Thank you to shipsandarmies for editing :)
"I need your help with something."
Eric's murmur interrupts my second attempt at measuring pasta. I'd found a book shoved into the corner of his bookshelf, and after flipping through the pages, decided it might help me.
Though he'd made it clear he didn't need me to make dinner, I knew I had to try.
The book of recipes is old but impressive. It appears to be from Erudite, labeled as a guide to basic cooking. Some pages have handwritten notes on them, and others have a slew of handwritten edits to elevate the dishes. The instructions are easy to follow; each one is written in clean, precise lettering, with simple ingredients. My head swam as I read the one that promised to be spaghetti, but it looked easy enough. I was hoping it would ease some of the tension from a few days ago, especially since I still hadn't made Eric anything edible.
Despite what Landon told men at the auction, I am far from skilled at cooking. I can bake, somewhat, but my time in Amity wasn't spent learning how to make dinner. The initiation class spends three days a week in the kitchens, and my assumption was I'd learn there.
Not in Eric's kitchen.
"What do you need?" I ask, carefully pouring six cups of spaghetti sauce into a pan while Eric's eyes drop to the jar. He inhales slowly, and when his head tilts at an angle, I expect his eye to twitch. "I'm almost done. I think this is right."
"Everly…"
Eric says my name slowly so that I stop to look at him.
He shakes his head and forces a tight-lipped grimace in my direction.
"I'll make you dinner." He steps closer to the counter, towering over me as he plucks the measuring cup from my hand. "I'll show you how to cook later, too. For now, I need you to look at something."
"What is it?"
Mildly intrigued that there's something I might know that he doesn't, I abandon my attempt at dinner in favor of following him to the counter. He has paperwork in front of him and shuffles the pages to find what he's looking for.
"Read this." He hands me a few of the pages, patiently waiting as I skim them.
My stomach drops.
"What do you think?" He shifts his weight from foot to foot, but his gaze is bored. "I'm hoping you know some of the names on here."
"I…"
My fingers touch over the signatures at the bottom. The ink has long dried, and the lettering is slanted and rushed. I read the paper twice; the names jump out at me, but so does the request for fruit, a small number of vegetables, some milk, cereal, and crackers.
My father's signature is familiar yet startling to see.
"My dad is Hank. And Jerry is Landon's father. Judd runs the convivence store, and his dad is named Tomas. But I don't know what this is." I look up to find him staring at me intently. "It looks like a request for groceries."
"It's a purchase order. Someone from the auction is ordering food. It's not a large amount, but enough that Harrison found it." Eric explains. "The address is an abandoned house near the edge of Amity." He holds my stare, oddly patient as his jaw tenses as he pauses to make a point. "I assumed all the homes in Amity were occupied."
When I don't answer, he shrugs, playing this off like he's uninterested.
But he is.
"Doesn't Amity have a rather large population?"
"They do. I guess… there might be a few homes that aren't used. Some of the older ones don't have water or power." I feel like shrinking beneath his stare. I wrap my arms around myself, and Eric's eyes narrow. "But I don't know why they'd deliver it there unless the person is factionless. Johanna allows unused food to be donated. Maybe it's a drop-off point."
"Maybe." He nods, and he's suddenly closer than ever. "Does Johanna often allow the factionless into Amity?"
"Yes."
There's no point in lying to him.
"Why?" He stares at me like I'm the one who has been running Amity. "Why would she overextend what resources Amity has? They've been struggling the past few months to keep up with the demand, as is."
"I don't know." My own shrug is quick. "My guess would be that she feels bad and…it's never seemed like an issue. Johanna allows them to eat in the Dome if they want, or she'll have the kitchen box up food to go."
"I see." Eric's patience, thin and incredibly rare, lessens. "How long has this been going on for?"
"A while." I tilt my head to meet his stare.
His expression changes when our eyes meet. The harshness softens just enough that one would trust him, and even further when I say his name.
"Eric…"
"What?"
My hand hits his –nervously.
My pulse quickens when he leans in, effectively trapping me against the counter. His mission was an easy one, but not finished; he got the answer he wanted, but he was still searching for something else. I swallow when he bends his head down, and his hand stays near mine.
"How many would show up for these…" he pauses, and his eyes flash with delight. "To go meals?"
I know exactly the answer he wants to hear.
"A lot. More than you'd expect." The edge of the counter digs into my back. "Sometimes none. It depends on the day, the weather, if they've recently eaten or were working… sometimes… there were more there than those from Amity. Everyone in Amity tried to help. We'd give them...whatever they needed. It's a lot like Abnegation, but it keeps things peaceful between everyone. They'd get upset if we didn't have enough for them."
"What did your father think of them?" Eric's next question is sharper than the knives in his drawers. "Did he approve of them showing up?"
I chew on my lip, knowing what he expects to hear.
I searched his eyes, wondering if he knew just how close he was to uncovering one of Amity's bigger secrets. The faction, expansive and often in need of laborers, routinely employed the factionless. At best, they'd work a shift in exchange for three meals, a hot shower, and a place to sleep. If they caused issues, they were asked to leave. Three strikes meant they couldn't return to work, ever.
At their worst, they burned through our communal supplies, then turned around and demanded more. My father, always kind and generous, had given the shirt off his back to one who asked. Zander's boots to a small child who needed them. A week's worth of meals, shampoos, soaps, oils, the scant real medicine we had, whatever he could find. He'd even let one sleep in the initiate housing while it was closed. He'd taken clothes of mine for girls who stared at me like they'd attack the second my father turned his back but smiled when he passed on whatever he could. Forrest's favorite pants, my mother's best pans because they use them to cook in the woods, and Paisley's brand new coat that the neighbor made her.
It was usually fine until it wasn't.
My father had been burned more than once, yet he still willingly let them work for him because he and Johanna knew the faction couldn't keep up without them.
"Everly…"
Eric knows the answer.
His hand knocks mine on purpose, and when I blink, he exhales heavily.
"Does your father regularly work with the factionless?"
"He does. He employs them when the farmers are overwhelmed. The work is hard, and…not many want to do it." I confess, feeling a stab of both betrayal and anger, but not at Eric for seeing what was really going on.
At how unfair things were in Amity.
At the memory of a girl twice my size, twisting the fabric of the green dress my mother had made for me, with a smirk on her lips. She knew the stitches would rip. I heard her mother snicker it was fine; she'd use the fabric for scraps and perhaps toss the rest if they couldn't find a use for it.
It was one of my favorites.
Soft, pretty, and one of the few things my sisters never took.
"They take a lot from Amity," I tell Eric, half whispering, fully desperate not to cry in front of him. He won't care. He'll laugh at the idea of a dress being something to be upset over, perhaps going as far as to throw the ones I have into the trash. "He's probably agreed to bring them the food, but I…I…"
"You what?" Eric coaxes a further answer. "Do you think he knows where these orders are going?"
"No, I don't."
I hope not.
My skin feels paper thin as Eric nods. His stare scrapes over me, settling on my face when I look away.
"Did they take something from you? Something important?" His hand leaves mine, and when he pulls away, he stands up straight. "Harrison mentioned Johanna was very forthcoming about being polite to the factionless, almost to the point of robbery."
"It doesn't matter now."
I step to the side, and my lungs constrict. I should feel guilty over outing Johanna. Jeanine had long driven home the idea that the factionless were dangerous and a threat to society, but Johanna didn't believe it. For a long time, I didn't, either. The ones I'd encountered never seemed capable of much. They were hungry and thirsty, malnourished and weak from days outside. The ones that did come to Amity would sometimes choose to stay, blending into the faction with ease and working to earn their place.
But not all of them are decent people.
It appears that some of them run an auction, and Amity is willingly supplying them with food.
The thought slams into my head so violently that I think I might be sick.
I leave Eric standing in his kitchen, with the urge to lie down and shut my eyes until I feel better.
On Tuesday, he asked what they took from me.
"What?" I startle, sitting up straighter at the kitchen table. My fork is paused over a plate of grilled chicken, and Eric's cooking skills far surpass anything I might be capable of doing. "What do you mean?"
"When we spoke about the factionless. You implied they took something from you." Eric sets his fork down and leans back in his chair with a huff. "It's ironic that they'd steal when you were helping them."
"They didn't steal it. My father made me give it to them," I set my own fork down, knowing he'll keep asking me, so I might as well tell him. "When they came by, we always gave them whatever they needed. It was considered rude to refuse. This one time, a girl saw a dress she wanted, and it was mine. It was this green I'd never seen before, and my mom had made it for me. It wasn't her size, and I knew it wouldn't fit her, but she knew I couldn't say no. She kept…grinning when my dad made me hand it over. Her mother said she'd use it for scraps if it ripped."
"And you gave it to her?" Eric cocks his head, pursing his lips in displeasure. "I'd have told them to fuck off."
"I don't think that would have gone over well." I pick the fork back up, stabbing a piece of broccoli like it's wronged me. "My father would have been mortified, and I'd have gotten in trouble. So, I gave her the dress."
"Right." Eric rolls his eyes, clearly not impressed. "He should have told them no. They aren't supposed to be in Amity."
"Yeah, I know, but… he needed their help, I guess." I look over as he stares at me, squinting when I don't take another bite. "What?"
"Do you not like your dinner?" He asks.
"No, it's good. Really. I'm not that hungry." I attempt to smile, remembering I'm not supposed to worry him or make him think I'm not having the time of my life. "Thank you for making it."
"You're welcome."
He doesn't smile back.
He cuts his chicken, but his phone rings and it's a welcome distraction. He answers it with a curt hello, and while someone relays a long list of things that need his attention, I eat the rest of the broccoli and carrots.
They remind me of Amity; they taste nothing like what's cooked in the kitchens, but they're hard to swallow as I remember serving platefuls of vegetables to people who'd kill me if they had the chance.
The last one I eat is bitter, so much that it almost comes right back up.
"No."
"Yes."
"I said no."
"Why not?" My question is quiet as I help Eric try on his next jacket.
In his bedroom, the silence is a cocoon around us, especially when I stand on my toes to fix the last button. The jacket was dropped off an hour ago, along with something for me. "What will that do? How will I explain it to the people I know? And you really trust me not to run?"
"I told you, if I thought you were going to run, I'd have left the tracker in you." He stretches his neck to the side, and his hands touch mine. Carefully, never for long, always with a purpose. "You'll attend the Choosing Ceremony and pick Dauntless. That way, when everything is said and done, it's on record that you're here. You don't want proof you exist? Why would you be upset about this?"
He blinks an icy stare down at me, but I pretend not to see it. I bite my lip, trying to force the button through the hole, and give up when he exhales my name.
"Everly, I'm trying to help you."
"Why?"
"Stop asking why," he snaps. "Because. This way, you'll be here. You don't have to do the actual initiation. Just the ceremony. We'll go from there."
"I fixed the button."
I relax, and our height difference is unfair. I'm left staring at his chest, and he's looking down at the top of my head. He adjusts the collar, yanking it to the side in annoyance, and when I look up, he's still irritated.
"You don't like it?" I step away, looking at him like I have any say in his uniform. "The guy said it should fit."
"It's fine. It's hotter than the last one."
Eric glares at me, but it's with little effort.
Since the tracker was taken out of my neck, he's been close by. His assumption that I wouldn't try to run was correct; even if I could get outside, I wasn't positive I'd return to Amity. Landon would find me and take me back to the tents before I could tell my parents what happened. They might not believe me. The story sounded ridiculous, and the only proof that something had been done to me was the mark on my neck.
I could try another faction, but there were men from everywhere at the sale. Erudite was likely to hold the same guys looking for someone to wash their dishes or sweep the labs, and even Candor would want to cover up the secrets of their own members visiting the tents. Since I was in a vulnerable position, I could end up anywhere, but I'd be at risk: I could wind up locked in someone's house or forced to marry and have child after child.
Ironically, out of all my choices, staying with Eric seemed the safest.
But now, he's just told me that the day after my eighteenth birthday, I have to attend the Choosing Ceremony.
"What if I don't pick Dauntless?" I grab another jacket for him, and his jaw tenses. "Here, this is the other one he brought. Do you want to try this on?"
"Where are you gonna pick? Candor? Erudite? You'd be stupid to choose somewhere else." Eric ignores my question. "I'd find you wherever you went."
His tone becomes malicious, and I try to remind myself that he's not being mean.
He's being honest.
"What if I pay you the points you spent? I could get a job somewhere there." I have no real intention of choosing somewhere else, but his plan seems unnecessary to me. "Maybe at the infirmary with that lady."
"I said no." He steps toward me, stopping when I step back. "I'm not going to do anything to you. But if you get up there and pick Abnegation, I'll drive to Abnegation and take you back. Not to mention, do you really want Marcus to find you? I'm sure he'd swoop right in and take you under his wing as his next house cleaner. Think of all the things he could do to you there. He won't stop at slapping you."
His words are meant to sound threatening, and they are.
"If you pick Amity, it won't be long before the people return for you. I had to confirm I wouldn't take you back there. If you did go back, and you decided to tell everyone what they did, there would be problems." He steps closer slowly, and I know he's cornered someone like this. "Erudite would take you. Until you realize what they do there. You wanna end up someone's lab rat? You've forgotten that without the official ceremony, you don't live anywhere. You're a missing person."
"I'm still a missing person? I thought… there was a report? I thought they closed the investigation?" I hold out the jacket at him, keeping space between us. "I'll do whatever, but…what do I tell my friends? They'll be there."
"You can tell them that you ran away." He stares me down, his gaze zeroed on mine so intense that I know I can't disagree. Rachel's words ring in my head, and I wonder if this is what she meant. "Once you pick Dauntless, the hard part is over. Do you understand that?"
Eric's voice lowers, and the space between us lessens.
"I need you to go there and smile. I'll get you there late enough that you won't have time to talk to anyone. You'll walk across the stage, slice your palm, pick Dauntless, and get on with your life." He takes the jacket from me and tosses it aside without looking. "When it's over, we'll come back here. I'll make sure you aren't bleeding, we'll see the class, and then, you don't have to worry."
"Yes, I do."
I swallow when his eyes darken.
"I told you before, I won't hurt you, but someone else will. I'm sure the other girls that were there are having a very different time than you are." Eric pauses. "I've made this easy for you, haven't I?"
He's right.
The other girls are presumably having a much worse time than I am.
My stomach turns over at the thought of the tracker and the phone call Eric took, hinting that I wasn't being utilized the way they expected.
"Can you find the girls I was with?" I ask, letting him move closer. I can't stop him, but I trust that he's not going to do anything that will hurt. "What if you found them and brought them here?"
"I could," Eric shrugs. "But it's a business transaction according to the people who run it. I'd be interfering with their sales, and it's likely they wouldn't appreciate me showing up to save the day."
"Yeah, I know." My voice shakes, and I hate the way he's right. "I just thought –"
"I know what you're thinking." His own answer is quiet now, and when he's close enough that I can see every thread on his new jacket, my eyes burn. "It would involve you, too. They'd likely come for you as revenge."
"But you said they can't find me now, right?" I tilt my head up, and Eric looks thrown off. His lips part like he's about to tell me something, but he clamps them shut and shakes his head. "What?"
"No, they can't find you." He steps back, and his spine straightens. "I need you to try the dress on. If it doesn't fit, Christian will make you something else. I'll be back. Let me know before dinner."
"I will."
"Good." Eric's head tilts, and his eyes widen like he's just realized something.
He leaves in a hurry. He doesn't bother to take the jacket off, nor does he try the other one on. The front door closes, and the apartment is once again silent.
I glance around half-heartedly, feeling no desire to rifle through his things for the dress.
I have no clue where it is and no energy to find it.
A day later, he took me to see the man who had a store full of clothes.
He informs me that Christian is responsible for designing the clothes in Dauntless. He's given instructions based off what the soldiers need, but everything he creates is made by a team he employees. He outfits all the Leaders, and everything else in the store is his personal designs. From beside Eric, I wonder how on Earth they kept up with his demands. The clothes are far nicer than what I grew up wearing; they are beautifully sewn and made of high-end fabrics, but startlingly numerous.
We pass by mannequins dressed in tactical gear, some dressed in formal clothing, and several wearing what appears to be Dauntless themed pajamas. I slow to look at the silky fabrics, wondering who bought them, but Eric is less than enthused by my perusal.
His hand hits mine as he points down the aisle. "I have to speak to Christian. You can look over there. Grab whatever you need."
I follow his stare to a wildly juvenile section of clothing. I don't move, even when he nudges me forward.
"Christian said you'd like that section." He sounds impatient and even more impatient when I still don't move. "Go!"
"How old do you think I am?" I crane my head up at him, trying to hide the insult on my face. I should be grateful that he's even brought me here. My trips out of his apartment were so few that I could count them on one hand, and there was always a calculated reason behind them. But what he's pointing to looks like something children would wear. "Those clothes are…"
"They're for people who are short. So, unless you plan on getting any taller, go pick something out. Carol mentioned you needed clothes for winter." He interrupts, pushing me again, this time harder than necessary. "Grab a few things so she'll quit bugging me."
"Okay."
I head down the row.
The first few racks are more youthful, full of clothes I haven't seen anyone wear in Dauntless. I try to think if I've seen any children, but they must live elsewhere. I try to imagine dressing entirely in black, and the small dark pants make me grin as I pass by pairs that are identical to what the soldiers wear.
The next section is better: the dresses are less childlike, and the clothes are structured. Most are dark colors, a few are lighter, and a handful are not black. I browse the racks while keeping one eye on Eric, trying not to look like I'm listening.
"Is she adjusting well?" A high-pitched voice asks Eric, and when I look out of the corner of my eye, there is a guy standing in front of Eric with his arms crossed over his chest. "She looks pale. Did she like the dress I made?"
"She is pale, and she's fine." Eric's answer is thin. "She needs other things to wear. I don't think she tried on what you sent."
I didn't.
I found the dress, the color of sunshine and wildflowers, and couldn't bring myself to put it on.
"I'm running out of time to make alterations if she needs them." The man, I assume, is Christian, counters. He's far shorter than Eric but dressed fancily, with several pins shoved through the collar of his jacket. "Does she need a uniform?"
"No, because she's not a soldier," Eric says, his tone dripping with impatience. "She wasn't brought here to be a soldier, either."
"I see. What would you like her to wear?" Christian asks. "She's very…"
He trails off, and I can feel them both look at me.
I pull a shirt off the rack, pretending I'm lost in the thrill of buying something covered in an array of cut marks and frayed edges.
"She can wear whatever she wants. But I need her to look like she lives here. Not Amity." Eric looks directly at me when I look at him, and his expression tells me nothing. "Christina has been giving her a few things, but I thought she might want something new."
"Was this your idea?"
Christian's question is a good one. I move further down the row, picking several things I know Eric will hate. He doesn't want me to look like I'm not from here, but the clothes I choose are not what he'll like. An oversized sweater, some leggings, a couple of dresses that I think are pretty but have nowhere to wear, a pink nightgown that reminds me of something my mom would make, and some socks. Another dress, this one a shade of lavender, and a pair of pajama shorts that aren't his boxers.
I ignore the wince the lighter colors bring, especially the green dress. It's nothing like Dauntless, and everything like that was at home.
Or what was my home.
My fingers are still on the fabric as a wave of dizzying vertigo washes over me.
"Is that all you want?"
I look up to find Eric a foot away, staring at the clothes in my arms. His stare rakes over them curiously, and his eyes narrow at the lack of black.
"Everly?"
"Yes." Held captive by his stare, I carefully extend the clothes toward him. "I didn't find anything for winter, but I like these."
To my surprise, he takes them.
They are funny looking against his uniform; the pink clashes with the black of his jacket, fragile-looking in comparison. He moves the clothes gingerly, his stare never leaving mine.
"I'm aware of how old you are," he looks down his nose at me, and his tone is mildly defensive. "They were very clear about that."
"Right." I hesitate to say anything else because I'm not sure what to say. I've never asked how old he is, but it's probably better if I don't. "Thank you for this. The clothes are nice."
"If he asks if you plan on trying the dress on, just tell him yes. It doesn't matter if it doesn't fit. You just need to wear it for a few hours." Eric instructs. "Otherwise, he'll follow us back home."
"I will."
I watch him blink at me, surrounded by colors far too soft for Eric.
"Good. Now let's go before he demands you try these on." He jerks his head toward the register, and I follow him silently to another aisle.
We pass a row of boots, a rack of dress shoes, and an entire section marked "training." The clothes there are all back: leggings, pants, tank tops, and tees. Everything is unmarked and basic, meant to withstand the Dauntless initiation. Another sign beside the rack announces the clothing can be brought back if it's unworn, but nothing with bloodstains can be returned. The clothes are marked for a low number of points, and an entire rack is free.
I touch a pair of pants as I walk past, shuddering at the thought of putting them on.
Luckily, Eric doesn't make me pick out a pair.
Day thirty comes before I am ready.
My head swims with a million thoughts, and all of them are a culmination of confusion and disbelief. I turn eighteen on the coolest summer day so far, sitting at a bar where animal heads are mounted on the wall above the booths. Across from me, Jason and Rylan are cheerfully eating onion rings drenched in ketchup, and next to me, Eric is reclined back with one arm slung behind me. There are a few others in the bar, but the restaurant feels calmer than it did the first time I was here.
Still, the air is lively with conversation and arguments, and in front of me is a steak so large it would take me a week to eat. Macaroni and cheese are plated alongside it, and mashed potatoes are beside that. A fizzy drink sits by Eric's beer, and on the other side of him, Four eats his meal silently. His girlfriend sits next to him, looking at me like she's seen a ghost, and next to her is Jeremy. He eats quickly, but I was told he's on his break, and he only swung by to say hello. He and Four keep arguing about something, but it's halfhearted at best.
At the end of the table are a stack of gifts wrapped in black paper. The tower of presents is higher than what I would have received back home, such a large amount that they keep tipping onto Rylan.
In Amity, the celebrations were always big events but had little to do with the actual person. My eighteenth birthday might have been worth making a fuss over purely because I would be considered an adult, but it was also a time when everyone else got to unwind. The food would be whatever my mother made, and the gifts would be things that were useful, not anything that I wanted. The drinks would be lemonade or tea, and the guests would be my parents' friends, neighbors, and my brothers and sisters fighting over who got the bigger cupcake.
I wasn't expecting much today.
I woke up feeling as excited as one could given my situation. Eric was already gone for the day, so I spent most of it alone. I took a long shower, washed and conditioned my hair, spent some time rifling through the clothes that were dropped off for me, and picked something that wasn't black. As far as I knew, it wasn't illegal to wear color here, but people rarely picked it.
I ate lunch alone but read through the paperwork that was on the table. It wasn't mine to read, but if Eric didn't want me to see it, he would have put it away.
It was boring.
A laundry list of people he was supposed to speak with, a few notes from his last meeting, a packet of information about the upcoming initiation, and another packet from the tents. This one held my interest, but the last page made me push my lunch away.
It was a detailed list of ways I could help Eric out.
The first half was what he'd been having me do: laundry, some light cleaning or putting away items that were left out, cooking, sewing, and sorting his mail. There were suggestions like having me run his errands, turn down the bedding at night, and even bring him lunch on the days when he didn't want to make it.
The second half of the list was graphic.
It suggested he start slow, with things like having me help him shower, waiting with his clothes in the morning, or letting him pick out what I wore to bed. If he was in the mood, I could take care of whatever needs he had with my hands, perhaps my mouth, and if he followed this list, we'd likely sleep together by the end of the second week. If he had made his purchase in hopes of having a child, they suggested we have sex at least once a day or until I was showing signs of pregnancy.
My lunch almost came right back up.
The timeline was cut and dry, but it was one he wasn't following.
Feeling like I might vomit, I washed the dishes wondering any of that was something he wanted. I busied myself by putting the glasses away and sweeping the kitchen. By the time I was done, and had decided Eric was interested only in having me help him around his apartment, he returned.
My heart clenched painfully as he walked into the kitchen. In his hands was a bag, and he slowly handed it to me.
"This is for you."
I stared at the bag like it was a trap. I hadn't been given anything for just me in years. Zander loved to open gifts, and my sisters would sneakily steal whatever clothes I had under the guise of borrowing them. Even personal items, like shoes or hairbrushes or nail polish, were quickly lost in the hurricane of their rooms, and their giggly apology was always presumed to be accepted.
I never had a choice.
"Are you sure?" My fingers touched his. He poked his cheek with his tongue, clearly uncomfortable over this exchange. "Just me?"
Eric glanced around, cocking his head with a smirk.
"Did you invite someone else to live here while I was gone?"
I didn't answer him, because the bag was full of the nicest clothes I'd ever seen. It wasn't a small gesture, nor was it all him. The card in the bag was from Rachel, promising me that eighteen would be the best year of my life. The cards to the stores were from Jason and Rylan, and the brand-new bottles of sweet-smelling soaps and perfumes were from Four's girlfriend. Even though her note hinted she thought I was being held hostage, she wished me all the best.
I spent the next hour hanging the clothes up, and by the time I was done, Eric announced we had a few more things to do.
One of our stops was in the administration office, where he spoke with someone at length. I waited off to the side and listened while they grumbled about the initiate housing. There were only so many apartments available once it was over, and the consensus was the apartments would be overly crowded if they had a large number this year and still crowded if they had normal numbers. Eric rolled his eyes, reminding the woman he had little to do with housing, but he eventually agreed to bring it up at the next meeting.
I listened while someone asked to move apartments, someone needed their keycards redone, and someone else was annoyed that their neighbors were setting off fireworks in their apartment.
The rest of the day was much better.
We got coffee, toured a few of the shops downstairs, watched a fight for a bit, and when it grew late, headed to Clyde's for dinner. I sat next to Eric obediently, and this time, he handed me a menu and told me to pick whatever. The words swam before my eyes, and eventually, Eric picked something as his friends showed up. I was shocked they brought more gifts, and I wondered if they were trying to make up for something.
"Are you done eating?" Eric asks.
His stare slides over my plate, unhappy with how much is left.
"Everly…"
"I can take it home and eat it tomorrow." I look up at him, and his stare defrosts a degree. "It was really good."
"Are you sure?" He leans in, and I notice he smells good. Better than usual, almost woodsy. "Desert should be here any second."
"Is it flammable?" Rylan pipes up, craning his head around the gifts. "I heard there's a birthday dessert they light on fire. It's been a big hit with the kids."
"No, it's not on fire." Eric rolls his eyes. "And she's eighteen, not four."
"I bet Four would like. He seems like a pyromaniac," Rylan side-eyes Four, who pretends he can't hear him. "Everly, did you make a wish yet?"
"I bet I know what she's going to wish for," Jason adds. "I know what I'd wish for. It's probably similar."
"I doubt Everly wants a tour of Dauntless's most haunted toilets," Rylan counters. "I'll go, though. I'm interested."
"Is that a thing?" I ask, not realizing how close I am to Eric. My shoulder hits his chest, and when I turn, he's watching his friends with a funny look on his face. "Eric?"
"No, it's not." He looks to the side of them, then moves his arm to reach for something. He pulls it out of his pocket, and his lips twitch. "This is for you. You can use it anywhere, but try to refrain from spending all my points in the flower shop."
Eric hands me a card, one that's identical to his. It's heavy and shiny, with my name embedded below his.
Well, Everly Coulter is below his.
I ignore the fact that my existence has been erased and replaced with someone who doesn't exist, but I find the barest bit of comfort in knowing that it's more proof that I'm here.
"I just…swipe it?" I lean into him when Jeremy looks at me. "Are you sure?"
"You're giving her your card? Is she an authorized user, or is this permanent?" Jeremy downs the rest of his water, eying me intently. "Max said you have to marry her soon."
"What?"
I freeze at the same time Eric swallows the last of his drink. I look at him out of the corner of my eye, but his expression stays neutral.
"It's permanent. She'll be here for a while, so she might as well be able to buy what she needs." Eric shrugs, and his mood shifts. It becomes defensive, as prickly as his personality. "If she wants to use it, she can. You're not paying for her."
"How much was she again?" Jeremy asks. "Kacie said –"
"You should go next time. Maybe you'll shut up about your ex if you go buy a wife." Rylan glares at him.
"Actually, he should go. He fits the profile." Jason counters. "Right?"
"He does," Eric throws out. "Maybe he can take your place."
"I'm still interested in going. If only to further the cause," Jason throws out. "But back to what's really important, Everly needs to think of a wish."
"Yeah, and not the tour. At least not unless I can go." Rylan mutters under his breath.
"Did you think of something?" Eric asks, his tone rife with curiosity. When I look up at him, he's peering down at me intently. "You should."
"Do you believe in wishes?" I ask.
His eyes narrow.
I wonder if he's ever made a wish, let alone celebrated his birthday. I doubt it. To Eric, birthdays would be practical, only good for tracking one's age and nothing more.
"No, I do not believe in wishes." His answer is just as expected. "But I have a feeling you do."
I shake my head, feeling a sudden burst of sadness rise in my chest.
I don't believe in wishes.
I'd like to, but there's some unfairness in wishing for anything right now. If I wish that none of this ever happened, that would mean I'd be in Amity, awaiting the Choosing Ceremony. I'd likely pick my home faction and return to complete the initiation before marrying someone I didn't really know. If I wish that my life here turns out okay, I'm accepting the idea that I was sold against my will and purchased by a man who I'll never truly know.
A wish is pointless.
"I –"
I'm cut off by the waitress bringing out a large cake. It's decorated with thick black frosting, tall and wide, and covered in candles. She sets it down with a grin and hands Eric a lighter.
"Happy Birthday! I'll let you light the candles, and I'll be back with knives and forks. Do you guys need anything else?"
Her cheerful demeanor slips when she looks at me. She knows my presence here is not ordinary, and she fails at hiding her unease when I smile.
"I hope it's a good one," she offers, smiling even harder as Eric lights the candles. "All things considered."
"Me, too."
I watch as Eric quickly lights the last candle. He pushes the cake towards me, then lowers his voice so only I can hear him speak.
"I know the circumstances are…unusual, but Happy Birthday, Everly."
He nudges my arm, and everyone joins in, staring at me.
My skin feels like it's on fire as they watch. I keep the smile fixed in place, fully aware it's not as happy-looking as they're hoping for. Someone sings Happy Birthday in a high-pitched voice, and I can feel everyone looking at me. The anger from days ago is long gone, and it fizzles even further when Rylan sings a second verse, even worse sounding than the first.
When Jason laughs, I end up smiling right along with him.
Eric was right –the anger I felt the other day quickly turned into an attempt at proving to myself that I was fine before the heavy weight of inescapable despair took hold of me.
"You should wish for a pet! I bet Eric would love a lizard!"
Rylan's suggestion breaks the tension, but so does Eric moving his hand. He pulls his arm back, brushing along my hair. He leaves it there as someone walks by, mumbling a congratulations to me. I don't recognize the guy, nor do I recognize the one stopping to whisper something to Jeremy.
"You should make a wish. You've earned it," Eric murmurs. "Or at least pretend to so Rylan will stop singing."
The laughter sticks in my throat as I make a silent wish that I know will never come true before blowing out the candles as Eric's friends clap. I catch Four's stare when I lean back, and the frustration is one I recognize; he's hiding something like he's forced to be here just like me.
"I'll cut the cake," Rylan offers. "I did win most skilled with a knife."
"No, you didn't." Jason shakes his head with a gleam in his eye. "You won most likely to stab someone. Twice."
I listen to them good-naturedly jab at one another until I'm handed a slice. Eric hits my arm with his, and Four's girlfriend keeps looking at me like she's too uncomfortable to sit still. I make another bargain to keep the unease at bay, promising myself that if I eat the cake, things will feel fine.
I will feel fine.
Everything will be fine.
"It should be good. I ordered it from Quinten." Eric ducks his head down, widening his eyes mockingly when Tris startles. "I think you'll like it."
I tilt my head to look at him, and I'm met with a flash of entertainment when I finally reach for the cake. He waits until I've taken the plate, and only then does he relax his gaze away from me.
"He said if you don't like it, he'll make you another one."
"I'm sure I'll like it."
Turning eighteen is the most bittersweet moment of my life; the freedom it would normally bring never comes, only the sugary realization that Eric is the only person who has ever celebrated just me.
He watches patiently as I take a bite of cake.
He wasn't lying.
The cake is good, but so is the way that for the next few minutes, the only worry I have is how is how nice this feels, and the freedom in not having to share with anyone else.
I try to imagine sleeping with him.
Not just next to him, like the past few nights have entailed, but with him. My bare skin against his, his hands touching me in ways I can't quite visualize, and his mouth on mine. I imagine it would be very rough and violent because he'd be frustrated with how long it took to get to that point, or maybe intense because he is his own focus.
I imagine it would be all about him, his desire above all else, his wants trumping anything I could even dream of asking for.
With a shiver of unpleasantness, I imagine him bashing my head against the wall, then laughing when it hurt. I let my mind wander so far into extreme terror that I jump when he walks into the room.
When he sits down on the beside me, his stare goes to my pajamas, and his expression remains unreadable.
In the clothes I'd been given, there were dozens of dresses that were a subtle nod to Amity. Some were more suited to Dauntless, but most were lighter than what the members here wore. There were nightgowns, too. A handful, like the ones I had back home, while others were more revealing and less juvenile. I picked one that fell in the middle, but only because it felt important to no longer appear like someone who had no power. Tomorrow, I would attend the Choosing Ceremony with Eric, and even though I had orders given to me, it would look like my choice.
For a half second, I contemplated not listening to him. But I knew Eric would find me, and whatever he was up to would be ruined. I sometimes thought he maybe hadn't gone through with this on his own accord, but there were times like now where I thought I was wrong.
"Are you nervous?" Shirtless and dressed only in boxers, he cocks his head at me and asks the question of the day. "Are you worried about the ceremony?"
"No. I think I know what to say, and you said I won't really have time to talk to anyone." I pull my knees up, and he watches my every move. "But I am afraid I'll see someone who won't believe me."
"You'll have to make them believe you," Eric answers tightly. "I'm sure you can make that happen. Just tell them something that could be the truth. You left because you didn't want to marry Landon. Or you were afraid. I doubt they'll have enough time to interrogate you."
"What happens after I pick Dauntless?" I watch him back; he climbs into bed easily but keeps his distance. "Do I find you?"
"You do. You'll join everyone else who picked Dauntless, then wait for me. You won't go with them on the train or participate in the actual initiation." Eric lies down and rubs his eyes before squinting at me. "Unless you want to."
"I don't."
It's weird to be the one looking down at him. Against the fluffy pillows, he's less threatening.
At least until he speaks.
"Good. You shouldn't."
"I saw the...um…the paperwork from the people," I announce. "On the table."
My voice is less even than I want it to be, but Eric barely bats an eye.
"Are you going to… to…" I continue, but I can't finish my sentence.
"Follow through with it?" He opens one eye, and the air in the room stills. "Not all of it. But Jeremy is right. I have to make it look legit. It needs to be believable. Just like tomorrow."
"Will we really get married?" I push my knees down, wondering if he plans on having an actual marriage. "This is really forever? You want to marry me?"
My question makes him shut his eyes. He swallows but doesn't answer until I inch closer. I reach out and gingerly touch his arm, even though I know I should keep my distance.
"Eric?"
He stiffens.
"No. I'm sure at some point, you'll realize what's happening." He mutters his answer, displeased at my question. "The sale of a human isn't legal, and not everyone in your situation stays alive. It's why, in theory, you'll listen to every word I say. It's why these men go and buy women that they can order around or do whatever they want to them. But I've made your presence known, and I'll announce that you're my wife, and people are to leave you alone after we're married."
"Why would you do that?"
My brain swirls with a hundred questions, but he merely shrugs and turns to look at me as I pull my hand away.
"Because if I don't, they'll spend the rest of your days here bothering you. Just wait until you walk downstairs to get lunch, and they start asking you what it's like to get fucked by me." He lets out a huff of exasperation, and I get the feeling he has a reputation here that's darker than I can imagine. "Just wait until they want to know where you live or if I've asked you to keep your dress on. You'll wish I had announced a marriage like you've never wished for anything before."
"Who would ask that?" My cheeks burn at what he's saying. "Would someone really –"
"Yes."
He turns to really look at me, then sits up. I startle before I can stop myself, and I see he doesn't like that. Insult flashes across his face, but it's quickly replaced with boredom.
"Go to sleep. Pick Dauntless. I promise it'll be the best for both of us." Eric leans in and slowly reaches out to touch my neck. His fingers skim over Arlene's work, lingering there a moment too long. "Can you do that?"
I can't answer him.
My whole body grows warm. I'm dizzy as he leaves his fingers on my neck, and the rough pad moves to touch below the stitches. I saw them in the mirror this morning; the dark threads were a bold reminder someone thought they owned me, and that person wasn't originally Eric.
"Everly?"
Eric murmurs my name, and before I can stop myself, I nod. I want nothing more than to feel like this, over and over, because I've never experienced it before.
Safe.
He's keeping me safe.
No one else in my life has, and somehow, Eric is the only person looking out for me.
"I can."
I'm embarrassed by how despondent I am when he pulls his hand away. I blame it on my birthday, the shameless desire to be important to someone, even if they have an ulterior motive I don't understand. In this moment, I would do whatever he asked, just so he'd make sure I'm alright.
"Good. Now go to sleep. We have to be up early," Eric reminds me. "It'll take a few hours, then we'll be back by lunch."
"And you'll be there?" I ask, even though I know the answer. "The whole time?"
"The whole time."
He lies down, reaching for the covers but waiting until I'm beneath the sheets. I lie facing him, and when I shut my eyes, it's only because his hand touches mine. He's blunt in his move to make sure I'm there, but it's comforting in a way he'll never understand.
His fingers rest against mine, warm and heavy, and the next thing I know, my birthday is gone, and it's morning.
The drive to the Choosing Ceremony takes a half hour.
Dressed in something similar to what I wore the day Landon brought me to the tents, and I sit beside Eric in the truck. My hair has been washed, combed, dried, then curled. Eric watched curiously while I did it with Rachel's friend's help. My hands shook when I tried to wrap the barrel around my hair, and the idea was to make it look like I'd come from Amity. She'd helped me pick out the dress, shaking her head at one that was too dark and nodding when I picked out a light yellow one. She told me her name was Amy, and though Eric looked less than happy to have her around, he did wait while she helped me braid the front of my hair in a pattern that made me wince.
She swiped some blush on my cheeks, applied a heavy coat of mascara, and waved Eric away when he tried to stop her.
"She needs to look like she came from Amity. Not the nightclub." He barked the words at her, buttoning up his jacket with a huff. "She looks like you."
"No, she doesn't." Amy rolled her eyes, unafraid of him glowering while he slicked his hair back. "And thanks for the compliment, jackass. There's nothing wrong with makeup. You don't have to insult me because you're mad at something else."
"I can hear you. Need I remind you that this is my apartment, and I can throw you out if I want?"
I stood between them as they sniped at one another. Amy was clearly here on Rachel's behalf, and Eric was only tolerating her because he suddenly didn't trust me to get dressed on my own.
"You look great." She stepped back to spray my hair, then crossed her arms over her chest. "No one would think you've been living here. What do you think?"
When I turned to look in the mirror, I was met with another version of myself. I looked more like Everly than I had lately, but not. My hair was lush and clean. My skin was flushed. My dress was exactly like everyone else in Amity would wear, slightly nicer but not noticeably so. The stitches on my neck weren't as obvious, and the only sign that I wasn't staying in Amity was the look in my eyes.
It was defeated, bordering on miserable.
"It looks good. Thank you for your help." I stared at the Everly, who should have been picking Amity today. I forced a smile, and when Eric cleared his throat, I knew I'd made a mistake. "What?"
I wasn't as afraid of him as I should be, but even a month of knowing Eric wasn't that long. I might sleep beside him since another bed had yet to show up, but he was often gone before and asleep before I was. Our time together was minimal, and he preferred it that way. He could still trade me in. He could kill me. He could do anything he wanted and there was nothing I could do to stop him.
So, while I might know a little more about him, it wasn't enough to predict his thoughts.
"Amy, you can go now." He waved her off while he slicked his hair back further. "Thank you."
"You're…welcome."
Much like everyone else here, she was reluctant to leave me alone with him. She dawdled for a moment, gathering up the hair spray and bobby pins, then left me with some lip gloss.
"If you need anything, I'll be at Rachel's. You can come by any time."
I couldn't.
She knew this.
"Thanks again." I took the lip gloss, keeping one eye on Eric. "I'll see you when I'm back."
Amy smiled tightly and left before Eric said anything else. I guessed that she was worried Eric was going to do something, but she was powerless to stick around his apartment.
"You know today will go just fine, don't you?" Eric, finished with his hair, walked over to me and stood so I was trapped against the sink. "There isn't anything to worry about."
"I know."
"Then why do you look like you're going to cry?" He raised his eyebrow at me, irritation scribbled over his face. "They can't get you. You aren't going anywhere. You're coming back here. Even if you try to pick somewhere else."
"I…" My hesitation wasn't returning with him, and it was knowing that I'd see people who recognized me and hadn't bothered to question where I was. "I'm not going to cry. I just…don't feel like the person who would wear this anymore."
"Why?" He reached out and removed the bobby pin near my temple. He tugged on my hair, pulling the pieces Amy had just braided until it was undone. "You don't like the dress?"
"I do," I answered, quiet as he undid my hair. He shoved his hands into it, and when the braid was gone, I looked different. Not like the Everly from Amity, but not like the Everly who lived here. "You don't like what she did?"
"No," Eric answered flatly. "I'm going to guess you don't want to look like you did the day Landon tricked you. So, now you won't."
He kept his hands in my hair, using them to crane my head up to look at him.
"He's going to be there. The biggest fuck you is him seeing you alive and well. Not scared. Not running. Not living in fear," Eric paused. "If I've learned anything from my time here, it's that the bravest thing you can do is ignore the people waiting for your downfall."
"How?"
I reached up without thinking.
My hand found his wrist, covered in his uniform jacket. I dug my nails in, hanging onto him like a lifeline.
He let me.
"I'll show you."
Eric untangled my hand from his, a reminder not to touch him like that, and half an hour later, I was in the truck beside him. My feet are pulled up and to the side of me, my body is primed toward Eric, and my view is a blur as he drives toward Erudite. He explained the Choosing Ceremony was held there, but Amity had been selected to provide the food for those attending. It was more symbolic than an actual meal; they were serving teas for those waiting and fresh fruit and snacks before the event started.
I'd likely see numerous people I knew.
"Are you ready?" Eric looks over at me while following a row of grey trucks. The Dauntless Leaders are all in attendance today. Harrison had walked out with us, avoiding looking at me for too long, and Max, the only Leader I hadn't met, had uttered a very brief hello. He and Harrison drove ahead of us, and behind us, Jason and Rylan drove separate trucks with some of the Dauntless born inside. "It won't be long once we park. If anything, maybe fifteen minutes before you line up."
"I am ready." I smooth an invisible wrinkle off my skirt, then smile at him. "Are you ready to see who chooses Dauntless?"
"Oh, I can't wait."
He laughs, flashing me a scathing grin. I imagine when everyone meets him, they'll find him terrifying.
In the distance, people show up in droves. Sleek, shiny cars arrive as families from Erudite trickle in, and the work trucks from Amity park carefully beside them. Abnegation seems to have hitched a ride, though some appear to have walked. Those from Candor arrive in black cars, some fancy, some not, and only Dauntless arrives armed for war.
The families that hop out of the trucks are wild.
Their black clothes give off an air of superiority, and their wild hair stands out amongst the pressed buttons down shirts of Erudite fathers and mothers. They appear garish as they weave in and out of those dressed in gray, and smug as they watch those from Amity peer at them.
My stomach twists like a knife has pierced my abdomen when I see Sophia and Courtney. Jake. A boy named Anthony, who lived not far from my parents, and a girl named Clara, who had been in love with Forrest for years.
There are others.
Everyone who has recently turned eighteen is corralled inside by Erudite's staff.
"Wait here." Eric kills the engine and is out of the truck before I can blink. He heads around, greets someone who knows him, opens the passenger side door with ease, then stands upon the running board and extends his hand. "Come on."
"Are you sure?" I ask, giving him my hand regardless of his answer. He pulls me over with little effort then reaches for my waist. "I can get out. Eric!"
The fall is one I will never get used to.
I reach the ground before I'm ready, and when I steady myself, the waves of people walking inside press together. Eric keeps me out of sight, his body covering mine as someone yells for Jerry to hurry, and my heart thuds painfully.
"I know that guy. Jerry is my dad's friend."
"I know you do," Eric answers tightly. "Keep your head up high. Remember, they didn't look for you, so they don't deserve to know how you are. They've written you off as dead."
His hands dig into my waist, tightening when Rylan parks by nearly crashing into someone from Abnegation. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Johanna arriving, and just behind her, more families from Amity.
"If you panic, look for me." Eric murmurs. "I'll be standing in the back with Harrison."
"What if Landon says something to me?" I blurt out. Eric's hand stays on me, and his nod is understanding. "If he sees me –"
"You can either make a scene and announce what Landon did or smile, pretend you don't know him, and wait your turn. I'll leave it up to you. Either choice ends with you in Dauntless." Eric lets go unceremoniously, and I'm left exposed as a large group of Erudite walks past.
Some pause to look at me, confused as to what's going on. I know it looks odd to see me standing with Eric, and their confusion grows when he takes hold of my arm.
"We should go. The sooner you check-in, the better."
The sunlight is luxurious as it hits my skin. The air is fresh and clean, much better than what's underground, and just brisk enough that I know summer is slowing. In Amity, people will gradually stop swimming in the lakes, the crops will switch to another season, and the nights will come even faster.
I take a deep breath, soaking in the warmth of the sun's rays before Eric instructs me to follow him. His grip is just tight enough to coax me along. I smile brightly at the girls gaping at him, their expressions hinting they recognize him, and several whisper amongst each other. By the time we reach the front of the building, they're out of sight. Rylan has cornered all the Dauntless born in a line, and the tsunami of them takes my breath away.
Almost all are big.
Strong.
Bold in what they're wearing and fearless as they push and shove one another. A few are more reserved, walking with a cool, arrogant attitude, and very few are quiet. One boy walks along so timidly that I know he's not choosing Dauntless, and in the distance, parents that I imagine are his look disappointed when he doesn't wave back at them.
"There. Tell the woman your name. She'll show you which line to get in." Eric moves efficiently; while some greet him, he barely nods hello so we can keep walking. He moves his hand lower, splaying his palm across my back. "And remember –"
"Everly."
My name is gasped.
I look over to see Sophia clutching her hands together, and her eyes are widened in horror. She blinks a few times before she says my name again, but there's no time to speak with her. Courtney is beside her, looking green as someone points at me, and both stop in their tracks. They try to change direction, but Jerry ushers them onward, paying little attention to their protest.
"Eric, wait, that's –"
Eric doesn't listen to my protest, either.
We are greeted by a woman in blue, curtly asking for my name.
"Everly…Car –"
"Carlen. Everly Carlen," Eric interrupts. He nudges me towards her, and his gaze becomes exasperated. "Her birthday was yesterday."
"I found her." The woman strikes something out on a piece of paper before nodding. "Second line. She's behind the kid with glasses. Hurry. We only have a few more minutes before they'll be inside. We're already behind, so make sure she hurries."
"Great. Thanks." Eric answers for me. He continues his trek to the line, and I'm shoved into place by not only him but Harrison. "I thought you were with Max."
"I've been looking all over for you. They're all here. Does she know?" Harrison glances at me, and his shirt is nicer than the one he had on the last time I saw him. "If they try to talk to her? Her friends are looking for her."
"She knows what to say."
Eric's answer is terse.
He surveys the area, and when he finds it satisfactory, he moves his hand away.
"Stay here and wait until they call your name," he reminds me. "When they do…"
"I know. Cut my palm and pick Dauntless," I answered evenly. The guy in front of me turns, and he frowns when Eric looks at him. "I'll find you after."
"You'll do great." Harrison pats my arm, but his attention is on someone else. He radios someone, asking them to meet him by the doors. "Area six, I need at least five people."
"Eric…"
I started to ask him a question, but the buzz of the Choosing Ceremony was too great for him to hear me. Eric leaves with Harrison, storming through the crowd like he's on a mission. I stare at the back of his head until I can't see him anymore, and I'm elbowed by the guy who was eavesdropping.
"You don't have to do what your father says, you know. You can pick any faction." He pushes his glasses into place and smirks. "Are you really from Dauntless? Because you look like you're from Amity."
"He's not my father." Like Eric, I narrow my eyes in annoyance at him. "And where I'm from isn't your business."
"Oh, okay," he mocks me. "Is he your husband? I know who he is. I know why he's here, too."
"Because he's a Leader, and they attend every Choosing Ceremony?" I retort, ignoring the nerves firing. His comments are hitting a little too close to home, but there's no way he'd know any of this. "All the Leaders are here, dummy."
"Dummy? Really? That was uncalled for," he snaps.
He starts to say something, but a woman in blue appears, and the line begins to head inside the building. I follow him up the stairs, inside a large room, and to the side. The line stops momentarily, and I have a second to look around.
The auditorium is filled with people.
A good distance back, Sophia is desperately trying to force her way up the line to get to me, and Courtney is crying beside her. They've both been pushed back into place by someone tall, and when he turns, we lock eyes.
I take great satisfaction in the way Landon's face turns as white as the clouds in the sky, and his mouth drops open.
The cut bleeds immediately and a little too much.
The blood pours out, bright red and bold. Eric failed to mention how hard or light to press, but it didn't take much. I'm dizzy over what seems to be a lot of blood, but not dizzy enough to stop myself from looking into the audience.
In the section for those from Amity, I see a lot of familiar faces. Every single of them looks confused, except for my father. He sits to the side with Johanna, likely here because of his position in Amity. He stares at me in fear, his mouth agape and his hands fidgeting as he waits to see what I will do.
Next to him, a section over is the man who hit me in the face.
He watches intently, his stare scraping over me like shards of glass.
I don't know anyone else from Abnegation, nor do I see any of the girls I was with. The other sections are no one I recognize, except for the new Leader of Erudite. Her head tilts when I hesitate over the bowl of soil, and her stare is impassive.
The lights blind me as my name is repeated. I barely hear it. I'm dimly aware of Landon hissing something at one of his friends, his skin still pale. Rylan waits near one of the exits, casually leaning against a pillar, and Jason waits at the other.
In the middle is Eric.
He stands away from the wall with his arms behind his back. His stare is locked on me, unblinking when I move to the next bowl.
He occasionally drops it to my hand, his mouth tensing when the red is a little too much, and his shoulders rise as I near the last bowl.
The Dauntless faction watches, and there is no confusion on their faces. Parents smile up at me, some elbowing each other to whisper to one another, and some softly mouthing do it as I waver over the bowl. The skirt of my dress tangles between my legs, and a wave of wet warmth hits my hand when I turn my palm over.
The blood spills down, sizzling when it hits the coal.
"Dauntless."
A roar emerges from the Dauntless section, louder than anything I have heard. Marcus' expression darkens, and my father leans back in his chair, shutting his eyes tightly. Johanna tries to catch my stare, and as I walk, I hear Cara offer up a congratulations.
I pay attention to none of them.
The weight of today lifts from my shoulders as I head to Eric. I probably should be heading in another direction, but no one stops me. The next person is up on stage, and their selection is quick. They pick Candor, and the applause is polite and appropriate.
By the time I reach the end of the auditorium, a third person is choosing. I make it to Eric as they pick Dauntless, and he takes a few steps toward me. He meets me without any hesitation; Eric pulls me away from the row into him, and his grip is tight as he holds onto me. He gives me a second to compose myself, and right as someone from Erudite heads our way, he murmurs something against my ear.
I slowly realize I'm holding onto him tightly, terrified to let go.
My hands lock on his jacket, and his moves to my lower back as he leans in, and very quietly tells me I made the right choice.
"Good girl."
He pulls away as another chooses Dauntless, and the crowd erupts louder than ever.