I'm exhausted the next day as we begin training, and all but jump out of my skin when I feel Four press a gun into my hands.
"The first thing you're going to learn is how to shoot a gun," he announces. He's walking down the line handing guns to each of us. "Initiation is divided into three stages. We measure your progress and rank according to your performance in each stage. The stages are not weighed equally in determining your final rank, so it is possible, though difficult, to drastically improve your rank over time."
My eyes are trained on the gun in my hand. This is the one thing I do not have a lot of practice with. It was very difficult, almost impossible, for an Abnegation woman to get her hands on a firearm.
"The first stage is primarily physical; the second, primarily emotional; the third, primarily mental."
I let out an involuntary yawn and dammit if this man does not have an insane level of observation skills. I didn't realize he was standing that close to me, but sudden there's a gun barrel touching my forehead.
My hand twitches; not the one holding the gun, but the one at my side. It takes every ounce of self-control to not knock the gun away as I was taught. But I'm not supposed to have those reflexes.
As it stands, I'm still not sure Four didn't notice my movements. I see his eyes dart to my left hand at my side and then to my right hand holding my gun, which had tightened and my finger was already hovering beside the trigger. I loosened my hold immediately and gave him a blank look as he met my eyes.
"Wake up," he snaps at me. "You're holding a loaded gun. Act like it, princess."
Blending in as a transfer may be harder than I thought, but I'm pretty sure it's just because this guy is an asshole. And I'm definitely going to blame him for any of my problems, and not my lack of self-control which led me to, for some reason, move my finger to the side of the gun and press on the magazine release and let it fall to the ground.
My unspoken message to him is clear. Now I'm not.
This was not an appropriate reaction. Honestly, even for a Dauntless born initiate – we're still barely adults. No one should be that calm when a gun is pressed to their forehead. Especially not someone who isn't supposed to have ever touched a gun before. Oops.
He lowers his gun and looks back to the rest of the class, but not before I catch the intrigue in his eyes.
Well, that's it. I'm absolutely fucked now.
Thankfully, once we start shooting, I don't have to make much of an effort to shoot poorly. I'm familiar with the weight of a gun. The parts. How to aim. The mechanisms to shoot. But I've had very little actual practice shooting, and it's taking me an uncomfortable length of time to readjust to the kickback. Luckily, making a fool of myself when it comes to actually shooting seems to have reduced any suspicion Four may have had.
Will's comment, "Statistically speaking, you should have hit the target at least once now by accident" probably helped lower the suspicion as well. I threw a halfhearted glare at Will, but there was no heat in it, and he just grinned at me in response.
By the end of the first day, I finally manage to consistently hit the target.
Will sits with us at lunch, and Christina makes a comment about him not sitting with his other friends. He makes a face when he looks up at them, and I follow his gaze and immediately feel warmth spreading up my neck to my face.
Edward and Myra, two other transfers, are kissing at their seats. They're so close together, they're practically on top of each other. They seem to only break to eat a bit of food before returning to kissing each other.
"You alright there, Tris," Christina asks, noticing my blush.
"What?" I jump a little, looking at her. "Yeah, no, I'm fine. It's fine."
Abnegation is the only prude faction. I can't give myself away.
"Which faction are you from again, Tris?" Christina asks teasingly. Four is at the table next to us, facing away. But as soon as Christina's question is out, I see his back straighten a bit and his head turns slightly to the side, very clearly listening to us.
"Where I'm from doesn't matter," I reply harshly. "All that matters is that now I'm Dauntless."
I realize too late that I may have sounded to defensive, but luckily, Al, Will, and Christina just laugh. I join in after a pause, grateful that the moment has passed.
After lunch, Four leads us to a different room. Punching bags hang from the ceiling in a row. He explains that we're moving on to fighting techniques, and this is where I have to be careful. This is one piece I absolutely have experience with.
I tune Four out for the most part as he demonstrates several fighting techniques – I know most of this already. As we all start practicing on the bags, I notice this is significantly different than what I'm used to.
My mother sparred with me frequently to teach me what to do. However, my mother is similar in body shape and size to me; I'm pretty sure the bag hanging in front of me weighs more than both of us, and I almost have to punch up to hit it correctly.
My insides twist when Four comes to a stop next to me. I glance at him from the corner of my eyes without stopping my punching. His eyes sweep up and down my body – studious and calculating.
"You're extremely petite," he says, "which means you're better off using your knees and elbows. You need to move with your whole body to get more power behind your strikes."
Suddenly, his hand is pressed to my stomach. I freeze and my heart is beating so loud I worry he can hear it. He puts a light pressure on my stomach.
"Keep tension here," he says quietly, pushing to turn my body slightly. I manage a nod and he walks away, but I stand frozen for another moment until I remember how to breathe.
"I'm surprised he didn't break you in half," Christina whispers next to me once he's out of earshot. "He scares the hell out of me when he gets quiet like that."
As we're finishing up for the day, Al appears behind us. "I want to get a tattoo," he says suddenly. We all seem to be in agreement, so I lock arms with Will and Christina does the same with Al as we make our way to the Pit to find the tattoo parlor.
As we're all flipping through the art books to figure out what we want, I hear a familiar voice behind me.
"Pretty isn't it," she says. "It's a raven."
I spin to see Tori observing me.
"I didn't expect to see you again, Beatrice," she says, but her voice is not unkind.
"It's Tris," I hiss quietly, looking frantically at my friends who are not paying attention.
"Sorry, Tris." She looks at me for a moment before grinning. "First jumper; I recognize the name. Well done. Are you here for a tattoo?"
I nod, pulling out the art I want. "Can you do this? Three birds."
She nods and asks where I want it. When I point to my collarbone, she motions for me to pull the strap of my tank top out of the way. As I begin pulling it down, I hear her inhale her breath sharply. Her eyes are locked on my chest, and when I glance down, I freeze momentarily before pulling the top of my shirt back up slightly to cover the ink that was peeking out.
My eyes are wide, full of terror I'm sure, when she finally meets them. I'm not sure what to do. I've seen the maps, but I haven't explored enough to easily reach the rendezvous point. If I'm already caught, there's no way I can get out of here – I'm not prepared.
Seeing my terror, Tori reaches out and puts her hand on my shoulder to calm me. "Breathe, Tris," she orders, but her voice is low. "In. And out. There you go."
Once I've started breathing again – honestly, when did I stop – Tori rises from her seat to gather what she needs for the tattoo. My eyes are still darting everywhere, looking for danger in every corner.
When she sits back down and rolls her chair towards me to start, her words are a whisper. I almost have to struggle to hear them. "What is a girl from Abnegation doing with a tattoo before arrival?"
I say nothing. I refuse to break the silence. Eventually she sighs and begins work on the tattoo. By the time she's finished, I manage to regain a calm façade, but I can't escape the terror running through my head.
I'm a failure. I've barely been here a day and I've already blown my cover. What are the odds that I run into the one person who knows I'm from Abnegation AND I give her a reason to be suspicious.
When I stand up, I risk a glance at Tori and she's still looking at me with that calculating stare. I avert my eyes quickly and rush to my friends, convincing Christina to help me find whatever I need to dye my hair permanently. She seems thrilled with the idea, so it's not a long discussion before she's dragging me away.
That night, once everyone has gone to bed, I throw my blankets back and creep over to the windows. I know there is a camera right outside our room, so going out the door is too much of a risk.
I push open the window and look out. We're close enough to another building that I can reach it. With practiced ease, I slip out the window onto the ledge and jump to the other building, grasping onto the fire escape and pulling myself onto the roof.
It doesn't take me long to find my way to the abandoned building. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, but the room is a mess and it takes me a while to find the beacon. The moment I lay eyes on it, I hear footsteps behind me.
I reach out blindly for whatever I can find and come back with a glass bottle. Better than nothing, I guess. I hold it tightly in front of my chest as I hide behind the pillar. Finally, the intruder comes into view, and I'm torn between suspicion and relief when I see Tori.
"No person is free who is not a master of himself," she calls out.
I breathe a sigh of relief and step out. She's not surprised to see me. "Our unalterable resolution should be to be free."
She smiles as she approaches. "I was certain you'd show up after what happened," she explains. "I'm glad I caught you before you activated it."
"I'm sorry," I breathe out. "I was careless."
"You were," Tori says, nodding in agreement. "You're still very new to this, but you're lucky it was me."
I nod, conceding that point immediately. "You seemed surprised."
"I didn't realize we were getting another plant," she says, unconcerned. "You're the last one I expected."
Rather than take offense, I let out a small laugh. "That's the point, isn't it." After a beat. "Do you know who the other is? I was told there were at least two that we were certain of."
Tori shakes her head, frowning. "I don't. I know people here that I trust, but I can't be certain who the other one is. Generally, we only know the person who brings us in and the people we bring in." Her expression turns curious. "Who brought you in?"
I grin. "That's against the rules." She grins back. "Come on, Tori. I know I messed up already, but I'm not that naive."
Finally, Tori reaches out her hand in greeting. "Blackhawk," she provides to me. I grip her hand firmly and respond with my own code. "Allegiant."
"Be brave, Tris," Tori says as we both lower our hands. "And stay sharp. All I know about the other Dauntless plant is that it's a man, and his handle is Spectre."
I thank her and we part ways. My mistake had the best possible outcome. Sure, I outed myself. But I outed myself to an ally. I have at least one person here that I know I can trust. Finally, I'm able to breathe again.
"No person is free who is not master of himself." - Epictetus
"Our unalterable resolution should be to be free." - Sam Adams
