#boric

"I never lied to you, you know", I say, looking at him askance. "The attack on Abnegation."

"What?"

"I didn't know I was Divergent until the attack on Abnegation. When Max called that one guy Divergent. The one you shot. That's when I realized."

He stares at me. He doesn't believe it.

"I told you, I wasn't special. I had nine fears, average times, I never cheated in the sims." I frown. "I was never really aware In the sims. Or, like... Any more than in my dreams usually. I couldn't make things happen."

Am I sure about that? Maybe not.

"I might have once slowed my fall when I fell. My instructor must not have noticed; I'd already faced the fear. I didn't do it on purpose, so I didn't think anything of it", I say. "The sims were like my dreams, mostly. Only they blur dreams and reality; that's the part that rattles me about them. But... Yeah, even when I got told to be on the lookout for Divergents who cheat the sims, I didn't put one and one together. I thought the way they were for me was how they were supposed to be."

"How very Erudite of you", Eric says dryly. He's... offended.

"Are you mad because you don't believe me, or because I got off easier?"

His brows twitch, and he turns his face away.

"Could be the latter."

Neither of us says anything for a while.

"I should return to Erudite", Eric says. He sounds as though he's made his decision, but he doesn't move.

I close my eyes and lean the back of my head against the wall. "I could stop you", I suggest.

"Would you?" he asks sharply.

"No. Maybe. If you need me to." I open my eyes and turn to face him. He's pale and dirt sticks to his skin.

He tugs at his lower lip thoughtfully, a habit retained from when he'd kept rings or studs on it. They'd started hurting his tooth enamel, so he'd taken them out. Now the holes are mostly closed—not gone, but too small to admit a piercing.

He's always been difficult for me to read. If I want to understand him, I have to consider the actions he takes, not what he shows on his face. When he's easy to read, he's usually projecting on purpose.

I don't know what to think of his actions, either, though. He left the car behind, somehow moved to consider the option of turning away from Erudite. But he's not decided, yet. I don't know how to say that whatever choice he makes I need him to make it for himself—not by himself, but for his own sake—without putting him on the spot.

So I don't.

Whatever else may be true, he feels beholden to the Erudite. Perhaps Jeanine herself. He transferred from Erudite, that I do remember from his initiation.

"Did you work for Jeanine from the start?" I ask.

"Essentially."

It makes sense. Dauntless can make leaders young, but getting into the leader track straight from Initiation Day, especially as a transfer, is just weird. Even Amar didn't get the chance, and he was Dauntless-born. He was so amazing that when he said he wanted to be an instructor, my old ranking, my experience against his, was worth nothing. The only reason I got to keep running the training on the shooting range was that I was the better shot. And more diciplined in that regard, but let's not speak ill of the dead, even the Divergent ones.

But it wasn't just Eric who had the opportunity. Four as well. I have to wonder if they didn't specifically want a transfer: someone who wasn't familiar with Dauntless as it had been. A clean slate on whom to paint this image of Dauntless made anew.

"Did you ever want to be Dauntless?—I mean... Without all this other stuff. Just Dauntless."

He gives a dry chuckle, interrupted by a pained wince. He shakes his head. "Not often."

He remains silent for a moment, but then continues:

"Jeanine feared I might forget." His lips pull into a smirk. "I was that convincing."

I raise a brow. "Maybe to an Erudite, you were", I chirp. "At first you were a bit of a try-hard. Evened out, though."

The short sides of his hair have grown out some since Dauntless split in two. I'm tempted to remind him that I miss his ponytail, but it's not a good time. Even if he lets his hair grow, I don't know that I'll get to appreciate it.

I clamber to my feet. "We should keep moving." I offer him my arm for support, so he can stand up without straining his wound more than he must.