Ambivalence [p.h.] - EDITING

chapter 10 || i am not spending the rest of my life watching a fence all day

"Meet us by the train tracks at 8:15! You're late, you're out!"

It was just my luck; the only time I ever let myself sleep in was the day Eric blessed us with a metal rod against the wall as our alarm and a voice that was much, much too loud for the morning. With all my might, I pried my eyes open, until the seven o'clock sunlight blinded me and forced them back shut. I groaned. This was going to be a hard day.

I flipped myself from my back on to my stomach and, like the undead crawling out of a grave, clawed my way out of bed, focusing what little attention I could spare on rummaging around for some clothes. A few stretchy black garments and an obstacle course to the bathroom later, I shocked myself awake by my own appearance.

My eyes were bloodshot and the bags under them were as purple and pronounced as ever. I looked into the mirror and sallow cheeks that were stranger to me stared back. I was tired. Tired of tossing and turning all night, no doubt, but tired of the stress of initiation, too. Tired of always being Eddie's second choice. Tired of letting him make me cry. I was sick of it. With a deep breath, I left the room.

The dorms were largely empty, save for Molly and Christina, who were still doing up their laces. I trotted over to the former's bunk and sank down into her mattress, grateful that she hadn't pointed out how much I resembled a reanimated corpse.

"Hey," she whispered.

"Hey."

"How're you holding up?"

"Better," I replied. It was true. I was better. But I wasn't good.

We didn't speak all the way to the dining hall, and even then the tension at the table made the air too think for anyone to talk. Avoiding Eddie's glare like the plague, I slid into my seat next to Peter and cleared my mind. I would not let petty drama ruin my breakfast.

But even that was out of my control — today was, of course, the day the Dauntless cooks only made banana muffins, the only flavour I couldn't eat because of walnut garnishing — and guess who's allergic to walnuts! (Spoiler: it's me.) Peter scooped some fried eggs and toast onto my plate instead.

"Good mornin', sunshine," Peter grinned. "How'd you sleep?"

I attempted to smile back. "Not the best night ever," (keyword: attempted), "not the worst." He scanned my face, scrutinizing every little crease and crevice, and then he simply nodded.

Peter understood. That was what I liked most about him, as far as our unlikely friendship went; somehow, he always knew exactly how I was feeling and, even more incredibly, just the right way to respond.

"Thanks," I scratched my neck as I tacked on. "Thank you for the... for the garlic bread. Thank you for thinking of me."

"What can I say? A girl's gotta eat. Which is why I won't comment on the yolk you have on your cheek."

"You just commented on it!"

"Fine, I won't judge you for it. And don't talk while eating, it's a choking hazard. Honestly, woman, you say I'm stupid."

"You still are."

"You know what? Fair enough."

"Hate to break this up," Molly yawned, obviously not remorseful for the interruption, "but it's just about eight o'clock. We should get going."

The four of us heeded Molly's advice and left the table (along with Eddie and Myra), trekking up the endless flights of glass steps out of the Pit and making small talk along the way.

It was 8:13, according to Drew's watch, when we made it to the train tracks, where Four and most of the other initiates were waiting. Lucky for us, we had made it just on time to see the train come into view, getting closer and closer until all of the sudden Four started running and everyone else followed suit. If anything good had come from physical training, it was that keeping up with Four's pace while sleep deprived and emotionally unstable had become manageable. I launched myself into the train. That was improving too, though I would have to pay more attention to jagged edges of the metal so as to avoid slicing my arm open.