Ambivalence [p.h.] - EDITING

chapter 9 || i need you to slap me

I never expected tattoos to ache hours after they had finished, but the throbbing, inked skin of my arm and wrist continued to prove me wrong. That was enough to put me in a dreadful mood. With an unladylike yawn, I tore through the knots in my hair with my fingers, kicking off the abrasive sheets tormenting my bare legs. Most of the other cots are still occupied, I notice, but the pitter patter of water hitting tile from the washroom alerts me I was not the first to wake. Hurdling over randomly strewn boots and other obstacles on my way to get to the showers proved difficult, but I was lucky enough to hobble away having only stubbed my toe once.

Upon transferring to Dauntless, I had to reevaluate my showering technique, if you will. The goal was no longer to relax and let my mind wander into the depths of the universe, but to pick a corner spot far away from other people and get out and clothed as quickly as possible. I was relieved to know the other person in the room — a woman, whose only characteristic I paid any mind to was a snake tattoo on her shaved head, as I lathered my own long and rather unkempt locks with soap— had no intention of watching me, as I had sometimes seen others do to the likes of Molly and Christina.  That made me sick.

Once I was sure my towel had no chance of betraying me, I hopped back over to my bunk to get dressed. Some point after I tucked a tee shirt into some ratty pair of shorts, Peter moved in the corner of my eye.

His grimace told me he, too, was grouchy and would enjoy an extra hour of sleep. The red blotches on his shins told me he, too, was not very fond of the blankets. But life went on. "Hey airhead."  Peter picked up on my whisper-shout.  Squinting up at me, still sleepily, he mumbled something back. 

"What was that?"

"I said," he groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, "your Nose is showing. 'Airhead.' Once an Erudite, always an Erudite."

"Oh yeah, Peter? Spell 'Erudite.' Better yet, spell 'airhead.'"

Peter showed his contempt not with words, but with a very rude gesture. I chuckled under my breath so as to not wake the other initiates up.

"I knew it.  Anyway, I'm going to breakfast now. I would wait for you, but a girl's gotta eat." He lazily nodded in response, eliciting an eye roll from me despite the involuntary grin invading my expression.

"Don't eat the table, Jax. I want food this time."

• • •

I had to admit, I was disappointed that the spaces across from me normally occupied by Eddie and Myra were empty. That is not to say I remotely enjoy watching them — I would rather pluck my eyes out — I simply meant to apologize for lashing out yesterday. A frown took residence on my face this time as I toyed with the scrambled eggs on my plate, coming to the conclusion that the boy was avoiding me for the sake of avoiding me. Filled with anger at him and at myself (but mostly him) and worry at the thought of losing my longest friend over some petty squabble, I decided I would be better off ignorantly eating away my problems.

Little by little, other Dauntless began to file into the dining hall until it bustles with rowdy morning chatter and hearty laughs. Even though I was alone at my table, I was content being surrounded by the rest of the faction.  It didn't take me long to eat my fill — though I was rather disappointed when I met the threshold having just taken the first bite of a muffin so, not wanting to let it go to waste, I saved its remains on the plate beside me.

As if Peter had been privy to my generosity, he uncharacteristically skipped into the dining hall closely behind Drew and Molly.

"Someone woke up on the right side of the bed." Peter shrugged, but his dimples remained on full display. Then, out of nowhere, the bench wobbled about on its four creaky legs and I could have sworn there was a micro-earthquake —