I'm back! By the way, there's a scene here that takes place in the school library - I can't always say "I whisper" or "he whispers", so unless I clearly state otherwise, assume all the characters are whispering. Also I don't know Will's surname, so I decided to use the surname of the person who acts as him in the Divergent movie. Same goes for Edward. And I made one up for Myra. That said, enjoy!

Charms22: At least Tobias is back in this chapter! From now on, even if he's not present in person, he will at least get a mention in most of the chapters (if not, all. And I will try to put as much as I can of him, within reason). And you're right about the cheating: some people honestly find school hard, but when it comes to the more important exams you won't be able to cheat. I think putting in more work or asking for help or even giving up is better than cheating. Thanks for reviewing!

Wrenlovesreading: I can be a bit like that too at times when it comes to talking to teachers (or people in general). Glad you liked it and thanks for the review!

Thanks to bookreader101xx for following and favouriting, and FandomUtopia for following!

The first person I see the next morning as I step into the school building is Will, giving Christina a playful punch by the lockers. Both look like they're having fun, but while I hate to interrupt the moment, I have to talk to Will about Peter. I was busy during both lunch breaks yesterday, and didn't get a chance to speak to him.

When he sees me, he gives me a small nod in acknowledgement.

"Tris!" Christina opens out her arms and hugs me tightly. I automatically push her away, ignoring the hurt look that crosses her face. I am unused to friends being that close to me.

"You're very happy today," I laugh, trying to keep the mood light, not knowing what else to say after that awkward encounter. Wouldn't be anything to do with Will being here, I want to add, but I don't think she'd appreciate it. Besides, I've other things to talk about than Christina's love life.

I don't know how to get rid of Christina without being rude or obvious, so I decide to wait til homeroom to ask Will about what he found out yesterday. Neither of them are talking right now, just staring at each other as if they're the only people in the hallway. The type of look that makes me feel like I'm intruding, an outcast among my friends.

"Uh, I just remembered. I forgot to get my science book from my locker..." My voice trails off as I realise they aren't really listening.

"What? Oh yeah, sure," Christina says, barely turning her head.

I slip away and smile to myself. It looks like two of my best friends will be official soon. I check my watch. Five to nine. I'm not sure where to go now, so I head for the library. I've never taken the time to visit it, which is odd considering the amount of books I share with Caleb (and never got around to reading myself). Maybe it's because Christina would never survive in a library, on account of the fact that she can't keep her mouth shut for prolonged periods of time. Perhaps the reason is that Al hates books - he said so himself. Or it might be just my indifferent attitude towards reading.

I spot Caleb sitting at a wooden table, studying from a textbook and whispering to two other boys. He raises his head at the sound of my footsteps, and his eyes meet mine, just for a second. I wave exactly as he drops his gaze, awkwardly, and returns to his book, highlighting like his life depended on it.

I stare at my brother a little longer, bewildered, confused, hurt. Not a single greeting for his own sister.

Then it hits me. He's ashamed. Embarrassed that I'm here when he's not alone, though I can't fathom why. But that look can only mean shame, the flushed cheeks, the speed at which he looked down.

So that's how it is. As long as we're on the bus, at home or somewhere not many people will see us, we're best friends. But the minute he's with his friends, that changes. It's all great when he wants to be with me, but better not look at him any other time. How humiliating, how horrible to have his sibling say hello to him. How uncool to do that in front of his new buddies.

At least one good thing came out of this: I needn't wonder why he's colder with me anymore. I turn on my heel and hope the anger isn't too evident on my face. The school bell resounds in my ears, but I barely notice it - there is already a ringing in my head. I take my seat in homeroom, and Max is late as usual. Good. I try to put Caleb out of my mind. I have other problems to sort out.

Will has a small, dreamy smile on his face when I look at him, almost goofy. Every few seconds he tries to be serious, but it doesn't last, his happy expression returns again and again.

I sigh. I know that Peter sits at the back for homeroom. It's fairly far away from the front, but I don't want to take any chances. I tear a sheet of paper from a random copy book in my bag, and scribble a sentence down. I pass it to Will, who frowns.

Can't we talk? he mouths.

I shake my head and point a finger at Peter as discreetly as possible under my desk. Will nods, writes something, and hands it back to me. I scowl when I see what he said. I am in no mood to be messed with today. I return the piece of paper to Will. He tilts his head as he reads what I wrote, ignoring the passive aggressive tone. Max comes in, and Will hurriedly gives the lined paper back to me. The end result is this:

Did you find anything?

Sorry Tris but there was nothing on either of his hands. You sure he was cheating?

Course I'm sure. You're the one who's all about logic, couldn't he have washed his hands before English? Wouldn't that be the smart thing to do?

True. Guess we're just gonna have to wait and see.

So we've gotten nowhere in this, not to mention that Will doesn't entirely believe in what I saw, despite the fact that I am not blind, or stupid. He could very well be falling for the "dumb blonde" stereotype. I can't help but smile ruefully. Will has blonde hair too, and a paler shade at that. That would be like insulting himself. To quote Will, there would be no logic in that. That cheers me up a little more than it should, even with the bleak start to my day. I have to see the funny side. If there isn't one, I have to make one up.

I zone out as Max rambles on about sports clubs, basketball and tennis and other activities I'm unlikely to ever join. Then he begins a speech about anti-bullying, and while my expression stays neutral, my mind scoffs at the teachers' way of thinking. It doesn't matter how many talks we get, how many posters we draw and put on cork boards around the school. Bullying is like the common cold: you can get rid of it once, but that won't stop it from returning again and again. It will take more than a coloured piece of paper to convince bullies to stop. At least I can say that my old school was good at dealing with that sort of thing.

I sometimes wonder what Mr Eaton said that turned troublemakers into angels who did no wrong for the remainder of their time there.

"That said, the principal asked all ninth graders to design anti-bullying posters for us to put around the school," Max explains, snapping me out of my thoughts. "We decided to give you two weeks, and you'll be put into groups of two."

He takes a basket from the top of his desk, which I didn't notice before, puts his hand in, and mixes whatever its contents are. The sight of a strong, burly man like Max carrying a woven basket is both absurd and amusing, and I bite my lip to hide a smile.

"I've put all your names in a basket, as you can see. And before you ask, no, you can't swap partners."

I'll be grateful if it's anyone apart from Peter or his two friends.

"Okay, so..." Max pulls out two strips of paper, looks at them and writes down the names. "Marlene. You're with Edward. Gabe, you're with Drew. Christina, with Lynn. Uriah, you're going with Molly. Tris, your partner's Al. Peter..."

Al and I look at each other and smile. Things are looking up. I didn't get a person I barely know, I'm paired up with a friend.

I exit homeroom with Al that morning, leaving Will behind with Christina.

"Tris." Al has a wide grin on his face. "What do you think we should do for the poster?"

"Anything, as long as it's not too hard to do," I say as we walk side by side. I have to tilt my head right up to talk to Al, and he has to look straight down. It feels like chatting with a giant.

"Please tell me you can draw?" he says.

I shake my head and smirk. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Great, so we're screwed!"

"Well, at least we're screwed as a group."

"I guess. Well Tris, I... I have to go this way now. Where should we meet to do the poster?"

"Umm... Maybe in the library. At the first break. By the computers."

"Okay. See you, Tris."

"Bye Al."

I feel a lot happier as I head for my next class. Of all the people in my friend group, Al is the one I know the least. He is shyer than Christina and Will, and apart from the odd joke or comment, he generally just watches and listens to us and laughs when appropriate. Even I'm not as quiet as I was three or four weeks ago. Back then I would never have envisioned myself with such good friends. They're not perfect like Susan or Robert, whom I haven't even thought about for a while, but they're fun and caring and not always trying too hard to spare my feelings: they're honest. Especially Christina for the last one.

The next two classes fly, and break approaches in no time. I gobble up my sandwich and grab some books from my locker as quickly as I can, so Al isn't kept waiting in the library for me.

As it turns out, I'm earlier than Al. I sit on a swivel chair and start up one of the computers, putting my school bag on the spare seat next to me so nobody takes it. A boy with short dark hair taps his fingers on the other side of me, presumably waiting for a slow website to load. I glance at him. My heart skips a beat when I register who he is, and my quick glance turns into a stare. He looks at me, with raised eyebrows.

"Tris."

He has a deep voice for his age. He must be only sixteen, if he's in eleventh grade.

"Tobias," I whisper casually, even though with my flaming cheeks, I feel anything but. He nods, and turns back to his computer screen.

"Everything going well so far?" he mutters, keeping his eyes on the screen.

"Yes, it is," I reply.

There is a long pause as I play around with the mouse. I don't want to start researching ideas without Al. I wonder where he is, and if he forgot he was supposed to meet me here.

"Tris."

I turn back to Tobias, and this time, his eyes are on me. They are a deep blue, almost black, with a patch of lighter blue on the left iris. I lower my gaze slightly, embarrassed to be having such thoughts about a guy.

"If you ever need anything," he says, "I'm here."

He shifts his attention back to the computer, scrolling down with his mouse. Before I have time to react, I see Al, moving briskly with flushed cheeks, scanning the area by the computers. It is impossible not to notice him. I remember thinking on my first day about how low the ceiling is, and how a very tall person's head would only be a few centimetres from the top. Al is one of those tall people I imagined. I hope for his sake that he has finished his growth spurt.

He spots me, waves and smiles. I return the gesture, but inside, I just want him to go back outside the library, so I can be alone with Tobias. The thought almost frightens me. I've never felt this way about a boy before. I've seen many guys whom I considered to be handsome, but the thought of being their girlfriend never even crossed my mind. Yet here is someone I've only been with three times, and-

"Sorry I'm late," Al breathes, taking the seat next to me. The small swivel chair looks like it will break under his weight. "I couldn't find my math book."

"Oh. Did you find it?"

"Yeah. It was in my bag the whole time."

He smiles as he says it, and I snort as he turns on his computer, forgetting to be quiet. I avoid the stern look the librarian gives me, and remind Al in a barely audible voice that we only have six minutes left. He nods, and we both start looking for ideas. I try to ignore the fact that Tobias is still right next to me.

"You know," Al says after a bit, "I was just thinking. Why don't we do this on the computer? The whole poster, I mean. It'll be more fun and a lot easier too."

"Okay. Are you any good at computers?"

"Sorry, didn't catch that."

"Are you any good with computers?"

"Me?" His eyes are suddenly sad, and his smile fades. "I'm not that good at anything, Tris."

"Oh. I'm okay, I guess. We can try... I mean, we've a better chance of doing a good poster on a computer than on paper."

"Yeah."

"And... I'm sure you're good at something, Al."

I hope I said the right thing. Comforting people when they're low is not my strongest point.

"Like what, Tris?" He gives a silent, mirthless laugh.

"You... You're a nice person. A good friend. What more could you want?"

He snorts, louder than I did, and the librarian makes a shushing sound in his direction.

"Forget it, Tris," he murmurs, his face red from the reprimand. "Nobody's going to ask me in a few years if I'm a nice person. They'll ask me what qualifications I have."

I am silent. I hate to admit it, but he is right. A nice personality is helpful if you want to get on with your workmates, but it's not really the first thing an employer looks for in an interview.

"See? I told you. Anyway we'd better turn this thing off. The bell's going to go at any second."

I nod. Al is sweet, but now that I've witnessed the self-loathing side of him, I start to hope he won't be too much of a downer when we meet again for the poster.

I give one last look at Tobias, still focused on his computer, and we leave the library.

"Tris," Al says once we're outside in the hallway, tapping me on the shoulder.

"Yes?"

"I don't know if the library's working, I mean we can barely talk without being shushed, and we don't get a lot of time, so... would it be better if we met up at each other's houses? I think we'd get more done. I mean, it's up to you."

"Yeah. I think we should do that."

"Yeah? Okay, so... which house? Yours, or mine?"

"Umm, maybe yours would be better. We only have one laptop in our house, and Caleb uses it a lot for homework, that's my brother, so..."

"Yeah. I've a sibling too, she's three, and... yeah." He scratches the back of his neck. "So... my house? Not today - maybe tomorrow?"

"Yeah." I hear the bell. "Bye Al."

"See you in math, Tris."

I allow myself a silent groan when he is out of sight. The fact that his sister is a toddler will not help in the making of his poster. I do want to have my own children someday, but I tend to dislike other adult's kids. I was a bit tomboyish as a young girl, always playing outdoors and getting my clean clothes dirty (I scowled too when Susan received praise from my parents), and I confess that until the age of eight when I began to calm down, I was not an easy child to deal with. But when I look at some of the younger children I pass, whining and acting like spoiled brats, I wonder if I was all that bad.

I check my timetable. Geography. I doubt we'll get our test results back today. It's a pity, as I'm curious to find out my score. I sit down once I reach the classroom, and take out my pencil case and copy book, ready for when the teacher begins class. I spot a stack of papers on her desk - surely she hasn't them all corrected?

"Now class." She slaps her hands on her desk, making a few people gasp with fright, then pats the pile of papers. "As you can see, I have graded your tests. Some I was happy with, some I was not. Most were average. I understand that it's your first geography test, but I expect everyone who got fifty percent or less to improve your grade next time. Now, I have a list of all the results in order, from highest to lowest, and I will call them out-"

"Can you not call them out?"

All heads turn to the back of the classroom. A boy with an unruly mass of curls yawns. He looks like he hasn't slept in days.

The teacher walks towards his table, her high heels making a soft thud on the carpet with each step she takes. Her eyes are narrowed, and her mouth is pressed into a hard line. A look like that can only mean big trouble. There is no doubt about it.

She smacks the palm of her hand on his desk, causing him to jump violently in his seat.

"Wake up," she spits. "Perhaps if you'd worked harder in class, Jacob, you might have been higher up at the top."

With that she returns to the front of the room, and smiles like nothing happened. "Anyway. As I was saying. I will read out all of the results from highest to lowest. If you got a high grade, congratulations. I'm sure you won't mind me telling everyone what you got. If you received a low score, let this be a lesson for you to work harder next time. So, the first person on the list is William Lloyd-Hughes, a hundred percent."

It takes me a few seconds to register who she's talking about. It is strange to hear Will being called by his full name. He sits near the front, so I can't communicate with him, but I'll make sure to congratulate him once class is over.

"Next is Edward Lamb, with ninety nine percent; Myra Smith with ninety eight; Beatrice Prior with ninety two; Peter Hayes with ninety one. That's it for the nineties, now for those who got eighty to eighty nine percent..."

I came fourth from the top. Fourth. Ninety two out of a hundred. To think that I was pretty worried about the test on the bus yesterday, and I only lost eight points in the end. But that's not the reason why I feel smug. I know this is pride, something my parents always told me to avoid, but I can't help it.

I like how I beat Peter, Peter who thought he was so clever when he wrote hints on his hand, Peter who mocked me and said I looked like an elementary school kid, that Peter. In fact, I don't just like it - I relish it. I have some shame in my thoughts - my family would not be pleased if they knew - but that shame is nothing, nothing compared to the feeling of victory I now possess.

I can't resist wearing a self-satisfied smirk as I do the assigned work. I wonder how much I wounded his ego. I can't see his face because he sits on front of me, but I'll get my answer at the end of this class period.

When I hear the sound of the bell, I dump everything in my bag. As I walk between the rows of desks, I give a quick look behind me. Peter has a deadpan expression, like he doesn't care, but the vicious glint that appears in his eyes when he catches sight of me hints at underlying fury. Suddenly uneasy, I get out of there as fast as I can, until I'm safe in the corridors. Will left before me, so I can't applaud his good grade. He's too far ahead of me. I'll have to wait til big break.

As I head for math I feel a pair of hands pressing into my back. Next thing I know I am sprawled on the floor, a small crowd of passers-by staring at me.

"Tris, are you okay? Didn't mean to do that, sorry."

Peter is in front of me, standing next to Drew. Peter bends down and grabs my arm, helping me up, or so it looks to the average observer. As he gets me to my feet he squeezes my arm, digging his nails into my skin. I wince, but I won't cry out this time. I won't let him know that he hurt me.

"Well, well, well. Looks like we have competition, huh?" he says in a low tone, still holding onto me, his face nearly touching mine. I can smell his stale breath, droplets of saliva landing on my face. He no longer looks angelic with his eyebrows turned downwards, eyes narrowed to half their real size, his looks marred by hatred and anger. He shoves me again, this time against a locker, and I grit my teeth as the impact hurts my head. He places his hands firmly on both of my arms so I can't escape. From the corner of my peripheral vision I can see more people staring, none willing to do anything to help me. Cowards.

"I know you cheated, Peter," I say quietly.

Telling him that was a mistake. He'll be on his guard from now on.

He raises an eyebrow, putting his face close to mine once more. "Why? Thinking of telling?"

"Peter Hayes, what are you doing?"

Peter lets go of me and turns around to meet face to face with our geography teacher. I watch him, and after a moment's hesitation, he runs his fingers along the back of his neck, an embarrassed gesture, and his face turns red.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. What were you doing?"

"Me, oh, I, I was-"

"What were you doing?"

He looks down, his cheeks flushing a darker shade of red. "I was... I was kissing her, miss. I'm very sorry."

Drew snorts with suppressed laughter.

As for me, I'm too shocked to react.

The teacher's left eyebrow quirks upwards.

"Well Peter, learn to control yourself in future. You are on school grounds, and this is not appropriate behaviour. And you Beatrice shouldn't be encouraging him. I'll give you a chance because you're new, but next time will be a detention. Understood?"

"Yes miss," Peter says meekly. I am speechless. She fell for Peter's act? I suppose it might have seemed like we were about to kiss at first glance, but did it look like I was enjoying it? In that case, my geography teacher is not very bright, despite her strict appearance.

Peter shoves me a third time once she walks off, but this time it is only a gentle push, and I barely stagger. Well, as gentle as Peter gets, anyway.

"Eww. As if anyone would want to kiss you," he says, shaking his head with disgust.

"Yeah. I might give you cooties, so better watch out."

At first he gapes at me, looking like he might laugh. Instead, he rolls his eyes, and strolls ahead with Drew.

Peter may be a jerk. Peter may even be a little intimidating at times. But there is one good thing he has done for me, even if he doesn't know it: he has given me the motivation to ace my exams and beat his dishonestly earned grades. Because no matter how many times he shoves me, or hurts me, or disrespects me, I will not break because of him. I will thrive.

It's never stated in the books whether Al has a sibling, so I decided to give him one for this fanfic. Also, I only realised this right before publishing this chapter, but the irony here is that the teachers claim to be against bullying, yet when Peter physically hurts Tris, they do nothing about it. You get some schools that are good at that sort of thing. Others... not so much. I was going to call this chapter School Work, but I changed it to Anti-Bullying? for this reason.
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