Глава 9. I'm startled when I hear the door slam shut

I'm startled when I hear the door slam shut. Eric strides into the training room, looking as vicious as ever. Last night's loss must have been quite a devastating blow to his ego; after all, it's not the first time his team has lost to mine.

I take in his rigid stance and suppress a laugh, mentally kicking myself at the same time for having the innate ability to find everything funny at the most inappropriate times.

" Got something to say? " he turns on me.

" Whoa, whoa, easy there." I back up, raising my arms up in mock surrender. " Just wanted to say good morning."

He scoffs and throws a spiteful glare in my direction, not bothering with a response.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, the initiates appear at the door and shuffle into the room.

" Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one, " Eric begins. " You will resume fighting then. Today, you'll be learning how to aim. Everyone pick up three knives, and pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them."

The room stays still, as if they're all too tired to comprehend Eric's instructions.

" Now! "

At once, the room is set into motion. Everyone scrambles for daggers while sneaking nervous glances at Eric, fearing that he might explode if they don't move fast enough.

He stands between the group of initiates and me, head bobbing back and forth, throwing poisonous glances in my direction when he catches me distracted by the blur of motion in the room.

When everyone has gotten a grip on things, I position myself in front of my target and take aim, recalling the words my instructor spoke to me during my initiation.

Eyes on the target, feet apart, and a quick, but strong flick of the wrist.

The knives flash by in the air so quickly that I don't even see their paths of flight. One by one, the knives transport themselves from my hand to the target, thudding heavily every time it buries itself in one of the red and white circles.

" Line up! " Eric bellows.

His voice sends everyone scrambling in frenzy. It is a known fact that Eric is not usually a pleasant person to be around, but today, his temper has increased tenfold. Every whisper and every movement seems to send electric shocks through his body which only increases his irritation.

Shortly after Eric's outburst, the initiates, knives in hand, begin to mimic the motions that I demonstrated a few moments ago. It's as if the initiates have suddenly disappeared from the room and have been replaced with nine duplicates of myself during my initiation - hesitant, eyes unconfident and quite awkward with a deadly weapon in hand. The only person who has yet to take a shot at their target is Tris. For the past few minutes, she has been practicing the motions, both with and without a knife. I watch her with growing curiosity.

" I think the Stiff's taken too many hits to the head! " Peter remarks at Tris's inactivity. " Hey, Stiff! Remember what a knife is? "

Tris ignores Peter's jeering and continues without a glance in his direction. Peter, obviously feeling superior, whips his knife confidently in the direction of his target, only to have it fall short a few feet to the left.

" Hey, Peter, " Tris taunts back. " Remember what a target is? "

I laugh quietly to myself, feeling kind of proud of Tris's growing confidence, even though I'm not the one who set the change into motion.

Over the course of thirty minutes, everyone besides Al has managed to hit their target at least once. I can almost feel the anxiety radiating from his body. It's okay to fall behind the group a bit – I understand that. Everyone has strengths and weakness, which means some people take a little longer to grasp certain skills than others. But with Eric pacing constantly behind you, making note of every mistake you make, ready to ridicule you at a moment's notice, the task at hand becomes ten times more daunting.

" How slow are you, Candor? " Eric spits out. " Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you? "

A bright shade of scarlet washes over Al's face. He throws another knife, but it misses the target by a few feet and sticks itself in the wall.

" What was that, initiate? " Eric hisses in his ear.

The entire room is holding their breath. This isn't good.

" It-it slipped, " says Al.

" Well, I think you should go get it, " Eric says. The room is absent of the thumping of knives hitting their intended targets. He glances around the room, noticing for the first time that every pair of eyes has been trained on him for the past couple of minutes. " Did I tell you to stop? "

Immediately, everyone regains their composure and starts practicing again, trying to ignore the growing tension in the room. It's as if the air is filled with electricity. A slight flick of the finger, one wrong move, and an overly loud whisper will send Eric exploding over the edge.

" Go get it? " Al's eyes are full of fear. " But everyone's still throwing."

" And? "

" And I don't want to get hit."

" I think you can trust your fellow initiates to aim better than you." Eric smirks. " Go get your knife."

Usually, Al isn't one to object to anyone's commands, but the glint in his eyes tell me that's exactly what is going to happen this time. I see his jaws grinding together as he spits out the word that signals the end of his compliance.

" No."

" Why not? " Are you afraid? " Eric jeers.

" Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife? " says Al. " Yes I am! "

" Everyone stop! " Eric bellows.

All motion ceases, as if someone has pressed the pause button during the middle of a movie. If the initiates weren't listening to Eric and Al's hostile exchange before, they sure are now. Every pair of eyes is trained on them.

" Clear out of the ring." Eric keeps his eyes on Al. " All except you."

At once, the mass migrates from the middle of the room to form a single compact line pressed against the wall.

" Stand in front of the target, " says Eric.

Al is shaking as he follows Eric's instructions.

" Hey, Four." Eric looks over his shoulder at me. " Give me a hand here, huh? "

What is he trying to prove?

" You're going to stand there as he throws those knives, " Eric says to Al, " until you learn not to flinch."

" Is this really necessary? "

I know my rebuttal has no influence on Eric's decision.

He makes no attempt to cause a scene about my refusal to follow his instructions. Instead, he fixes his beady eyes on me, and I return his glare.

" I have the authority here, remember? " Eric hisses into my ear so quietly that I doubt anyone else can hear him. " Here, and everywhere else."

Of course.

He doesn't like to be challenged, never has. My confrontation, no matter how casual, set him on edge. He knows his position of power is temporary, and it forever will be. There will always be someone stronger, someone smarter, someone better suited for the role that he does not want to relinquish.

I focus on the ever-tightening grip on my knife to keep from lashing out at Eric about his meaningless and ruthlessness ways to test the initiates.

I turn to Al, who is now trembling with fear, ready – but reluctant - to carry out Eric's orders.

Everyone is holding their breath, like time is standing still and the next tick of the clock hasn't yet arrived. I wonder if it ever will. Then, two words slice through the silence: " Stop it."

Tris.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Of all the rash and senseless things she could have done, this takes the cake. I glare at her, urging her not to say more.

" Any idiot can stand in front of a target, " she continues. " It doesn't prove anything except that you're bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice. "

" Then it should be easy for you, " Eric says. " If you're willing to take his place."

I let out an exasperated sigh as she weaves her way through the crowd of initiates. There will be plenty of chances to prove yourself, so why does it have to be now, Tris?

Al nods at her in encouragement as she takes his place. Where his body once covered a good chunk of the target, Tris barely tops the bull's-eye.

" If you flinch, " I warn her slowly, " Al takes your place. Understand? "

She nods.

I draw my elbow back, my heart threatening to burst through my chest, and throw the knife. It plants itself half a foot away from her cheek, and I let out a sigh of relief.

" You about done, Stiff? " I ask.

Tris closes her eyes. " No."

" Eyes open, then." I tap the spot between my eyebrows. It's less terrifying if you are aware of exactly what is going on.

I scrutinize her every crook and angle, mapping out the area on the target that my knife absolutely cannot hit. I pull my arm back and send the second knife flying. This one hovering just above her head.

" Come on, Stiff, " I say. " Let someone else stand there and take it."

" Shut up, Four! "

A flash of rage rises in me the moment she says those words. She doesn't get it. She doesn't understand that I'm reminding her why she can't fail – that if she chickens out, someone will have to take her place, someone who doesn't have the courage that she has. She doesn't realize that her selfless impulse hasn't been driven out yet. I glare at Tris, frustrated, willing her with my mind to understand that I'm trying to help her, not discourage her.

I send the knife tumbling towards her, and it lands with a thud, right above her ear. She reaches a hand up and I know the knife has found its intended target. I've nicked her ear.

" I would love to stay and see if the rest of you are as daring as she is, " Eric says lazily, his anger put to rest momentarily by the unexpected turn of events. " but I think that's enough for today."

I stay rooted to the spot as everyone shuffles around me out of the room and disperses in the hallway. The door shuts behind the last person, and I start towards Tris.

" Is your – " I begin.

" You did that on purpose! " she yells.

" Yes, I did, " I mutter. " And you should thank me for helping you."

She grinds her teeth. " Thank you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you? "

" You know, I'm getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on! "

" Catch on? Catch on to what? That you wanted to prove to Eric how tough you are? That you're sadistic, just like he is? "

My heart sinks at those words. Sadistic. For so long, I have tried to separate myself from Eric, to prove to myself that there really is two sides to the Dauntless faction – the honourable side, and the ruthless side. After all of my efforts to stay true to what I believe in, Tris still thinks I belong to the latter.

" I am not sadistic." I say quietly, firmly. " If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have already? "

Rage bubbles up inside me and I can no longer bear to stay in the same room as the girl who I thought had enough sense in her to recognize and differentiate between the battling values of the Dauntless faction.

I turn my back to her, cover the room in three quick strides, slam the tip of my knife into the surface of a table and walk out the door.

" I – " Tris yells after me.

The door bangs shut before she has a chance to finish her sentence.