A/N: Wow, this is by far this story's longest chapter! Anyways, thank you for all the support, reviews, follows, and favorites. I reward you by having Caleb and Peter smoke weed together.

CONTENT WARNING: Rated T for teen drug use, child abuse, assault mentions, and Harry Nilsson.

"I don't get it," Peter moaned, pressing his head to his kitchen table. Late afternoon light streamed in through the window.

"Then think of it as answering each individual phrase of the question," said Caleb gently. "What does it mean to escape prejudice?"

Peter stared at him, the frustration palpable. "I don't know."

"Come on, just think deeper."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. Define prejudice?"

"It's… when you judge someone based on something they can't control… like their skin color, or something?"

"Good, yes. Yes. How do you escape prejudice?"

"You… die?"

"Well, that's kind of… emo."

"Wanna get high?"

"Peter, no. I'm not going to drugs with you until you finish these questions. Did you even read Of Mice and Men?"

"No."

"Fine. I give up."

"So we can get high?"

"No. No! Haven't you considered that maybe you're failing English because all you do is put illegal things in your nose?"

"Haven't you considered that maybe you don't have a girlfriend because all you do is put illegal things up your ass?"

"Don't you have parents?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Caleb sighed heavily. "Peter, what's your favorite book?"

Peter just stared at him. He got up from the table and disappeared down one of the hallways of his house. Caleb was considering following him when he returned with a large green shoebox.

"Okay, this box contains all the secrets of the universe. What do you do with it?"

Tris hadn't expected her house to be empty.

"Hello?" she called out. Her voice echoed through the foyer, but received no response.

"Hello?"

The house smelled good, like dinner, but she didn't hear any water boiling or dishes clinking or mothers humming.

A near-exact replica of the note Caleb had left her that morning was stuck to the kitchen table, but nothing from her parents, who normally came home at three.

Tris looked to the clock on the wall. It read 3:56.

Tris took a few more steps forward. She saw something, a dark, hooded figure, dart through the hallway in front of her. She walked toward it, but then she stopped. She felt motion behind her. And then in front of her. So she just went left.

She looked from side to side and opened her mouth to breathe. But then it closed - she didn't close it. A hand grabbed her and shoved something into her mouth. She struggled against the headlock of the person, but they were too strong.

"Shut it, Prior."

Tobias loved Tris. He did.

He loved her soft blonde hair, her wide, alert eyes, the curves of her nose, the curves of her body. He loved her wakefulness, her confidence. Everything about her.

But he loved the escape she provided him, too, as selfish as that was. She provided him with time from his father. And as much as he wanted to tell her that, he couldn't.

"Son."

Marcus' voice bounced off of the walls and back to Tobias. He felt a cold air rush down his back.

"Where were you?"

Tobias looked down at the floor, grey tiles. This was where Peter puked. It was where Tris unwittingly took the cup with the drug in it. It was where his world turned around. On the ground floor of his house.

"My friend had a panic attack in class," he said, avoiding his father's gaze. "I helped her."

"Her?"

Tobias nodded. He shifted his gaze upward, fighting his fear of his father. "A girl."

"You concern yourself with girls rather than own up to what you did," Marcus said quietly. "Tell me… was it the same girl?"

His eyes moved up and locked with his father's. "I didn't take a turn on her. No matter what you hear, know that I didn't. I would never do that to anyone."

"You wouldn't?"

"No. Never, Father. Never."

"Did she cry out in pain?" His father's eyes were like ones Tobias had never seen before, full of malice, anger, greed, dreams. He began to undo his belt, carefully, one loop at a time. "Did it feel like this?"

Caleb couldn't help but giggle.

Peter joined him, smirking as he watched Caleb.

"What?" Caleb tried to sound serious, but he couldn't. It was just too funny.

Peter cackled, leaning back on his chair.

Caleb tried to form words, but again he erupted in laughs, shoulders shaking, stomach aching.

Speaking of stomachs, his was growling.

"I'm so hungry, Peter. I don't know if… if I'm going to make it. I… I need food."

Peter burst into laughter. He leaned back in his chair, pushing it so that he fell. Caleb jumped with shock.

Peter laughed, backwards-combat-rolled a few feet, and then got up, exiting the kitchen again.

"Where are you going?" called Caleb.

"You'll see."

A few moments later, Peter returned, carrying another shoebox, this time blue and a bit larger than the last one.

He opened it carefully and pushed it to Caleb. Inside of it were rows of assorted foods, mainly chips and cheese products. And in a little corner, a wad of cash.

"What's the money for?" asked Caleb, removing a bag of Cheetos.

Peter shrugged. "Whatever I need it for."

Caleb's face suddenly turned serious. "No, man…" he said, taking Peter's hand. "It's whatever we need it for."

"Let… me… go!"

Tris struggled against her attacker's strong arms. She kicked, but his other arm restrained her there, too.

"We won't let you go," he said, "until you pay for what you did." The voice was undeniably male, but also unfamiliar, and it struck her painfully. But whose was it? It was too glassy to be Tobias', too low to be Caleb's, too steady to be Peter's, and too serious to be Uriah's.

"What did I do?" she screamed as she jerked her entire body forward in an effort to be let loose. If only she could see the attacker's face. She bet it was punchable.

"You fucked up the whole school," another voice replied. This one was reminiscent of one she'd heard before. If only she could point out who… "You fucked up the whole system."

"You're twisted, aren't you, Prior?" said the first voice. "Just like us. But no lie, Prior… you were good."

Dread ran down her. No. It was them. From the party. It was them.

She suddenly jolted her body forward and backward, making his grip on her falter. She used her weak elbow to hit him on the chest, effectively weakening him. She moved her legs so she'd be able to move more.

"What did you with my parents?" she yelled. She was in a state of limbo - half dependent, half independent, and at risk of falling all the same.

"Nothing," breathed the boy, who was really more like a man. His face, she could now see. He had long, greasy hair and several facial piercings, most of which were probably illegal. She remembered how Peter had described Eric.

Her heart sank, but she resolved to keep pushing. "Where are they?"

"We distracted them," he told her simply, trying to strengthen his grip again, "and they won't be home for awhile."

The other boy - there were just two of them in all, thankfully - smirked. Was this Uriah's brother?

Like divine intervention, Tris heard something out of her left ear - a car horn honking. She heard a door slamming, and then footsteps.

She saw Eric and Uriah's brother escaping via the garage, which her parents never used. But how would they know that?

"Guess you were wrong," she called.

The door opened, then closed.

"Beatrice," her mother said. She opened her arms like a hug.

And Tris went gladly into her embrace.

Tobias lay on his side on his bed, both unable and unwilling to fall asleep. The new scars on his back ached.

Dreams called his name, but he couldn't go to them, as much as he wanted to.

Thoughts of his father and Tris infiltrated his mind, encroaching on his will to relax. He wanted to make sure she was safe - Eric had sworn he'd get revenge on him in the principal's office. But he also wanted to make sure that he was safe, and Marcus prevented him from doing that.

He pulled out his phone and searched through his contacts. He found Caleb's place. The time told him it was 11:32, so Caleb would probably be asleep by now, but it was worth a shot.

Does Tris have a phone?

To his surprise, a reply came just seconds later. No, why?

Why do you think?

Caleb's reply took a little longer this time. Don't you think you're kind of old to be with my little sister?

She isn't your 'little' anything.

Good night, Four.

Good night, Caleb.

Tobias smirked and set his phone down. And, somehow, sleep came to him.

Peter slammed his lunch tray down on the cafeteria table. Caleb saw that his eyes looked watery - darker than usual, and less clouded. He looked like he was ready to kill.

"Good day to you, too," said Will.

Peter smirked, and then cast the tray off the table, so that its contents landed on the floor.

He was met with stares.

"Who peed in your cereal this morning?" asked Christina, bending over to pick up the tray. Tris immediately began to help her.

"Coach Amar," Peter said. He crossed his arms in front of him and placed his head between them.

"What, bad mile time?" guessed Four.

"Put on a squad with nerds?" added Uriah.

"Didn't make the women's lacrosse team?" Caleb asked.

"Guess who can't be on the water polo team this year," said Peter, his words slightly muffled, "because he failed a drug test?"

Christina laughed. Peter glared at her, and she stopped.

"Pee-in-a-cup?" asked Four. Peter nodded.

"That sucks," offered Uriah.

"Yeah, it does. And they gave my spot away. To some kid named Edward."

"Isn't he in our English class?" asked Caleb.

"That's the one. He's so annoying. Like, every time I get a bad grade, he laughs his ass off."

"He must do a lot of laughing," observed Uriah. The others laughed, but Caleb rolled his eyes.

"I'm gonna hurt him," said Peter simply. "Little shit needs to learn."

"It's not his fault he got your spot," said Tris. "You could hurt the coach."

Four laughed.

"Or," said Will tentatively, "you could stop doing drugs."

The rest of the table laughed then. Except Caleb.

"I was serious!" Will defended. "You know, Peter… I heard about this time that Harry Nilsson went into the studio to record, and he opened his mouth to sing, and blood just poured out. His throat hemorrhaged from cocaine use."

Peter looked horrified.

"Really?" asked Tris, looking as shocked as ever.

"Yeah. Legit. But he didn't even die."

Peter shrugged. "Harry Nilsson was a pussy anyways. Plus, I'm only sixteen."

"Half the age Keith Moon was when he died," said Christina. Peter stuck his tongue out at her.

"What are they going to do with your test results?" asked Caleb.

"Let's hope they don't mail them to the principal," said Uriah. "You'd be dead."

"Where would I even go?" Peter asked.

"Oh, no…" Four looked full of despair. "The… counselor!"

"We have a counselor?" asked Tris.

Christina shrugged. "Apparently."

"If she does exist," said Will, wiping something off his mouth, "I think we'd all fare better seeing her."

Tris tapped her pencil impatiently in Biology.

She was supposed to be doing group work, but her entire group was done and they were now awaiting Matthews, who was checking answers. Almost undeniably, she'd say something bitchy to Tris.

"I hate Ms. Matthews," she said under her breath, but loud enough so that Uriah could hear her.

"Who doesn't?" he replied.

Tris heard her teacher's footsteps become louder as she approached her table. Tris' stomach twisted when Mrs. Matthews got close. She leaned her head over onto Tris' paper. She could smell the perfume.

"Number six is incorrect," she said flatly. "The question about ribosomes."

"Oh," said Tris. She leaned in to look at the paper.

"We had a nice, thorough discussion about ribosomes in class yesterday. If only you and Mr. Pedrad had been here, you might have received 100% credit. But I'll have to mark you as a 90%."

Anger and anxiety rushed through her. She'd freaked out! And now she got marked off for it?

Why did that woman hate her so much?

Tris rolled her eyes and picked up her pencil as Mrs. Matthews walked to the next table.

She walked over to the shelf where the textbooks were and retrieved one. She carried it back to her table. Opening it to the table of contents, something caught her eye.

The back of the cover was scribbled on in purple marker. She opened it there, where the names of the past owners were.

Tobias Eaton - Good luck with Matthews.

She could hardly believe it. He had used that textbook, two years earlier? And he'd hated her just as much as she did?

Shaking her head, Tris flipped to the section about the structure of cells. And as much as she now hated ribosomes, she couldn't help but smile.

English classrooms were kind of like coffee shops. People bustling around, meaningless chatter, an air of nervousness.

"You can get your textbooks now," said Mr. Kang, and the class immediately became chaotic. They had to use a separate textbook for grammar and English-language conventions.

"For homework tonight, your assignment is questions 1-6 on page 94. Understood?"

The class nodded.

"You have about ten minutes of this period left, so you can start now if you'd like."

Caleb was in the process of helping the boy behind him when he felt a cold pair of eyes staring at him.

He looked up. Peter winked at him. Caleb rolled his eyes.

Peter leaned over and placed his elbow on Caleb's desk.

"What?" asked Caleb, closing the textbook.

"You wanna… tutor me tonight?" he asked, winking again. The boy behind him giggled.

"Sure," said Caleb. "If you stop being suggestive."

"You're such a virgin."

"I know. It's sad."