Daunted

It’s difficult to wake myself up the next morning. Partly because it’s still dark in the dormitory – there is never any more light than that which comes from the same blue bulbs in the rest of the compound. But it’s also because I have had less than an hour’s sleep in the past twenty-four hours. Despite my aching muscles and the exhaustion that begged me to rest last night, as soon as I climbed into my bed I found my head swirling with thoughts of missing home, my parents. Even when I managed to stop the tears and distract myself enough to come close to sleep, I was always jostled awake by the sound of all the initiates around me crying softly into their pillows.

I make my bed before leaving the dormitory, getting my Amity clothes out from underneath my pillow. I had been so excited at the thought of burning them yesterday, so eager to shed who I was to become Dauntless, but now after six hours of thinking of nothing but home I find myself reluctant to dispose of them. I wonder if I could get away with stuffing something under my mattress to keep it safe – maybe my cardigan or even just a ripped shred of my dress.

James meets my gaze just as the thought crosses my mind and offers me a small smile as he holds up his Erudite clothes, all balled up in one of his hands. I see the sadness pull down at the corner of his lips despite his forced smile, and for some reason that gives me the courage to take everything with me. I am not the only one who feels upset today, and so I will not be the only one who cheats my way out of burning my clothes.

We all walk out of the dormitory and into the main hallway together, travelling like a pack even though most of us barely know each other. Four is already waiting for us outside of the door, standing with his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands clasped behind his back. It is a military pose – I know that much just by looking at him. When he sees us, though, he quickly relaxes, as though he has suddenly become aware of how he is holding himself. I wonder what kind of life he has lived at Dauntless to make him automatically stand like a soldier – even when he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.

“You’re late,” Four says flatly as he eyes us all. He seems to register the bags under our eyes and the redness of our noses from crying during the night, and something about his expression softens. “We’ll have to miss breakfast, but if you train hard this morning I’ll let you break early for lunch.”

My stomach has been churning all night, so I am not sad to hear we won’t eat breakfast. If anything, it’s a sigh of relief; training seems like it will be just the thing to distract me.

Four turns and leads us through the halls, his pace brisk. I smell the incinerator before I see it, the scent of hot ash and ember filling the air. Four turns the corner and stands next to the giant metal contraption, not saying anything. The first to burn their clothes is James. He drops the pile of blue fabric without hesitation, but I see the way his eyes linger, watching the flames lick at them until he forces himself to turn away. I follow after him, balling up my clothes as tightly as I can and throwing them to the back where the flames are brightest. I do not look back, though every part of me itches for it. Watching the clothes burn will just make it that much harder for me to walk away.

When everyone has finished burning their clothes, Four lets us linger for just a second. We watch the heap of white and black and blue burn, my red dress buried under their clothes. I am glad I can’t see my dress; it makes it easier to watch this. The first jumper, the girl from Candor – her name is Kendra, I have learned – clenches her hands into tight fists at her sides, trying her best to keep her expression even.

“Let’s go,” Four says, and his voice is gentle. I heard a few Erudite transfers whispering about him last night; apparently he was top of his initiate group and recruited for leadership several times, but he always refused. I wish he had accepted the position. He seems strong but kind – the type of leader Dauntless needs, especially if the others are anything like Eric.

We walk through a set of heavy doors into a large room filled with equipment and a training mat. I notice Eric standing in the middle of the room and I nearly trip over my own feet. Though I know it’s absurd, I feel as though just thinking his name has summoned him here. I try to remind myself that he told us yesterday he would be here for our training, but it does little to ease the knot in my stomach.

“Everyone here?” Eric asks, running his eyes over us, seeing us for the first time in Dauntless black. His brow raises a fraction of an inch. “Where’s the Softie?”

I step forward, clenching my jaw and meeting his gaze confidently. I do my best not to look afraid. “Here,” I say, but my voice comes out softer than I’d wanted it to.

Eric’s eyes widen just slightly as he sees me. I don’t blame him for not recognizing me; I look like a different person today. My once long, wavy ashen hair is gone; now it is clipped just above my shoulders, wildly curly, with thick bangs covering my forehead. It has been dyed dark brown – almost black – but the ends are a vibrant deep violet. It is Dauntless hair. I notice that even Four looks slightly surprised as he realizes I am the Amity transfer.

Eric just looks at me a moment longer, then nods. “Back in line, initiate,” he says. It is the first time he has called me ‘initiate’ instead of ‘Softie’. I obediently step back, biting my cheek to keep a proud smile from tugging at my lips. “Today you’ll start working on your hand-to-hand combat skills. You’ll be assigned a partner based on your size. You’ll be given a new partner who better matches your individual skill once we get a better idea of everyone’s level. Then you’ll get to properly spar.”

I glance around the room, eyeing up everyone who is anywhere near my size. The closest match height-wise is a girl from Erudite named Charlotte, but she is wiry and thin. There is no softness nor curve to her body, and the only muscle she carries is in her legs. She has the build of a runner, but looks too breakable for a fight. I am torn between feeling upset at the thought of fighting someone so frail, and being secretly glad that I will at least have an advantage over her.

Surprisingly, though, she is not my partner. “Okay, to start off…first jumper and second jumper.” Eric glances back and forth between Kendra and I, one side of his lips pulling up in an amused smirk. I know right away that he is doing this on purpose; Kendra is at least three inches taller than me, with thick arms and a sturdy torso.

“She’s my size match?” Kendra says incredulously. Her Candor upbringing must come easily to her – I cannot think of anyone else who would question Eric without a second thought.

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” Eric asks, standing up straighter and raising an eyebrow. The move pulls at the piercing above his brow, making it catch the light. I shiver.

“N…no,” she mumbles, faltering at the sudden dominant edge to his stance. She takes an automatic step back from him, not seeming to realize she’s done it.

“Good,” Eric says, a wry smile on his lips before he starts partnering off another pair of initiates.

Once he has finished, he and Four show us some basic blocks and proper attack forms. I find myself wondering who would win if they actually sparred. Eric and Four were in the same initiation year – of that much I am certain. But is it true that Four was the top of his group? That would have to mean he had beat Eric. Maybe that is why Eric seems to throw his punches with such ferocity, clenches his jaw every time Four blocks them even though the moves are all carefully choreographed.

Four turns to us once they’ve finished their demonstration. Eric balls his hands into tight fists before he, too, looks over at us. “Any questions?”

If anyone has any, they are too scared to ask.

“Good. We’ll be going around and correcting any mistakes, so just focus on trying to get the hang of the movements,” Four finishes. He hops off the mat he and Eric had been practicing on, and we all take our cue to start.

I tentatively glance up at Kendra, not yet moving into a fighting position. She looks at me with a slight grimace, like she is trying to figure out how she’s supposed to hit someone so much smaller than her. I can understand how she feels – I had been thinking the same thing a few moments ago when I’d thought I would be fighting Charlotte. She frowns at me for only a moment longer before clenching her hands into fists, raising them to her chest. I swallow thickly and follow her lead, stepping one foot behind me and squaring my hips. I hold as much tension as I can in my torso, like Four had instructed, and slowly bring my fists up near my face.

Her fist comes forward before I’ve even registered her movement, and I feel her skin on my cheek. It takes a second before I realize she hasn’t hit me – not properly, anyway. She just wants to prove she can.

Kendra gives me a small smile. “If you’re going to stay on the defense, you should at least be good at it,” she says. I think she is joking, but her advice is sound.

I nod, letting out a sigh of relief. I look around me and notice that the others are doing the same thing. They do not genuinely try to hit each other, but instead focus on familiarizing themselves with the motions, pointing out where their partner is weakest. I pull my shoulders back and ready myself again, and as soon as Kendra’s hands come up in a fighting pose I duck down and lurch forward, stopping as soon as I feel my elbow press into her navel. Kendra’s arms lock on my shoulders, holding me in place, and she draws her leg up, stopping it less than an inch in front of my nose. I let myself fall away from her and kick my leg out, hooking it around the ankle she stands on and pulling it out from underneath her. She falls onto her back on the mat with a hard thud, and I hop to my feet.

“Good work!” calls Four, and I turn to see him nodding at both of us.

Kendra gives me another small smile, but I see the tension in it. We both seem to remember at the same time that we are being observed, that this will add up to our final ranking. She gets to her feet and we both step back into the starting stance, and this time she is the one who strikes first. Her fist knocks into my jaw – harder this time, enough that I hear a quiet pop from the side of my face. I reach out and land a punch into the soft part of her arm on the inside of her elbow. I don’t hit her hard but she still winces – I remember learning in school that there’s a pressure point there.

Her expression twists, and now she doesn’t even try to offer a fake smile. Her fist slams forward and I flinch back, raising my arm to block the punch. I wrap my hand around her arm and twist it back, hooking my leg around hers behind the knee and pulling her down. Her free fist swings behind her back, trying to hit me, but she cannot reach – I barely even have to dodge my head out of the way. Her foot kicks back, landing firmly on my calf. I flinch, but do not let up. I pin her down to the mat, unsure what to do now. If I let her go, she will attack me, and I know this time she will put her full force into it. But if I keep hitting her, I will only make her angrier. Besides, this is only a practice fight, and we aren’t supposed to actually hurt each other. I glance up, looking for Four; though I know he probably won’t help, he is my only option.

Instead, my eyes find Eric, and I see that he is already watching me. “What are you waiting for?” he asks, stepping towards us.

“We aren’t supposed to really attack each other. I pinned her down – that’s it, right?” I ask hopefully.

Eric pauses, eyeing us both up for a moment. I hear Kendra growl underneath me as she tries to roll to her feet and pull herself out of my grip. I dig my fingers deeper into her arm, frightened, and I feel my fingernails break her skin.

“Yeah, fine. Get up and start over. Don’t hit with full force though; neither of you are ready to properly spar,” Eric says flatly.

I let go of Kendra immediately and she scrambles to her feet, jaw clenched. I see fresh blood come to the surface where my fingernails dug into her arm. I want to ask if she’s okay, but I know that I shouldn’t.

Before I’ve even stepped back into position Kendra swings her fist forward, hitting me with all her strength right on my cheekbone. I raise my hand to block her, but I am too late – I only manage to push her arm away after her punch has landed. My vision sparkles and I sway on my feet, barely managing to steady myself.

“That’s enough!” Eric’s voice is low, filled with danger as he steps in between us. The other initiates all stop and turn to us, his loud voice echoing through the room and getting their attention. Eric’s hand closes around Kendra’s wrist, and I see his knuckles turn white as he squeezes it tightly. She winces, knees starting to buckle from the pain. “Ignoring orders from a Dauntless leader is not something that will go unpunished around here. Do I make myself clear?”

My blood runs cold at the threat in his voice.

Kendra nods her head, and Eric finally releases her. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

“Do that again and you’ll be slumming with the factionless,” Eric growls before turning to me. “And you; you were able to block her and take her down just thirty seconds ago. If you keep letting your guard down like that, you’ll be at the bottom of the ranks. Stay on your toes.”

I bite my lip and nod, unable to meet his gaze. He pauses, and I can feel his eyes on both of us, like he’s trying to make sure he’s made his point. After a short moment, he turns and is gone without another word. Kendra and I both return to the starting stance, but when she throws the next punch she does not put her full weight into it, and I block it easily. I try to ignore the pounding in my cheek; soon I will have to properly spar, and if I stay partnered with Kendra I know that there will be far worse injuries to come.