all the empty beds, and then winks conspicuously at me as she walks out of the dormitory.
Tobias smiles a little, but not enough to make me think he's actually happy. And instead of sitting next to me, he lingers at the foot of my bed, his fingers fumbling over the hem of his shirt.
"There's something I want to talk to you about," he says.
"Okay," I say, and I feel a spike of fear in my chest, like a jump on a heart monitor.
"I want to ask you to promise not to get mad," he says, "but . . ."
"But you know I don't make stupid promises," I say, my throat tight.
"Right." He does sit, then, in the curve of blankets left unmade on his bed. He avoids my eyes. "Nita left a note under my pillow, telling me to meet her last night. And I did."
I straighten, and I can feel an angry heat spreading through me as I picture Nita's pretty face, Nita's graceful feet, walking toward my boyfriend.
"A pretty girl asks you to meet her late at night, and you go?" I demand. "And then you want me not to get mad about it?"
"It's not about that with Nita and me. At all," he says hastily, finally looking at me. "She just wanted to show me something. She doesn't believe in genetic damage, like she led me to believe. She has a plan to take away some of the Bureau's power, to make GDs more equal. We went to the fringe."
He tells me about the underground tunnel that leads outside, and the ramshackle town in the fringe, and the conversation with Rafi and Mary. He explains the war that the government kept hidden so that no one would know that "genetically pure" people are capable of incredible violence, and the way GDs live in the metropolitan areas where the government still has real power.
As he speaks, I feel suspicion toward Nita building inside me, but I don't know where it comes from—the gut instinct I usually trust, or my jealousy. When he finishes, he looks at me expectantly, and I purse my lips, trying to decide.
"How do you know she's telling you the truth?" I say.
"I don't," he says. "She promised to show me evidence. Tonight." He takes my hand. "I'd like you to come."
"And Nita will be okay with that?"
"I don't really care." His fingers slide between mine. "If she really needs my help, she'll have to figure out how to be okay with it."
I look at our joined fingers, at the fraying cuff of his gray shirt and the worn knee of his jeans. I don't want to spend time with Nita and Tobias together, knowing that her supposed genetic damage gives her something in common with him that I will never have. But this is important to him, and I want to know if there's evidence of the Bureau's wrongdoing as much as he does.
"Okay," I say. "I'll go. But don't for a second think that I actually believe she's not interested in you for more than your genetic code."
"Well," he says. "Don't for a second think I'm interested in anyone but you."
He puts his hand on the back of my neck and draws my mouth toward his.
The kiss and his words both comfort me, but my unease doesn't completely disappear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
TOBIAS
TRIS AND I meet Nita in the hotel lobby after midnight, among the potted plants with their unfurling flowers, a tame wilderness. When Nita sees Tris at my side, her face tightens like she just tasted something bitter.
"You promised you wouldn't tell her," she says, pointing at me. "What happened to protecting her?"
"I changed my mind," I say.
Tris laughs, harshly. "That's what you told him, that he would be protecting me? That's a pretty skillful manipulation. Well done."
I raise my eyebrows at her. I never thought of it as a manipulation, and that scares me a little. I can usually rely on myself to see a person's ulterior motives, or to invent them in my mind, but I was so used to my desire to protect Tris, especially after almost losing her, that I didn't even think twice.
Or I was so used to lying instead of telling difficult truths that I welcomed the chance to deceive her.
"It wasn't a manipulation, it was the truth." Nita doesn't look angry anymore, just tired, her hand sliding over her face and then smoothing back her hair. She isn't defensive, which means she might be telling the truth.