Dinner has never been so uncomfortable. Beatrice is glaring across the table at Peter. Four's stormy blue eyes are flickering darkly between her and Peter, and occasionally to the bruise on my jaw. Peter is intensely focused on his dinner. There is a space of what I judge to be 4.5 inches between my thigh and Peter's on the wooden bench. I wonder if Peter is as aware of this gap as I am. I am living in this gap. I am more aware of it than I am of my own body.
When we sat down, I told the story I had prepared about how I had received the bruise on my jaw, but it sounded lame, and I could tell neither of them believed me. They looked at each other suspiciously, and then Beatrice-Tris, her name is Tris now-looked at Peter and her hands started to curl into fists. Luckily Peter, Candor-born Peter, is a much better liar than me. "Geez, Stiff, that special Amity medicine is making you even dopier than normal." And then he pressed his palm to the center of my back and helped me sit down on the bench and sat beside me and somehow we were in the clear. I didn't breathe again until Tris started eating.
Now she's eating and glaring and something about the way Four's eyes are shifting around the table make me think he doesn't suspect the random violence that Tris does, but something a little closer to the truth. I eat a little food, then announce to the table that I have a headache and stand. Peter stands as well. "I'll walk you back, stiff." He doesn't smile, but I catch his eye and I know that he's been just as anxious as I have to leave dinner.
"Actually" says Beatrice, with acid in her voice "I'd like to walk with my brother if you don't mind, Peter." There's no space in her tone for protest, so I shrug at Peter and smile weakly at my sister and together we walk out of the dome. We walk in silence for a while, and I hope that she's just walking me to the dorm because she's worried about my head. I just keep thinking about the sensation of Peter's lips on mine, his arms around me, and I can't help but feel a little resentment towards her. "You know, Tris, I can walk back on my own. I don't have a concussion or anything." I touch her shoulder to soften the statement, but she doesn't move away from me. She doesn't say anything.
"Tris?" She stops and looks at me. "When did you stop calling me Beatrice?" She looks sad, or maybe just tired. "Four told me I should call you Tris because that's the name that you picked." She nods and looks back down the hill towards the dome. I'm scared she's going to ask me about Peter. I don't think telling her I've been fooling around in the woods with the man who tried to kill her is a great idea, but I learned at dinner that I'm not a particularly good liar.
"Caleb, I'm sorry." She's not looking at me, which seems purposeful. "I know I've been distant. I'm having a hard time talking about what's happened. Even to Four." Even to Four. As though it should be easier to talk to Four than her own brother. I try not to be stung by this statement, I know it isn't meant to hurt me, and yet I can't help but feel the growing distance between us, my little sister and I, carried on the words. Even to Four. "It isn't easy for me to talk about either, Beatrice. But you're the only family I have left." I can feel a lump rising in my throat. I don't think I realized how desperate I was to talk to her about everything that's happened. "I wish..." But the lump in my throat is growing and I can't get the words out. I cough and try to swallow it. "Sometimes I think it would have been better if we'd both stayed in Abnegation." She turns to me, tears in her eyes, but none on her face. "If we'd stayed in Abnegation, we'd both be dead."
I can feel the blood draining out of my face. She's being so cold. When did she become this person? Was this always who she was and I just didn't see it? "Beatrice..." She shakes her head a little and turns away, folds her arms across her chest. "Four is right, you should call me Tris. That's my name now." She starts to walk away, back down the hill, but stops after a few steps and turns back. "Peter isn't bothering you, right?" I shake my head. My voice has fled completely, and I think I'm shaking. "Just tell me if he is, and I'll make him stop." I wish I were stronger. I want to defend Peter. I want to shout after her that she's wrong about him and that he's kind and good in spite of what he's done. I want to point out that she, of all people should understand that people can change immensely, but I don't. I know if I open my mouth I will collapse into tears and as hard as it is to admit to myself, I am no longer comfortable crying in front of my sister.
A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. And that there is next to no interaction...more soon. Thanks for reviewing, it's helpful to me!