Becoming Determinant - Tobias' Story

Before "Divergent" - Kindness

Before "Divergent" – Kindness

Sometimes, Zeke can be a real pain in the ass. After two months of training initiates, I finally go out for a night with my buddy, and he spends the entire time ignoring me and flirting with girls. And then when he's too drunk to walk on his own, I'm the one who has to get him back to his apartment and make sure he's okay.

I sigh as I haul him down yet another corridor, supporting half his weight with the arm I have wrapped around his back. Maybe I should have left him in the bar. I'm sure they'd have done something with him at closing time….

He starts to sag, and I shift my grip enough to hold him up. At least he doesn't weigh that much, since he's short and slight, but it's still awkward to hang onto him, particularly since I don't like touching people. It's my inner Stiff, I suppose, though frankly I'm also worried that he'll vomit all over me at any moment.

Fortunately, he doesn't, or at least not in the hallway. When I finally get him to the door of his apartment, I fumble with the doorknob, hoping against hope that it's unlocked. I don't want to try to find the keys in my incoherent friend's pockets.

I breathe a small sigh of relief when the knob turns. "You're lucky," I mutter. "I'd have dumped you right here if it was locked."

"Well, that's not very nice," a clear voice says from inside the apartment. I start, looking up quickly, and spot Zeke's younger brother, Uriah, grinning at me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him suspiciously. It's very late for a fifteen-year-old to be up. Besides, Uriah doesn't live with Zeke – he lives with their mother.

He shrugs casually. "It's a Saturday. I knew Zeke would be drinking." He steps closer, reaching out to support his brother from the other side. "And given his break-up, it was a safe bet he'd get drunk enough to need help."

For a second, I stare at him blankly. I didn't know Zeke was dating anyone seriously, let alone that they'd broken up. That would explain a lot about his behavior tonight.

"Let's get him on the couch," Uriah says, gesturing toward the nearby sofa, and together we walk him over there and deposit him reasonably gently onto it. As we drop him the last few inches, I notice that the fabric is covered with some type of plastic I haven't seen on it before. Uriah must have placed it there to make the inevitable vomit easier to clean.

"Who'd he break up with?" I ask, hating to admit that I don't know but feeling like it's better to find out from Uriah now than from Zeke later.

He quirks an eyebrow at me. "You never met Rachel? They dated for close to a month."

I shrug, a bit embarrassed. "I've been training initiates." It's a lame excuse, and I know it, since training doesn't occupy every hour of the day, but Uriah is kind enough not to comment on it.

"Well, you probably won't meet her now," he answers after a moment. "It was an ugly breakup."

I nod, feeling like a very bad friend.

"If you need to get home," I tell Uriah, more out of guilt than anything else, "I can stay here and make sure he doesn't die during the night."

"Nah, that's okay," he says with his trademark grin. "Mom won't notice I'm gone until late morning, and I should be able to sneak back in by then. Besides, it's handy to have Zeke owe me a favor."

I nod again, but something nags at me, and I find myself wondering what Uriah's really up to. In some ways, his behavior seems typically Dauntless – sneaking out in the middle of the night, risking getting in trouble if he was caught by his mother or by any of a number of people who might turn him in, just to get his brother to owe him a favor.

But I can tell that's not really his reason. I may never have lived in Candor, but I'm far better than most people at telling when someone is lying. And right now, Uriah is.

I watch as he moves Zeke into a reclining position, propping pillows under him so he'll be more comfortable, and slowly a realization dawns on me. He's here simply because his brother needs him – and because he cares enough to want to help. It's a strikingly kind thing to do. Too kind for Dauntless.

And in that moment, I get why Uriah has always reminded me a bit of Amar. Why he reminds me of Emily from our current group of initiates. Why he sometimes even reminds me of myself. He's Divergent.

I have no proof, and I certainly wouldn't say anything yet even if I did, but I'm sure of it all the same. And that means he's in danger. My best friend's brother is in danger. I can't help but feel like it's my responsibility to keep him safe.

"There's a drink in the 'fridge," Uriah comments, "if you wouldn't mind getting it. It'll prevent a hangover." He looks at me before adding, "You can have some too if you want."

"How's it taste?" I ask as I head into the kitchen. I didn't have that much to drink, but it was probably enough for a pounding headache in the morning.

"Oh, it's god-awful," Uriah states with a laugh. "But it works."

I end up declining after I see it – or more accurately, after I smell it. It's an atrocious looking sludge with an odor somewhat like rotting carrots, but together we manage to get some down Zeke's throat. I wonder vaguely how many times Uriah has done this.

"You may as well go to bed, Four," he says after a while, and I nod, realizing just how tired I've gotten.

"If you need help later, come get me," I tell him, and he smiles in thanks.

A thousand thoughts run through my head as I walk back to my apartment, but I don't come to any conclusions. Except maybe one. I need to talk to Amar. Surely, together, we can come up with a way to protect Uriah. I have to hope so, anyway….