I fire again and again, and none of the bullets come close.
"Statistically speaking," the Erudite boy next to me-his name is Will-says, grinning at me, "you should have hit the target at least once by now, even by accident." He is blond, with shaggy hair and a crease between his eyebrows.
"Is that so," I say without inflection.
"Yeah," he says. "I think you're actually defying nature."
I grit my teeth and turn toward the target, resolving to at least stand still. If I can't muster the first task they give us,how will I ever make it through stage one?
I squeeze the trigger,hard, and this time I'm ready for the recoil.It makes my hand jump back,but my feet stay planted.A bullet hole appears at the edge of the target,and I raise an eyebrow at Will.
"So you see,I'm right.The stats don't lie," he says.
I smile a little.
Do you know him well?" I ask.I am too curious; I always have been.
"Everyone knows Four," she says. "We were initiates together.I was bad at fighting,so he taught me every night after everyone was asleep." She scratches the back of her neck, her expression suddenly serious. "Nice of him."
She gets up and stands behind the members sitting in the doorway. In a second, her serious expression is gone,but I still feel rattled by what she said, half confused by the idea of Four being "nice" and half wanting to punch her for no apparent reason.
Ready,Stiff?" Zeke smirks down at me. "I have to say,I'm impressed that you aren't screaming and crying right now."
"I told you," Uriah says. "She's Dauntless through and through. Now get on with it."
"Careful,brother,or I might not tighten your straps enough," Zeke says. He smacks his knee. "And then,splat!"
"Yeah,yeah," Uriah says. "And then our mother would boil you alive.
She smiles.Her teeth are crooked. If I knocked them out,I might be doing her a favor.
Veronica RothYou look different." His words, normally crisp,are now sluggish.
"So do you," I say.And he does-he looks more relaxed,younger. "What are you doing?"
"Flirting with death," he replies with a laugh. "Drinking near the chasm. Probably not a good idea."
"No,it isn't" I'm not sure I like Four this way.There's something unsettling about it.
"Didn't know you had a tattoo," he says, looking at my collarbone.
He sips the bottle. His breath smells thick and sharp.Like the factionless man's breath.
"Right.The crows," he says. He glances over his shoulder at his friends, who are carrying on without him, unlike mine. He adds, "I'd ask you hang out with us, but you're not supposed to see me this way."
I am tempted to ask him why he wants to hang out with him,but I suspect the answer has something to do with the bottle in his hand.
"What way?" I ask. "Drunk?
"Yeah...well,no." His voice softens. "Real,I guess."
"I'll pretend I didn't."
"Nice of you." He puts his lips next to my ear and says, "You look good, Tris."
His words surprise me,and my heart leaps. I wish it didn't,because judging by the way his eyes slide over mine, he has no idea what he's saying. I laugh. "Do me a favor and stay away from the chasm,okay?"
"Of course." He winks at me.
I can't help it.I smile.Will clears his throat,but I don't want to turn away from Four,even when he walks back to his friends.
Then Al rushes at me like a rolling boulder and throws me over his shoulder. I shriek,my face hot.
"Come on,little girl," he says, "I'm taking you to dinner."
I rest my elbows on Al's back and wave at Four as he carries me away.
Two years ago," she says, "I was afraid of spiders, suffocation, walls that inch slowly inward and trap you between them,getting thrown out of Dauntless, uncontrollable bleeding, getting run over by a train, my father's death,public humiliation, and kidnapping by men without faces."
Everyone stares blankly at her.
"Most of you will have anywhere from ten to fifteen years in your fear landscapes. That is the average number," she says.
"What's the lowest number someone has gotten?" asks Lynn.
"In recent years," says Lauren, "four."
I have not looked at Tobias since we were in the cafeteria,but I can't help but look at him now. He keeps his eyes trained on the floor. I knew that four was a low number, low enough to merit a nickname,but I didn't know it was less than half the average.
I glare at my feet.He's exceptional. And now he won't even look at me.
You go through one of the instructors' landscapes. My brother told me."
"Ooh,which instructor?" says Christina, suddenly perking up.
"You know, it really isn't fair that you all get insider information and we don't," Will says, glaring at Uriah.
"Like you wouldn't use an advantage if you had one," retorts Uriah.
Christina ignores them. "I hope it's Four's landscape."
"Why?" I ask. The question comes out too incredulous. I bite my lip and wish I could take it back.
"Looks like someone had a mood swing." She rolls her eyes. "Like you don't want to know what his fears are. He acts so tough that he's probably afraid of marshmellows and really bright sunrises or something. Overcompensating."
I shake my head. "It won't be him."
"How would you know?"
"It's just a prediction."
I remember Tobias's father in his fear landscape. He wouldn't let everyone see that.I glance at him. For a second, his eyes shift to mine. His stare is unfeeling.Then he looks away.
That doesn't sound fair," says Peter. "What if one person only has seven fears and someone else has twenty? That's not their fault."
Four stares at him for a few seconds and then laughs. "Do you really want to talk to me about what's fair?"
The crowd of initiates parts to make way for him as he walks toward Peter, folds his arms,and says,in a deadly voice, "I understand why you're worried, Peter.The events of last night certainly proved that you are a miserable coward."
Peter stares back,expressionless.
"So now we all know," says Four, quietly, "that you are afraid of a short, skinny girl from Abnegation." His mouth curls in a smile.
Will puts his arm around me. Christina's shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. And somewhere within me,I find a smile too.
I don't..." He gasps. "I don't really want to talk about it anymore."
"Okay.Then...I can talk. Ask me something."
"Okay." He laughs shakily in my ear. "Why is your heart racing, Tris?"
I cringe and say, "Well,I..." I search for an excuse that doesn't involve his arms being around me. "I barely know you." Not good enough. "I barely know you and I'm crammed against you in a box,Four,what do you think?"
"If we were in your fear landscape," he says, "would I be in it?"
"I'm not afraid of you."
"Of course you're not.But that's not what I meant."
He laughs again,and when he does,the walls break apart with a crack and fall away,leaving us in a circle of light. Four sighs and lifts his arms from my body. I scramble to my feet and brush myself off,though I haven't accumulated any dirt that I'm aware of. I wipe my palms on my jeans. My back feels cold from the sudden absence of him.
He stands in front of me. He's grinning, and I'm not sure I like the look in his eyes.
"Maybe you were cut out for Candor," he says, "because you're a terrible liar.
I left Abnegation because I wasn't selfless enough,no matter how hard I tried to be."
"That's not entirely true." He smiles at me. "That girl who let someone throw knives at her to spare a friend,who hit my dad with a belt to protect me-that selfless girl,that's not you?"
He's figured out more about me than I have. And even though it seems impossible that he could feel something for me,given all that I'm not...maybe it isn't.I frown at him. "You've been paying close attention,haven't you?"
"I like to observe people."
"Maybe you were cut out for Candor, Four, because you're a terrible liar."
He puts his hand on the rock next to him, his fingers lining up with mine. I look down at our hands. He has long, narrow fingers. Hands made for mine, deft movements.Not Dauntless hands, which should be thick and tough and ready to break things.
"Fine." He leans his face closer to mine, his eyes focusing on my chin, and my lips,and my nose. "I watched you because I like you." He says it plainly, boldly, and his eyes flick up to mine. "And don't call me 'Four," okay? It's nice to hear my name again."
Just like that,he has finally declared himself, and I don't know how to respond. My cheeks warm,and all I can think to say is, "But you're older than I am...Tobias."
He smiles at me. "Yes,that whopping two-year gap really is insurmountable, isn't it?"
"I'm not trying to be self-deprecating," I say, "I just don't get it. I'm younger. I'm not pretty.I-"
He laughs,a deep laugh that sounds like it came from deep inside him, and touches his lips to my temple.
"Don't pretend," I say breathily. "You know I'm not. I'm not ugly,but I am certainly not pretty."
"Fine.You're not pretty.So?" He kisses my cheek. "I like how you look. You're deadly smart.You're brave. And even though you found out about Marcus..." His voice softens. "You aren't giving me that look.Like I'm a kicked puppy or something."
"Well," I say. "You're not."
For a second his dark eyes are on mine, and he's quiet. Then he touches my face and leans in close, brushing my lips with his.The river roars and I feel its spray on my ankles.He grins and presses his mouth to mine.
I tense up at first,unsure of myself, so when he pulls away,I'm sure I did something wrong,or badly.But he takes my face in his hands,his figners strong against my skin,and kisses me again, firmer this time, more certain. I wrap an arm around him,sliding my hand up his nack and into his short hair.
For a few minutes we kiss,deep in the chasm,with the roar of water all around us. And when we rise,hand in hand, I realize that if we had both chosen differently,we might have ended up doing the same thing, in a safer place, in gray clothes instead of black ones.
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