Hi. Thank you, guys, for all the endless support. Sorry that I'm only posting a chapter a day, but I'm doing what I can – not enough hours in the day, am I right? So, without further ado…

A week has gone by at Factions, and going to classes with other people other than Caleb is quite an adjustment. I'm not used to such strict teachers, but that proves to be the least of my troubles.

My new friends don't seem to understand why I actually do my homework and study. Even Four gave me a weird – at least, weird for him – glance when I brought a book with me to the lake the other day. The only person who has gotten used to my "weird" habits is Christina, but only because I help her with her homework from her harder classes.

I share each and every class with at least one of my friends, and the entire group is in the English class, thanks to the coed teaching. I cannot help but notice that in each of the senior classes that I take, Four is in that same class, and that the teachers always place me next to him. He's even in my P.E. class, as some sort of teacher's aide or something.

I've never been super athletic, despite always being in shape. Amar, our teacher (he refuses to tell us his last name; he says that if he calls us by our first names, we call him by his first name – something to do with respect) is super tough on us but is also super nice. Over the last week, I've gained 5 pounds of pure muscle, something that I'm very proud of.

I'm trying to climb the rope in the gym when my spotter – I think his name is Peter – tugs at the bottom, hard, causing me to lose my grip and fall about 5 feet onto the mat.

"What was that for?" I hiss, holding my ankle. I think I may have sprained it.

"You were too…stiff," he sneers, turning and walking away.

I roll my eyes. I don't know why, but he has this problem with me and I feel as if he's trying to sabotage me in this class. We share a couple of other classes together, and he's a jerk to me in those classes, too. I try to stand up and put weight on my ankle, collapsing immediately. Four notices and walks over.

"You okay?" he asks with vague concern, the kind Caleb used to use on me when I got hurt as a kid. Like he sees me as his little sister, someone who he needs to protect.

I don't want him to see me as his little sister.

"I think so," I say casually, trying to stand up again. I place weight on my foot cautiously and would have fallen again if Four hadn't caught me.

His long fingers find the slither of skin on my hip, sending sparks through my body. My legs feel weak again. At first, I think that it's my ankle, but I quickly realize it's him. As arrogant and rude as Four is, something about him makes me feel like I'll spontaneously combust, or burst into flames. Or both. Even after he shifts his hand, I still feel his warmth in the ghost of his fingers.

"No, you aren't. C'mon," he says – a little breathlessly maybe, or perhaps it's just my imagination – as he helps me over to a bleacher. "Stay put," he says with authority, now that he's caught his breath. I roll my eyes as he goes and gets some ice and bandages to wrap my ankle. He gently places the ice on the swelling and sits down next to me. "Let me see it," he commands. I turn carefully and place my injured foot in between us. "Do you mind?" he asks, causing me to shake my head no. Gently, with his long fingers, he examines my ankle. "It's just twisted. You'll be okay in a couple of hours," he states, matter-of-factly while he starts wrap it. "You know, you're doing well. Peter is just jealous because you're a girl and are doing better than he is. Just keep your distance and ignore him. He's all bark, you know?" I nod and smile. This is a new side of Four that I haven't seen. Maybe he isn't such an ass.

"Got yourself a girlfriend, Four?" someone sneers. I look up and see a boy that is a few inches shorter than Four is. His dark hair is long and greasy and he has way too many piercings on his face.

Four stiffens. "Even if she was, Eric, I don't see how that is your business," he growls. Eric cackles and walks away.

"Who's that?" I ask.

Four glances at me. "My version of Peter." He finishes his work on my foot, getting up. "I want you to sit out for the rest of the day. I'll tell Amar." Without another word, he turns and leaves.

XxX

Later that evening, I find myself locked in my dorm with Chris, Marlene, and Shauna. Mar and Shauna are guarding the door, making me trapped. Christina has her makeup bag in her hand. "Absolutely not," I say for the hundredth time. "I refuse to be your little Barbie doll."

"Tris, you have no say," Chris laughs.

"You can't make me pretty, you know," I try.

"Who gives a flying frick about pretty?" she replies. "Don't you wanna be more noticeable? For any specific guys, maybe?"

I narrow my eyes at her and her slight emphasize on "for". I never should have admitted to her that I thought Four was cute. She's constantly dropping "subtle" hints that I should ask him out, despite the fact that he's so closed off and distant from people, especially me. When I had told her that, she countered, "You didn't know him before like how the rest of us did. You've changed him – he hangs out with us more now because of you. I think he likes you." I had told her that it was unlikely.

But now, I cave to her incredulous desire to give me a make-over. I sit on my bed and close my eyes as she puts on eyeshadows and eyeliner and other makeup. It's a Friday night and there is a huge, underground party going on behind the forest near the lake. I wanted to stay in and study for next week but Chris and the other girls put me through one hell of a guilt trip until I agreed to go, even for a little while.

I open my eyes when Christina has finished, looking at our mirror, but someone covered it up. "Not until you're dressed and your hair is done, Tris," Chris answers my unspoken question.

Shauna, who is relatively tall, hands me a tight dress. "It's one of my shirts, but it's long…ish." I raise my eyebrows, but put it on wordlessly. It's really low-cut, but it shows my curves nicely. It even shows the tattoo I got in California for my 16th birthday of the three ravens flying across my collarbone, not 5 months ago.

Chris curls my hair and brushes it. When she finishes, Marlene and Shauna uncover the mirror. I gasp. My pale, blue-grey eyes look brighter with the smoky-eye effect. My long, dull blonde hair is wavy, complimenting my features well. The shirt is short, coming up to my upper thigh, but looks good on me, making me look a little taller, especially with the heels that Chris lent me.

"You see? You, Tris, are so much more than 'pretty'; you're striking," she says.

I nod absentmindedly, too distracted by my reflection. I used to be Beatrice, a girl who was shy and polite, who stayed quiet and did her homework three days before it was due. Now, I am Tris, a young woman who wears clothes that show too much skin and goes out with her friends on Friday nights.

I turn to the other girls. "Thanks, you guys." They smile at me. I smile back. "Let's go."

With that, we leave for the party.

Thank you all for the lovely comments and support. You are all amazing!