When she limped out to their garden table, Chime on her shoulder, Zhegorz rushed to help.
“I did as you said,” he told her. “Did I tell you last night?” He helped her sit on the bench next to Briar. “They know you see things on the wind now. I don’t think they believe you are conceited.”
Tris sighed. “No doubt you’re right. Zhegorz, thank you for helping them. I knew you could do it. Now, please, I would like to eat, if it’s all right. I’m starved.” She looked at Briar’s plate. “Is that cabbage rolls? I don’t care if I never see another cabbage roll in my life.”
A girl who had waited on them came to tell Tris the day’s selections. Once Tris had chosen, a brief silence fell. It was broken by Zhegorz, who said, “I liked it.”
Tris and the others turned to look at him. He had chosen a bench at the table next to theirs. From the tilt of his brass-lensed spectacles, he was staring into the distance. “Liked what, Zhegorz?” Sandry asked gently.
“Being attended to. Being heard. Being useful.” There was wistfulness in his voice. “I was never any of those things before, only crazy. I don’t want to go back to being the crazy man who hears all manner of things and sometimes sees them. I like being attended to.” He got up and wandered off, his hands in his pockets.
“Zhegorz,” called Tris. He stopped, though he didn’t look back at her. “It is nice. I know,” she told him.
He nodded, and left them alone in the garden.
Once he was gone, Ambros looked at Briar, Daja, and Sandry. “Your friend over there is very determined,” he said with respect, nodding to Tris.
“Oh, all three girls are like that,” Briar said carelessly. “Sometimes you need to hit them with a brick to get their attention. They get it from our mothers, I think.”
“Being attended to. Being heard. Being useful. I was never any of those things before, only crazy.
“I did as you said,” he told her. “Did I tell you last night?” He helped her sit on the bench next to Briar. “They know you see things on the wind now. I don’t think they believe you are conceited.”
Tris sighed. “No doubt you’re right. Zhegorz, thank you for helping them. I knew you could do it. Now, please, I would like to eat, if it’s all right. I’m starved.” She looked at Briar’s plate. “Is that cabbage rolls? I don’t care if I never see another cabbage roll in my life.”
A girl who had waited on them came to tell Tris the day’s selections. Once Tris had chosen, a brief silence fell. It was broken by Zhegorz, who said, “I liked it.”
Tris and the others turned to look at him. He had chosen a bench at the table next to theirs. From the tilt of his brass-lensed spectacles, he was staring into the distance. “Liked what, Zhegorz?” Sandry asked gently.
“Being attended to. Being heard. Being useful.” There was wistfulness in his voice. “I was never any of those things before, only crazy. I don’t want to go back to being the crazy man who hears all manner of things and sometimes sees them. I like being attended to.” He got up and wandered off, his hands in his pockets.
“Zhegorz,” called Tris. He stopped, though he didn’t look back at her. “It is nice. I know,” she told him.
He nodded, and left them alone in the garden.
Once he was gone, Ambros looked at Briar, Daja, and Sandry. “Your friend over there is very determined,” he said with respect, nodding to Tris.
“Oh, all three girls are like that,” Briar said carelessly. “Sometimes you need to hit them with a brick to get their attention. They get it from our mothers, I think.”