They Died For Me,” I Say. That

When You're A Writer, You Hear Your Internal Critic, And That's Really Hard To Get Over. And Then Sometimes You Hear Critiques From Classmates And Stuff. But When A Book Comes Out, It's Just Hundreds Of Opinions And You Have To Learn To Separate Out The Ones You Want To Listen To Or Figure Out Many You Want To Listen To.

I Am No Longer Tris, The Selfless, Or Tris, The Brave. I Suppose That Now, I Must Become More Than Either.

I Reach Out And Take His Hand. His Fingers Slide Between Mine. I Can't Breathe.

I Decide To Do What I Always Do When I'm Not Sure What's Going On: I Act Like Everyone Else.

The Shouts Of Triumph Become Infectious, And I Lift My Voice To Join In, Running Toward My Teammates. Christina Holds The Flag Up High, And Everyone Clusters Around Her, Grabbing Her Arm To Lift The Flag Even Higher. I Can't Reach Her, So I Stand Off To The Side, Grinning. A Hand Touches My Shoulder. "well Done," Four Says Quietly.