divergent-excerpt

and drops into the seat next to Four. He offers no greeting,
so neither do we.
“Well aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asks, nodding
to Christina and me.
Four says, “This is Tris and Christina.”
“Ooh, a Stiff,” says Eric, smirking at me. His smile
pulls at the piercings in his lips, making the holes they
occupy wider, and I wince. “We’ll see how long you last.”
I mean to say something—to assure him that I will last,
maybe—but words fail me. I don’t understand why, but I
don’t want Eric to look at me any longer than he already
has. I don’t want him to look at me ever again.
He taps his fingers against the table. His knuckles are
scabbed over, right where they would split if he punched
something too hard.
“What have you been doing lately, Four?” he asks.
Four lifts a shoulder. “Nothing, really,” he says.
Are they friends? My eyes flick between Eric and
Four. Everything Eric did—sitting here, asking about
Four—suggests that they are, but the way Four sits, tense
as pulled wire, suggests they are something else. Rivals,
maybe, but how could that be, if Eric is a leader and Four
is not?
“Max tells me he keeps trying to meet with you, and
you don’t show up,” Eric says. “He requested that I find
out what’s going on with you.”
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