That night I dream that Sarai hangs from the railing again, by her toes this time, and someone shouts that only someone who is Divergent can help her. So, I run forward to pull her up, but someone shoves me over the edge, and I wake before I hit the rocks.
Sweat-soaked and shaky from the dream, I walk to the girls' bathroom to shower and change. When I come back, the word "Nose" is spray-painted across my mattress in red. The word is written smaller along the bed frame, and again on my pillow. I look around, my heart pounding with anger.
Peter stands behind me, whistling as he fluffs his pillow. It's hard to believe I could hate someone who looks so kind—his eyebrows turn upward naturally, and he has a wide, white smile.
"Nice decorations," he says.
"Did I do something to you that I'm unaware of?" I demand. I grab the corner of a sheet and yank it away from the mattress. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we are in the same faction now."
"I don't know what you're referring to," he says lightly. Then he glances at me. "And you and I will never be in the same faction."
I shake my head as I remove my pillowcase from the pillow. Don't get angry. He wants to get a rise out of me; he won't. But every time he fluffs his pillow, I think about punching him in the gut. I don't understand out of all the Erudite transfers, he's decides to pick me.
Al walks in, and I don't even have to ask him to help me; he just walks over and strips bedding with me. I will have to scrub the bed frame later. Al carries the stack of sheets to the trash can and together we walk toward the training room.
"Ignore him," Al says. "He's an idiot, and if you don't get angry, he'll stop eventually."
"Yeah." I touch my cheeks. They are still warm with an angry blush. I try to distract myself. "Did you talk to Will?" I ask quietly. "After.... you know."
"Yeah. He's fine. He isn't angry." Al sighs. "Now I'll always be remembered as the first guy who knocked someone out cold."
"There are worse ways to be remembered. At least they won't antagonize you."
"There are better ways too." He nudges me with his elbow, smiling. "First jumper."
Maybe I was the first jumper, but I suspect that's where my Dauntless fame begins and ends.
I clear my throat. "One of you had to get knocked out, you know. If it hadn't been him, it would have been you."
"Still, I don't want to do it again." Al shakes his head, too many times, too fast. He sniffs. "I really don't."
We reach the door to the training room and I say, "But you have to."
He has a kind face. Maybe he is too kind for Dauntless?
There's a comfortable silence between us until I speak up.
"Are you afraid?" I furrow my eyebrows.
"Of what exactly?" He looks back to me.
"Of Dauntless, how the rules have changed. Don't you think that's strange?"
I've only known Al for a couple days and from the night I heard him cry to his regret on fighting Will, I have my doubts that he will fit in. Sure, it takes time to adjust, this isn't easy for anyone, but it seems as though he's not interested in fighting or defending himself, it's almost like his height is the only thing that makes him slightly intimidating.
"To tell you the truth Quinn, yes, but who isn't terrified of this place, their new rules are only to show their ruthlessness." Al slightly whispers to me, as though someone is listening in on our conversation.
Al was right, the city feared Dauntless, they feared how Dauntless didn't fear, I think that's why I fell in love with Dauntless as a kid. They weren't afraid to take risks, and they believed in standing up for others, to protect our city but these new rules only seem to be teaching to protect ourselves and unlike Al, I believe that I can't protect myself.
We walk into the training room and join beside Sarai and Will where more new fighters were put up on the board. I see Sarai's face slightly beam, she must've not been picked, I scan the screen for my name and my face slightly falls, I'm beside Molly. The same ruthless girl that beat Sarai yesterday. I put an anxious hand behind my neck and looked over to Sarai, her eyes filled with worry.
"Come on Nose we haven't got all day!" Eric exclaimed as Molly already stood in the centre of the fighting mat.
I avoided the glares coming from the rest of the initiates and walk onto the mat. The skin inside my mouth has nearly been chewed a part as anxiety flows through my body, I'm not ready, nowhere near ready to fight Molly, yet that didn't stop Eric from choosing me to be against her.
Molly's ugly laugh bellowed across the room as she looks to me as though I'm nothing. Her fists were in the air and I copy her moves. She jumps up and down from her spot and waits for Eric to move off the mat. He stands beside Four, who has his arms crossed as he intensively watches me.
Molly's mischievous look disappears. Her arm twitches and pain stabs my jaw and spreads across my face, making my vision go black at the edges and my ears ring. I blink and lurch to the side as the room dips and sways. I don't remember her fist coming at me.
I am too off-balance to do anything but move away from her, as far as the arena will allow. She darts in front of me and kicks me hard in the stomach. Her foot forces the air from my lungs and it hurts, hurts so badly I can't breathe, or maybe that's because of the kick, I don't know, I just fall.
On your feet is the only thought in my mind. I push myself up, but Molly is already there. She grabs my hair with one hand and punches me in the nose with the other. This pain is different, less like a stab and more like a crackle, crackling in my brain, spotting my vision with different colors, blue, green, red. I try to shove her off, my hands slapping at her arms, and she punches me again, this time in the ribs. My face is wet. Bloody nose. More red, I guess, but I'm too dizzy to look down.
She shoves me and I fall again, scraping my hands on the ground, blinking, sluggish and slow and hot. I cough and drag myself to my feet. I really should be lying down if the room is spinning this fast. And Molly spins around me; I am the centre of a spinning planet, the only thing staying still. Something hits me from the side and I almost fall over again.
On my feet on my feet. I see a solid mass in front of me, a body. I punch as hard as I can, and my fist hits something soft. Molly barely groans, and smacks my ear with the flat of her palm, laughing under her breath. I hear ringing and try to blink some of the black patches out of my eyes; how did something get in my eye?
My knees give out and the floor is cool against my cheek. Something slams into my side and I scream for the first time, a high screech that belongs to someone else and not me, and it slams into my side again, and I can't see anything at all, not even whatever is right in front of my face, the lights out. Someone shouts, "Enough!" and I think too much and nothing at all.
When I wake up, I don't feel much, but the inside of my head is fuzzy, like it's packed with cotton balls.
I know that I lost, and the only thing keeping the pain at bay is what is making it difficult to think straight.
"Is her eye already black?" someone asks.
I open one eye—the other stays shut like it's glued that way. Sitting to my right are Will and Al; Sarai sits on the bed to my left with an ice pack on her jaw.
"What happened to your face?" I say. My lips feel clumsy and too large.
She laughs. "Look who's talking. Should we get you an eye patch?"
"Well, I already know what happened to my face," I say. "I was there. Sort of."
"Did you just make a joke, Quinn?" Will says, grinning. "We should get you on painkillers more often if you're going to start cracking jokes. Oh, and to answer your question—I beat her up."
"I can't believe you couldn't beat Will," Al says, shaking his head.
"What? He's good," she says, shrugging. "Plus, I think I've finally learned how to stop losing. I just need to stop people from punching me in the jaw."
"You know, you'd think you would have figured that out already." Will winks at her. "Now I know why you aren't Erudite. Not too bright, are you?"
"You feeling okay, Quinn?" Al says. His eyes are dark brown, almost the same color as Sarai's skin. His cheek looks rough, like if he didn't shave it, he would have a thick beard. Hard to believe he's only seventeen.
"Yeah," I say. "Just wish I could stay here forever so I never have to see Molly again."
But I don't know where "here" is. I am in a large, narrow room with a row of beds on either side. Some of the beds have curtains between them. On the right side of the room is a nurse's station. This must be where the Dauntless go when they're sick or hurt. The woman there looks at us over a clipboard. I've never seen a nurse with so many piercings in her ear before. Some Dauntless must volunteer to do jobs that traditionally belong to other factions. After all, it wouldn't make sense for the Dauntless to make the trek to the city hospital every time they get hurt.
"Don't worry about Molly," says Will. "She'll at least get beat up by Edward, who has been studying hand-to-hand combat since we were ten years old. For fun."
"Good," says Sarai. She checks her watch. "I think we're missing dinner. Do you want us to stay here, Quinn?"
I shake my head. "I'm fine."
Sarai and Will get up, but Al waves them ahead. He has a distinct smell—sweet and fresh, like sage and lemongrass. When he tosses and turns at night, I get a whiff of it and I know he's having a nightmare.
"I just wanted to tell you that you missed Eric's announcement. We're going on a field trip tomorrow, to the fence, to learn about Dauntless jobs," he says. "We have to be at the train by eight fifteen."
"Good," I say. "Thanks."
"And don't pay attention to Sarai. Your face doesn't look that bad." He smiles a little. "I mean, it looks good. It always looks good. I mean—you look brave. Dauntless."
His eyes skirt mine, and he scratches the back of his head. The silence seems to grow between us. It was a nice thing to say, but he acts like it meant more than just the words. I hope I am wrong. I could not be attracted to Al—I could not be attracted to anyone that fragile. I smile as much as my bruised cheek will allow, hoping that will diffuse the tension.
"I should let you rest," he says. He gets up to leave, but before he can go, I grab his wrist.
"Al, are you okay?" I say. He stares blankly at me, and I add, "I mean, is it getting any easier?"
"Uh..." He shrugs. "A little."
He pulls his hand free and shoves it in his pocket. The question must have embarrassed him, because I've never seen him so red before. If I spent my nights sobbing into my pillow, I would be a little embarrassed too. At least when I cry, I know how to hide it.
"I lost to Drew. After your fight with Molly." He looks at me. "I took a few hits, fell down, and stayed there. Even though I didn't have to. I figure...I figure that since I beat Will, if I lose all the rest, I won't be ranked last, but I won't have to hurt anyone anymore."
"Is that really what you want?"
He looks down. "I just can't do it. Maybe that means I'm a coward."
"You're not a coward just because you don't want to hurt people," I say, because I know it's the right thing to say, even if I'm not sure I mean it.
For a moment we are both still, looking at each other. Maybe I do mean it. If he is a coward, it isn't because he doesn't enjoy pain. It is because he refuses to act.
He gives me a pained look and says, "You think our families will visit us? They say transfer families never come on Visiting Day."
"I don't know," I say. I haven't given visiting day much thought, maybe because I didn't want to see my family. "I don't know if it would be good or bad if they did."
"I think bad." He nods. "Yeah, it's already hard enough." He nods again, as if confirming what he just said, and walks away.
In less than a week, the Abnegation initiates will be able to visit their families for the first time since the Choosing Ceremony. They will go home and sit in their living rooms and interact with their parents for the first time as adults.
In less than a week, the Dauntless-born initiates will find their families on the Pit floor, or in the glass building above the compound, and do whatever it is the Dauntless do when they reunite. Maybe they take turns throwing knives at each other's heads—it wouldn't surprise me.
And the transfer initiates with forgiving parents will be able to see them again too. I suspect mine will not be among them. Faction before blood was always something she had led by.
Maybe if I could have told her I was Divergent, and I was confused about what to choose, she would have understood. Maybe she would have helped me figure out what Divergent is, and what it means, and why it's dangerous. But I didn't trust her with that secret, so I will never know.