Daunted

Kendra doesn’t try to hurt me again after Eric’s interference, though she is hardly gentle with me either. Any attempts I have at launching an offensive attack are crushed by her size advantage, which leaves me with no other option but to try and use my agility against her. It’s not very effective at first; I have not had enough practice with these techniques to overpower her brute strength. But as the hours pass I start to get better and better, putting more certainty in my actions and moving with speed I didn’t know I had.

By lunch, I have built a good winning streak. It has been at least 20 minutes since Kendra has won a single round, and while I know I’m still hardly skilful in combat, I can’t help but feel a little proud.

“Okay, everyone, time for lunch. You’ve got an hour, but don’t eat too much. We’ll be doing a lot more hands-on work this afternoon, and you don’t want to be slowed down by a full stomach,” Four warns.

We all follow him to the dining hall as fast as our weary limbs can carry us, though a few initiates look more worn out than others. I spot James at the front of the group, expression bright and movements swift. Out of all of us, he looks the least exhausted. I wonder what kind of physical activities they could possibly offer in Erudite for him to be so prepared for this new Dauntless lifestyle.

I quicken my pace a little until I am at his side, ignoring the way the joints in my legs ache in protest. “How did you like the training this morning?” I ask, trying to match his pleasant expression.

James shrugs, but a smile tugs at his lips despite his obvious efforts to hide it. “Pretty difficult. I think I still need a lot more practice,” he admits.

I scoff, though the action feels unnatural. Nobody in Amity would ever make such a disrespectful sound. “Please. You looked like a natural,” I argue.

He laughs quietly, sheepishly. “I can’t really take credit for that. I read a lot of books on pressure points in the body and hand-to-hand combat techniques before deciding I could really handle being Dauntless.”

I blink a few times, taken aback by how Erudite his approach to transferring was. It shouldn’t surprise me; having grown up in that faction, of course James would have made his decision after plenty of research and with knowledge on his side. It scares me that I had never thought like that, never weighed my options like he had. I had just made my decision and trusted that it would be the right one. But now that I’ve made it here, I don’t regret it – not one bit.

The dining hall is much less crowded than it was last night. Most of the other Dauntless must still be working, or perhaps busy guarding the fence. Before I can start to picture myself working in one of those jobs, however, my stomach lets out a loud growl, encouraging me to eat.

“C’mon, let’s go,” I urge, tugging at James’ sleeve. Since the hall is so empty, there are many more available seats than there were at dinner yesterday, and it would be easy for me to sit with the other initiates. But that is not what I want today; I see another empty seat next to Eric, and the rush of excitement and fear that flushes through me at the sight is enough to get me moving.

“Where are we going?” James asks, bewildered, as I pull him away from the initiates’ table.

“To eat.”

I feel James skid to a halt as soon as he realizes where we’re headed. “Are you serious? You want to sit at Eric’s table?” he hisses.

“Yes,” I say calmly. “Are you scared?”

James clenches his jaw at the challenge. “No. Let’s go,” he says. Despite the bravery in his voice he still lets me lead the way, like he’s waiting to see if I will back down at the last second.

I only hesitate for half a second before I drop myself into the seat next to Eric. I see him turn to me out of the corner of my eye, but I pretend not to notice as I grab two tacos from the plate nearest me and start eating.

Eric continues to watch me for a long time; by the time I have finished my fourth taco, he is still looking at me. I swallow my last bite of food and turn to him expectantly, waiting for him to speak but not daring to say a word myself.

“Nice hair,” he says finally, a smirk on his face. Though I can hear a sarcastic edge to his voice, there is something else – genuine approval, maybe.

“Thank you,” I say, reaching up instinctively to touch at the chopped ends. I am suddenly reminded of the other Dauntless thing I have been wanting to do, and realize he is just the person to ask. “Do you know what time the tattoo parlour closes?”

Eric’s eyebrows flicker up in surprise, and he holds my gaze in his for a moment longer before speaking. “Slow it down, initiate. You’re already one of the top in your group; you don’t need to prove anything else.”

My eyes widen with surprise. I hadn’t expected him to say anything nice to me. I didn’t even know he was capable of showing kindness to anyone. “Oh, um, okay. Thank you.”

“Of course, there’s a lot more in store this afternoon. You could quickly fall in the ranks. I’m not sure you’ll even be able to keep up,” he reminds me with a wry smile, and suddenly the warm feeling inside me vanishes.

“Thank you for your concern, but I can keep up just fine,” I say calmly.

“Good to know. I’ll make sure to test you on that,” Eric says, lingering for a moment longer before standing out of his chair and walking out of the dining hall.

“Maybe you’re more Dauntless than you give yourself credit for,” James mutters as soon as Eric is out of earshot.

“What do you mean?”

“That whole thing with Eric, that was pretty bold. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to get yourself in trouble.”

“I just didn’t want him to think I was weak, or scared.”

James seems to realize my point after this, and the bewilderment in his expression evaporates slowly. “Okay, so why are we sitting next to him? You could have avoided this whole thing.”

“I’ve got something to prove. They don’t seem to like Amity transfers much around here.”

“They don’t seem to be overly fond of any transfers around here until after they’ve passed initiation,” James mutters.

“I get your point, but you have to admit that they favour the Erudite and Candor transfers.”

James raises his brows. “Yeah, well, considering Eric was Erudite, it’s not that surprising.”

I blink a few times, processing this new information. “Really? How do you know?”

“Our parents worked together. I saw him around a lot while I was growing up,” James says simply. “He was still pretty scary back then. I mean, he didn’t have any metal in his face or anything, but he still liked being in charge and keeping people in check.”

I try to picture Eric in blue clothing, without any of his piercings or tattoos, working in a research lab or library. The image doesn’t fit, and it makes me feel uncomfortable just thinking about it, so I quickly distract myself with another taco.



It turns out that Eric wasn’t lying about having a difficult afternoon planned. When we all file back into the training room, bellies full and muscles still weary, Four and Eric are standing near the back door of the room with their arms crossed behind their back. Their stance is that of a soldier, but that is not what makes me nervous. It is the small smile on Eric’s face, mischievous and wicked.

“Everyone have a nice lunch?” he asks.

Only the Candor transfers are honest enough to mumble out a ‘yes’; the rest of us just nod meekly at him.

“Great! Then let’s start to work that off with a good, long run,” he announces.

I barely manage to stop the groan that tries to bubble past my lips. Though I like running, it is the last thing I feel like doing right now. In Amity, most of us break for a nap after lunch; with full stomachs and sun-kissed skin from working in the fields all morning, there’s nothing better. I doubt many people in Dauntless nap.

Four starts running out of the room then, not even pausing to let us warm up. I follow after him reluctantly, wishing we didn’t have to run in the dark, damp caves. There is not enough light for us to see where our feet land, and so the initiates behind me keep kicking my ankles and stepping on my heels. I hear Eric’s voice from the back of the group, yelling at the slowest initiates to move faster as he lazily jogs with them, not needing to put in any effort to move at their speed. Though I am much farther ahead than them, I still feel Eric’s words motivate me. I run faster and faster, until I am almost at Four’s side. James is in the middle of the pack, his brawn no match for my speed. I know it is mean of me, but I am secretly glad. He has succeeded effortlessly at everything so far; I want to be better than him at just one thing.

We turn down a hall that is narrower than the others and start to run up a set of stairs. It is harder to keep up the pace as I climb, but I don’t let myself slow down. I can see a door at the end of the stairs, a grimy window letting in filtered daylight which casts an eerie glow into the stairwell. Though it has only been one day since I stood in the sunny fields of Amity, it feels like forever; my eyes have adjusted to the darkness here so that I have to squint against the sunlight as Four leads us out the door.

I hear the people behind me groan as they get the full effect of the light. My eyes slowly start to adjust, and I realize that we are standing on a flat rooftop of a low-lying building. There is a long row of targets, and about ten or fifteen feet away from them, a white line painted over the pavement.

“What’s this?” I ask Four, uncertain but fully aware it can’t mean anything good.

“Glad you asked.” The answering voice doesn’t belong to Four, and I turn just in time to see Eric standing behind me. “Catch,” he instructs, and before I can register what’s happening, he throws something small and metallic at me.

I barely manage to grab it in my surprise, fumbling to keep it from clattering to the ground. Once it’s securely in my hands, I register what it is; a shining silver handgun. It weighs heavy in my hands, and my first instinct is to drop it or throw it away – whatever it takes to get it out of my grip. I know Eric’s eyes are on me, though, so I make a point of squeezing it tighter until my knuckles turn white from the strain.

He smiles, though it feel like he is laughing at me. “This is the practice range where you’ll be taught how to shoot. Everyone grab a gun and some protective gear and then settle in front of a target.”

I grab a pair safety goggles and earplugs before I walk over to the line in front of the target, trying not to look at the gun in my hand. It is eerie how quickly I grow accustomed to the feeling of it in my palm, how the cold weight between my fingers feels like an extension of myself. Though I have no idea how to fire it, it makes me feel powerful.

Once everyone has taken a gun and settled in front of a target, Four passes out the magazines holding the ammunition, and Eric shows us how to load and prep the guns. Now that I know the gun is loaded and at the ready, I am much more careful with my actions. I feel like even moving too quickly might set it off.

Eric hops off the ledge of the roof where he’d been standing and walks towards us, pulling his own gun out of his belt holster. “I’m only going to do this demonstration once, so watch carefully,” he says, walking in front of us and standing in the middle of the rows of targets. He steps his right foot behind his left, squares his shoulders, and holds the gun out in front of him with one elbow slightly bent. He pauses in this position, letting us all watch how he holds himself and where his hands are closed around the pistol, before firing off three shots that all land square in the middle of blue-painted bulls-eye rings.

He walks back to his spot on the ledge of the roof, where he has a perfect view of us to keep tabs on everyone, before raising his eyebrows at us expectantly. “Well? Start firing.”

I turn forward and set my feet in position, slowly raising the gun until it seems level with the centre of the target. I try to block out the sound of gunfire that slowly starts to fill the air, and spare a glance over my shoulder. Eric’s eyes are locked on me, watching me carefully. My eyes widen and I quickly spin back to the target; I hadn’t expected him to be looking back at me, but now that I know he is watching, I cannot put this off any longer.

I check my posture one last time, holding the gun so it feels level with the center of the blue rings on the board. I take a deep breath and squeeze the trigger, not letting myself hesitate. The force of the recoil takes me by surprise and I stumble backwards, cheeks heating with embarrassment. Once I’ve steadied myself I cast a shy glance up, looking to see where my shot landed. A tiny dark hole stares back at me from one of the outer rings of the target, which doesn’t seem overly promising at first, but when I look around me I notice many other initiates have yet to even hit their board at all.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I glance behind me to see Eric looking down at me with an almost proud look on his face. “Not bad for a first shot, initiate.”

The praise is unnatural coming from his lips, and it is hard for me to hold his gaze as his words sink in. “Thank you,” I murmur, swallowing thickly.

He pauses for a moment before giving me a half smile. “You still want to get that tattoo tonight?”

I can only nod, wondering where this conversation is going.

“I’ll take you myself,” he says, expression unreadable. He turns and walks down the line of initiates before I can say a word, leaving me staring after him and wondering what the hell he has in store.