His eyes shift to mine and stay there. I stare back and forget that all around me the transfers are getting out of bed.
“Did you go deaf, Stiff?” demands Eric. I snap out of my daze and slide out from beneath the blankets. I am glad I sleep fully clothed, because Christina stands next to our bunk wearing only a T-shirt, her long legs bare. She folds her arms and stares at Eric. I wish, suddenly, that I could stare so boldly at someone with hardly any clothes on, but I would never be able to do that.
“You have five minutes to get dressed and meet us by the tracks,” says Eric. “We’re going on another field trip.”
I shove my feet into shoes and sprint, wincing, behind Christina on the way to the train. A drop of sweat rolls down the back of my neck as we run up the paths along the walls of the Pit, pushing past members on our way up. They don’t seem surprised to see us. I wonder how many frantic, running people they see on a weekly basis.
We make it to the tracks just behind the Dauntless-born initiates. Next to the tracks is a black pile. I make out a cluster of long gun barrels and trigger guards.
“Are we going to shoot something?” Christina hisses in my ear.
Next to the pile are boxes of what looks like ammunition. I inch closer to read one of the boxes. Written on it is “PAINTBALLS.”
I’ve never heard of them before, but the name is self-explanatory. I laugh.
“Everyone grab a gun!” shouts Eric.
We rush toward the pile. I am the closest to it, so I snatch the first gun I can find, which is heavy, but not too heavy for me to lift, and grab a box of paintballs. I shove the box in my pocket and sling the gun across my back so the strap crosses my chest.
“Time estimate?” Eric asks Four.
Four checks his watch. “Any minute now. How long is it going to take you to memorize the train schedule?”
“Why should I, when I have you to remind me of it?” says Eric, shoving Four’s shoulder.
A circle of light appears on my left, far away. It grows larger as it comes closer, shining against the side of Four’s face, creating a shadow in the faint hollow beneath his cheekbone.
He is the first to get on the train, and I run after him, not waiting for Christina or Will or Al to follow me. Four turns around as I fall into stride next to the car and holds out a hand. I grab his arm, and he pulls me in. Even the muscles in his forearm are taut, defined.
I let go quickly, without looking at him, and sit down on the other side of the car.
Once everyone is in, Four speaks up.
“We’ll be dividing into two teams to play capture the flag. Each team will have an even mix of members, Dauntless-born initiates, and transfers. One team will get off first and find a place to hide their flag. Then the second team will get off and do the same.” The car sways, and Four grabs the side of the doorway for balance. “This is a Dauntless tradition, so I suggest you take it seriously.”
“What do we get if we win?” someone shouts.
“Sounds like the kind of question someone not from Dauntless would ask,” says Four, raising an eyebrow. “You get to win, of course.”
“Four and I will be your team captains,” says Eric. He looks at Four. “Let’s divide up transfers first, shall we?”
I tilt my head back. If they’re picking us, I will be chosen last; I can feel it.
“You go first,” Four says.
Eric shrugs. “Edward.”
Four leans against the door frame and nods. The moonlight makes his eyes bright. He scans the group of transfer initiates briefly, without calculation, and says, “I want the Stiff.”
A faint undercurrent of laughter fills the car. Heat rushes into my cheeks. I don’t know whether to be angry at the people laughing at me or flattered by the fact that he chose me first.
“Got something to prove?” asks Eric, with his trademark smirk. “Or are you just picking the weak ones so that if you lose, you’ll have someone to blame it on?”
Four shrugs. “Something like that.”
Angry. I should definitely be angry. I scowl at my hands. Whatever Four’s strategy is, it’s based on the idea that I am weaker than the other initiates. And it gives me a bitter taste in my mouth. I have to prove him wrong—I have to.
“Your turn,” says Four.
“Peter.”
“Christina.”
That throws a wrench in his strategy. Christina is not one of the weak ones. What exactly is he doing?
“Molly.”
“Will,” says Four, biting his thumbnail.
“Al.”
“Drew.”
“Last one left is Myra. So she’s with me,” says Eric. “Dauntless-born initiates next.”
I stop listening once they’re finished with us. If Four isn’t trying to prove something by choosing the weak, what is he doing? I look at each person he chooses. What do we have in common?
Once they’re halfway through the Dauntless-born initiates, I have an idea of what it is. With the exception of Will and a couple of the others, we all share the same body type: narrow shoulders, small frames. All the people on Eric’s team are broad and strong. Just yesterday, Four told me I was fast. We will all be faster than Eric’s team, which will probably be good for capture the flag—I haven’t played before, but I know it’s a game of speed rather than brute force. I cover a smile with my hand. Eric is more ruthless than Four, but Four is smarter.
They finish choosing teams, and Eric smirks at Four.
“Your team can get off second,” says Eric.
“Don’t do me any favors,” Four replies. He smiles a little. “You know I don’t need them to win.”
“No, I know that you’ll lose no matter when you get off,” says Eric, biting down briefly on one of the rings in his lip. “Take your scrawny team and get off first, then.”
We all stand up. Al gives me a forlorn look, and I smile back in what I hope is a reassuring way. If any of the four of us had to end up on the same team as Eric, Peter, and Molly, at least it was him. They usually leave him alone.
The train is about to dip to the ground. I am determined to land on my feet.
Just before I jump, someone shoves my shoulder, and I almost topple out of the train car. I don’t look back to see who it is—Molly, Drew, or Peter, it doesn’t matter which one. Before they can try it again, I jump. This time I am ready for the momentum the train gives me, and I run a few steps to diffuse it but keep my balance. Fierce pleasure courses through me and I smile. It’s a small accomplishment, but it makes me feel Dauntless.
One of the Dauntless-born initiates touches Four’s shoulder and asks, “When your team won, where did you put the flag?”
“Telling you wouldn’t really be in the spirit of the exercise, Marlene,” he says coolly.
“Come on, Four,” she whines. She gives him a flirtatious smile. He brushes her hand off his arm, and for some reason, I find myself grinning.
“Navy Pier,” another Dauntless-born initiate calls out. He is tall, with brown skin and dark eyes. Handsome. “My brother was on the winning team. They kept the flag at the carousel.”
“Let’s go there, then,” suggests Will.
No