Hi everyone! It's me again, and I know you're probably pissed at me for leaving the other story, I just wanted to say sorry. I'm going to try to improve my writing a lot in this fanfiction, but if you really want me to go back to "New School, New Memories, New Life", then I can possibly wrap it up. Thanks, love you all.
Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent, Veronica Roth does, but that's pretty obvious. Enjoy!
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age shall burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage, against the dying of the light.
-Dylan Thomas.
xxx
Tris.
Grey. It is the color embedded in the clouds on a stormy day. It is the color of most of the clothes I wear. It is the color of my eyes. My plain, dull, abnormally large eyes. I observe my reflection in the mirror with distaste. Grey sweater, black jeans, black boots. It is what I usually wore when I lived in New York. I used to think it was a place where no matter what age, gender or appearance you have, you are accepted. Well, it looks like the city accepted everyone, everyone except me, Beatrice Prior.
I know, I know, horrid name. People were happy to call me 'Bea' in the city, but new place new name. New social status as well, hopefully. I was what most people would call an outcast, in New York. The quiet girl with the grey eyes and the friend who committed suicide. His name was Al. I don't speak of Al.
My mother and father dragged me here because they thought I was unhappy. Well no shit Sherlock, anyone with eyes could see that. They are currently downstairs in the kitchen of our very boring house that is stationed in the very un-exciting suburbs of Chicago. My mother, Natalie Prior, volunteered in a project that provides food for the homeless. Andrew Prior, my father, is a councilman. Throughout my life they have taught me selflessness and bravery, kindness, honesty, and intelligence. They are good people, my parents. I cannot say the same for myself, because no matter how hard I try, I am selfish, fearful, greedy and untruthful. I am human.
My brother's name is Caleb. 10 months is the age gap between us, but he acts like it is 3 years. Caleb is vein and superior, but selflessness still manages to shine through those negatives characteristics. We are so different in practically every way, he focuses on school, I, although being quite smart, have never managed to concentrate for more than 5 minutes. His eyes are shocking green, his hair a light brown, his skin a little tanned. I have grey eyes, blonde shoulder-length hair and very pale skin. Caleb definitely got the good genes, I see a lot of girls eyeing him. Unfortunately for me, no boys have ever shown any interest in me.
"Beatrice!" The singles word called out by my father echoes through the quiet house, his warm voice bringing me downstairs after one last look in the mirror. I don't put on makeup, I mean what's the point? It's not going to make me pretty. On the way to my father I tie my hair up in a low pony tail, strands of dirty blonde hair falling loose from the front, framing my face.
"Good morning," I greet my family. I get a chorus of 'hello's and 'good morning's back. My mother walks swiftly over to me and wraps her arms around my small frame. I return the hug. My father kisses me on my forehead and hands me a blueberry muffin. Caleb slings an arm around my shoulders, already munching on his muffin while reading a big, leather-bound book.
"Morning Bea," He mumbles while grabbing his car keys off the dining table. "C'mon, gotta go. First day of school!"
Great. My nerves are making my hands sweat, so I swipe them down my jeans quickly, say a quick 'bye' to my parents and follow Caleb out to his beloved car that I call the Blueberry. I mean, as far as similarities go, this car and an actual blueberry are like twins. The car is round and small and curvy... oh and a very bright blue. I cringe and jump into the passenger side, hunching down in my seat.
"Can't you get a normal colored car?" I ask my brother as he starts up the Blueberry. As it purrs to life, Caleb laughs.
"Bea, what's the point of a normal car!?" He grins and pulls out onto the road. I roll my eyes.
"How do you even know how to get to school?" The realization only struck me then, we've never been here before.
"When we first moved in and when you went up to your room I drove around." Caleb says. Of course he did. My brother, the over-achiever, the smart one, already knows his way around. Already fits in. How the hell am I going to go making friends?
Before I could stress about anything else, Caleb pulls into a parking space outside a massive building surrounded by green grass. There is a grand sign across the crowded doorway which reads 'Chicago High.' I bite my lip and watch the students milling around the parking lot. They're like freakin' animals. The athletes running around, smashing into each other, the bookworms sitting quietly, trying to avoid being the prey of the dolled up bitches. Classic high school scene. I close my eyes and groan.
A door slams to my left, making me jump. Caleb has eagerly jumped out of the Blueberry and is waiting for me. I tuck the loose strands of hair behind my ear, straiten up my knitted sweater, and step out onto the asphalt.
The cold hits me like a truck and I shiver. Noise from the students threatens to overwhelm me and I almost get back in the Blueberry, but my stupid brother has already locked his stupid car and is running off to find his first stupid class. I follow behind grudgingly and try to ignore the hungry stares from majority of the people in the car park. I'm just more prey for the lions. I sigh.
Inside the school building is even colder. I feel a slice of anger run through me. Why would my mother and father choose to enroll me in a new school just before Thanksgiving? They say they want to be here in Chicago for Christmas. Great. It still makes no sense.
I reach the administration office using complex signs that are stationed all around the building. By the time I get to the dark-haired lady at behind the front desk I am in a foul mood.
"Hi I'm Beatrice Prior. Can I get my timetable?" I mumble, trying to still be kind and polite.
"Hello Beatrice, here it is. I'm Tori Wu." Tori hands me a sheet of paper and smiles, "Just call me Tori though. Oh and your locker number is 460 and the combination number is in the top right corner of your timetable."
I flash her a quick smile and turn to leave, thanking her on my way out the door. The hallway is packed with cake-faced girls and arrogant boys, some yelling, some throwing footballs. I stick to the wall of lockers and push my way to number 460. Just as I am getting near it, someone's foot catches mine and I stumble, almost tripping over myself. I am stopped by running face-first into someone's back. By the feel of their masculine figure and the smell of their cologne, I'm guessing it's a boy I ran into. Excellent.
"Watch it!" The guy exclaims, whirling around to face me. I am about to retort to his rudeness with some of my own, when I get a good look at his face. And holy shit, he is handsome. Deep blue eyes, the color of the ocean with a speck of light blue next to his pupil. Dark brown hair and eyebrows. Tanned skin wired with lean muscles. Good Lord.
"Sorry," I mutter, tearing my eyes away from his face and body.
"Forget it. What's a freshmen doing here?" His voice is low and smooth... he's probably a good singer. Then I realize what he said.
"I'm a junior!" I say, offended. Obviously I'm short and petite and I look like a bird, but I'm not that small!
The gorgeous boy raises his eyebrows, "Oh. Well sorry. What's your name?"
I pause. What is my name? 'Beatrice' died when Al did, and 'Bea' just doesn't fit the person I've become. What do I say, what do I say, what do I say, what do-
"Is it a hard one or something?" The guy I bashed into asks, a smile quirking up the corners of his perfect lips.
"Tris." I blurt. Tris? That's new. That's good. I mentally applaud myself for my quick-thinking.
"Well Tris," He says, "Welcome to Chicago High."
And that was it. The gorgeous boy with the blue eyes walks away from me without another word, and I find myself standing shell-shocked in front of my locker until the bell chimes, breaking me out of my reverie.
Tris Prior. I like it. Maybe I'll find some confidence within myself here in Chicago. As I head off to my first class, I replay my meeting with the gorgeous blue-eyed boy, and hope I get to see him again, find out his name.
After all, Tris Prior can do anything.
Hello, hello!
Please leave reviews and suggestions, I will only continue this story if people ask me to.
Hope you enjoyed, I love you all!
Fourtrisandbonesandghosts xx