Author's Note: This wouldn't be possible without the incredible Veronica Roth! Credit to her where credit is due.
This is a "modern day" story. The characters' ages have been modified to fit the story line, as well as some relations.
-GerdyGertha
Beatrice
Dear Journal,
My mother seems to think I should do this. I think she thinks of me as another one of her psych clients sometimes. The only reason I am even complying is because Caleb has to do this, too. It is even more embarrassing for him because he is a year older. Anyways, here goes nothing.
Today is my first day of junior year. I don't know where the time went. It seems like yesterday I was a freshman at West Ridge back in sunny California. Now with dad's new job I've been forced to come here. I don't like it here. The people are rude in this city; always pushing and shoving, always hurrying, and it is so cold. Wish me luck today. Ugh, Erudite High School, what kind of name is that?
I place the pen in between the pages and close the leather bound journal. My mom thinks writing a little will help Caleb and I adjust better, 'letting our feelings out' and stuff. I love my mom more than anything in the world, but sometimes the way she talks really confuses me. Sometimes I don't feel like I relate to her at all. My mom says that we need to try our hardest to write in our journals daily. She isn't going to read them, but she's going to just flip through them, quickly glancing, to make sure we wrote something for the day. I really hope we don't have to keep these up for very long.
I check my phone for the time; it is seven twenty. I throw my legs over the side of the bed and make my way to my closest. I slip into some jeans and a plain grey shirt. I don't have a very creative sense of style. When I am dressed, I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
Downstairs in the kitchen my father is sitting at the wood table. He has the newspaper clutched in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other.
"Good morning, Beatrice," he says not looking up.
"Hey, dad." I grab an apple from the bowl on the table, and I turn to see Caleb coming into kitchen from the back yard.
"It is freezing here!" Caleb says rubbing his hands together and blowing warm air on them. "I am not going to be looking forward to starting the car every morning."
It is only September, but the temperature is very cold at forty degrees. We are from southern California, after all.
Caleb heads towards the stairs and I head towards the front hall to grab my things. The first day of school: it is supposed to be exciting, nerve wracking, and fun! But that's for people who get to see their friends after three months apart. I don't get to see my friends, they are all still at West Ridge. That is one of the main reasons I am not looking forward to this new place. I am going to be alone. Sure, I have Caleb, but he is a grade higher. He is so social and outgoing, and he makes friends so quickly without even trying. I try to be outgoing, I really do, but I'm just not very good at it. Caleb comes bounding down the steps with his backpack slung over his shoulder.
"Ready, Beatrice?" he asks me with a grin. I fake a smile and nod, and we head out to our car.
I pull the navigation application up on my phone so we can find the school. We have only been in Chicago for about two weeks now, and most of the time was spent in our house unpacking. We eventually find the school and get our schedules from the office. I wave goodbye to him as he heads off to his first senior class; Advanced Placement Calculus. Did I mention my brother is extremely intelligent? Though I would never admit it out loud, I am very jealous of Caleb.
I hold the school map in my hands as I walk down the hall. My first class is History, boring, but I can't seem to find where the room is. This school is a lot bigger than my last and all the halls look so alike. My eyes are focused on my map, and I look up just in time to crash into somebody.
I feel my face get red as I look up at the boy I collided with. I open my mouth to apologize but suddenly I can't remember how to speak, or breathe. Breath, Beatrice! Apologize!
"Oh, um, I'm sorry," I mutter. This boy I just hit is tall. And his eyes. His eyes. They are the most beautifully unique shade of dark blue I have ever seen. I could get lost in eyes like those.
"No worries," he says, barely glancing at me and giving me a half smile before walking past me. His voice is so deep it almost rumbles; it stirs something inside of me.
Suddenly the two minute warning bell sounds and I gather my thoughts and look back down at my map. I begin searching for my class once again, much more carefully this time, and eventually make my way there. I had to ask for help from a random girl in the hallway with short black hair. Turns out I was walking in the complete opposite direction.
Just my luck.
