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Is he just reassuring her because she’s my mother, or does he really believe that I am capable? And what did that look mean?
She tilts her head. “You look familiar for some reason, Four.”
“I can’t imagine why,” he replies, his voice suddenly cold. “I don’t make a habit of associating with the Abnegation.”
My mother laughs. She has a light laugh, half air and half sound. “Few people do, these days. I don’t take it personally.”
He seems to relax a little. “Well, I’ll leave you to your reunion.”
My mother and I watch him leave. The roar of the river fills my ears. Maybe Four was one of the Erudite, which explains why he hates Abnegation. Or maybe he believes the articles the Erudite release about us—them, I remind myself. But it was kind of him to tell her that I’m doing well when I know he doesn’t believe it.
“Is he always like that?” she says.
“Worse.”
“Have you made friends?” she asks.
“A few,” I say. I look over my shoulder at Will and Christina and their families. When Christina catches my eye, she beckons to me, smiling, so my mother and I cross the Pit floor.
Before we can get to Will and Christina, though, a short, round woman with a black-and-white-striped shirt touches my arm. I twitch, resisting the urge to smack her hand away.
“Excuse me,” she says. “Do you know my son? Albert?”
“Albert?” I repeat. “Oh—you mean Al? Yes, I know him.”
“Do you know where we can find him?” she says, gesturing to a man behind her. He is tall and as thick as a boulder. Al’s father, obviously.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t see him this morning. Maybe you should look for him up there?” I point at the glass ceiling above us.
“Oh my,” Al’s mother says, fanning her face with her hand. “I would rather not attempt that climb again. I almost had a panic attack on the way down here. Why aren’t there any railings along those paths? Are you all insane?”
I smile a little. A few weeks ago I might have found that question offensive, but now I spend too much time with Candor transfers to be surprised by tactlessness.
“Insane, no,” I say. “Dauntless, yes. If I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.”
My mother, I see, wears the same smile I do. She isn’t reacting the way some of the other transfers’ parents are—her neck bent, looking around at the Pit walls, at the Pit ceiling, at the chasm. Of course she isn’t curious—she’s Abnegation. Curiosity is foreign to her.
I introduce my mother to Will and Christina, and Christina introduces me to her mother and her sister. But when Will introduces me to Cara, his older sister, she gives me the kind of look that would wither a plant and does not extend her hand for me to shake. She glares at my mother.
“I can’t believe that you associate with one of them, Will,” she says.
My mother purses her lips, but of course, doesn’t say anything.
“Cara,” says Will, frowning, “there’s no need to be rude.”
“Oh, certainly not. Do you know what she is?” She points at my mother. “She’s a council member’s wife is what she is. She runs the ‘volunteer agency’ that supposedly helps the factionless. You think I don’t know that you’re just hoarding goods to distribute to your own faction while we don’t get fresh food for a month, huh? Food for the factionless, my eye.”
“I’m sorry,” my mother says gently. “I believe you are mistaken.”
“Mistaken. Ha,” Cara snaps. “I’m sure you’re exactly what you seem. A faction of happy-go-lucky do-gooders without a selfish bone in their bodies. Right.”
“Don’t speak to my mother that way,” I say, my face hot. I clench my hands into fists. “Don’t say another word to her or I swear I will break your nose.”
“Back off, Tris,” Will says. “You’re not going to punch my sister.”
“Oh?” I say, raising both eyebrows. “You think so?”
“No, you’re not.” My mother touches my shoulder. “Come on, Beatrice. We wouldn’t want to bother your friend’s sister.”
She sounds gentle, but her hand squeezes my arm so hard I almost cry out from the pain as she drags me away. She walks with me, fast, toward the dining hall. Just before she reaches it, though, she takes a sharp left turn and walks down one of the dark hallways I haven’t explored yet.
“Mom,” I say. “Mom, how do you know where you’re going?”
She stops next to a locked door and stands on her tiptoes, peering at the base of the blue lamp hanging from the ceiling. A few seconds later she nods and turns to me again.
“I said no questions about me. And I meant it. How are you really doing, Beatrice? How have the fights been? How are you ranked?”
“Ranked?” I say. “You know that I’ve been fighting? You know that I’m ranked?”
“It isn’t top-secret information, how the Dauntless initiation process works.”
I don’t know how easy it is to find out what another faction does during initiation, but I suspect it’s not that easy. Slowly, I say, “I’m close to the bottom, Mom.”
“Good.” She nods. “No one looks too closely at the bottom. Now, this is very important, Beatrice: What were your aptitude test results?”
Tori’s warning pulses in my head. Don’t tell anyone. I should tell her that my result was Abnegation, because that’s what Tori recorded in the system.
I look into my mother’s eyes, which are pale green and framed by a dark smudge of eyelashes. She has lines around her mouth, but other than that, she doesn’t look her age. Those lines get deeper when she hums. She used to hum as she washed the dishes.
This is my mother.
I can trust her.
“They were inconclusive,” I say softly.
“I thought as much.” She sighs. “Many children who are raised Abnegation receive that kind of result. We don’t know why. But you have to be very careful during the next stage of initiation, Beatrice. Stay in the middle of the pack, no matter what you do. Don’t draw attention to yourself. Do you understand?”
“Mom, what’s going on?”
“I don’t care what faction you chose,” she says, touching her hands to my cheeks. “I am your mother and I want to keep you safe.”
“Is this because I’m a—” I start to say, but she presses her hand to my mouth.
“Don’t say that word,” she hisses. “Ever.”
So Tori was right. Divergent is a dangerous thing to be. I just don’t know why, or even what it really means, still.
“Why?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t say.”
She looks over her shoulder, where the light from the Pit floor is barely visible. I hear shouts and conversations, laughter and shuffling footsteps. The smell from the dining hall floats over my nose, sweet and yeasty: baking bread. When she turns toward me, her jaw is set.
“There’s something I want you to do,” she says. “I can’t go visit your brother, but you can, when initiation is over. So I want you to go find him and tell him to research the simulation serum. Okay? Can you do that for me?”
“Not unless you explain some of this to me, Mom!” I cross my arms. “You want me to go hang out at the Erudite compound for the day, you had better give me a reason!”
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” She kisses my cheek and brushes a lock of hair that fell from my bun behind my ear. “I should leave. It will make you look better if you and I don’t seem attached to each other.”
“I don’t care how I look to them,” I say.
“You should,” she says. “I suspect they are already monitoring you.”
She walks away, and I am too stunned to follow her. At the end of the hallway she turns and says, “Have a piece of cake for me, all right? The chocolate. It’s delicious.” She smiles a strange, twisted smile, and adds, “I love you, you know.”
And then she’s gone.
I stand alone in the blue light coming from the lamp above me, and I understand:
She has been to the compound before. She remembered this hallway. She knows about the initiation process.
My mother was Dauntless.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#ulink_f2a1fba0-d872-5240-b4ad-000422ad94ee)
THAT AFTERNOON, I go back to the dormitory while everyone else spends time with their families and find Al sitting on his bed, staring at the space on the wall where the chalkboard usually is. Four took it down yesterday so he could calculate our stage one rankings.
“There you are!” I say. “Your parents were looking for you. Did they find you?”
He shakes his head.
I sit down next to him on the bed. My leg is barely half the width of his, even now that it’s more muscular than it was. He wears black shorts. His knee is purple-blue with a bruise and crossed with a scar.
“You didn’t want to see them?” I say.
“Didn’t want them to ask how I was doing,” he says. “I’d have to tell them, and they would know if I was lying.”
“Well…” I struggle to come up with something to say. “What’s wrong with how you’re doing?”
Al laughs harshly. “I’ve lost every fight since the one with Will. I’m not doing well.”
“By choice, though. Couldn’t you tell them that, too?”
He shakes his head. “Dad always wanted me to come here. I mean, they said they wanted me to stay in Candor, but that’s only because that’s what they’re supposed to say. They’ve always admired the Dauntless, both of them. They wouldn’t understand if I tried to explain it to them.”
“Oh.” I tap my fingers against my knee. Then I look at him. “Is that why you chose Dauntless? Because of your parents?”
Al shakes his head. “No. I guess it was because…I think it’s important to protect people. To stand up for people. Like you did for me.” He smiles at me. “That’s what the Dauntless are supposed to do, right? That’s what courage is. Not…hurting people for no reason.”
I remember what Four told me, that teamwork used to be a Dauntless priority. What were the Dauntless like when it was? What would I have learned if I had been here when my mother was Dauntless? Maybe I wouldn’t have broken Molly’s nose. Or threatened Will’s sister.
I feel a pang of guilt. “Maybe it will be better once initiation is over.”
“Too bad I might come in last,” Al says. “I guess we’ll see tonight.”
We sit side-by-side for a while. It’s better to be here, in silence, than in the Pit, watching everyone laugh with their families.
My father used to say that sometimes, the best way to help someone is just to be near them. I feel good when I do something I know he would be proud of, like it makes up for all the things I’ve done that he wouldn’t be proud of.
“I feel braver when I’m around you, you know,” he says. “Like I could actually fit in here, the same way you do.”
I am about to respond when he slides his arm across my shoulders. Suddenly I freeze, my cheeks hot.
I didn’t want to be right about Al’s feelings for me. But I was.
I do not lean into him. Instead I sit forward so his arm falls away. Then I squeeze my hands together in my lap.
“Tris, I…,” he says. His voice sounds strained. I glance at him. His face is as red as mine feels, but he’s not crying—he just looks embarrassed.
“Um…sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t trying to…um. Sorry.”
I wish I could tell him not to take it personally. I could tell him that my parents rarely held hands even in our own home, so I have trained myself to pull away from all gestures of affection, because they raised me to take them seriously. Maybe if I told him that, there wouldn’t be a layer of hurt beneath his flush of embarrassment.
But of course, it is personal. He is my friend—and that is all. What is more personal than that?
I breathe in, and when I breathe out, I make myself smile. “Sorry about what?” I ask, trying to sound casual. I brush off my jeans, though there isn’t anything on them, and stand up.
“I should go,” I say.
He nods and doesn’t look at me.
“You going to be okay?” I say. “I mean…because of your parents. Not because…” I let my voice trail off. I don’t know what I would say if I didn’t.
“Oh. Yeah.” He nods again, a little too vigorously. “I’ll see you later, Tris.”
I try not to walk out of the room too fast. When the dormitory door closes behind me, I touch a hand to my forehead and grin a little. Awkwardness aside, it is nice to be liked.
Discussing our family visits would be too painful, so our final rankings for stage one are all anyone can talk about that night. Every time someone near me brings it up, I stare at some point across the room and ignore them.
My rank can’t be as bad as it used to be, especially after I beat Molly, but it might not be good enough to get me in the top ten at the end of initiation, especially when the Dauntless-born initiates are factored in.
At dinner I sit with Christina, Will, and Al at a table in the corner. We are uncomfortably close to Peter, Drew, and Molly, who are at the next table over. When conversation at our table reaches a lull, I hear every word they say. They are speculating about the ranks. What a surprise.
“You weren’t allowed to have pets?” Christina demands, smacking the table with her palm. “Why not?”
“Because they’re illogical,” Will says matter-of-factly. “What is the point in providing food and shelter for an animal that just soils your furniture, makes your home smell bad, and ultimately dies?”
Al and I meet eyes, like we usually do when Will and Christina start to fight. But this time, the second our eyes meet, we both look away. I hope this awkwardness between us doesn’t last long. I want my friend back.
