People who get this kind of result are..." She looks over her shoulder like she expects someone to appear behind her. "...are called...Divergent." She says the last word so quietly that I almost don't hear it, and her tense, worried look returns. She walks around the side of the chair and leans in close to me. (3.20)
I am proud. It will get me into trouble someday, but today it makes me brave. I walk toward the ledge and hear snickers behind me. (6.66)
"Um..." I don't know why I hesitate. But "Beatrice" just doesn't sound right anymore.
"Think about it," he says, a faint smile curling his lips. "You don't get to pick again."
A new place, a new name. I can be remade here.
"Tris," I say firmly. (6.82-5)