"Wake up! Wake up!" Commands Gabriel's deep voice, he's bouncing up and down on me straddling the cocoon of sheets wrapped tightly around my body.
My eyes snap open and I stare at the bedside table where I left my watch.
It's almost 6:30 P.M.
"Get off." I say thickly, my mouth feels cottony and I can use a drink. I'm guessing this is him coming over to get me to come to dinner.
He's been known to pick locks so I already know how he got into my apartment and how he got into my room. This is not the first time but usually I catch him.
"If you're sick, good." He replies bouncing on me a few more times before rolling off, he sits propped against my headboard with his hands behind his head. "You're the one who had to get all 'It's just a little rain'." He adds with a feminine voice to mock this morning. "Everyone wants to play with you now." His boot starts pushing me off my side and I'm only vaguely peeved that he's wearing his boots on my bed.
"I'm warning you." I reply lightly, swallowing a bit of saliva build up, as I roll, his boot continuing to push me, but I'm wrapped so tightly that I don't catch myself and instead land with a thump on the concrete floor facing up at the ceiling. "You've been warned." I amend my threat weakly, wiggling out of my cocoon.
"What was that?" Gabriel asks and he peers down at me from the bed, with a toothy grin and bright eyes. "It's just a little rain?"
"Oh no! Poor Gene." Kat says mockingly sitting on the arm of the L shaped couch, occasionally she'll squeeze my burning cheeks between her frigid hands.
I sit sideways with one leg pulled up and my head lain over the backrest. I am far from poorly, in fact I feel much deadlier.
Something about physical sickness being out of my control, among one of my particular weaknesses makes me a bit grouchy.
Especially when they casually toss out the 'It's just a little rain.' phrase that I am now infamous for.
It's dim in the lounge tonight and at first I thought we were going to dinner but Gabriel coaxed me all the way here despite my reservations about coming, we don't frequent the lounge.
It is always bustling with people. More reserved for the older Dauntless.
Around the couch and serving table sit the usual then theres, 2 Amity, 2 Candor's, and a Stiff. It almost seems like the punch line to a joke, like the kind Uriah always tells.
"At least you have some color to your cheeks." Zeke says, putting an arm over my shoulders to shake me up right.
Kat and Jade wear dark dresses and they giggle girlishly with Mia and Shauna while the rest of them sit around sipping alcohol.
In stark comparison I wear my usual jacket, tank and pants with boots, with my jacket zipped all the way up to my chin. My hair is pulled into a tight ponytail because I know it makes me look much more severe, to make up for my sluggishness.
I'm not positive what the special occasion is for everyone to be drinking and together but I can think of a million things I'd rather be doing.
One of them is sleeping and when one of the Candor transfers starts asking everyone what their favorite things are I find myself even preferring the company of inanimate objects.
"Black." I reply without inflection, when he asks what my favorite color is, having gone through the others around the table. Everyone cracks up and he looks embarrassed for even asking.
"That's not completely true." Jade jokes lightly shaking her head at me, I raise my brow at her. "She likes light black, dark black, pitch black, pastel black and faded black."
The laughter is loud an raucous and I have to admit, I appreciate her joke. The tug at the corner of my lips is evidence but my mouth feels dry and smiling takes effort.
Even Four is in attendance accompanying Zeke and Shauna.
Amar mentioned talking to him about how joining is about more than getting through initiation, for a lot of Dauntless. They meet their best friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, enemies, during this time.
Sometimes though, the change is too hard for them and they don't make it through to keep them, no one talks about the ones that fail or give up.
I notice Kat and the Amity transfer, Jason's occasional inconspicuous arm brushes or accidental hand bumps and the way the Candors and Female Amity, Sean, Henry and Mia seem to be inseparable. Four, Zeke and Shauna have a newfound camaraderie as well.
"Let's play Dare!" Ash gushes, she sits straight up like she's been electrocuted, her eyes are bright like it's the best idea she's ever had.
Shauna and Zeke exchange sly glances and agree to play, Four does not. I pinch the bridge of my nose, pressing my fingers into my eyes.
They explain the game to the transfers that haven't already played a game of it. You drink, dare someone, they do the dare, they drink and dare someone else.
You lose when you do not complete the dare.
I shake my head when they ask me and Kat starts begging. Jade mentions that I could use a drink and I could honestly, I definitely could use a drink, but I would rather go without the dares, seeing as how there are players that tend to go overboard and my previous games left some not so desirable long term effects.
"Come on Gene, we'll set some boundaries." Gabriel goads pleadingly. "Like only within Dauntless or-"
"No." I reply firmly cutting him off, they frown at me and give me pouting faces.
I already know that they want to play because they'd like to take advantage of the inexperienced but excited faces sitting around, waiting impatiently to prove themselves.
I'm hardly in any kind of mood for the dares they may have in mind if they plan to play strictly within Dauntless.
"The number one rule is not to be a pansy cake." Joseph says to the transfers but with a suggestive brow raise and pursed lips.
I am always the first to lose.
"Really?" Asks Henry one of the Candor boys with a bewildered tone like he may think that's the way we do things around here.
He should not have asked. Everyone else knows it's a joke. Everyone starts laughing again and slapping him on the back, they give him the first drink, to start off the game.
Henry takes a deep gulp, cringes from the taste before wiping his mouth and stares me right in the eyes with a slight blush creeping over his cheeks, my mood becomes sour.
"New rule, don't ask any stupid questions either." Zeke says with a laugh.
"Why are you sitting here?" The Erudite Transfer. Eric asks with a palpable annoyance, his eyes narrow slightly when I make no attempt to get out of the bench.
Instead of answering him, I check my watch.
It's almost 8 P.M.
"Are you drunk?" He asks and his tone sounds a little less harsh and a little more curious, almost amused.
Eric was sitting alone at a table in the canteen with a plate of untouched food and a cup of coffee.
"No." I reply evenly, my face does feel a bit flushed but it must be from the slight fever my body is suffering from. I do feel sluggish and a bit over heated, but I leave my jacket zipped all the way up, because the cold air on my exposed face and hands is enough.
"Did you want something?" He asks flatly, almost looking as though he's getting ready to take off, preparing to get out of the bench based on my response.
"No." I reply honestly, he settles like he's satisfied with my answer, he may also be not in the mood for conversation.
But after a while of silence, the only other noise being the very scarce ambient sounds of late night canteen goers around us, he opens his mouth again.
"Did you just want company?" He asks looking at me with furrowed brows, his mouth is set in a firm line as he looks me over calculatingly.
"No." I admit and he cracks into a laugh. Possibly the first I've heard from him. I feel as though he may have gotten my implication.
He is a natural deterrent for people. But I have also seen him lurking inconspicuously, and hope to make it known he does not go unnoticed.
He pinches the bridge of his nose before pushing himself up off the bench to slide out and leave.
I rest my cheek on my hand and sigh, looking at the coffee cup and his plate that he left, thinking about how it'll look as though it was me that left trash lying around. The non biodegradable kind anyway.
I have no intention of throwing his garbage out but seeing as his coffee looks to be just as neglected as his food I decide to take a sip for the caffeine.
It's room temperature having sat and positively bitter, my tongue becomes barbed after being drenched in the acrid liquid and it's not easy to swallow as my throat feels tight.
He takes his coffee black, as do most of us.
I vaguely wonder, passingly, what kind of dares the others are enduring.
When Eric returns, to my mild surprise. He wears a smirk and slides back into the bench, and when he notices I have his coffee, his smirk spreads into a grin.
He places a plate before me, with a piece of chocolate cake perched imposingly upon it.
"I don't like sweets." I tell him with a bored tone, my expression is usually perfect at matching and I narrow my eyes, gazing at him over the cup, taking another sip before putting it down beside the plate.
I do not accept the baked fare, even if it's his way of reciprocating me for making him laugh.
"I know." Eric replies simply, and he leans forward curling his fingers around the coffee.
I don't stop him. I watch till he brings it closer to his lips, when it is just barely a breath away, before saying. "I'm ill."
When he takes a gulp and lowers the cup, he licks his lips dragging his tongue over a new piercing still slightly red and irritated around it.
I find that I dislike it intensely. His strange gesture seems oddly predatory, studious, taunting.
"I know." He says with a casual shrug and a bored tone. We don't speak to each other again, I stand to leave and he gives me the rest of the coffee. "Good talk."
"Wake up." Demands a stern voice, my sheets get ripped from off of me, I've been awake for hours and I listened to the sound of his footsteps softly sneak into my room.
I sit up slowly to stare at Amar who smirks and jumps up onto my bed with his boots on and starts bouncing up and down all over the place like Gabriel.
"If you're sick, go to the infirmary." I swipe at his legs a little too slow, and he jumps to dodge me.
"When have I ever gone to the infirmary?" I ask while rubbing my tired eyes till I'm certain they wont melt out of my head, my ears feel a little hollow, my hair slightly damp.
He starts listing off all the injuries I've sustained in the past but all of them we're fairly serious and he makes my point for me, I've never gone over small things like sickness or fevers, neither has he, no one does.
The infirmary is rarely frequented, more of a decoration to Dauntless.
"Fine, fine. Let's go eat then!"
"No." I reply falling flat on my back before turning over to press my cheek into my pillow but I reach over to my bedside table to retrieve my watch.
In the dim light of my cavern the hands read 4:21 A.M. "Get the fuck up!" Amar complains loudly but playfully nudging me with his boot. "Get up, get up, get up, Gene."
The cafeteria is chilly, more so than usual and I can feel a slight trembling under my skin, beneath the fabric of my jacket like I don't have enough layers, it probably doesn't help that my morning shower was freezing.
I shove my hands into my pockets to stay warm as I wait patiently for a coffee with Amar.
We catch up on some of the time lost cause he's been busy, he asks me about school and tells me about initiation and it turns out that all his initiates are doing well, of course Amar would get them all fit, help them earn a good score.
He takes the cup being handed to me before I can and one of his own to lead me over to his empty table, I slide in across from him.
My fingers curl around the warm paper spreading the heat through my body and before I take the first sip to make my insides warm as well.
Max arrives and taps the table to get our attention even though I watched him walk over to us.
His expression is grave but also solemn, as he clasps his hands in front of him.
Amar looks up at him with a horrified expression his eyes become wide, brows raised up under his choppy black hair and his mouth open with shock.
My own expression stays passive, impartial and because the cup was so close to my lips already I continue and take a sip.
The bitter liquid is scorching hot in my mouth and burns through everything before going down my throat thickly.
I drag my now barbed tongue across the back of my teeth to scrape it like sandpaper and take another sip before standing.
Her skin is white, almost transparent other than the faint lines of blue veins under the surface, the stark contrast of the white sheet covering her from the chest down is so severe that it makes my eyes sting trying to discern which is whiter.
Despite myself, I trail a finger down her platinum blonde hair line, to her ear. Her skin is cold but with my elevated temperature everything feels cold to me.
I don't need to ask how she died, nether does Amar. It's apparent by the gaping hole in the side of her temple and a matching one on her shoulder, there is no blood.
Everything is sterile and crisp, having already been cleaned and prepared for cremation.
Her eyelids are a light purple-ish blue, her lips are the same color and in a way it looks much lovelier than black. She never once looked peaceful, even now, I guess in a way that says something about her.
"She was returning from Amity with the distribution inventory for his winter." Max explains when Amar asks what happened.
Falen finishes telling about how their convoy was attacked by faction-less on their way back.
It's not unusual, during the colder months some faction-less tend to get a little out of control. Desperate for food. They've managed to get armaments over time.
Amar doesn't suspect anything because of how common it is, he just expresses his condolences and tightens his grip on my hand.
I however already know that invoices and receipts are delivered by Amity at the time of the last distribution before seasonal change, I'm always present when they do.
What Max or Falen don't say aloud is that she is a traitor to Dauntless. Smuggling Divergent into Faction-less territory, and beyond the wall, for some time now.
Along with hers there are 3 other bodies, all of which are covered completely with sheets.
Falen suffers from a gunshot wound to the thigh but still manages to hobble around to cover the leaders upper body with the sheet, our other leader is unharmed because he remained in Dauntless.
Max's hand is heavy on my shoulder and he squeezes once before asking. "Are you alright Gene?"
I frown.
"Yes." I reply, my slight tone is for Amar and he gives my hand another squeeze.
Max already knows that I am fine. Dauntless has just lost one of its leaders. We are weakened, an even number. I should not be.
When the bodies are put into the pyre, the flames roar up, accepting them with flaming hands that wrap around like a destructive embrace.
It reminds me of the Dauntless coals that accept blood on choosing day, today they've been chosen back as the fires of Dauntless accept their bodies even though I know they don't belong.
Everyone lifts their glasses and chants the names of the recently departed. I drink deeply to each name except one. Even though the chants and roars are loudest when Max calls it out over the gathering in the Pit.
Even the transfers all drink and chant along but only after having been explained the way we mourn.
It could be best described as "Chasing the grief into the oblivion of alcohol and leaving it there or sending their souls off with relentless noise." As Zeke would put it.
My body is still hot and cold but the throbbing in my head is dulled by a lulling buzz only offered by the dark liquid in the cup I hold in my hand.
Kat has her arm wrapped tightly around my waist and occasionally someone will join and bury their face into my hair to give me a hug or some measure of unneeded sympathy.
It's early in the afternoon and everyone else is thoroughly drunk, no one comments on my ability to walk a straight line without stumbling, or being able to form coherent conversations without slurring any of my words and no one notices when I don't continue to drink along with them.
A few times I have to steer several drunken people away from the chasm, their bravery heightened as they get more and more intoxicated.
There are usually several that jump when there's a loss of a leader, something about following them into the unknown or charging into battle with them in the beyond.
"Thinking about jumping?" Asks a curious voice, I turn away from the chasm's opening, lost in thought to shrug at Eric.
He stands straight, with a cup of his own several feet away with his head tilted questioningly.
The first thing I notice is that his lip ring is gone and his hair is buzzed short on the sides, slightly longer on top.
"Or do you need another drink to give you courage?" He asks, holding his cup out to me when I don't immediately answer.
I recognize the challenge and imperiously stalk up to him. Snatching the cup from his hand to gulp it down, without breaking eye contact.
He smirks just a little when I lean over the side, just to toss the empty cup into its depths.
My bed is crowded, and my head is throbbing. It's way too hot with all the body heat around me.
I throw Kat's arm and leg off me to sit up and crawl over Jade to slide my legs off the duvet, only to step on another sleeping form right at the foot of the bed.
Whoever it is just grunts and slaps my foot away, mumbling incoherent words.
The mixture of snores in the darkness make it feel like just another sleepover after a long day, and in a way it is.
I feel my way over to the door of my bedroom using the wall, the cement under my palms is sturdy, firm, it does not move when I press my weight into it. I'm tempted to rest my burning forehead against it because it's so cold and inviting.
My skin gets dusted with goosebumps when the frigid air outside my door rushes around my bare legs and arms, even without windows it feels like the outside air manages to get in, like a ghost through the concrete walls.
The main room is dim, not as difficult to navigate and I vaguely notice the sleeping forms on the couch and decide passingly not to go back into the dark to retrieve my watch.
Instead I make my way silently, tip-toeing to the bathroom.
I splash cold water on my face and pat it down with the towel hung near the light switch. It's a school night and I should probably get more sleep.
With that thought in mind and only that thought, I exit the bathroom and make my way to the locked door past the couch with sleeping people on and around it.
I silently unlock it with a key located in the planter right next to it and crawl under the cold sheets, a shiver runs up my spine, spreading through every corner of my body when I breathe in the frigid air, that feels sharp and fresh in my lungs, almost painfully so.
Soon enough I get warm, and I fall into a dream-filled sleep.
"Is it just me or do these eggs taste like shit?" Lynn asks stabbing into the yellow mound on her plate.
The only answer she gets is a groan from a hung over Joseph that sits across from her as he rejects his own plate of food, before slamming his forehead into the table.
I take a bite out of the muffin I have and read over the schedule manifest our leader Falen gave me, tomorrow is the usual distribution day for Amity and afterwards he want's me to attend the inter-faction conference.
I don't feel particularly inclined to oblige him because I know the other faction leaders and representatives want to express their condolences.
Max also expressed that he didn't want to have to sit through it alone, because 'well, Falen is injured and doesn't want to go', in some ways they are more petulant than I am.
He also said something about 'long boring meetings with boring people', I'm not interested either, but the agenda is slightly a bit more important than 'tea time' with other factions.
"War game today!" Screeches Uriah right into my ear, a few people start cheering but they all sound tired and unenthusiastic, most of them are hung-over like Joseph, they drink more than they train, they drink almost as much as they play.
"I wouldn't drink that if I were you." I say casually looking up briefly at a tired, droopy eyed Kat who holds her cup of coffee to her lips, she snorts and takes a gulp.
"Oh come on Amar." Tori complains, she leans over the reception desk on her elbows with an annoyed expression on her face, bouncing impatiently. "I have points on this game, a lot of them, right Gene?"
I nod absently without joining in.
"That's why I can't tell you who I'm going to chose for my team." Amar reprimands her with his hands on his hips, it would be cheating. "Anyway, you alright Gene?"
He asks me for the 3rd time since entering the shop.
Amar, holds onto things. When his grandparent's took the plunge he did not recover for weeks. Though he puts on a bravado, his is the one that is easily seen through.
I find it easier to, being intoxicated. A state I do not permit myself often as it makes it difficult to silence my mind.
"Yes." I answer patiently while securing the cuff on Eric's arm, he watches me with a severe stare, possibly to make sure I'm not going to give him a tattoo of something he didn't choose.
I make sure to go meticulously slow so that he can see that I have no intention of sabotaging him yet, it's my first time using the machines and I intend to do it right.
Plus it is the day of the war games.
"Don't forget to readjust the pressure dial." Tori reminds me without turning around, I already started the machine and the hum of needles starts up.
Eric's jaw is tense and I can tell he's gritting his teeth, he clenches his fists like he wants to hit something.
"Don't rile him up too much Gene." Amar says snappily but he tosses me a fizzy water and I catch it reflexively while raising my brow at him.
Tori glances back at us with a slight devious smile.
I haven't done anything personally to elicit such behavior or attitude from the Erudite. He arrived with it.
Eric snatches the soda from me with his free hand and shakes it violently before throwing it back into my lap.
I pick it up and immediately twist the cap open, spraying the carbonated drink everywhere all over myself; him, and Tori. Amar ducks out into the hall.
"What the fuck is wrong with you guys." She growls before getting up to wash off. Amar just laughs, clutching his stomach.
I'd let my petulance weight out on that one and I get up to leave the shop to clean myself up knowing Eric can't move for another hour until the machine is done.
Before I go I tap my nose twice at him. He glares at me. His knuckles white, clenched tightly to the armrests.
The front of his shirt and pants are darkened with wetness. The machine, his face and hair glisten with the droplets of soda.
It may be that he is ranked 2nd and he is not pleased with himself. Neither am I.