Flower Child

Chapter Fifteen

   The next morning I was up a little later than normal, but still before everyone else. I grab a muffin from the dining hall, which are fresh and still warm from the oven. I'm the only one in the training room so I lay in the middle of the floor and just think. Time moves past but I hardly realize.
   "What are you doing," he asks.
   I glance at Four, "nothing."
   I wasn't particularly in the mood to talk to anyone, not even him.
   "Why are you on the floor," he asks.
   I shrug, "no reason."
   I push my self up and stand up, "just enjoying a nice peaceful morning, alone."
   He nods, "well, it won't stay peaceful for long. Eric's not all to happy that he lost."
   That was an understatement. Eric had come in a few minutes later and to escape his wrath I had sat in a far corner quietly until everyone showed up. He and Four had silently set up a target at one end of the room and a table full of knives.
   Eric stands in the middle of the room where I had been laying his eyes narrowed at everyone.
   "Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one," he says as the last people walk in, "you will resume fighting then. Today, you'll be learning how to aim. Everyone grab three knives and pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them."
   No one moves. Everyone noticed the anger laced in his voice and I'm sure everyone was terrified.
   "Now!"
   I jump up from my seat on the ground and move towards the table with everyone else. The knives are smooth and cold in my hands.
   I focus on Four, ignoring the way Eric eyes him like he might slit his throat at any moment. Four throws one knife, it hits dead center. I watch the way the knife leaves his hand, how he exhales as if he is breathing out the knife. He has a firm stance, not as wide as with the gun but still enough to keep him steady as he throws.
   As the last knife it's Eric yells, "line up!"
   Everyone starts to throw has soon as they step up to the target, I don't. Instead, I practice the motions and my stance so I can get it right quicker.
Though it's kind of hard to focus. Peter taunts me, Eric paces behind me, and I have the nagging feeling that Four is staring at me. Today is not the best day for me to get annoyed.
I throw the knife harder than what was probably necessary. It sticks into the target deeply, right in the head. I'm the first one to even hit the target, let alone stick it. It actually comes quite easily to me. Almost every year in school, Taylor and I would have at least one or two classes together. The teachers would put us on opposite sides of the room because we would bicker and do stupid things all the time, so I improvised a way to pick on my little brother. I could throw a pencil across the room and nail him in the back of the head with the eraser.
Peter's jeering goes silent and I have to fight my urge to taunt him back. It's not worth the fight, or the infuriated Eric behind me. So I throw my next knife and it sinks in about an inch away from my last one.
Almost half an hour later and the only one that hasn't hit the target is Al. The guy can sure throw them but he has no coordination so they go to far left or right, up or down.
After we all gather our knives he tries again and misses.
Eric angrily stomps towards him, "how slow are you Candor? Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?"
Al's face is red in embarrassment as he throws the knife. It hits the wall a few feet to the right of the target.
"What was that, initiate," Eric asks quietly, leaning towards Al.
It's Christina all over again. The quiet voice, it meant something seriously was going to happen.
"It-it slipped," Al stutters out.
"Well, I think you should go get it," Eric says his eyes moving towards the rest of us who had stopped throwing our knives, "did I tell you to stop?"
Everyone begins to throw again. We'd seen Eric angry before but right now he looks almost like the rabid dog in the aptitude test.
"Go get it," Al asks, his eyes wide, "but everyone is still throwing."
"And?"
"And I don't want to get hit," Al answers.
"I think you can trust your fellow initiates to aim better than you," Eric smiles cruelly, "go get your knife."
"No."
It takes everything in me not to scream at him. He's never refused what he's been told to do, and now was not the time to start, not when Eric was being like this.
"Why not," Eric asks, "are you afraid?"
"Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife," Al says, "yes, I am!"
He's dead.
"Everyone stop," Eric shouts.
We do, and the room goes completely silent.
"Clear our the ring," Eric says and looks at Al, "all except you."
I follow everyone, my eyes on Al as we crowd at the edge of the room. Why would Al do this. He's either going to die or get thrown out.
"Stand in front of the target," Eric says.
Al's hands shake as he walks towards the target, standing with his back against it.
"Hey, Four," Eric shouts over his shoulder, "give me a hand here, huh?"
Four looks uninterested as he walks towards Eric, scratching a brow with the point of a knife.
"You're going to stand there as he throws those knives," Eric tells Al, "until you learn not to flinch."
"Is this really necessary," Four asks, sounding board but I can tell he's not.
It's not direct, but it's a challenge, and Four never challenges Eric.
Eric stares him down and says almost to quietly for me to hear, "I have the authority here, remember? Here, and everywhere else."
Heat rushes to Four's face and I can tell that the comment is angering. He grips the knife in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turn white as he turns towards Al.
Al's eyes are huge like an animal backed in a corner and I feel like I'm going to be sick. Anger bubbles in the pit of my stomach and...
"Stop!"
Four looks at me with hard eyes. I know it was stupid, my words could be the death of me if I push Eric to far. But I also know that I don't have it in me to let my friend go through something so humiliating.
"This doesn't prove anything," I continue, "anyone could stand up there and it would prove nothing but that you're just bullying us like a coward."
That might have been a little much.
"Then it should be easy for you," Eric says lowly, his eyes lit in rage, "if you're willing to take his place."
I stare him down. Of course I don't want to have knives thrown at me, but what choice do I have. Besides, I trust Four.
I push through the crowd, my eyes never leaving Eric's.
"There goes your pretty face," Peter chides, "what a shame."
I don't bother with a reply as I continue forward. Al gives me a thankful smile as I pass him and I nod with a small smile. I stand against the board and let my face turn to stone. I glance at the knives in Four's hands, three. I trust him, maybe to much, but I do.
I stare into Four's eyes, letting the blue calm me, to steal my resolve. I will not flinch because I cannot flinch.
"If you flinch, Al takes your place," Four says, "understand?"
I nod once.
Four's eyes stay locked on mine as he lifts his hand. He pulls back and then launches the knife through the air. It thuds against the board about half a foot from my cheek.
"You done, Flower Child," Four asks.
I close my eyes and remember Al sobbing the first night, Chris hanging over the chasm, Serephina and Bella-Rose, "no."
"Open your eyes then," he says, using his knife to tap between his brows.
I lock my eyes on his, not letting myself see the knife pass to his right hand, or when he lifts it the throw it. It thuds above me, closer than the last one.
"Come on, Flower," he says, "let someone else stand up there and take it."
I don't take the bait, "shut up and throw the damn knife, Four."
I see the shift in his eyes they plead with me to stop this, to give up.
"Throw the knife," I growl.
The knife flies from his hand a second later and I don't let myself look at it as it comes straight towards me. It hits on my left and my ear stings. Warm blood trickles down my neck. He nicked my ear, and I know it was on purpose.
"I would love to stay and see if the rest of you are as daring as she is," Eric says, his voice smooth, "but I think that's enough for today."
He claps me on the shoulder. I pry my eyes from Four and look at Eric. He gives me a look that seems almost proud, as if he my accomplishment is his as well.
"I should keep my eye on you," he smirks.
Something in the way he says it makes a chill go down my spine and a word spring forth in my head. I feel like if he looked to long, to closely, he would see it, Divergent. But he lets go of my shoulder and walks out of the room, the rest of the initiates on his heel.
I stay where I am, so does Four. The room empties out and I wait before the door is closed on the last person before turning to him again.
He looks at me, "is your-"
I cut him off, "you did that on purpose!"
"Yes I did," Four nods, "and you should thank me for helping you."
I know exactly what he means but my rage keeps me from seeing reason, "thank you? For cutting my ear and taunting me?"
"Are you ever going to catch on?"
I glare at him, "to catch on? I get it perfectly clear, Four! Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it you dick! Today is not the best day to fuck with me, to put me down so that others won't, to cut my damn ear. Which is just an amazing birthday present isn't it?"
"It's your b-"
I don't let him finish. I rip the knife that had cut me out of the board and stalk across the room. I throw the knife into the table and stalk out of the room.