“Then his eyes focus on something over my shoulder, and he starts walking. I turn to see Uriah jogging from the elevator bank. He is grinning.“Heard a rumor you were a dirty traitor,” Uriah says.“Yeah, whatever,” says Zeke.They collide in an embrace that looks almost painful to me, slapping each other’s backs and laughing with their fists clasped between them.”

“Do the elevators work?" I ask Uriah, as quietly as I can. "Sure they do." says Zeke, rolling his eyes, "You think I'm stupid enough not to come here early and turn on the emergency generator?""Yeah," says Uriah. "I kinda do.”

“Ready,Stiff?" Zeke smirks down at me. "I have to say,I'm impressed that you aren't screaming and crying right now.""I told you," Uriah says. "She's Dauntless through and through. Now get on with it.""Careful,brother,or I might not tighten your straps enough," Zeke says. He smacks his knee. "And then,splat!""Yeah,yeah," Uriah says. "And then our mother would boil you alive.”

“Lynn smacks Uriah hard in the back of the head, Christina says, “Hey Tris!” and Uriah cries, “Ow! How on earth do you make a pillow hurt, Lynn?”“My exceptional strength,” she says.”

“Before I leave the bathroom, I pinch my cheeks hard to bring blood to the surface of my skin. It’s stupid, but I don’t want to look weak and exhausted in front of everyone.When I walk back into Tobias’s room, Uriah is sprawled across the bed facedown; Christina is holding the blue sculpture above Tobias’s desk, examining it; and Lynn is poised above Uriah with a pillow, a wicked grin creeping across her face.Lynn smacks Uriah hard in the back of the head, Christina says, “Hey Tris!” and Uriah cries, “Ow! How on earth do you make a pillow hurt, Lynn?”“My exceptional strength,” she says. “Did you get smacked, Tris? One of your cheeks is bright red.”I must not have pinched the other one hard enough. “No, it’s just … my morning glow.”

“What's this about flashing underwear?" says Uriah, sidestepping a bunk. "Whatever it is, I'm in.”

“Uriah drops his tray next to me. It is loaded with beef stew and chocolate cake. I stare at the cake pile.“There was cake?” I say, looking at my own plate, which is more sensibly stocked than Uriah’s.“Yeah, someone just brought it out. Found a couple boxes of the mix in the back and baked it,” he says. “You can have a few bites of mine.”“A few bites? So you’re planning on eating that mountain of cake by yourself?”“Yes.” He looks confused. “Why?”“Never mind.”