Tris' POV
I gripped the edges of the bathroom sink hard. So hard, in fact, that my knuckles were white. I looked up at my reflection in the school's bathroom mirror, trying to even my breath out. Biting the inside of my cheek, I pushed away from the sink, glancing at my reflection in disgust. Why couldn't I just forgive Christina? I thought. What's wrong with me? I reposition my bag before composing myself and hurrying to my math class. The first of the day.
When I walk in, everyone is already seated, and the teacher is calling roll. He can't be over 5'2, and he's got these wire-rimmed glasses that sit on the edge of his nose. He's balding, has a beer belly, and his clothes are all wrinkled. I feel bad for him. To look that disheveled, you've got to have something really wrong going on in your life. He pauses when I walk in, looking up at me. "Can I help you?" he asks, his tone pompous, with a condescending look on his face.
"I―um, I'm in this class, sorry I'm late." I say. His face remains the same, and I cringe when I realize that everyone is looking at me. "I―I'll just take my seat…" I begin towards the back of the class. The only open seat is between two guys, one of which is looking at me with a hunter's desire, the other with curiosity.
When I sit down, the one on my left extends his hand. "I'm Zeke," he says. Leaning in close, he whispers, "Don't mind the player to your right. He'll move on eventually." Smiling, he says, "If you ever need anything, I'm your man, okay?" He winks, and I laugh. He seems like a cool guy. I hope we can be friends.
I smile at him. "Tris," I say. He nods. I turn back to the front, only to see that everyone else has a pencil out, while I'm sitting here without a thing on my desk. I quickly lean over, reaching into my bag, searching for a pencil. The guy on the other side of me lets out a low whistle, so that only I can hear it. I pull up my shirt and glare at him. Scooting my chair a little further away from him, I return my attention to the teacher. He's introducing himself as Mr. Costello.
The disgusting person beside me puts his arm around my shoulder. I wriggle under his grasp, but he just tightens his grip on me. His breath is hot on my neck when he says, "How 'ya doin', Trissy? I'm Felix. You see, you should ignore Zeke. He's a criminal." He puts emphasis on the last word.
I take an uncertain glance at Zeke. He hasn't seemed to notice the interaction between Felix and me, and I study his face. Could he really be a criminal? I study his features. He's got a hard look on his face. Like a man who has never been loved. Men who have never been loved tend to do things that they can never be loved for doing. Maybe, just maybe he could.
I glare at Felix. "Well, as far as I'm concerned, you're a criminal, too," I say. He looks at me first in surprise, and then his eyes narrow. He's got a murderous look on his face, and I'm scared. Actually, really scared. I reach my arm out and touch Zeke's arm, careful to make the movement subtle enough so Felix doesn't notice it. At first, Zeke either doesn't notice or thinks it was an accident, but then when I press my fingers into his arm, he looks over.
Seeing the panicked look on my face and Felix's restricting grip on my shoulders, he stands up and pushes Felix off of me, knocking over both his and Felix's chairs in the process. He towers over Felix. Then, we hear a nasally voice from the front of the room.
"Mister Pedrad! What in God's name are you doing?!" Mr. Costello squeaks from the front of the room. While the students' heads turn to us, Zeke and I look at our teacher, who is busy bustling down the row.
"I… I…" Zeke stutters. He looks scared, which is strange. He's in a powerful position right now. But I guess, criminal or not, he's my friend, and I'll help him.
"It was me," I say. "This is my fault." Mr. Costello is astonished. His eyes are wide, and he's looking back and forth between the three of us. He nervously dabs at his shining forehead with a handkerchief. He clearly wasn't expecting the quiet, small-framed girl in the back of the room to cause trouble.
"Well then," he starts, "you'll report to the main office immediately. All of you," he adds, seeing the relieved smirk on Felix's face. I stand up shakily. This is the first time I've ever been in trouble with a teacher. Did you know that it's a criminal offense to disrupt school? I'm doomed. What will my parents think? Oh God, what will Caleb think? I'm done for.
As we walk out of the classroom, Zeke reaches over and squeezes my hand. He must see how distressed I am. I'm thankful for him being here for me, so I squeeze back. I expect him to drop my hand after that, but he doesn't. I don't mind much. His hand is nice and warm, and feels comfortable. I send him a quick smile, and apologize profusely for getting him into trouble.
"What do you mean?" He's bewildered. I frown.
"Well, I got you into trouble. You'd still be in that classroom if I wasn't," I explain. He begins to laugh, a loud, booming one that fills the empty halls. A nice laugh. My eyebrows come together.
"What?" I ask. He looks at me incredulously.
"You're shi―sorry, kidding me, right?" he asks, still chuckling. "You don't actually believe that, do you?"
I take my hand out of his and fold my arms across my chest, studying the ground. "Well, I mean, you'd be sitting there still, even if you were bored out of your mind, without me. It was my problem with him―" I start to gesture toward Felix, but then I realize he's gone. I grab Zeke's arm. Nice, I think, but I don't get much time to appreciate his form. "Felix, he's gone," I point out.
Zeke starts to chuckle again, and I glare at him. "I'm serious, Zeke! Where did he go?" I ask, looking all around me.
My companion (and, in a way, savior) gently grips my shoulder with one hand, putting a finger under my chin with his other hand, forcing me to look at him. "Tris," he says softly. "Chill out. He probably just took another route, or maybe he's skipping. It's no biggie." His words are calming.
"I'm sorry." I close my eyes and breathe out slowly. "It's just that, well, this is my first time that I've ever been sent to the office. I'm supposed to be this perfect student, perfect person, always unselfish, always giving, always helping, always―"
"Tris," Zeke says. I stop my rant and look up at him. Tears are starting to form in my eyes. I'm not quite sure why. He has a small, sad smile on his face when he pulls me in for a hug. "Shh," he whispers. "It's alright. I'm here." I am grateful (once again) for his comforting gesture. I feel safe in his arms, and don't want to let go, but after a minute, I pull away and push my hair back. I wipe at my eyes and give him a smile.
I sniffle. "Thanks." His hand meets mine again, and I squeeze. Our fingers are still locked when we enter the office.
