“Al walks toward the railing. "No," Eric says. "She has to do it on her own." "No, she doesn't," Al growls. "She did what you said. She's not a coward. She did what you said." Eric doesn't respond. Al reaches over the railing, and he's so tall that he can reach Christina's wrist. She grabs his forearm. Al pulls her up, his face red with frustration, and I run forward to help. I'm too short to do much good as I suspected, but I grip Christina under the shoulder once she's high enough, and Al and I haul her over the barrier. She drops to the ground her face still blood smeared from the fight, her back soaking wet, her body quivering. I kneel next to her. Her eyes lift to mine, then shift to Al, and we all catch our breath together.”

“Without thinking, I grab Al's arm and squeeze it as tightly as I can. I just need something to hold on to. Blood runs down the side of Christina's face and splatters on the ground next to her cheek. This is the first time I have ever prayed for someone to fall unconscious....Al frees his hand and pulls me tight to his side. I clench my teeth to keep from crying out.”

“Should i even bother scanning the crowd for my parents? I could turn around and go back to the dormitory. Then I see her. My mother stands alone near the railing with her hands clasped in front of her. she has never looked more out of place, with her gray slacks and gray jacket buttoned at the throat, her hair in its simple twist and her face placid. I start toward her, tears jumping into my eyes. She came. She came for me. I walk faster. She sees me, and for a second her expression is blank, like she doesn't know who I am. Then her eyes light up, and she opens her arms. She smells like soap and laundry detergent.”

“Do they have to be so public?” I say."She just kissed him." Al frowns at me. When he frowns, his thick eyebrows touch his eyelashes. "It’s not like they’re stripping naked.""A kiss is not something you do in public."Al, Will, and Christina all give me the same knowing smile.“What?” I say.“Your Abnegation is showing,” says Christina. “The rest of us are all right with a little affection in public.”“Oh.” I shrug. “Well...I guess I’ll have to get over it, then.”“Or you can stay frigid,” says Will, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “You know. If you want.”

“I think they know we're talking about them," I say."So? They already know I hate them.""They do? How?"Christina fakes a smile at them and waves. I look down, my cheeks warm. I shouldn't be gossiping anyway. Gossiping is self-indulgent.Will hooks a foot around one of Al's legs and yanks back,knocking Al to the ground. Al scrambles to his feet."Because I've told them," she says, through the gritted teeth of her smile. Her teeth are straight on top and crooked on the bottom.She looks at me. "We try to be pretty honest about our feelings in Candor. Plenty of people have told me that they don't like me.And plenty of people haven't. Who cares?""We just...weren't supposed to hurt people," I say."I like to think I'm helping them by hating them," she says. "I'm reminding them that they aren't God's gift to humankind.”

“Standing alone at the railing is Four. Though he's not an initiate anymore, most of the Dauntless use this day to come together with their families. Either his family doesn't like to come together, or he wasn't originally a Dauntless. Which faction could he have come from? "There's one of my instructors." I lean closer to say. "He's kind of intimidating." "He's handsome," she says. I find myself nodding without thinking. She laughs and lifts her arm from my shoulders. I want to steer her away from him, but just as I'm about to suggest that we go somewhere else, he looks over his shoulder. His eyes widen at the sight of my mother. She offers him her hand. "Hello. My name is Natalie," she says. "I'm Beatrice's mother." I have never seen my mother shake hands with someone. Four eases his hand into hers, looking stiff, and shakes it twice. The gesture looks unnatural for both of them. No, Four was not originally Dauntless if he doesn't shake hands easily.”

“What is it with you today?” says Christina on the way to breakfast. Her eyes are stillswollen from sleep and her tangled hair forms a fuzzy halo around her face.“Oh, you know,” I say. “Sun shining. Birds chirping.”She raises an eyebrow at me, as if reminding me that we are in an undergroundtunnel.”