Ambivalence [p.h.] - EDITING

chapter 6 || my bunk squeaked - or maybe that was just myra

Eric's return would have intrigued me more than it did if he hadn't torn me away from the last half of my third burger.  It pained me to part ways with it, for now it would forever remain lonely, cold, and most unfortunately, uneaten.  Lucky for me, the tattoo peeking out from Eric's collar distracted me from my sorrow.  It danced out on the side of his neck, eventually dipping back down to his collarbone if it follows the pattern I thought it did.  My theory proved correct when Eric stopped in front a splintery wooden door.  He faced us, arms flexed across his chest, as he waited for the initiates to catch up.  The impatient tapping of his fingers on his bicep revealed even more ink.

"For those of you who don't know, my name is Eric."  His pause was just long enough for him to scan the entire pack of us.  "I am one of five leaders of the Dauntless.  We take the initiation process very seriously here, so I volunteered to oversee most of your training."  A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of a punishment from him.  If jumping off a train scared me half to death, I wasn't sure I wanted to know what else would be in store if someone stepped a toe out of line.

"Some ground rules." Eric was trying to come across as unamused.  The scowl on his face almost convinced me, but a twitch of excitement in his eye suggested otherwise.  "You have to be in the training room by eight o'clock every day."  Not a problem.  "Training takes place every day from eight to six, with a break for lunch.  You are free to do whatever you like after six.  You will also get some time off between each stage of initiation.  You are only permitted to leave the compound when accompanied by a Dauntless."  Eric gestured to the wooden door next.

"Behind this door is the room where you will be sleeping for the next few weeks.  You will notice there are ten beds.  Since there are only ten of you, you will all get your own.  Be thankful; we've had people sleeping on the floor or sharing beds before."  Christina's face contorted with disgust.

"But we started with twelve."  The arrogance in her tone was not making Eric very happy. "Why aren't there twelve beds?"  I internally groan.  You would think her run in with Four would have taught her to keep her mouth shut.

"There is always at least one transfer who doesn't make it to the compound." Eric shrugged. "Anyways, in the first stage of initiation, we keep transfers and Dauntless-born separate, but that doesn't mean you are evaluated separately.  At the end of initiation, your rankings will be determined in comparison with the Dauntless-born initiates.  And they are better than you are already.  So I expect –"

"Rankings?"  Myra. Get over it.  "Why are we ranked?"  When will she ever learn? Eric bore his teeth with a malicious smile.

"Your rankings serve two purposes," he explained.  "The first is that it determines the order in which you will select a job after initiation.  There are only a few desirable positions available."  

"That's reassuring," I muttered under my breath.

"The second purpose is that only the top ten initiates are made members."  My eyes grew into saucers.  Only ten?  Out of, what, twenty?  I shook my head discretely.  The silence shared between the transfers was tense.  We all exchanged worried glances. 

All of us, except Christina, of course.  

"What?"

Eric rolled his eyes.  "There are eleven Dauntless-born," he drawled.  A snicker threatened to escape my lips at the way he was speaking to her like he might a two-year-old. "Four initiates will be cut at the end of stage one.  The remainder will be cut after the final test."

Peter piped up next. "What do we do if we're cut?"  

"You leave the Dauntless compound and live factionless."  Myra's hand stifled her squeaky sob as she found solace in Eddie's arm.  I didn't feel sorry for her.  She should have known better.  She should have known she wouldn't make it here.  But what's done is done.  I may not have like her, but I promised myself I would still try to help her as much as I could.  For Eddie's sake. I hoped she would do the same for me if our roles were reversed.

"But that's... not fair!" a Candor girl, Molly (one of Peter's friends), whined.  "If we had known–"

"If we had known... what?"  Surprise overcame me as I realized the words had come out of my mouth instead of staying in my mind this time.  I had been so fed up with all the complaining. And now, all eyes were on me.  I continued.  "Are you saying if you had known this before the Choosing Ceremony, you wouldn't have chosen Dauntless?"  Molly opened and closed her mouth, but no sound came out. Complete silence followed.  Eric's eyebrows shot up.  For a second, an approving smile replaced his scowl.  Eddie wasn't paying attention.  Tris rolled her eyes.  Peter... Peter was off in another world.

"Because if that's the case," Eric continued from my statement. "You should get out now.  If you are really one of us, it won't matter to you that you might fail.  And if it does, you are a coward."  Eric pushed open the door to let us in, but his train of sight didn't leave my face.

"You chose us," he said, tilting his head to the side a bit. "Now we have to choose you."  

• • •

I had since changed into a set of black clothes provided to transfers by the Dauntless.  The bunk I laid on was harder than the stone floor it stood upon in some places, but softer than the pillow in others.  My headboard was flush against the wall and right in between Eddie's and Myra's. While sleeping in between them presented its disadvantages, I would have taken it over the current situation any day.  Myra vacated her bunk in favour of sharing Eddie's. Their sickly sweet couple antics made me want to gag.  As a side sleeper, my only option was to face the other direction.  Instead of sleeping, I allowed my mind to drift.  Soon enough, it chose the familiar Dauntless leader as its victim.  Nothing I came up with could explain why I felt like I knew him.  Maybe reincarnation, if you believe in that.

A wreaking sob interrupted my stream of thoughts.  Its depth in timbre identified it owner as Al, a Candor transfer broader and taller than any of the other initiates — Dauntless-born or otherwise.  A few sniffles later, another sob escaped into the unlit room.  Anyone who was not awakened by the first one was jolted to consciousness by the second.  He was the last person I would have expected to cry.  If I was honest with myself, I felt like crying too.  Homesickness ate away at my chest.  I knew.  I understood.  

None of us dared to move when Al's the sobs grow in severity.  My bunk squeaked — or maybe that was just Myra — when I forced myself to sit up.  Everyone was trying to ignore it.  Everyone likely felt the same way.  A quick glance at Tris revealed a look of disgust.  So much for selflessness.  With a heavy sigh, I flipped my covers off my legs.  The floor was cold against my bare feet.  Al's mattress — or Myra, you never know — squealed with my added weight.  He nearly choked on a suppressed sob.  He couldn't look at me until I placed a gentle had on his back.  I had never been particularly gifted at comforting people, but my upturned lips conveyed the empathy my words could not.  His fingers attacked the fresh streams running down his tear-stained cheeks with an embarrassed ferocity.

"Hey, hey."  I took his big hands into my smaller ones.  "There's no shame in crying," I whispered. "Letting it out is braver than keeping it in."  I wished I could take my own advice. His mouth formed a thin grimace I assumed was meant to be a smile.

"Can I sit?"  

"Please." Al scooted over.  The spot next to him called my name.  We sat shoulder to shoulder against the wall, no end of crying in sight.  When he began to hyperventilate, I tried to give him a hug.  Hugs always made me believe everything was going to be okay, even if the feeling was fleeting.

"It's okay.  Everything will be okay."

Nobody else moves for the rest of the night.  Al passed out once he ran out of tears.  As I traced my steps back to my bunk, I felt a hot, salty bead escape down my cheek.  I didn't bother wiping it away.  I sunk back into my thoughts as I did the same with my mattress.  The memory of my parents' faces teaching me to read was the first to come to mind.  Missing them would be hard.

But when I wrapped my arms tightly around myself, I felt like I was telling truth when I repeated the words I gave Al back to myself.

Everything was going to be okay.