CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE TOBIASTHAT NIGHT WHEN my head hits the pillow, heavy with thoughts, I hear something crinkle beneath my cheek. A note under my pillowcase.
T—
Meet me outside the hotel entrance at eleven. I need to talk to you.
—Nita
I look at Tris’s cot. She’s sprawled on her back, and there is a piece of hair covering her nose and mouth that shifts with each exhale. I don’t want to wake her, but I feel strange, going to meet a girl in the middle of the night without telling her about it. Especially now that we’re trying so hard to be honest with each other.
I check my watch. It’s ten to eleven.
Nita’s just a friend. You can tell Tris tomorrow. It might be urgent.
I push the blankets back and shove my feet into my shoes—I sleep in my clothes these days. I pass Peter’s cot, the
