“He hooks a thumb in one of his belt loops and says, “How are you, Beatrice?” “Did you just call me Beatrice?” “Thought I would give it a try.” He smiles. “Not good?” “Maybe on special occasions only. Initiation days, Choosing Days …”

“Did you just call me BEATRICE?”

“Tris," Tobias says, crouching next to me. His face is pale, almost yellow.There is too much I want to say. The first thing that comes out is, "Beatrice."He laughs weakly."Beatrice," he amends, and touches his lips to mine. I curl my fingers into his shirt.”

“There's a reason why she left them, Lauren," he says. His voice is deep, and it rumbles. "What's your name?" "Um..." I don't know why I hesitate. But "Beatrice" just doesn't sound right anymore."Think about it," he says, a faint smile curling his lips. " You don't get to pick again." A new place, a new name. I can be remade here. "Tris," I say firmly.”

“Be brave, Beatrice. I love you.”

“Tobias," I say anyway. My hands shake, but not from fear this time– from anger. "Where is he? What are you doing to him?""I see no reason to provide that information," says Jeanine...I make my voice flat and factual, like hers. "I see no reason to provide that information."I hear a faint snort. Peter is covering his mouth. Jeanine glares at him, and his laughter effortlessly transforms into a coughing fit."Mockery is childish, Beatrice," she says. "It does not become you.""Mockery is childish, Beatrice," I repeat in my best imitation of her voice. "It does not become you."”

“She tries to turn too soon, and the ladder smacks into Fernando's shoulder."Oh! Sorry, Nando."The jolt knocks his glasses askew. He smiles at Christina and takes the glasses off, shoving them into his pocket."Nando?" I say to him. "I thought the Erudite didn't like nicknames?""When a pretty girl calls you by a nickname," he says, "it is only logical to respond to it.”