His eyes search the crowd until they find my face. My heartbeat lives in my throat; lives in my cheeks. "I still don't understand," he says softly, "how she knew that it would work.

"I'll be your family now," he says.

Just because they didn’t shoot you all in the head doesn’t mean their intentions were somehow honorable. Why do you think they came here? Just to run through your hallways, knock you conscious, and leave?

Peter: Where are you two going? Tris: Why aren't you with your attack group eating dinner? Peter: I don't have one. I'm injured. Christina: Yeah right, you are! Peter: Well, I don't want to go to battle with a bunch of factionless. So I'm going to stay here. Christina: Like a coward. Let everyone else clean up the mess for you. Peter: Yep! Have fun dying.

His fingers leave streaks of cold on my skin, invisible to the eye, and I think about wrapping his shirt around my fist and pulling him in to kiss me; I think about pressing myself against him, but I can't, because all our secrets would keep a space between us.

Four: Be brave Tris. The first time is always the hardest.

I decide to do what I always do when I'm not sure what's going on: I act like everyone else.