“No!" He recoiled. "You and I are finished.""Son..." I started.But he rounded on me. "Do you think me so soft that calling me son might change my mind? How long did you sit on this information? Or am I to believe you only discovered it now? My mother's blood may stain another's hands, but Charles Lee is no less a monster, and all he does, he does by your command.”

“How do you know he's a friend? There might be a number of people looking for me."The creases around her eyes deepened. "I figure he's a friend, 'cause every now and then he calls,'Answer me, you stubborn son-of-a-bitch.”

“What... what are you doing here?"He's shaking his head as he walks my way; a steaming coffee mug is in his hand."What am I doing here? I live here.""Y-you do? How did I get here?"He starts to laugh. "You don't remember?""No... I really don't."He places the mug in front of me. "You called me on your cell. I found you spaced out of your mind in an alley behind the bar. You were talking to a cat. You claimed it was your mother.”

“Goldene Haar!'' he exclaims and takes one of my long braids into his hand. I am not certain I heard right. Did he say ''golden hair'' about my braids?Are you Jewish? The question startles me. ''Yes, I am Jewish.'' How old are you? I am thirteen.'' ''You are tall for your age. Is this your mother?'' He touches Mommy lightly on the shoulder. ''You go with your mother.”

“Eric was holding my hands, and I was digging my nails into him like we were doing something else. He won't mind, I though, as I realized I'd drawn blood. And sure enough, he didn't. "Let go," he advised me, and I loosened my grip on his hands. "No, not of me," he said smiling. "You can hold on to me as long as you want.”

“Why do you care, anyway?" I say. "You can be either cruel instructor or concerned boyfriend." I tense up at the word "boyfriend." I didn’t mean to use it so flippantly, but it’s too late now. "You can’t play both parts at the same time.""I am not cruel." He scowls at me "I was protecting you this morning. How do you think Peter and his idiot friends would have reacted if they discovered that you and I were..." He sighs. "You would never win. They would always call you ranking a result of my favoritism rather than your skill."I open my mouth to object, but I can't. A few smart remarks come to mind, but I dismiss them. He's right. My cheeks warm, and I cool them with my hands."You didn't have to insult me to prove something to them," I say finally."And you didn't have to run off to your brother just because I hurt you," he says. He rubs at the back of his neck."Besides- it worked, didn't it?""At my expense.""I didn't think it would affect you this way." Then he looks down and shrugs. "Sometimes I forget that I can hurt you. That you are capable of being hurt."I slide my hands into my pockets and rock back on my heels. A strange feeling goes through me- a sweet, aching weakness. He did what he did because he believed in my strength.At home it was Caleb who was strong, because he could forget himself, because all the characteristics my parents valued came naturally to him. No one has ever been so convinced of my strength.I stand on my tiptoes, lift my head, and kiss him. Only our lips touch."You're brilliant. You know that?" I shake my head. "You always know exactly what to do.""Only because I've been thinking about his for a long time," he says, kissing me briefly. "How I would handle it, if you and I..." He pulls back and smiles. "Did I hear you call me your boyfriend, Tris?""Not exactly." I shrug. "Why? Do you want me to?"He slips his hands over my neck and presses his thumbs under my chin, tilting my head back so his forehead meets mine. For a moment he stands there, his eyes closed, breathing my air. I feel the pulse in his fingertips. I feel the quickness of his breath. He seems nervous."Yes," he finally says.”