Flower Child

Chapter Nine

   When Four dismisses us for dinner I find myself with Christina and Tris. When I walk up next to them, Christina has a wide smile.
   "How was your talk with Four," she asks.
   I raise one eyebrow in question, "what do you mean?"
   "I saw you over there, all smiles and whatever. I even saw him smile, which is probably the most shocking things about this," she laughs, "he scare's the hell out of me. It's that quiet voice he uses."
   "Yeah, he's definitely intimidating," Tris nods with Christina.
   "Yeah," I look over my shoulder back at him, he was quiet and a little scary, but I saw that as a mask, there was much more to him than I thought, "sure, totally intimidating."
   Once we reach the pit, Al, who had been walking in front of us turns around, "I want to get a tattoo."
   Will, from behind us, asks, "a tattoo of what?"
   "I don't know," Al laughs, "I just want to feel like I've actually left the old faction. Stop crying about it."
   I give him a sympathetic smile as the other three look down awkwardly.
   "I know you've heard me," he adds to them.
   "Yeah, learn to quiet down will ya," Christina laughs to defuse the tension, "I think you're right. We're half in and half out right now, if we want all the way in we should look the part."
   We all look at Tris. As the Abnegation transfer, she was the least likely to agree to this.
   "No, I will not cut my hair," she says, "or dye it a strange color. Or pierce my face."
   "How about your bellybutton," Christina asks.
   "Or your nipple," Will snorts.
   I smack his chest, "really Will?"
   Tris groans.
   Christina tells the boys that we'll meet them at the tattoo parlor later, and she drags Tris towards a clothing shop, me following willingly behind them.
   We climb up the paths to the store quickly. I laugh at how uncomfortable Tris looks and how excited Christina is. As soon as we step into the store, I part from them, hoping Chistina won't turn her makeover eyes on me.
   I walk to the back of the store slowly, looking through the black clothes. Everything was black, except for maybe a few dark reds or purples. My fingers run along each hanger, absently. That is until they stop, almost as if on a silent command.
   I pull the hanger off the rack and hold up the short black dress in front of me, it's beautiful. Almost instantly, I fall in love with it. There was no way I was leaving this store without it.
   I take it to the front desk and pay for it. All the initiates were given credits to buy clothes and other things during training, afterwards, if we were still here, we'd earn them with whatever job we got.
   I walk over to Tris and Christina and I look Tris up and down, she looked like a completely different person.
   I whistle lowly, "who is this Christina and where did Tris go?"
   Tris laughs, "let's go watch Al get tattooed."
   Christina and Tris again lead the way, running on the small paths towards the tattoo parlor. I laugh, following closely behind them. When we get there, Al is already in a chair. A man, with more inked skin than not, is tattooing a spider on his arm.
   We all part, Will and Christina flipping through books to find something they liked, Tris walking off the opposite direction. I look around at the different tattoos, at the different people.
   If I made it through initiation, I wouldn't mind working here. I was an artist back in Amity, my dad teaching me from the moment I could move on my own.
   He would cover my hands and feet in paints the Amity made from flowers and berries. I'd be set on the canvas and I did whatever I wanted, usually rolling around and covering the entire canvas in vibrant colors. Many of those paintings were hung up all over our house.
   As I started to grow up, we would sit for hours on end and just paint. My favorite painting was one we had sat outside on the roof for, painting the sunset. It was a challenge as it shifted and set, but we did it. Those ones were in my room, on the wall opposite to the door, the first thing I saw walking into it each day.
   "Are you going to get something," someone asks from behind me.
   I turn to look at him, Four. "Not today."
   He raises his brow, "why not? Usually every transfer is jumping at the chance to get one as soon as they can."
   I chuckle, "well, for one, we start fighting tomorrow don't we? Tattoos are sore and would be an easy shot for someone to take on me."
   Four nods, his lip twitching, "right, very good observation. And two?"
   I turn back towards the tattoo designs on the wall. "And for two, I want to design my own. My first tattoo should mean something and I want to make my own meaning."
   He again raises a brow, "you draw?"
   I smile, "yeah. The kids on my street would gather every Saturday afternoon at my house where I taught painting and drawing lessons."
"Really?"
I nod, "I've always been an artist, my dad taught me when I was a kid."
"Well," he says, "when you do get one, I'd like to see it. See if you're actually as good as you say."
I chuckle, "I'll get to work on it then."