XXXVI

I had messed up. I was heartbroken. And I had lost Aletheia.

Returning to the Pit was a blessing, but also a mistake—the funeral festivities were in full swing, which meant that I could disappear, and that whatever search party Eric had sent after me would have some level of difficulty finding me. But the place had turned into the exact definition of “sensory overload”. Whoever wasn’t drunk before was drunk now, and whoever was drunk before was passed out. Huge black speakers boomed rock music. There was dancing and fighting and screaming, furious and mournful and joyous. The faces and bodies whirled around me so fast that I could have passed by Aletheia a dozen times and not recognized her.

When I reached the center of the Pit floor, I risked a glance over my shoulder. Eric stood on a crate, shouting and gesturing at a group of slightly-less-drunk Dauntless men below him. There was the search party. I dove back into the crowd.

“Aletheia!” I screamed, my voice drowned out. “Aletheia!”

A boy stumbled into me. It was Uriah, his shirt soaked and his jacket unzipped.

“Tris!” he grinned, slinging his arm over my shoulder. “Duuuude…where’ve you been?”

“Uriah, I’m sorry, I have to find my friend,” I said, trying to escape, but he was strong. He pulled me close, his breath hot and thick with alcohol.

“Nooo, don’t gooo…” he whined.

Then he hugged me. His lips touched my ear.

“There’s people looking for you,” Uriah hissed, his voice suddenly clear. “ Your friend’s safe. You gotta go.”

He put his bomber jacket over my shoulders, covering my tattoo. I met his eyes. Then he knelt, picked up an empty beer bottle that had fallen on the ground, and gave it to me. The message was clear. To hide in a crowd like this, you had to try to stand out.

In one dramatic movement, Uriah scooped me up in his arms and hollered. I did the same, shrieking louder than I had ever been allowed to scream before. Uriah touched the back of my head, guiding me to bury my face in his shoulder as I dangled the bottle behind us. I couldn’t see. I didn’t know how many of Eric’s men we passed, I didn’t know where we were going, I didn’t know how Uriah had gotten Aletheia safe already. I didn’t even really know Uriah at all. But in the moment, I knew I could trust him with my life.

We went up a few sets of stairs, and the chaos of the Pit floor seemed to retreat. Then came the sound of a door opening, a jingling bell, and quiet.

“Come inside, quick,” said a familiar voice.

I looked up as Uriah set me down. We were in the tattoo shop, all of the lights off. The voice was Tori’s, and she waved her hand urgently for us to follow her into the back.

Tori led us up a rickety set of stairs to a studio apartment, where two familiar faces were waiting. Ace and Aletheia. Aletheia was sitting very still at the kitchen table. Ace had been pacing. When she saw me, her jaw dropped and she rushed to hug me. “Phoebe...holy shit. Holy shit. ”

“Nobody saw you come in?” asked Tori.

Uriah shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“We’ll find out,” said Ace, pulling away from me. But she didn’t let go of my hand, both of us squeezing hard enough to hurt. I was trembling.

“Aletheia, Ace told you where to hide, right? Inside the big duffel bag?” asked Tori. Aletheia, wide-eyed, nodded. “Tris, you’re small enough to fit in the cupboard with Ace. We shouldn’t be getting customers, so if you hear the downstairs bell ring, hide. Uriah, you should go.”

“Right.” Uriah hesitated, then pulled me into a side-hug. It was different from the first one. It reminded me of Caleb’s. “Good luck, dude. May we party hard in a kinder time.”

He left and Tori locked the door behind him. Ace led me to the kitchen table, where I sat down next to Aletheia. Like a well-oiled machine, Ace and Tori exchanged glances, nodded in sync, and sat across the table to glare at me.

“Someone needs to explain,” said Tori.

“I can do it,” Ace replied, never breaking eye contact with me. “I committed a terrible sin in one of my past lives, so God created Phoebe to ruin every moment of this one.”

I swallowed. I couldn’t even disagree. So I told them everything.

+ + +

I told them about Caleb, how much faith I had in him, even though we were fighting. This was the first time he had betrayed me like this. He’d tattled on me when we were kids, of course, but selling me out to Eric—I felt like a part of me had been ripped out. Ace almost voiced her disgust at me, but Tori shushed her. Ace wouldn’t know what it was like; she was an only child.

“I’d cover for my brother, and I’d trust him to cover for me,” said Tori softly. “I’m so sorry, Tris.”

“Tris?” Aletheia echoed.

It was the first time she had spoken since I arrived. We all looked at her. In turn, I looked at Ace, who nodded.

“You can tell her everything,” said Ace. “Might as well, after how she blew her cover.”

Like an embarrassed child, Aletheia shrank in her seat. “What happened?” I asked.

Ace scowled. “She got drunk off her tits,” she explained. “She was yelling about how terrible the Dauntless were and how glad she was to be Candor. Then she tracked me down and gave me a hug. I’m assuming this was when you frolicked away to have a reunion with your brother.”

“Long story short,” Tori sighed, “everyone knows that you three are here. At least, they know that Ace and Tris—Phoebe is here, along with a second Candor initiate. But it won’t be long before they ask the Candor transfers who they saw.”

“Chrissy woul’n’t tell,” Aletheia mumbled. “She was my girlfrien’ too. B’fore Al. She still loh—l—likes me, whole bunch. They’d all liked me. Woul’nt snitch me.”

“You’re so stupid,” said Ace.

“ Ace ,” I hissed.

“We can assume that they know you’re here too, Aletheia,” Tori continued. “From here...I don’t know what to do. Ace, ideally, you would have brought Aletheia to the Dauntless, but you brought her here.”

“Because Phoebe was missing,” Ace countered. “I thought something happened to her.”

Tori held up a hand. “I’m not blaming you,” she said gently. “It happened fast; it was a difficult situation. The fact of the matter is that now, the Dauntless account won’t match up. They know that Phoebe, a Candor initiate, is here. They have witness accounts that you, Ace, interacted with a second Candor initiate, then disappeared. It puts you in a compromising position. Two Candor in Dauntless at the same time, it won’t look like a coincidence. Even if you weren’t seen bringing them into the facility, you failed to report when you found Aletheia. That also won’t look like a coincidence. Not to mention that Eric has seen you with Phoebe, which links you back to her.”

“And Caleb probably gave Eric a physical description of me,” I said, “so he knows Tris McCandless is a fake identity.”

The hopelessness of the situation was starting to sink in. I put my hand over my mouth. Bringing Aletheia here, leaving her alone, and trusting Caleb had all been such a mistake. Ace had every right to be disappointed with me.

Sighing mightily, Tori pulled a box of cigarettes out of her pocket and offered them to me and Ace. Unlike many of the other Candor, I had never picked up the habit of smoking, so I declined. Aletheia wanted one, but Tori didn’t let her have it, as she was a little too drunk to be trusted holding something hot. Lighting Ace’s cigarette and then her own, Tori gave a long sigh.

“So, in my mind, there are three courses of action,” said Tori. “First, you all come absolutely clean. You take the morning train back to Candor, talk to your superiors, and accept whatever punishment they give you. Candor will give you more time to explain yourselves than Dauntless. Ace and Phoebe, if you two take responsibility for what happened, Aletheia may be able to escape punishment.”

“I don’t wanna be kicked out of Candor,” Aletheia blurted. “I can’t...can’t be factionless.”

“You won’t be,” said Tori. “You have the strongest defense. The second idea is also good for you, Aletheia, and it might be good for Ace. Ace, you will take Aletheia and Phoebe to your superiors like they would expect you to. Make up an excuse for why you didn’t bring them earlier; maybe Aletheia escaped the first time. This will put you back in Dauntless’ good graces. However...Phoebe, this will mean that you must take full responsibility. You will tell Dauntless that you convinced Ace to bring you here in the first place, perhaps you blackmailed her to get what you wanted. It’s not very convincing, but we don’t know until we try it.”

“What’s the third option?” I asked, hoping that it would be one that was good for me. So far, that hadn’t been any of them.

Tori took a long drag of her cigarette. “The third option is that none of you ever return to Dauntless or Candor,” she said. “You join the factionless. Ace and I know people who will protect you. This could do more good than harm for only one person, Phoebe—even though you’re forfeiting your place in the factions, it would free you of all your problems. Which, as I understand, there’s a lot of.”

My face fell. No, that wasn’t a good option at all. Although she was right about the problems.

The f-word clearly did not sound nice to Aletheia, either. She was really tearing up now. “I can’t be factionless,” she kept saying. “No. No, no, no.”

“We’re not doing that,” Ace agreed. “I also vote no.”

They all looked at me.

“I wasn’t going to say yes,” I said defensively.

Ace folded her arms. “So it comes down to all of us surrendering and guaranteeing Aletheia’s safety, or trying a ruse that might save two of us, but puts Phoebe at risk.”

Tori shook her head. “That’s all I’ve got.”

“There has to be another way.”

“If you can think of something, I trust you. But you have to do it soon.”

Tori stood and stepped out of the kitchen, onto a balcony that overlooked the Pit. In my lap, my still-trembling hands gripped the fabric of my pants. I wanted to follow Tori and ask her my million questions. I wanted to cut out my tongue so I could never ask a question again. Across the table, Ace groaned and rubbed her forehead, then stood up to resume pacing.

“I can’t believe this,” said Ace, her voice higher than usual. “I really can’t believe this.”

I looked at Aletheia. “How are you feeling?” I asked quietly.

“I wanna go home,” she whimpered.

Not informative. I didn’t say that. Sighing, I helped her up and led her back to the living room, where there were a few colorful blankets and some pillows. “Rest for now,” I told her. I didn’t expect her, in such a state of nerves, to be able to rest. I certainly didn’t expect her to fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillows. She started snoring instantly.

Ace was still pacing, round and round and round.

I sat on the cold concrete floor, leaning against the couch. The scarf on my head smelled of alcohol, so I ripped it off. I turned my palms to face the ceiling.

I had gone too far. I was out of my depth. I knew only one thing for sure—Ace could not be held responsible for this. I had chosen to bring Aletheia here. Before that, I had chosen to beg Ace to bring me here. And even before that, I had chosen to follow my Divergence to Candor, instead of staying in Abnegation. All of these people—Irene, Ace, Tori, Uriah, Aletheia, Lady Rose, Miriam, Judge Touma, so, so many people I could not name—had been dragged into the collateral of my choices. My selfishness.

Caleb was right. It was time for me to decide who I was.

In the kitchen, Ace stopped and pressed her hands into her face. Then she stormed down a hallway. Moving slowly, as if in a dream, I got to my feet and followed her. She was in the bathroom, leaning against the sink. Even when I knocked on the doorframe, she didn’t look away from her reflection.

“Hey,” I said softly.

Ace didn’t respond.

“Can I come in?” I asked.

“Does it matter?” she replied.

I took it as a yes. I came up beside her and she moved her arm around me, letting me lean my head against her chest. We stared at ourselves. I was small and frail next to her. Her face was haggard, haunted; she looked years older than she really was.

“I’m tired, Phoebe.”

Slowly, I nodded. “Me too.”

Ace didn’t have a mirror in her apartment—this was the first time I had seen both of us together like this. I couldn’t take my eyes away. After a minute, I turned, stood on my tiptoes, and kissed her.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She was quiet again.

“I missed you,” I said.

“I wish we had more time,” she said.

“It’ll work out.” I didn’t know that. But I said it anyway. “We’ll find a way.”

Ace was looking down. Her fingers went up to my neck, then my collarbone, drifting against my scar. The rose.

“I shouldn’t have let you get this,” she said. “Your Full Unveiling…it’ll be hard enough without it.”

“I’m not removing it,” I replied.

“What are you going to say?”

“I don’t know.”

My eyes drifted down from her eyes, to her lips, to the tattoo on her chest. The round, empty ring.

“This one,” I said. “What do you say when someone asks about it?”

Ace let me trace the edge of the ring for a moment. Then she slipped her hand under mine, brought it up, and pressed her lips against my scraped knuckles.

“That I got it out of anger,” she replied. “When Dauntless found out who I used to be. Factionless. It was…a punishment, in a way.”

“Against who?”

“Against everyone. I wanted them to look at me, top of my class, model Dauntless, so they’d remember that a factionless bastard was better than them. That’s what I tell people, that it was pride.”

She hesitated. “But?” I said softly.

“But I was four weeks into initiation, and I wasn’t happy. The whole time I was down there—in the projects—all I could think about was how, if I could only return to the factions, life would get better. And then it didn’t. The closest I ever got to a new start was being on the streets.”

“You blamed yourself.”

“I didn’t want to let myself down again. So it’s a reminder not to get my hopes up.”

I touched the ring again. Bit by bit, I felt like I was solving the mystery of Ace. She was cold because she was guarded, guarded because she was afraid, afraid because she was defeated. She’d been beaten down so many times, it was a miracle she was still sane. My other hand floated up to my rose and I wondered what the two symbols would look like together. The last piece of my plan fell into place.

“Do you know,” I said, “if I asked nicely—if Tori would do another tattoo for me before we go?”

“Irene told you to remove tattoos, not add them.”

“Yes. But I’m...I know what I have to do now.”

“Phoebe, what are you—”

I didn’t answer. I kissed her, fast and hard. She didn’t know what it meant to me, but in my heart I knew it was goodbye, so I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her as close as I could. My lower back hit the rim of the sink. I gasped into her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, but I pulled her back.

“I want this. I want you.”

My fingers pushed through her hair and pulled. Her hands slid down my sides, but she was shaking, worse than I had ever felt before.

“You know, I’ve never—” she said quickly, “I’ve—never—”

“Is this too fast?”

“What? No! I mean…maybe.”

“I’m really sorry, I don’t know how these things work in other factions…you get it, in Abnegation, we’d have to be married by now, but, uh, that’s also really fast to be thinking about…”

“It’s not that. Not at all.”

“Then what?”

“I never told you why I call myself Ace.”

“Because all of your past names started with A. Because you aced the literacy tests.”

“Well. Yes. Those too.”

“What?”

“I think I might be asexual. You know. As in, not...not super into...you know.”

At first, I didn’t get it, the words running back and forth in my head. Then I realized.

“Oh...oh, no, that’s fine, I wasn’t implying that, that was the serious end goal right now, honestly, I still don’t think I’m confident enough to do it now, anytime soon, anyway.”

Ace coughed. “Right. That’s...alright, then.”

Our hands were linked between us and I swung them back and forth idly. Ace touched my cheek.

“But if I was going to try it with anyone, just to see what everyone’s so excited about,” she said, “I’d trust you.”

“Trust me,” I echoed quietly.

She nodded. “I do.”

We kissed again, and this time, it was slow, familiar. I knew exactly how we fit together, her arm around my waist, my fingers in her hair, the pressure of her lips on mine. We had each other memorized.