past her, because I don't want her to do anything stupid but she stops me, blocking my path.
"...wait, what is he doing?" I grab her shoulders and push her aside lightly. This situation is quickly bordering on nightmare.
"He's picked Christina as the target. I have to." I don't have to, actually. I could just walk away, but Eric could pick Tris next, and I don't want to find out that she's been impaled by a knife because they gave another idiot a pair of knives. If I get this done, at least Christina won't get nearly as hurt as she would if Eric was throwing.
I've seen what Eric can do. What he will do. Despite being on decent terms with her, Eric is ruthless. He enjoys the sight of blood.
"Have to!? ...No, Four!" Nightmare. Before I can even grab her, she's sprinting towards the steps. She's faster than I thought she was, that's for sure.
"Tris!" I have to shout louder because everyone is either drunk, or just being boisterous, "Tris! Stop! TRIS!" She's about to step out into the clearing, towards Christina, but my fingers manage to grip the bottom of the shirt beneath her jacket. She stops, but unfortunately Eric has caught sight of us. I instantly let go of her shirt, and let my hand fall to my side, "Shit!" This could not be any worse.
"What do you think you're doing stiff?" Eric demands, towering above her. His eyes flicker to me; there's a menacing glint to his expression. My jaw locks, tense, as I wait for the knowing result.
"I'm going to take her place," she says it with such confidence, but her hands are violently shaking at her sides. I'm angry – at her, at Eric... at myself. There is no way out of this. Either I throw the knives at Christina, and Tris hates me. Or I now throw the knives at Tris and risk hurting her. Or worse... Tris takes Christina's place and I walk away, and that leaves Eric to throw them at her.
I protest, "Tris, you don't know what you'r—,"
"—I'll be the target."
"Same rules apply then," Eric smirks, "You flinch, and it's your second strike." Eric turns to me, smirking, "Do the honors, Four?" Malicious bastard. I'm glaring at Tris as she stands in front of the target.
I can't pull my eyes away from her. Pleading with her isn't working, and it wouldn't now. Eric would call me out on it if I told her to just walk away now. Eric is just as great with a knife as I am. So why he makes me throw is beyond me, he knows I don't have a sadistic streak in me.
I take the knives from Eric's hand and turn the first one over in my hand. The feel of the metal is too heavy right now. I know I won't miss my intended targets, but I only have four chances. I need to find a way to hurt her without really hurting her.
Tris releases a breath and a shudder goes through her body. I position myself, breathing in. She's about to close her eyes, so I exhale and throw. Her eyes stay open, watching me. It landed just by her arm, sticking out of the wood.
"You can do better," Eric says, loud enough for me to hear. I turn back to her and notice her eyes are closed. I wonder if she's as frustrated as I am, or if it's just me. I don't want to hurt her, but I know I'll have to with Eric watching. He knows I can do better. I need to go for the least harmful way possible...
"Eyes open." I'm harsher than I mean to be, but still her eyes flutter open on me as I release the second knife. It's much closer to her than I intended; The knife is only a few inches from her neck. A distracted throw. I need to focus or I'll seriously hurt her.
"You can get closer," Eric mutters, irritably.
"You want me to take a little off the top?" I ask. I want to throw Eric off our trail but it may already be too late for that. Although Eric enjoys my question, he smiles with content.
"Yeah, maybe just a little." He's smug. I go again, exhaling and throwing. This time, I catch just above her head. The part in her hair looks like it could be from the knife, but I'm relieved it's not. That was too close, but I'm down to my last knife so I need to get closer if I don't want another set of knives handed to me.
I see the tip of her ear through her hair; the fast-healing cartilage. I could aim there, it would be like getting a piercing but it wouldn't hurt as bad as catching her somewhere else. I release the last knife, watching as her eyes flinch but not her body. She did it. All the tension leaves my body; I felt like a wire that was wound too tight, ready to snap.
"Points for bravery stiff," Eric says, just as her fingers graze the cut. There are tears in her eyes, I can see them glistening from where I'm standing, "but I'm not revoking your first strike." Of course not. That's the final activity for tonight, so everyone scatters around the pit again but I turn away.
I'm tempted to go back to my apartment and hit something; or scream. Yet my body feels deadly calm—I'm tired. I don't turn back around, I head for the back. I'm not angry at her anymore, not really. I'm more angry that she didn't flinch—she could have ended it right there at the first throw if she flinched, even if it meant a second strike. I'm finding that she's tougher than she looks; she wants to prove herself.
I hear footsteps—undoubtedly, hers—and I stop just before I turn the corner. I hear her come to a stop behind me, "I'm sorry," she says quietly. I tense up again—why is she apologizing? I hurt her.
"Why did you do that, Tris?"
"I already got the speech from Christina," she retorts. She doesn't sound angry, but she does sound hurt.
"Well maybe you need to hear it from me too," I snap. I have to remind myself to calm down. I am angry, but not just at her. I can't take it all out on her. I turn to face her, and with a sigh I ask, "are you alright?"
"It's just a cut," she replies, shaking her head. It may be just a cut, but I caused it when it could have been avoided. I threw knives at her for God's sake!
"At least let me clean it," It's not a question. She hesitates, but nods. We head up a few flights of stairs, with her following shortly after me. My apartment is at the furthest end of the hallway, and when we enter the room is warmer than usual. Maybe I'm just nervous because she's one of the only people I've ever allowed in.
"Do you live here?" she asks, glancing around the small space. Her eyes linger at the window, and they soften. She's thinking of something, but I don't feel the need to ask about it right now.
"Yes," I answer. She moves closer to my bed, to look out the window. I take this as my chance to get into the bathroom and grab what I need to clean her cut. I grab a rag and turn the faucet on to wet it. I fill the bowl I grabbed off the counter with warm water, and throw the rag in to soak.
I steps closer to her, placing the bowl on the side table. I grab onto her shoulders and have her sit down on the mattress. She sits on the edge, like she's ready to get up at any second. It reminds me of when my mother did the same thing around my father.
Is she afraid of me?
I sit beside her, and brush her hair away from her neck; her skin is soft, and I have to remember to breathe.
I grab the bowl and set it between us on the bed. I pick the rag up and wring the water out. I hold her head still, but the selfish part of me tells me it's just so I can touch her again, without scaring her. I press the rag to her ear, lightly wiping at the blood that's begun to dry on her skin. She winces beneath my fingers.
We're silent, and I don't try to speak because I don't know what to say. So I start on the blood that's dripped down to her collarbone. I wonder what she's thinking. She turns her head slightly, to look at me for a moment, before whispering, "I'm sorry." Her voice echoes.
I sigh and stand up, taking the bowl with me back to the other room. I dump the water out into the sink, and throw the rag onto the counter with a wet slap. I'm not angry with her, but I'm not sure how to say that without my voice wavering.
I stand in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I gather my thoughts. We remain silent for few minutes. I don't want her to go, I would much rather she stay here with me tonight, but I know that's wrong. I look across the room at her, her eyes meeting mine. "I think I should get you back to your friends for tonight," I finally decide. I can see her fingers curl around the fabric of my blanket as I suggest she should go. Believe me, I don't want you to go either, I think to myself, if only I could keep her by my side tonight.
She doesn't argue with me. I am a little disappointed, but relieved at the same time. I find more and more excuses to touch her; my hand rests on the small of her back as I walk her back to the pit. The noise is so much as once, Tris stops to look at me for a moment. Her eyes look upset, and for a moment I believe she could feel the same way as me.
"Goodnight, Tris," I say softly.
"Goodnight," she replies. She bites her lip and it takes everything in me not to hold her chin in place and kiss her right there. Everything she does makes my feelings stronger. I don't know how she affected me so quickly, but I don't know how much longer I can go on holding back.
Instead, I offer her a small smile and head back to my apartment before I make a fool out of myself anymore.
xXxXx
I have noticed Tris's absence from the pit as extended well over a week or two, now. I see her friends around, but never her. For the first few nights I let it go, I thought maybe she needed some time away but now I'm starting to fear she's refusing to join them because of me. I don't realize my hands are bleeding until Zeke grabs the bag and holds it away from my reach.
"You've been sulking for nearly two weeks straight," Zeke says to me, "I'm surprised you haven't lashed out at Eric. He seems to be going out of his way, making up more excuses than usual just to get under your skin." He is referring to Eric's taunting since that night; Eric has just felt the need to ask me if I've seen Tris around, if she's happened to sneak past us all into the halls again. I've successfully ignored him, much to my own surprise.
"When isn't he?" I asked through gritted teeth; my knuckles are beyond bruised—I wouldn't be surprised if they were sprained. They're numb, which is the only thing keeping me going at the moment.
It took me about two days to realize why Tris did what she did when she took Christina's place–I was angry because I was frustrated, I hurt her, and then left her after I walked her back. I'm more frustrated now just because she hasn't been around these last two weeks.
Zeke doesn't talk again until I stop to take a break, "did you offend her?"
"What?"
He rolls his eyes like his question was obvious, "The stiff. Did you offend her?"
"I didn't offend her!" I mutter, frowning.
"So throwing knives at her head scared her off?"
"I didn't scare her off," though he's probably right. I just don't want to admit that possibility to myself.
"Well that grey cloud over your head tells me something happened."
"What do you want me to say?" I ask. "Eric would have thrown them at her himself if I backed down—and God knows he wouldn't have just nicked her ear." Zeke nods, but there's no sympathy in his expression, thankfully.
"So...did you guys have an argument?"
"Not exactly," I sigh, "I just need to talk to her but I haven't seen her."
"She spends time with my brother," he says, "and Marlene and Lynn. Just give it some more time, and eventually she'll be back." I nod, but I'm not so sure. She's stayed away for two weeks, something tells me she could go a lot longer. It's Zeke's night to watch the security cameras–technically it's a leader's job, but since Tori prefers working with tattoos and Eric likes hanging around the main area, it's his job. I have a break tonight. Occasionally, if there's nothing for me to do on my nights off I join him, which I have been for the last couple of nights. Tonight might just be another trip. I sigh and turn back to the bags, shaking my hands out before going again.
xXxXx
I never actually pay attention when Zeke's running the cameras, but he's been especially obnoxious with them tonight—switching between screens every couple of seconds. "Is there something you're looking for?" I ask him irritably, snatching the control pad from him.
"Hey—!" He tries to grab it back but I hold it far enough away from him; he looks tempted to jump me for it, but other than that he sits still with an outstretched hand. "Give me that back."
"Are you even watching them? Or are you just having fun screwing around with them?"
"Damn, you're just fun to work with you're pissed off," Zeke mutters, trying again. I hold it even further back, turning the chair with me. "Can't you just go find her and talk to her? You went to the same school...for three years, might I add."
"I'm not gonna search her out," I sigh, "that's a little creepy. Besides, I didn't go to school with her."
Zeke shakes his head, sighing loudly, "can I have that back now? I promise, I'll actually watch the damn screens this time." I don't believe him, but my arm is getting tired of playing keep-away so I hand it back to him and turn back to the screens in front of me. They begin to change quickly, and this time I know he's doing it on purpose.
A camera in the farthest part of the compound speeds by the screen a few times—it's hardly ever useful since nobody enters in that way unless they're heading to the apartments from the outside. But I notice, in the seconds that I'm given, that the door is open and there are people entering. "Hold on, back it up," I say to Zeke. Reluctantly, Zeke does.
"Are you sure it's not someone entering the apartments?" He asks, sounding bored. I wave him off and lean in closer to see better; that hallways barely ever lit properly, it makes it harder to see properly. But I do see, as Zeke pulls up a different camera in the hall. I see Christina first, and then her. Tris. I think my heart actually skips a beat—which scares me that she has that effect on me. "How the hell—? Do you have some sixth sense for her or something?" Zeke looks as stunned as I am, but I laugh.
"No, I just actually watch the camera footage," I retort. Zeke rolls his eyes and switches the cameras on me again before I can get a better look. I want to be angry, but I know he has good intentions. I don't need to strain my eyes watching her through the screens. I can still steal glimpses as he changes cameras.
He switches out into the main rooms, and I watch just as Uriah pulls her into a hug. A part of me is jealous of him—that he can do these things with her, and be around her, without making things uncomfortable. That is something I am jealous of Uriah for, his natural ability to charm anybody. Another part of me is glad that Uriah has taken a liking to her like a sister. He's always been a good kid, for as long as I've known him and his family—aside from Christina, he's one of the greatest friends she could have.
I don't particularly know what time is it, but Zeke has practically fallen asleep in front of the cameras. At least he stopped screwing around with them; my eyes can focus. Of course, they focus on her. All night, I've noticed she's either scanned the areas around her or she's stuck close to Uriah or Christina. I frown.
She says something to Uriah and turns to head out; as much as I want to follow her, I wait until I know which hallway she's headed out. She takes the stairs, and my eyes flicker to Eric—thankfully, he's too preoccupied to notice her. I breathe a sigh of relief and stand up, stretching briefly. I have always hated the chairs in here.
I shake Zeke awake—earning a few good names—before I head for the door, "don't fall asleep on the keyboard," I smirk, "wouldn't want the keys imprinted on your forehead like last time." He says something I don't hear because I'm already heading down the hall.
I get outside, stopping suddenly. I must be a walking contradiction—I don't want to stalk her, but yet that's exactly what it looks like I'm doing. I bite the inside of my cheek for a moment, debating my options. Either I miss my chance to talk to her, or I follow her wherever she's going and, in the process, possibly earn the title of a stalker.
I don't care. At least that's what my head says. So I start walking again; I pull my hood up over my head and cut through some of the alleys. Her shadows pass by the openings before she does, but I never lose sight of her for long. I don't know where she's going until I see the fairgrounds up ahead.
I have to suppress the urge to laugh; we think alike. I always snuck out here, after my mother died, and my father got to be too much. It was always calm—I would climb up and stay on the lower limbs of the trees on the opposite end of the grounds. Except that's not where she goes; she heads straight for the Ferris Wheel, picking things up off the ground on the way. I can't see them, but I assume they're rocks.
I stay by the opening, just watching her. She climbs up the first few rungs, and glances around again. It reminds me of what Zeke asked me back in the control room. Her curiosity and cautiousness is like a sixth sense.
She gets up onto the first landing, sitting down by one of the lower carts. Of course she would seek solace on something so dangerous.
The lights that illuminate the open grounds outline her sitting shape in a silver line. I watch as she pulls her arm back and throws the small object. It doesn't go very far, but it hits the dirt with a small thud. After a moment, she throws another one and the wind blows around her, throwing her hair into her face.
I walk forward, careful to keep the lights off my face as I look up. She hasn't seen me yet, which surprises me a little bit. As I get closer, I see the slight frown on her face as she turns another rock over in her hands. I don't know exactly what to say, so I say, "I thought it was you up there." She jumps a little, glancing down over the edge. I crane my neck back to get a better look at her—she doesn't seem all that surprised to see me.
"How did you find me?" She asks, almost too quietly for me to hear.
"You're not the only person who hides around the fairgrounds when they're sulking," I reply. She stands up suddenly, and begins to walk around the cart. I feel a lump in my throat as she stumbles slightly—I get the image of her, falling, stuck in my head and I almost tell her to stop. I bury my hands in my pockets to hide their shaking.
She lifts her chin defensively, and says, "I'm not sulking." I laugh, nodding. Of course you're not. She sits at this end, this time, glancing back down at me.
"You're the only person I know who's crazy enough to climb a death trap, you know." Unfortunately, despite the breathtaking picture of her up on the ledge, I remember why I'm here. "Can I talk to you for a second?" She looks weary, biting her lip—a bad habit of hers, I've noticed.
"You have to come up here," she says. A small part of me nearly dies inside—I can't climb up there. Even that's too high up for me.
"Fuck," I sigh, shaking my head. As I try to remain calm, I press the heels of my hands into my eyes, praying that if I press hard enough I can believe that what she's just asked of me was not real. "You don't make anything easy, I'm finding," I say, louder. I take another glance up, meeting her eyes this time.
An odd expression crosses her features then, and she leans forward a little more, "you're afraid of heights." It's not a question, or a taunt. Some of my body relaxes—because she doesn't look at me any different. But the other half has just lost the battle in my mind, the battle to keep my strong front up.
The fact that she didn't look at me like I was weak—like my fear didn't make me a coward in her eyes—gives me the strength to admit even to myself, "Everyone's afraid of something, Tris."
"Come up here," she says, softer this time. I still protest, but I also crave the strength she gives me that makes me move toward the ladder. She's my ultimate weakness, that ultimately gives me strength. All of which, still scares the hell out of me because I don't know anything about relationships or even really talking to a girl. But I know enough to say that climbing a rundown Ferris Wheel at midnight isn't how most begin—maybe ours could, if everything could work out the way I wanted it to.
The higher I climb, the closer I feel to letting go and falling. The ladder creaks with each rise, and my panic taunts me that it'll collapse beneath me despite its build. I can't help the filter that's suddenly not between my mind and mouth—I must sound like the most vulgar person she's ever heard.
Just as I get to the top, she reaches her hand out. My mind battles between her hand and the last rung—ultimately, I choose the last rung because I don't know how focused I'll remain if I grab her hand. My fingers end up grazing hers, and a shock shoots down my palm and up my arm. The hand that's holding the rung grips tighter, holding me in place for a moment.
When I'm sure I'm alright, I grab her hand and lift myself up. I try to slow my breathing down, and keep my eyes solely on her face for a moment. I don't try to look around, but I can't stop myself from watching the skyline. When I've had enough, I turn back to Tris, "That wasn't so bad." She says, smiling. She looks genuinely happy, but I still grimace. "So...you wanted to talk to me?"
Right. The original reason for following her here. I nod, accidentally looking down in the process. My eyes seek for her face, and when they find her I relax, "I'm pretty sure you know why...the other night..." I answer. "You didn't have to apologize... I understand, now, why you did it."
She looks confused, "you were angry." I knew she'd think that. And I know, at the time I was but not with her.
"I wasn't angry with you," I say slowly, "not really. Not while you were in my apartment. I was more upset that I had to hurt you just to end the whole thing." There's a scab on her ear now.
"But you wouldn't talk to me," she says sadly. She looks down at her hands, but I focus on her.
"I didn't know what to say," I respond, grabbing onto one of the poles to keep myself still. "Honestly, I stabbed you in the ear. And we were both pretty pissed at the situation... what exactly could I have said to have made anything better?"
Tris shrugs, "you could have said you weren't angry with me."
"If I had been angry with you—," I wish she would look at me, "—I would have left you standing at that target. I wouldn't have brought you back to my apartment to clean your cut—,"
"Well I'm not a mind reader, Four!" She cries. I sigh, of course I know she's right.
"You're right. You're not." I answer. She looks smaller—defeated, like my answer wasn't enough. She drops her head into her hands and sighs.
"I honestly wish you would just yell at me already."
She's not an easy person to talk to; if anything, she's an enigma, and I'm determined to figure her out, "why would you say that? I don't want to yell at you."
"I think I'd feel better if you did," Tris sighs. She says it so quietly at first, I know she didn't intend for me to hear it but I do.
Something makes me lift her chin up, so she has to look at me now. I've missed her eyes, "I didn't know if I should apologize for being angry with you, for catching your ear... I knew I should have apologized for something. There were so many things wrong—unnecessary and unordinary about it. When you kept apologizing, I was no longer mad at you, Tris. I just wanted you to stop feeling sorry... I started to understand why you did it."
"You could have just said that," she says. I laugh, shaking his head. She says it so innocently.
"I could have. Okay? But I didn't. And when I brought you back to my apartment, all I could think about was 'is there some way to take this back' like that would have somehow made your ear stop bleeding. Like it would have somehow made me less angry with myself for snapping at you, or for hurting you..."
"You had to know I wasn't just going to watch Christina stand there..."
"Yeah, well I would have preferred it to be anyone but you," I say, "Do you feel better now?"
"A little," She answers, chewing her lip. A gust of wind blows around us and she shivers, her hands work to warm her arms up. She looks so small and fragile, like the wind could pick her up and take her way.
"Can we get down now?" I ask. This time Tris laughs, and with a nod we head down the ladder.
xXxXx
I'm awoken my the furious pounding of a fist on my door the next morning. It's soon followed by another, too out of sync. And then howling. From just waking up, I'm almost dead weight as I lift myself up and stand up.
The clock on my wall says it's just after seven, and if the howling hadn't started up I would have assumed it was Eric. Though he rarely ever goes out of his way to search me out unless it's beneficial for him. I open the door, glaring through blurry eyes at Zeke and Shauna, "Really?" I ask.
"You look good," Zeke retorts sarcastically, smirking.
"I just woke up," I say, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. After walking Tris back to the school last night, I took my time walking back—it had to have been at least two a.m. when I got back. Five hours of sleep, just about.
"We could tell," Shauna grins.
"Why was it necessary to nearly beat my door down?" I ask, leaning against the counter to hold myself up. Shauna perches herself up on my countertop.
"We were coming to ask if you wanted to go for a run," she says, "they've got the pier opened again. Maybe we could head down." Had I known the pier was reopening, I would have told Tris sooner to get down from the ferris wheel—before they closed the pier down there for dock repairs, I always walked, or jogged down, whether I just wanted to or couldn't sleep. Plus, a run didn't sound like a bad idea. "Sure," I finally tell them. They leave my apartment, saying they'll meet me down by the net.
We jog down to the pier, stopping just under the arch to catch our breaths. "Remember when we first came here?" Shauna asks, kicking a stone into the water. The water has risen since then. I remember that day—Zeke and I were joking around, we grabbed Shauna's arms and pretended to throw her into the water.
"You were screaming like a little girl," Zeke laughs. Shauna punches him in the arm and he continues, "Oh come on, this place wouldn't have so much meaning to you if we didn't try. Plus, you insisted on being like the guys." Shauna rolls her eyes at him.
"What did you guys call it again?" She asks.
"Your initiation," I answer, smirking. Zeke wraps his arms around her chest, locking her arms at her sides.
"And yet you never did finish," he says, leaning her over the water. She doesn't scream, but she yells at him, despite laughing. I'm amazed Zeke hasn't fallen in with her, she's trying to break free; if she does, she'll be in the water. "Aren't you gonna help me, Four?"
We're not sixteen anymore, but the nostalgic part of me holds on to the day we really became friends. I grab Shauna's ankles, earning a few names, and Zeke and I swing her back and forth. Zeke, briefly, pretends to let go of her a few times, to scare her, and when we set her back on her feet she brushes her hair out of her eyes and cracks her knuckles, throwing a punch at Zeke's stomach. She goes for me, but I block her and she nearly falls backwards into the water.
"Race you guys back!" Shauna yells, sprinting past me before I can stop her. Zeke takes off next, and I follow not too far behind.
