I stand facing the person who helped me. My eyes twitch up, just for a second, to see his face. Tobias, as blank-faced as the rest of them. Was I wrong? Is he not Divergent? Tears spark behind my eyes, and I blink then back as I turn away from him.
People crowd into the car around me, so we stand in four rows, shoulder-to-shoulder. And then something peculiar happens: fingers laced with mine, and a palm presses to my palm.
Tobias is holding my hand.