Two Weeks

I can only take credit for my own ideas...everything else belongs to Veronica Roth.

Tris

As I lie in bed, staring at the plain grey ceiling, I can't help but plan out every moment of the next two weeks. I know I need to sleep, but sleep seems to be avoiding me these days. I can't seem to turn my thoughts off at night. It is not as bad during the day when I can stay busy, but at night all I can do is track the time. I try to distract myself with the details of everything for the next hours, days, and weeks. It doesn't help! Two weeks until the ceremony. Two weeks until everything changes.

Two weeks. I glance at the clock on my desk and sigh as I read 4:06 am. I quickly calculate that there are 13 days, 12 hours, and 54 minutes until the ceremony officially begins.

A single tear rolls down my cheek and I quickly brush it away. I can't cry. It is selfish to spend my time crying I remind myself... but I am selfish. I have never been good enough for Abnegation and I am not sure I ever will be. But, I have to try. I have to be the good little Abnegation girl that everyone expects me to be. I have done it for the last 14 years; I can keep it up now.

I finally give up on sleep and get up to start the day. I take a quick shower, dress in my plain grey dress, and tie my long blonde hair into a bun. I have not looked in a mirror for almost 3 months, but I am certain I look exactly the same as I always do. I will be getting a haircut in 12 days and can look then.

I pull the grey sheets and scratchy grey blankets over my bed and straighten the few items in my room to perfection. My spare sets of clothing are arranged perfectly in the closet and my night clothes are folded neatly and tucked away under my pillow. My desk is in perfect order, school books and supplies stacked neatly next to my small lamp and alarm clock. I double check that everything is in order, after all it is selfish to leave a mess, and quietly slip out of the room.

I slip down stairs and begin to work, keeping an eye on the time. It is 4:46 when I begin the laundry. There is not much since I did it just yesterday, but there are a few towels, a set of sheets, and two sets of clothing that belong to our neighbor. Helen has been unwell and we have been doing her cooking and cleaning. She is a kind old woman who has lived next door since my parents moved into our home. Once I finish scrubbing, rinsing, wringing, and hanging the laundry it is 5:20. I scrub down the entire kitchen and begin to prepare breakfast.

Today is Caleb's turn to prepare breakfast, so I decide to surprise him by doing it myself. As I prepare the simple meal of scrambled eggs, plain toast, and milk, my mind again begins to wander. It is 5:46 and my family will be waking up in 14 minutes. 5:46 which means that there are 13 days, 11 hours, and 14 minutes until the ceremony. I am working mechanically, not really paying attention to what I am doing, when I reach to remove the cast iron skillet from the stove... without an oven mitt.

I quickly drop the pan back down, turn off the burner so the eggs don't burn, and begin to run cold water over the already blistering skin. I hear a sound behind me, but am too consumed with my burn to see who has entered. I stifle the sob building in my throat, it is selfish to make others worry about you, but it is still clear that I am hurt.

"Beatrice, sweetheart, what happened? " my mother softly asks.

"I just burned my hand, it is nothing." I reply, trying to keep an even, steady voice.

My mother softly sighs and leads me to the table before pulling out the small first aid kit from under the sink. She lays out all the supplies on the table and then pulls my hand into hers.

"What happened, sweetheart?" she asks while applying ointment to the burn and beginning to wrap my hand in a soft grey bandage.

"It was nothing, really. I was cooking and I got distracted." I softly reply.

"So it seems. You have been very distracted lately. Am I correct that this is all about a certain event taking place in about 2 weeks?" She replies, not really expecting an answer.

Just as I start to reply, my father and brother walk into the room. "Later" my mother mouths and turns to greet them. Their arrival provides a temporary reprieve, but I know I will not be able to avoid answering for long. She is the only one who knows what is going on with me. She knows me better than anyone in the world, well, almost anyone.

I finish breakfast quickly, and since Caleb offered to clean up, I decide to find an excuse to get out of the house as fast as possible.

"I am going to go deliver Mrs. Jackson's laundry, take the factionless donations to the drop off center, and then run a few errands. I won't be late." I say as I turn leave.

"Don't forget, sweetheart, we will talk when you get home." My mother says with a smile.

I head out the door with a wave, arms loaded with deliveries. I run next door to drop off the laundry, politely listen to Helen tell me the same story for the fifteenth time, and excuse myself to complete my stops. By the time I finish at the donation center, it is 8:15 and I have 45 minutes until I need to be at the spot. I have plenty of time but start on my way there, taking the long route.

I sit in the shade of my favorite tree on the edge of town, waiting for my best friend to arrive. My mother is the only one who knows about my relationship with him, it is not proper for a girl to spend so much time alone with a boy, but she doesn't care. I plan to spend as much time as I can with him for the next 13 days, 8 hours, and 11 minutes. I plan to take advantage of every moment until the moment everything changes, T.J.'s choosing ceremony.

I can't wait until he gets here. My best friend. My favorite person in the world. My T.J.

Tobias James Eaton.