"So let me get this straight…" I breathe slowly, scrunching my eyebrows. "…you're an ex-gang member. But your gang doesn't kill people. They just like to pick fights." My body shifts uncomfortably, sinking into the couch. He was a gang member. That's probably why he's good at combat.
Four nods quietly, holding an ice pack against his face. "Until recently," he corrects glumly. His voice is still as raspy as when he was crippled on the floor. "They used to help people. Now they've started gunning other gangs down to prove their 'courage'."
"Help people, huh?" I repeat, raising my eyebrows in disbelief.
He shrugs. "We were like robin hoods."
"And they wanted you to join them again…because…?"
"Because I have terrific aim with a gun," he says flatly.
I roll my eyes. "Yeah, and that's something to be proud about," I mutter.
He shoots me a dirty look, snapping, "I'm not proud. I denied them and they attacked me." He clenches his fist around his cup, scowling bitterly at the wall. His hair is ruffled up and his jacket has a tear in the back, exposing some of his skin. How did he even manage to escape? From the way he described it, it sounds like there were a good four people on him.
"You do realize if my dad finds out that I'm harboring a gang member in my house, he's going to arrest you, right?"
He growls, suddenly glaring at me. "Who says he's going to find out?"
"No one. It's just you're going to have to find another reason why you're in my house looking like that."
He doesn't respond. He knows I'm right. His thumbs slide nervously up and down the sides of his empty glass.
Despite his bruises and cuts, his blue eyes pierce through the darkness and I have trouble looking at him for more than a few seconds. His face injuries almost reduce him to my level of ugliness. Almost.
Four is only sixteen years old, but with all his experience, he seems a lot older. I must seem like a child to him, with my small body. I'm glad he's not looking at me. It gives me more time to look at him. "Do your parents know about any of this?"
He shakes his head.
Frowning, I ask, "Why didn't you just go back inside your house after they beat you up?"
"I couldn't go back there looking like this," he says, pressing the ice pack against his cheek. "My dad would kill me."
I snort. "I'm pretty sure any sane dad would want to help you."
He shakes his head again, his breath shuddering. "Then my dad is pretty insane."
I don't know what he means by that, but I don't press him further. It's almost two-thirty in the morning, and I still have to finish the narrative draft.
"I'll get you some blankets," I say, standing up awkwardly. Even if I try to be selfless like my mom, I could never mimic the tenderness in her voice.
Before I can take a step though, I feel a tug on the back of my shirt and I spin around, alarmed by his touch. He stares at his hand in equal disbelief, as if he didn't mean to. "Sorry."
"Yeah…" My eyes twitch, and I turn away so he doesn't see my cheeks turning hot. Why am I acting like this?
"Tris?" I shut my eyes. What now? "I wanted to say…thanks," he mumbles softly, making my head light and airy.
I quickly find the closet and pull out some sheets. When I return, Four is already asleep on the couch. His chest swells more evenly, and even though his eyes still move restlessly under his eyelids, the rest of his body eases into silence. He looks peaceful. Watching him gives me a warm feeling inside.
After sliding the blanket over him, I grab a pillow and sit on the floor.
I guess the narrative draft can wait until tomorrow.
When I wake up, he is still sleeping as peacefully as last night. My finger pokes his cheek. No movement.
"Four?" Nothing. "Hey Four." I poke his nose this time. We need to get going before my parents wake up. I cup my hands around my mouth. "FOUR!" I shout into his ear, shaking his shoulders. He doesn't respond, but there is a teeny smile trembling at the corner of his lips. I snort.
Pretending not to notice, I reach under the couch for the bottle of glue (don't ask). I waver the glue bottle over his nose, hoping he catches the scent of nail polish and wax. "Maybe if I glue your clothing to your skin, you'll wake up," I whisper playfully. He doesn't move. Doesn't think I'll do it does he?
I watch his eyes as I press the tip of the bottle on his neck, leaving a line of white on his skin.
His eyes snap open. Immediately, His hand jumps out from under the blanket and rapidly seizes my wrist. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that, Stiff?" he grins, prying the glue bottle out of my hand. Four's voice is warm and airy.
"I might," I smile back. "Come on, we need to go before my parents wake up."
A cold, irritated voice behind me repeats, "Before my parents wake up."
I turn around.
Crap.
"Beatrice Prior, you are going to tell us why there was a boy sleeping over this instant," my mother snaps in a tone so quiet and menacing, my hairs are standing up. My father stands beside her in his police outfit, staring curiously at Four while Caleb sits distantly on the stairs.
I shift nervously and quickly peer outside the window where Four is. On the other side of the glass, he watches me just as closely, unable to hear what's going on.
I wrack my brain, blurting, "He got mugged while he was getting some mail. He was so confused, he went to the first house he saw." My parents look at each other in disbelief, shifting their eyes back and forth suspiciously between me and Four. "Oh come on," I groan. "Look at his face. You can't possibly suggest he did that to himself."
"Do not talk to your mother like that," my dad says quietly, frowning. "You should've woken us up."
"It was late. You needed rest."
My mother purses her lips. She knows I'm lying about that, but that doesn't mean letting Four in wasn't an act of selflessness. She turns away from me to open the door. "Four," she calls gently. "Can we talk to you?"
He shuffles in, wearing an empty expression. My mother smiles, "Who are your parents?"
He doesn't answer immediately, and I get the feeling he's lying when he says, "Lisa and Adam Smith." My parents seem convinced, however, and they nod.
"Please tell your parents we'd like to meet them."
Four twitches. "Sorry, they're out of town right now."
"Oh, well, do you live nearby here?" my mother insists. It's weird seeing him like this. He's wearing a face like he's being reprimanded by his own mother, and it makes him look a lot younger.
Four nods slowly. "A few houses away from here."
"When your parents get back, please let them know that we'd like to chat sometime."
"Okay."
"You two better get to school now, though, so we won't keep you waiting," my father says, wrapping his arm around my mother. I nod gratefully, realizing we have just been let off the hook by Four's impeccable skill at lying. I heave my backpack onto my shoulders and spin my heels towards the door. "Oh and Tris?"
"Yeah?" I say turning around.
"You're grounded for a week."
Four didn't come to school that day. He said it would be better if he skipped so no one saw his face. We parted in front of my house and this time, he waved me goodbye.
When I get to school, I notice there are posters all over the walls about an upcoming dance. Already? Not like it concerns me, I think to myself. No one would want to go with me. Not with the stiff. I wonder if my dad struggles with bullying at his work. I doubt it though. I think adults like to talk behind people's back. Approaching people might be a teenager thing.
"TRIS OH MY GOD TRIS," Christina screams from the other end of the hallway, rolling towards me like a boulder. I brace myself, but in vain. She hugs me full force and we both fall onto the ground. "TRIS, TRIS OH MY GOD." Her weight is crushing me. I groan at the people walking around us.
She grabs my face in her hand and squeals. I struggle to pry her off, shouting, "JESUS WHAT?"
"WILL," she whispers loudly into my ear. "HE ASKED ME OUT TO THE DANCE."
I look at her, confused, and she groans, rolling her eyes. "Tris, be a girl for like a second. Isn't Will the most beautiful man you've ever seen?" I think for a moment, but Four's face is the only that comes to mind.
"Uh, yeah," I lie.
She squeals again and I could've sworn I felt blood trickling down my ear. I see Al approaching us, wearing an amused grin. "Help me," I mouth over Christina's shoulder. He understands and nods, grabbing Christina by her waist and lifting her off of me. Even in Al's grasp, Christina squirms uncontrollably, giggling to no end.
Al carries her all the way to class and I walk beside him, awed by the fact that even he is struggling to control her. Christina may be bigger than me but she's a little over half the size of Al. The moment Will comes into view however, she freezes all of a sudden. Enough that Al thinks it's safe to put her down, which is saying a lot.
Will sees her and smiles, and she smiles back. Cute.
After Jeanine finishes roll call, Al approaches my desk. From a distance he looks like a bear almost, with his short brown hair and brown eyes. "Tris," he says. "Can I talk to you after class?"
"Yeah, sure. Why?"
He shakes his head, suppressing a shy smile. "You'll see." Um. Okay?
When he returns to his desk, I watch Four's empty seat, imagining him there with his feet propped on the desk as he stares distantly out the window. I'm starting to forget why I felt mad at him before.
I work on the narrative draft until the period ends. Then I walk out the class, Al following closely behind me. "So you wanted to talk?"
He ruffles his hair nervously with one hand, while his other hand fiddles with something in his pocket. "Uh yeah. I was just wondering…if…"
I lean in close, forcing him to lean back. "…if…?"
"If you have some time at lunch," he blubbers, his cheeks turning rosy.
I don't understand why he would be blushing, but I shrug, not really caring. "Yeah. I do. Is there something you want to do?"
"Yeah, there's….there's…uh there's a book I wanted to show you in the library. It's really cool."
I frown and nod. He gives me a nervous laugh and walks away. That was weird.
When lunch time begins, Al is already seated next to my usual spot. In his place, Christina and Will sit together on the opposite side of the table, a little bit too close for just "friends". Will has his arm wrapped around her and Christina fits the side of her head snugly into the curve of his shoulder. Oh yeah. Definitely "friends". They're giggling about something and I decide not to interrupt them. That seems like the wrong thing to do.
Al nudges me, saying, "You ready to go?"
I nod and we stand up together. The library is small, but it's everything that I could ever need. I don't read a lot. I wouldn't be surprised if Caleb was there though. He loves reading. And apparently Al does too.
Al leads me to an emptier corner of the library and looks around. We're alone, well hidden by stacks of books and shelves.
"Uh, so Tris," he says shakily, fiddling with something in his pocket again. "I wanted to know if…um...if…"
"If…?" I repeat again. Why are we here alone?
His cheeks turn even rosier than before. "If you'd want to—"
"STIFF," I hear someone holler. A stack of books tumble to the ground and from it, Peter emerges alongside Eric and Drew. Eric and Drew look slightly placid, but Peter is a completely different story. He looks angry. He looks vengeful. "I noticed your boyfriend isn't here today," he sneers. Honestly, doesn't he have anything better to do than antagonize me?
"I don't have a boyfriend," I respond flatly, folding my arms. "What do you want now, Peter?" If he's looking for a fight, I think I'm more than ready to have one. I look at Al. He wears an expression of fear, concern, confusion…and hurt.
"You're a little bitch that needs to be taught a lesson," he growls.
I snort. "Last I checked, I'm pretty sure Four sat your ass down the other day, not the other way around."
As expected, he lunges at me, but I duck quickly under his arm and kick him from behind. He crashes into stack of books. A crowd of people circle around us, murmuring.
Peter scrambles to get up again, glaring at me. "Not scared you don't have your boyfriend to protect you?" he taunts.
I frown, watching him carefully. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Peter's knuckles make rapid contact with my jaw, forcing me to stumble backward into a shelf. Immediately, he snatches a fistful of my hair and yanks it upward. A searing pain tingles through my scalp, and I struggle to land a punch on him but to no avail. He grins and violently strikes my face again, smashing my head against the books. Warm liquid drips from my nose.
"What? Feeling stiff?" Peter gibes, staring threateningly into my eyes. He jerks my head up again and slaps me hard, the sting burning like acid. Out of ideas, I send my foot into his groin. He flinches and releases my hair, roaring almost, "You little bitch," before throwing another punch at me.
I shut my eyes, waiting for the impact, but it doesn't come. When my eyes open, I see Al with his hand closed tightly around Peter's wrist, his face red with anger. "Don't touch her," Al grunts, towering over him. Peter tries to tear his hand free but finds that it's no use. Instead, he tries to punch Al with his other hand. Al catches his fist just as easily and twists it, making Peter cry out with pain.
"Let…go…" Peter's voice is strained. Al doesn't respond. Al stares at him, suddenly unable to control himself until finally, a horrific snapping sound breaks the tension and Peter screams. I gape with wide eyes. Al just broke his wrist. Alarmed, Al frees Peter from his grasp and backs away, allowing Peter to crumble and clutch his wrist. An thick silence suddenly overcomes the room, the only noise really being Peter's whimpering.
"Al…" I say slowly. He shakes his head at me with scared eyes, shifting his gaze between his hands and Peter, who's writhing with pain. Then he turns around and runs, splitting the crowd in half. I follow behind him.
"Al, it's okay!"
"No," he says shakily. "I couldn't control myself and I broke his wrist. How is that okay?"
"I know you didn't mean to."
He stops in his tracks and turns to glare at me, yelling, "But that's not enough is it?!" He breathes heavily, his fists tightly clenched. Slowly, he sits on the ground and puts his face in his hands. "I never wanted to hurt him, but he was hurting you and I just…lost myself." His eyes meet mine for a second before hiding away behind his fingers. I sit down next to him, unsure of what to say. What would my mother do? I don't know.
"I'm sorry," he whispers quietly, reaching into his pocket. "The reason…I asked you to come to the library was because of these." He holds two tickets in front of me. Two dance tickets. I stare at them with wide eyes.
"You're…you're asking me? To go with you?" I ask incredulously. He nods.
My head feels airy with confusion and I have no other instinct other than to nod my head too. "Yes," I say.
He smiles weakly. "Thanks, Tris." Then, he scoots towards me, wrapping his arms around my back and giving me a soft hug.
I hug him back, absolutely bewildered.
Sorry if my writing seems weird for this one! ;_; I just came back from a really wild party and I don't remember stuff and I can't think and urgh
Hope you enjoyed R&R! I love it when you guys give me ideas for what should happen next ;u;
