The Unlucky Ones

[7] - Exposure

[Tobias]

THE TRAINING ROOM smells like dust, sweat, and blood. The scent of effort. The room is musty. Every hit into the fabric of the punching bags stings my split knuckles. The skin was torn open from fights all week.

" So, I guess you saw the board. " Amar says. " Which means you're up against Eric tomorrow. Or else you would be in the fear landscape room, testing yourself. "

He crossed his arms, watching me. I punch the bag, sighing.

" I come in here too, Amar. " I say, not looking at him.

I punch the bag, again. I back away, shaking out the tingling sensation in my hands. Sometimes I'll get so lost in the sensation of punching, that I squeeze my hands together too tightly and lose the feeling in my fingertips. I almost lost my first fight last week. It was against Mia, the girl who transferred from Amity. But it's not because I'm weak. It's because I can't hit a girl. It feels wrong. Or at least, not until she has me in a death grip and my reflexes take over.

The memory of hitting her makes me nauseous. I shake the memory from my mind. My second fight almost resulted in a loss as well. It was against the larger Candor boy, Sean. He would knock me down, but no matter how many times he hit me, I kept getting up. Everyone thought it was phenomenal. But what they don't know is that it's an old habit. Like chewing on my thumbnail, or holding my fork with my non-dominant hand. Old habits learned young.

Pushing through the pain has become ritual. So, this was like nothing. A face full of patchworked bruises and cuts is worth the win. Fighting Eric tomorrow morning will take more than clever moves or persistence. It will require skill I don't have and strength I haven't earned.

" Yeah, I know. I've spent days trying to figure you out. But, I can't. You spend every morning in here, punching the same bag and every evening is spent in the fear landscapes. You spend zero time with any other initiates and you sleep like a corpse. So, what's your deal? " He asks.

A drop of sweat rolls down the back of my ear. I wipe it away with my taped-up fingers, then drag my arm across my forehead.

" Joining a faction is about more than getting through initiation, you know,” Amar says, and he hooks his fingers in the chain that the punching bag dangles from, testing its strength. " For most of the Dauntless, they meet their best friends during initiation, their girlfriends, boyfriends, whatever. Enemies, too. But you seem determined not to have any of those things. " He says.

I've watched the other initiates get tattoos together. And get piercings. And drink alcohol by the chasm. I've watched them make towers of food scraps on the trays at dinner time or breakfast time. It never occurred to me that I could be one of them.

" I guess I just like being alone. I'm used to it. " I say.

I shrug, looking down at my hands.

" Well, I feel like if you don't have some fun soon, you're going to snap. And I'd rather not be there when it happens. " He says, looking at me. " You should come hang out with us. Some of us are going out to play a game. A Dauntless game. " He says.

I pick at the tape covering one of my knuckles. I shouldn’t go out and play games. I should stay here and work, and then sleep, so I’m ready to fight tomorrow. But that voice, the one that says “should,” now sounds to me like my father’s voice, requiring me to behave, to isolate myself. And I came here because I was ready to stop listening to that voice.

" I'm offering you a choice to make some colleagues in this faction while you still have time. Come on. It'll be fun. " He says.

I sigh out nodding.