The Initiate: A Divergent Story

I believe in ordinary acts of bravery, in the courage that drives one person to stand up for another.

My father used to say that sometimes, the best way to help someone is just to be near them

I traded cowardice for cruelty; I traded weakness for ferocity.

What’s that supposed to mean?

It almost seems like they don’t

want to keep something out; they want to keep us in.

I see Four standing by the door with his arms folded.

Suddenly he presses a hand to my stomach. His fingers are so long that, though the heel of his hand touches one side of my rib cage, his fingertips still touch the other side. My heart pounds so hard my chest hurts, and I stare at him, wide-eyed.

“Never forget to keep tension here,” he says in a quiet voice.

But he just says, “Careful, Tris.”

“It must be because you’re so approachable,” I say flatly. “You know. Like a bed of nails.”

He stares at me, and I don’t look away. He isn’t a dog, but the same rules apply. Looking away is submissive. Looking him in the eye is a challenge. It’s my choice

The corner of Four’s mouth twitches.