“Let's go," I say. "Get up, Peter.""You want him to walk?" Caleb demands. "Are you insane?""Did I shoot him in the leg?" I say. "No. He walks. Where do we go, Peter?”

“You want him to walk?" Caleb demands. "Are you insane?""Did I shoot him in the leg?" I say. "No. He walks. Where do we go, Peter?”

“Peter: Where are you two going?Tris: Why aren't you with your attack group eating dinner?Peter: I don't have one. I'm injured.Christina: Yeah right, you are!Peter: Well, I don't want to go to battle with a bunch of factionless. So I'm going to stay here.Christina: Like a coward. Let everyone else clean up the mess for you.Peter: Yep! Have fun dying.”

“That doesn't sound fair," says Peter. "What if one person only has seven fears and someone else has twenty? That's not their fault."Four stares at him for a few seconds and then laughs. "Do you really want to talk to me about what's fair?"The crowd of initiates parts to make way for him as he walks toward Peter, folds his arms,and says,in a deadly voice, "I understand why you're worried, Peter.The events of last night certainly proved that you are a miserable coward."Peter stares back,expressionless."So now we all know," says Four, quietly, "that you are afraid of a short, skinny girl from Abnegation." His mouth curls in a smile.Will puts his arm around me. Christina's shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. And somewhere within me,I find a smile too.”

“Peter would probably throw a party if I stopped breathing.''Well,' he says, 'I would only go if there was cake.”

“I try to catch my breath and calm myself down, but it isn't easy. I was dead. I was dead, and then i wasn't, and why? Because of Peter? Peter? I stare at him. He still looks so innocent, despite all that he has done to prove that he is not. His hair lies smooth against his head, shiny and dark, like we didn't just run for a mile at full speed. His round eyes scan the stairwell and then rest on my face. "What?" he says. "Why are you looking at me like that?" " How did you do it?" I say.”

“Got that gun?” Peter says to Tobias. “No,” says Tobias, “I figured I would shoot the bullets out of my nostrils, so I left it upstairs.”