What else do I know about dogs? I shouldn't look it in the eye. That's a sign of aggression. I remember asking my father for a pet dog when I was young, and now, staring at the ground in front of the dog's paws, I can't remember why. It comes closer, still growling. If staring into its eyes is a sign of aggression, what's a sign of submission? My breaths are loud but steady. I sink to my knees. The last thing I want to do is lie down on the ground in front of the dog-making its teeth level with my face-but it's the best option I have. I stretch my legs out behind me and lean on my elbows. The dog creeps closer, and closer, until I feel its warm breath on my face. My arms are shaking. It barks in my ear, and clench my teeth to keep from screaming. Something rough and wet touches my cheek. The dog's growling stops, and when I lift my head to look at it again, My heart pounds at the mention of the ceremony. "You're welcome to come over later, if you'd like," Caleb says politely. Thank you." Susan smiles at Caleb. Robert raises an eyebrow at me. He and I have been exchanging looks for the past year as Susan and Caleb flirt in the tentative way known only to the Abnegation. Caleb's eyes follow Susan down the walk. I have to grab his arm to startle him from his daze. I lead him into the house and close the door behind us. He turns to me. His dark, straight eyebrows draw together so that a crease appears between them. When he frowns, he looks more like my mother than my father. In an instant I can see him living the same kind of life my father did: staying in Abnegation, learning a trade, marrying Susan, and having a family. It will be wonderful.