We Can Be Mended

por Veronica Roth

We walk the long, dark corridor toward the net side by side. Sometimes our knuckles brush as our arms swing in opposite directions, and I would normally twitch away, but this time, I don’t. We stand together in front of the platform where I once stood to ease Dauntless initiates into their new lives. I remember stretching my hand out for Tris’s small, pale one, clasping my thumb around hers, drawing her to stability. I think of her bright eyes, wild with adrenaline. Little, twitchy Stiff, Eric used to call her. I was too busy announcing her name to the other Dauntless to help Christina out of the net. But for the first time in a long time, when I go over the memory in my mind, I think of Christina, too.

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