'If it scares you, it might be a good thing to try.' ~ Seth Godin
At the side of the school's football pitch stood Four. He wasn't waiting for anything in particular, or anyone, but he had decided that he needed time to think. He had skipped class, something that wasn't uncommon or strange for him, but this time it felt different. He felt that if he was going to go threw with this, then at least he should put some proper thought into it.
Three good reasons, he told himself. Three good reasons that I should do this – and then I will.
Of course, Four found it incredibly weird that only now were his morals making him second guess his choices. He hadn't cared any other time that he had done something wrong – so why would he do so now? Was it because it was a girl? Was he really that sexist?
No, Four knew that it was more than that. This Prior chick had never done him any harm, so why should he hurt her? Just so that he could gain some money? What else was holding him back? Four knew that if he got involved with this he would inevitably get involved with school, something he had sworn he wouldn't. It wasn't the learning part of school that he hated, but the people. Horny teenagers gossiping about who screwed who, or who just got a new girlfriend or boyfriend. It was pathetic, that they had nothing better to do with their time than talk about other people's problems. And that was the part that he despised. So if he decided to take up on Peter's offer, he would without a doubt become someone for people to gossip about.
No one had gossiped about Four in some time. He had made sure of that.
But was that really the only reason? That he was scared people would talk about him? If that were true, then Four was no better than them. He knew there was something more to it – but what?
Then it struck him. It wasn't that Prior had never done anything to him. Nor that he was afraid about what people would say. It was the way she had looked at him: in the hallway the previous day, when she had ran into him. She had looked so scared, so small. Like she had been wishing that she was any place other than there at that moment. He could still see the thoughts running across her face – that he was going to hurt her. And he detested it. He felt so sick every time he pictured that fearful look on her face that he wanted – needed – to go break something. And it wasn't just her. When people deliberately avoided Four's gaze because they were afraid of him Four could feel himself turn into Marcus. And there was nothing more that Four hated than that.
But in relation to Marcus... he could escape this. Escape this school, escape him, too. And all it would take would a few weeks of getting to know the Prior girl, then bam, enough money to get him a train ticket out of here. But where would he go? He couldn't go back to her, and he was stupid to even consider the possibility. Marcus would find him in a heartbeat. So where then? If Four was honest with himself, he didn't care. He could live in a cardboard box on the streets and he wouldn't lift a finger in defiance. As long as he got out of that house... then all was good.
Three reasons, he reminded himself. And there they were, already there for him as if his subconscious had already made the choice for him. He would escape Marcus. The money could get him out of here... which would give him a fresh start. And lastly... he would never have to see Prior's face again after he left her.
Four knew that was all these reasons were completely self-centred and selfish. Hell, he hated that those were the only reasons he could come up with. But as his conscience screamed for him to rethink his actions his mind was made up – if he was going to do it, he would do it tomorrow.
Pushing away from the wall he had been leaning on he pulled his hands out his pockets. So this was it. He was finally making some choices for himself.
…
"Wait, Dad, there's something on your face!"
Her wet thumb had already collided with her father's cheek before he had any time to react. Forcing himself to smile through his pain, her dad tugged away, not allowing his daughter to wipe away the dirty mark. It was definitely a strange sight, a child caring for her parent in such a way. But that was how it worked in the Prior household – each and everyone of them was codependent on the other.
The daughter didn't yet know what her father did. And she certainly would not be laughing if she did.
"Come on daddy! Mommy won't kiss you if you have dirt on your face!"
A few seconds passed.
"Daddy? Where's mom?"
Tears lined the eyes of Tris Prior as she sat up in her bed.
"Daddy? Where's mom?"
Restraining a sob, she swung her legs over the side of her bed. It wasn't rare that Tris dreamt this dream, but she hadn't in some time and now the memory was hitting her almost as hard as it did the first time she relived it. Grief hung onto her as she forced herself to stand on her pale, skinny legs and carry herself across the room. No one would guess what had happened to the Priors those many years ago, especially with the way the children acted – like nothing had ever been wrong. No one really saw what was under the well-structured façade that the family wore daily, even around each other. No one really saw how the grief weighed on them.
The reason that the Priors couldn't show emotions around each other was quite simple. Tris was reminded of it all the time that she walked down the same hallway that she was now. Pictures and drawings decorated the wall. They were ones that had been drawn by Tris and Caleb when they had been younger, each trying to outdo the other in who could get the most amount of artwork mounted upon the wall. But the art wasn't the usual kind that kids did.
The one in the middle was the one the struck Tris the hardest. At the time she hadn't really known what was going on, only that Caleb had done one last year and it was her turn now. She had gotten her teacher to help her with the spelling of the two words that was messily written in the middle – Congratulations, Daddy.
Tris still remembered how her teacher had thought that she was drawing it for her dad's birthday. Yes, the reason she had drawn it had concerned her dad but it had a much more sinister background than just the date of his birth.
While other kids had drawn houses, Tris had drawn their small family – their dad, Caleb and her – celebrating their dad's achievement of being sober for two years now. It was something that she decided no six year old should have had to put up with.
An hour later Tris was ready to go to school. After her dream, she really didn't feel in the mood to be going out anywhere but she didn't want to call in sick, as she would first have to explain to Caleb and her dad as to why she wanted to stay home. Besides, after the nightmare she didn't want to be alone anywhere.
Heading out the front door she threw a careless goodbye over her shoulder to Caleb, who was still eating breakfast. He attended a different school so had a different starting time, one which Tris thought was incredibly unfair. Why should she go to school earlier than her brother?
The walk was cold, to say the least. Many people in her year were already driving, although they weren't technically of age yet. Tris had always wondered how they had had the guts to go through with it. But at times like these, she wished she was one of those people.
Upon arriving at school Tris immediately noticed something was different. Peter was hanging around outside the school as per usual, however today, instead of flinging the usual insult at her he completely ignored her, aside from a small smirk that was cast in her general direction. So what was up? Tris highly doubted that he had given up on picking on her, or that he was too busy with something else. Peter was never too busy to pick on Tris.
But now that Peter hadn't said anything, nor was anyone else. The population of her school seemed to rely on Peter to kickstart the flow of insults, and without him doing so they seemed to just ignore her entirely. Tris would have enjoyed it, had there been no unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach that something big was going to happen.
Half the day went by without any commotion. And half the day went by with Tris worrying herself sick about what was going to happen.
She considered briefly if it concerned Four... after all, she hadn't seen him since she had run into him the hallways. She was still completely mortified about that. She hadn't told Will, fearing that he too would predict her untimely demise. But she had immediately dismissed the idea – no one would be so stupid to try and get Four on their side just to get back at Tris for something that had happened long ago. And anyway, Tris didn't think that Four was like that. He had certainly proved that he wasn't quite as ruthless as his reputation led people to believe, which was good on her part, but then, her run in with him had only been brief. She didn't know the full extent of what he had done to make him seem so terrifying.
Once she got to P.E, Tris was starting to calm down. This was her last subject of the day, and she didn't have Peter, nor any of his followers in this class with her. So there was nothing they could do now, and as long as she made sure to leave promptly at the end of the day there was no way that they could catch her then anyway.
Tris managed to let herself get lost in the sport – handball, something she particularly enjoyed. It was also a bonus that her class weren't complete wimps and weren't afraid whenever the ball was rolled in their direction. That, and the adrenaline rush that she got whenever she played, made for a very good game. She came out of the class happy, mildly bruised, and stinking like a pig.
Her good mood diminished almost completely as she headed into the girls' locker room. Here she had to change and if she were honest... growing up in a house of just guys left her very protective of her personal space. And any minute now the room would be teeming with half-naked girls – every teenage boy's dream. She would hate every minute of it. Just then, a plan formulated in her head. Grabbing her gym bag that contained her clothes and some much needed deodorant, she fled the room, headed for the opposing girl's bathroom. She could just change in a toilet cubicle and no one would know...
Oof!
Taking a step backwards, Tris put a hand to her forehead. She really needed to stop running into people. That was, what, two run-ins in three days? She honestly needed to start looking where she was going.
Raising her gaze to look whoever she ran into in the eye, she groaned internally. Only she would manage to make it Four. Again.
"Hello there, Prior," He said. Shocked, and suddenly very scared, Tris backed away from him. She had been right – Peter had decided to get Four on his side to pick on Tris. How she had let her guard down she didn't know but it certainly hadn't been worth it given her current situation. She didn't know what Four could do that Peter couldn't in a social sense... but physically? She was doomed. Four could grind her to a pulp in seconds. And why? Because Peter couldn't get over the fact that she had been the one to end it. It was years later, anyway, so she didn't know why Peter had gotten Four on his side only now... wait. Up until recently Four had been in 'juvenile detention'. What if Peter had planned to get Four to beat her up this whole time but only now had the chance? She shuddered at the thought. She was completely, and utterly-
"Tris, right?" Four asked. "I'm Four," Speechless, Tris was left gaping at him like a goldfish. What was she meant to say? 'Hi Four? Sorry for running into you the other day but please don't beat the shit out of me'? What good would that do? And would he really beat up her, of all people? She had never done him any harm...
Or maybe he wasn't going to beat her up. Forcing herself to calm, Tris considered this possibility. She had never actually seen Four physically hurt people, it was just generally accepted that at some point he had, and if he needed to, would again. So she didn't really need to fear him, right?
Regaining her ability to speak, Tris squeaked out a few words.
"Hey – uh, Four!"
He chuckled to himself. He had a deep, quiet laugh but it was quite marvellous to see the difference in his face when he wasn't scowling. His eyebrows were quirked upwards and his head was tilted down in a way that Tris could see the light shining through his long eyelashes. His long nose scrunched up slightly and even though Tris knew it wasn't a real laugh, she thought that the transformation was quite significant. She hadn't really seen anything like it before.
More at ease now, but still ready to run, Tris made herself looked relaxed and composed, a look she was well practised in faking.
"You sound scared," Four said. Raising her eyebrows, Tris didn't answer.
A few seconds passed in silence. Then -
"So how you doin'?" Four asked casually. Tris got the impression that he didn't really give a damn about how she was 'doin''. She wrinkled her nose slightly before giving an answer.
"Not bad. Need a bit of a shower though, does it show?"
He seemed to be surprised by her answer. So was she – but she was running on pure adrenaline right now and, although she would no doubt regret it later, let herself speak.
"Not really. Although you really know how to charm a guy, don't you?" He replied.
"As, of course, was my intention."
They held each other's gazes, and Tris tried her best not to look intimidated. Of course, she was. Internally, she was screaming.
She was the one to break the eye contact, looking away uncomfortably.
"So... Tris. How do you feel about meeting up sometime out of school?" Four asked. He had taken to leaning against the lockers at the side of the corridor, his hands shoved in his trouser pockets. His head was tilted back and rested against the locker, but he still had a good view of the short, skinny girl that stood on front of him.
Taken aback, Tris almost missed the opportunity for the comeback on the tip of her tongue. But she quickly recovered.
"Aren't you meant to ask me if it hurt when I fell from heaven first?"
Four took a second to study her before averting his gaze to the people walking at the end of their corridor.
"If they shoe fits," He said. Then, looking back to her, he continued. "That depends. Did it?"
"If you want to compare me to Satan, go ahead," Tris said back. "But don't expect me to answer, and certainly don't expect me to say yes."
Without a second thought, or remembering to change out of her P.E kit, Tris marched herself down the corridor and away from Four. Her mind was going crazy, trying its best to analyse what the hell had just happened and why – whilst the logical side of her started demanding answers for her rash, and very rude answers.
What the hell was I thinking? She scolded herself. Could I not just have politely declined? Did I have to take it a step further?
The thing was, that Tris didn't know why she had said what she had. It was as if she had been possessed, like her voice wasn't her's anymore. Although obviously, it was, and she could have turned around the conversation at any point. So why didn't she? If she felt the need to be so rude to someone, why him? Why did she have to deliberately place herself in the line of fire?
And... finished!
First of all, thank you so much for the immediate feedback and love on the last chapter – all your reviews and comments made my day! You guys are too kind!
Another quick note – if there is something in this story that you really want to happen, please, just say. Don't just pray to yourself that it will happen. Of course, it will get angsty later on in the story but between that – don't be afraid to ask. I currently have a rough plan of where the story is going but no set events, so if there really is something you want included please don't be afraid to ask. Also, go easy on me for spelling and grammar. This laptop doesn't do spellcheck, which is really annoying.
So, thanks again for reading!
Bye!
