I push open the door just as Tobias, who is sitting on the floor with one leg stretched out, hurls a butter knife at the opposite wall. It sticks, handle out, from a large hunk of cheese they positioned on top of the dresser. Caleb, standing beside him, stares in disbelief, first at the cheese and then at me.<br />"Tell me he's some kind of Dauntless prodigy," says Caleb. "Can you do this too?"<br />"With my right hand, maybe," I say. "But yes, <i> Four </i> is some kind of Dauntless prodigy. <br />Tobias's eyes catch mine on the word "Four." Caleb doesn't know that Tobias wears his excellence all the time in his own nickname.