I think about pressing myself against him, but I can't, because all our secrets would keep a space between us.

I smirk as Peter misses again. I can't help myself. "Hey, Peter," I say, " Remember what a target is?

I'll say it one last time: Be brave.

So small as to be negligible. It's strange, but there's something in that thought that makes me feel almost...free.

Everything - our houses, our clothes, our hairstyles - is meant to help us forget ourselves and to protect us from vanity, greed and envy, which are just forms of selfishness. If we have little, and want for little, and we are all equal, we envy no one.

Our eyes meet. I hear a train horn, so faint it could be wind whistling through an alleyway. But I know it when I hear it. It sounds like the Dauntless, calling me to to them.

That's what love does. When it's right, it makes you more than you were, more than you thought you could be.