Chapter Text
The first thing I notice about the other boy is that his left hand is missing.
There’s a healed stump in its place and I wonder when and how it happened, though from my stealth glances, I can tell it isn’t a recent wound.
He stands proud, lanky but erect, as if he belongs here amongst the rest of us who defected. The boy is dirty, his Erudite clothing is torn after jumping from the train, and, in the forceful gusts of wind that hit our backsides as we stand atop the roof of Dauntless Headquarters, his long bronze-brown hair is whipped into frenzied spikes.
I want to say that it’s the missing hand that draws my attention, and it is, to an extent, but it’s when he turns to peer at me, his smoky grays eyes pinning me to the spot, I discover I cannot look away.
A sneer forms on his lips as he inspects my drab Abnegation attire. Any second now he’ll call me a Stiff and be done with it.
One dark eyebrow lifts, but he stays silent, as if I’m not even worth uttering a sound.
So much for making friends with one of the transfers.
A purplish dusk is coming on strong, the hazy moon peeks through ever-present clouds, while the sun sinks in the horizon. The wind bites a degree cooler and I shiver in my gray layers.
There are thirty of us on the unlit roof. Twenty-six of them are Dauntless born, if their black leather attire is to be taken at face value.
Of the transfers, two are from Erudite—the sneering boy and a short girl with blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.
The other transfer, a slim girl who wears a scuffed up white and black suit, is clearly from Candor. When our gazes meet, her nose crinkles dramatically, like she can smell the lies swirling in my head, before she take a large step away from me.
I let out a sigh, which draws the boy’s attention. His eyebrows snap together briefly in what I might call confusion, or maybe even concern, which is concerning in its own right, before the expression resumes that defiant sneer.
Got it. He hates me. That’s nothing new.
Focusing on the others is just an excuse to ignore the fact that the decision I made today at the Choosing Ceremony changed the trajectory of my life.
My father, Marcus, expected me to cut my palm and choose Abnegation.
I was supposed to maintain a quiet life, a small existence, get married to a selfless girl back home, and follow in my father’s footsteps.
Except all of that felt shallow, hollow, false.
Living under my father’s thumb, and Abnegation’s stiff rules, left me nothing but a shell of myself. It was like for sixteen years I could feel the thrum of something else just beneath the surface of my skin, begging to burst free.
The Choosing Ceremony was my only opportunity, unless I wanted to be Factionless.
In my mind I can still hear my father’s shocked voice when he stuttered, “Tobias?” once he realized my blood hissed on Dauntless’ rocks. Then his voice morphed into something more forceful, “Tobias!”
I refused to acknowledge him.
The man is dead to me.
Instead, I squared my shoulders and sat with the Dauntless transfers, taking the first open seat next to the boy with piercing gray eyes who seemed to enjoy throwing sneers my way. I know that Dauntless cheered wildly with each defection to their faction, but all I could hear when it happened was the erratic beating of my own heart pounding in my ears.
Now, though, the boy in front of me shifts like he’s getting irritated. He says something to the Erudite girl and she nods. Are they friends? Dating?
I hate that I want to know.
With the sun down, shadows of skyscrapers in the distance stretch across the landscape. I try not to look too far out because my eyes glaze over and I get dizzy. I’m not exactly thrilled to be standing on the roof of any building, but at least we’re not being told to climb down or anything.
We wait for something—anything—to happen. Low hums of conversations occur around me but gusts of wind snatch up every word like a hungry, invisible beast. In the time we’ve been waiting, two other trains have screeched by. I sure as hell hope we aren’t going to be told to run and jump back on one.
From the corner of my eye, three adults march by, their boots heavy and loud against the gravel poured on the rooftop. Two of them carry lanterns that cast yellow light across their faces and they come to a stop in front of us.
In the darkness I cannot tell where they came from, but it was from somewhere behind us and I wonder if there are other ways to get up here that don’t involve moving trains.
A new feeling stirs in my mind and the back of my neck prickles. I hazard a look by turning around.
Shadows move forward and at first my eyes cannot figure out what I’m seeing. A dot of fear invades before I stamp it down. There’s a logical explanation, I think.
The shadows come into view and all of a sudden it makes sense. Ten adults stand in formation behind us. While I cannot make out their features, I can tell that they stand shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed, like bodyguards.
I must make a noise because the three other transfers glance at me before their gazes shift once they see where I’m staring at.
“Fuck,” the boy says under his breath as his elbow brushes up against mine.
Surprised, he grunts at me and jerks away.
Now that he’s closer, I realize I’m slightly shorter but broader in the shoulders. I was thirteen when I knew I planned to defect, so I’ve been building up my strength, endurance, and stamina for this day.
I may look plain and unassuming beneath my loose, gray attire, but the jokes on them if they think I am a pushover. I’ve spent years silently enduring the taunts and abuse of the biggest bully in existence.
I chose Dauntless on purpose.
“Are they there to protect us,” the Candor girl says in a low, but confident tone, “or to keep us from running away?”
“Both?” I suggest, which just makes the Candor girl scoff.
“I wasn’t asking you, Stiff,” she answers.
The Erudite girl laughs but the boy doesn’t. Oh, he sneers. Maybe that’s the only emotion he’s capable of conjuring.
“Lighten up, Eric,” the Erudite girl chastises, which makes the boy grunt again.
Eric.
He glances at me, nostrils flared. Still, he remains silent.
Before I can chew on the fact that I finally know his name, a loud voice yells, “Listen up, Initiates,” and I turn around to study the adults in the front who address us.
All three of them—two women and one man—scowl like they’d rather be anywhere else than talking to thirty sixteen-year-old kids. Weapons are plastered to their sides as the woman in the middle continues. “I’m Amura, one of Dauntless’s leaders. Welcome to Dauntless.” I recognize her name as someone who often met with my father for council meetings. “Your first challenge is to find your way to the training room in three turns or less.”
The Dauntless born whoop and holler like they’ve been given a prize, and one by one they line up single-file at the edge where the three adults stand.
“What the—?” the Candor girl mutters with confusion.
When the first Dauntless born jumps over the edge, my heart crawls up my throat, and my ability to draw oxygen into my lungs is rapidly deteriorating. By the time four kids have jumped, my chest is so tight it feels like I’m trapped beneath a toppled building.
“Jesus, they’re jumping,” Eric says, his voice strangled.
At least I’m not the only one panicking.
I knew that by joining Dauntless I would be expected to do crazy things. Every morning at school I watched them jump from moving trains. They excelled at parkour activities and were notorious for scaling school walls. They fought constantly during lunch and were known to be as rowdy and as disruptive as possible. I made it my business to avoid them at all costs.
But jumping from the roof of a ten-story building?
Maybe I should have befriended one of the Dauntless born before making this decision.
I can hear the faint trails of laughter in the distance.
“Is it a good sign that I don’t hear screaming?” the Erudite girl asks.
The line gets shorter and shorter and somehow I, along with the three other transfers, end up at the back of the line. The adults behind us move forward with the line and I have the sinking suspicion that they aren’t here to protect us, but to ensure that we jump.
Will they push us if we refuse?
“There must be a net,” I say as calmly as possible. With each swallow I dislodge my heart from my throat. It’s pitch black now. Not even a sliver of the sinking sun is visible. The two lanterns are the only lit objects.
“Or water,” Eric’s tense voice offers once I can make out Amura’s face.
She’s a middle aged tall, robust Black woman with colorful braids tightly secured against her scalp. Her serious expression could cut glass and her eyes study me.
By now she will know who I am. It isn’t everyday that a faction leader’s own child defects. Stranger still for an Abnegation kid to defect to Dauntless.
If I can face my father I can face Amura.
For her it won’t be personal.
I’m just another kid.
Finally, I’m at the front of the line. Eric and the two other transfers are behind me.
I lean over to take a peek and my head swims. It’s a black mouth of nothingness. I have to assume in the empty air a net will catch me at the bottom.
Amura’s large, unblinking onyx eyes glitter in the lantern light.
“Scared, Initiate?” she asks me, her voice made of cold steel. There is zero compassion in her face.
“N-no,” I stammer. Snickers hit my backside and I can feel the blush and shame spread up my face. Thankfully it’s too dark for anyone to notice.
Bitter wind smacks me in the face, causing my eyes to water, and my entire body shivers. If pressed, I’d claim it is the wind’s fault. Letting others know my fear of heights would only give them ammunition against me.
“Then get to it,” Amura orders. “Or you won’t catch up with those ahead of you.”
Alarms flare hot in my chest. Get to the training room in three turns or less.
It dawns on me that in order to find the training room, I’ll need to follow the Dauntless who have already jumped. The desire to fling myself over the edge hits me hard.
I step on the ledge, intending to jump on my own. Behind me, Eric growls, and I feel his hand hard and heavy on my backside. “Go or get out of the way, Stiff.”
And with that he pushes me off the ledge at an odd angle. A puff of air escapes my lungs and the fear of death hits me hard.
I can only pray that I’m not too far off the mark when I land.
My stomach somersaults every second I’m in the air. I open my mouth to scream, but nothing comes out as my falling body enters through an opening in the building, rushing by floors second by second. I see figures on those floors. Spectators?
Blurs of tiny lights confuse my vision as I continue to fall. I’ve all but stopped breathing. I cannot trust my lungs to work. I hear a “whoa, he’s close to the concrete!” and sure enough, when I tilt my head ever so slightly I realize my head is mere inches away from hitting the jagged floors.
Fucking Eric shoving me the way he did put me on the wrong trajectory.
Then, before I know what happens, my body hits a net, stretching down a little ways, knocking the wind from me. I bounce several times just as arms reach out to collect me.
Groaning, I’m not sure if I’m capable of moving. “Stay there if you want,” a disembodied voice chuckles, “but the next one will hit you. It isn’t pretty. Trust me.”
I take quick stock of myself: legs, arms, hands, head.
Nothing seems to be missing.
The net rocks and I’m jerked to the edge, caught, and helped to my feet.
“Intact? Can you walk?” the same voice asks.
A woman. I study her. She’s several years older, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with a contagious smile, dark hair, tawny eyes, and thick eyebrows. Her neck, shoulders, and arms are covered in tattoos.
“Yeah, I t-think so.”
She grins and pats down my shoulders.
I stiffen and she lifts an eyebrow in question. “Hurt?”
I shake my head. I’ll never admit it, but no one has ever touched me unless they were hitting me or shoving me out of the way. This woman, whoever she is, only wants to make sure my limbs aren’t about to fall off. Still, it isn’t something I’m used to.
Someone else lands on the net and I see Eric’s form bounce. My vision goes red, my fists ball, and I guess the Dauntless woman can see the direction of my thoughts.
“Don’t stoop to his level,” she says. “Besides, causing a scene before the training begins is the quickest way to get kicked out.”
“Thanks,” I say as I keep Eric in view while someone else helps him off the net. “Um,” I ask, “which way to the training room?”
She smiles and I’m immediately put on guard. Will she tell me the truth? I wish that that wasn’t so jaded.
She points and says, “Turn left at the end of the hallway then then right at the second right. Can’t miss it.”
Eric catches my eye as I pivot and start running.