"Of course they can't. They don't have death wishes," I tease right back, though there's an edge of pain to my smile as I speak the words. Death wish, indeed.

But then Tris mentions how happy she is, and my moment of vulnerability, or whatever people call it here, fades. How can I not be happy for her when she says how happy she is here?

"I'm glad," I tell her. "I hope I can be happy here, too."

God knows that, besides my family, there's nothing left for me to be happy for back in Chicago.