Page 80 of The Sixth Fraction

“That’s because he’s a bad teacher, and I’m not.”

“Well, luckily, I remember where Four’s team put their flag, because my brother was on their team,” Uriah says. “The pier. On the carousel.”

“Ooh.” Will’s eyes light up. “That would force the other team to approach from only one direction.”

“Unless they want to wade through the marsh,” Lynn says. “Which is unlikely. Let’s go there.”

Everyone else agrees, and we set out across the bridge, toward the pier. It’s quiet in this part of the city, and still. The raccoons and foxes and squirrels tend to gravitate toward the wooded areas closer to the marsh, and this is just a maze of concrete.

But it feels different to me now that I know more about the factionless. How many of these buildings hide them from view? How many of these paths are the ones they walk with more confidence than we do? I think of Tris, and how immediately she reacted to the sound of footsteps. Her hand on my chest, pressing me back. Her eyes bright and alert.

I don’t know why I keep thinking about her. There’s no reason to. My business with Evelyn—such as it was—is done. And Tris was only ever her errand girl. Her lackey, as I called her myself.

We walk under the highway overpass and past the black building that stands alone right before the jut of the pier. The carousel is in the middle of a pavilion, its horses with missing hooves, missing noses, missing tails, all at varying heights. It’s the perfect place to keep a flag—low enough to climb, simple to see people coming from every direction. I was proud of our team when we came across it.

Looming over the pavilion is the Ferris wheel. It reminds me of a spiderweb; the white metal beams have the same kind of geometry. Evenly spaced, crisscrossing here and there for stability. Cars dangling like raindrops from its edges. I can’t imagine riding in one of those for fun.

As I’m staring up at it, I notice movement on the ground near its base. It can’t be Eric’s team, can it? I didn’t notice any of them getting off the train with us, and surely none of them run fast enough to have beaten us here. I try to imagine heavy-footed Drew sprinting along the marsh, and swallow a laugh.

The initiates are bickering about strategy: about whether to hide the flag on one of the horses or on top of the carousel, and whether they should seek out the other team’s flag or focus on defense. Will, Uriah, and Marlene seem to be warring for dominance, with Lynn trying to find a way to climb on top of the carousel. I nudge Lauren with my elbow.

“Saw something over there,” I say, nodding toward the Ferris wheel. “I’m gonna go check it out.”

“Need backup? I hate this part.”

“Someone needs to stay and make sure they don’t kill each other.”

Lauren sighs and nods. I slip around the carousel and creep toward the Ferris wheel. I hear a low voice, and duck behind one of the wheel’s supports to listen.

“They’re here, and that means the others will be here soon, and—” It’s a familiar voice, but I can’t quite place it, not until the other person responds.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize they would be right here.”

Well, that’s definitely Tris. Her voice is a little lower than you’d expect, based on her size, and it has a little rasp in it. Character, I find myself thinking. It has character.

“If it wasn’t Peter—” That has to be Christina, only . . . I’ve never heard Christina sound so afraid.

“I understand. It’s all right. Just go ahead to Candor, and I’ll meet you there, okay? I’ve got this.”

“Are you sure?” A little thick, like she’s on the verge of tears.

“Yeah. Go scope out the next spot. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Something muffled, like a word spoken into a shirt, and then quiet footsteps leading away from the Ferris wheel and toward the edge of the pier. I stay put for a second, until I’m sure Christina is gone, and then I step out from behind the support.

Tris is staring up at the white latticework above her, her face tipped back to reflect the light of the moon. Her hair is in two braids, one on either side of her head. And she’s dressed like a Dauntless: black boots, black canvas pants, and a tight black jacket.

She sees me and reacts to me all in the same moment, her hand going to the knife at her belt and her eyes fixing on mine. When she recognizes me, she relaxes, but only a little.

“What are you doing here?” she demands.

“Playing capture the flag,” I say. “What are you doing here?”

She narrows her eyes. “I’m not feeling particularly trusting right now. You know our safe house got raided a few days after you walked into it?”

“Really?” I’ve heard the sentries are stepping up their patrols since the Choosing Ceremony, trying to figure out who the attackers were. But I didn’t know they were conducting raids.

“So it wasn’t you who told them where to find us?”