Chapter 8

Short chapter. Sorry :(

-Berlin, Germany-

Tris cursed. She cursed to herself—in her head, of course—all the way to the Berlin Wall. She hoped Tobias thought she wouldn't go there.

She was beyond angry. Being brave was one of the things she valued most. And she thought she was brave. She knew there was a fine line between bravery and recklessness. She thought that she was taking a risk and being brave earlier when she'd kissed Tobias. Twice. But no, that was not the case. Rather than brave, kissing Tobias was reckless. She thought she'd get in KCL and that that would solve all of their problems. She didn't realized that they would be the problem. "They" meaning them as a couple. "They" meaning Tobias. "They" meaning Tris. "They" meaning their compatibility.

I've known him for, like, less than a week, she reminded herself. She couldn't believe she'd been so stupid as to kiss this man four days within knowing him, which was on the train to Prague. Then that night on the train to Berlin it would turn into six days.

Tris arrived at the most visited spot of the wall and stood, just staring at the beautiful graffiti full of lines, wisps, swirls, and strokes. Just looking at it made her feel high.

Even though it was nighttime, she could still see pretty well because the city lit up the night.

She spotted someone stumbling out a nearby bar, and then she gaped. She recognized the big backpack, new cargo pants, and new tropical flowered shirt they'd gotten in Venice.

It was Uriah.

"Uriah! You son of a bitch!" She ran toward him, but he didn't move. Just said:

"Ah, Tris. Hello." Definitely drunk.

"Give me back my wallet."

Uriah smiled. "All of it's in there. Here's Four's."

Tris took them and put them in her drawstring bag. "Why are giving these back so easily?"

He shrugged. "These guilty feet have got no rhythm when I dance."

"Well…Have a good life." Tris began to awkwardly walk away from him. She couldn't believe he was still in Berlin. That was where his train was going when the went their different ways in Venice, though. She wanted to get away from Uriah as soon as possible. There was no way she was going to let anyone steal her things ever again.

Tris still walked along the famous Wall of Berlin, running her hand across the cold concrete. Back in the 60s if she'd touched this, she would've been shot on point. She couldn't think of anything else other than the eighty people that died trying to escape to a better life. Many families had been separated by the wall. Because it was put up overnight, men and women at work had been separated from their families, also.

Tris couldn't fathom what it would've been like. She could've been standing on the ground where lives were taken.

She was standing on the ground where lives were taken.

Interrupting her thoughts was an annoyingly familiar voice, yelling, "Tris!"

She groaned and turned around, only for the fact that she had his wallet. "Can I help you, Four?" she asked.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I mean it."

She scoffed. "Said no guy ever."

"Listen—"

"No. Here," she said, sticking his wallet out to him. "Ran into Uriah."

He took it and checked it. "Did you look through it?"

"Why would I do that? Do I have something to be suspicious of?"

He shook his head. "Just curious."

"Okay. Well. Bye." Tris turned back around, her back to him, and started walking again.

He easily caught up to her, but she didn't look at him.

"You really think I'm just going to let you go out of your own free rein?"

Tris stopped mid-step and spun toward him. "What did you just say?"

He paled, but didn't seem to notice. "I asked if you thought I was just going to let you go."

"After that," she demanded.

"Free rein?" he chuckled. "It's something common in London. What's the big deal?"

She breathed out. "Nothing,"—she closed her eyes—"nothing at all."

"Are you sure?" he chuckled.

"Positive," she snapped, glaring at him out of annoyance.

"Oh," he said, "you won't be able to get rid of me that easily, to answer my own question."

"Figures."

"Sorry," he said, not really sorry.

"How sincere." She rolled her eyes.

"Just because your here," she said, "doesn't mean I'm going to talk to you. I hope you know that."

He sighed. "Noted. But that means I can talk to you."

"No it doesn't," she said harshly. "Don't speak to me."

"Are you really that mad? I didn't mean to call you a coward. I was just trying to make a point that you aren't always that direct. I mean, when you kissed me this morning that was obviously direct. I was actually genuinely surprised when you kissed me.—And more than once, at that. You tend to surprise me frequently, Tris. In no way would I ever, ever purposely hurt you in any way, shape, or form. Ever."

Tris didn't react to a word he just said. She heard him, processed it, but she wasn't going to let him know that. She just kept walking straight.

"And," he mumbled, "you didn't hear a word I just said."

"I heard you plenty," she shot at him, "but I kind of don't want to acknowledge it."

"It'd be easier if you'd just forgive me. I'm with you until Paris. Or at least act like you don't hate me till then. For my sake."

Tris sighed and turned toward him, stopping in her tracks. She crossed her arms and looked down. "I don't hate you, Tobias."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "'Cause it sure seems like it."

"You wouldn't believe how long I've had to fake it," she mumbled.

"Fake what?"

She threw her arms up to her shoulders in distress. "Everything. Life. Who I am."

He frowned. "Let me guess. Hiding your real love for photography."

"Ding, ding, ding!" Tris shouted, frustrated. "You've got a winner!"

Tobias just sighed again.

Tris calmed down, sat on the ground, and leaned against the wall, tilting her head back. "I'm sorry I'm so moody. I've been so stressed, but so free at the same time. I don't hate you though.

And I… I don't like being called a coward. You just really pissed me off, and I got mad for a stupid reason. So I'm sorry."

Tobias sat down next to her while she was talking. When she was done, he just said, "It's fine. If anything, it my fault. But I don't to argue about that either."

She sighed and leaned her head on Tobias's shoulder.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "What do you want to do in Amsterdam?" he asked.

"Anne Frank House, for sure. Then the Artis Zoo. It's one of the oldest ones on the continent."

"All right. We'll have to check for train listings."

She sighed. "All right." But she didn't move a muscle.

"Which requires movement," he chuckled.

"Hey, I didn't see you gettin' up on your damn winklepickers," she said as she got up.

"Well, I'm pretty tired, so my legs feel about as strong as aluminium," he chuckled.

Tris smiled. "Did you play any sports when you were a kid?"

"Random, but okay. Soccer in America, but switched to calling it football when I moved London. That's it though. What about you?"

"Volleyball, basketball, and track."

"I believe we only have basketball in England. No volleyball or track."

"Wow."

"What was your favorite of the three?"

"Definitely volleyball. It was so much fun," Tris said, smiling at the memories. "I played year-round."

"Neat. I don't think I've ever played the sport."

"I'll have to teach you someday," Tris said, smiling.

Tobias sincerely smiled down at her. "Yeah," he said. "Someday."

They arrived at the train station at 10:30 P.M., then checked the listings.

"All right," Tobias said. "There's one that leaves at eleven, midnight, then six o'clock in the morning." He turned to her, as if to ask her which one pick.

"Um… eleven, if that's all right? All I wanted to do in Berlin was see the Wall, so, unless you want to do anything else, eleven is good with me."

"Eleven it is." So Tobias bought their tickets, much to Tris's annoyance.

And ten minutes later, they heard an announcement:

"Attention passengers of train Berlin to Amsterdam, we are now boarding. Please have your boarding passes ready. Thank you for riding Euro Rails."