Chapter 10I don't own Divergent!Tris
I lay in bed debating, thinking about my newfound knowledge.
Caleb is in the competition.
Although I am a former Abnegation, I didn't live up to the standards of a true one while I belonged to the faction, more mentally than in my physical actions. The pang of jealousy that hits me again right in the heart of my stomach somewhere I suppose to be my gut. Caleb has always excelled in showing his selflessness even in his cooking whereas I struggle being too selfish to even live up to his standards much less my parents. I know I shouldn't feel the jealousy, but I do and that is what washes me over with undeniable shame. I breathe out once closing my eyes and exhaling softly in a puff of air.
My peers breathe in a hushed unison around me and although I listen and try to match the rhythm, my breaths leave my mouth a second faster and when I inhale the intake is a second slower.
I am different.
Divergent. The word is whispered in desolate hallways and behind dorm doors. Although my interpreted meaning is a good one, I have a gut feeling that the way the word is whispered it isn't meant to be praised. That is a fitting name for me. Sometimes I feel the hints of Abnegation peeking through, the inquisitive Erudite intellect vying for attention in class, then the sudden burst of adrenaline pumping Dauntless when I perform a brave act or likewise a foolish one. I am different and selfish. Accepting the facts would be easier to deal with the suddenly offbeat tempo of our breaths and the jealousy boiling in my stomach.
"Tris," a voice hisses in the dark.
I recoil and move in a swift motion to the wall banging my head loudly in the process.
"Chill, Tris, it's just me," Uriah's voice sounds.
"Uriah? Come on that scared me to death," I say returning to reality.
"You didn't seem asleep, I was just wondering!" He whispers loudly raising his arms in defense.
The beam of light that peaks in through the thin crack of the door illuminates his face just enough that I am able to recognize him. His sharp angular features are bathed in a quiet light, and I see how he is referred to as handsome although I do not like him.
"Sorry, Tris-o," he says popping his lips together emitting a "puh" sound.
I curl into my blankets, the soft plush of the feathers, and think about sleep, invite it welcomingly, but it doesn't come.
Lack of sleep doesn't weigh down my thoughts at all when the dorm awakens at the sound of an alarm. I shut my eyes quickly as if I was asleep. Others moan and silently I pull myself out of bed and making my way to the bathroom.
I am blocked off by everyone else jammed against the door not moving.
"Hey come on!" Uriah shouts out from behind me.
"What are you guys waiting for?" Will asks from besides me.
"Oh calm down already, apparently our first class is CC today and we'll be staying there until lunch," Peter says gruffly.
"Why?" Lynn counters rubbing a hand across her baldhead.
"Does it look like I know?" Peter growls.
"Give it a break Peter," Molly grumbles and Peter shoots her a baneful glare.
"Ugh just move, I gotta shower," Christina mutters scratching her head; the hair is a frizzy halo of cocoa.
"Shut up Candor nobody asked you," Drew smirks.
"Now, now dear children let us all just happily get along," Uriah says in an accent that I can describe as invented.
"Uri just move out of the freakin way," Christina says.
"Rainbows and ponies Christina," I say.
"Oh shut it Tris."
I chuckle, grab a pair of black shorts and a loose black tee shirt, and head toward the bathroom. I decide that since we have time I am able to shower.
"Hey Stiff," Peter smirks as I emerge from the shower area.
I forgot to bring my undergarments, and the dorm isn't that far away so I was just going to run exceptionally fast back to my cubicle.
"Doesn't look more than 12 does she?" Molly snickers.
Drew flicks a lock of my hair coming closer. I bite my lip breathing shallow. A nervous buzzing sounds through my ears and my stomach churns.
No, no, no don't come closer.
I back away slightly providing distance between me and the posse.
"Stop it," I say my voice turning softer than I expected it to sound.
"I don't know, let's see," Peter snarls responding to Molly.
He grabs the towel from my grasp, but I turn around and swipe it back before a long period can past. I bound down the hall to the dorm and lock myself in the small bathroom that we have in the room.
I clench my jaw tightly ignoring the hot tears threatening to spill.
Dauntless, you are Dauntless.
I breathe my breath hitching in my throat once before I pull on my shorts and slip the shirt over. I comb my hair thoroughly and slowly strand by strand fashion it into a high ponytail. The dull blonde-haired person I expected to see from my hair isn't there. Flickers of gold and sullen yellow blend together to emit a shiny blonde glow that for some reason allows me to breathe normally after my encounter although white hot fury still course through my veins.
I do not search for my friends; I immediately make a beeline for the CC room, which is a couple hallways down from the Training Room. When I arrive, I push the door open rather forcefully and realize I am early, too early.
"Morning Tris," Chef Tori says flipping a gooey substance on a pan.
"Good morning," I reply before hesitating slightly.
My breaths are still somewhat heavy from subdued anger, but I ignore it and watch intently as a real chef cooks. The anger inside slowly dissipates as I breathe in the scent of the kitchen though.
"Don't ask me what it is, I frankly have no idea," Chef Tori says to my staring.
"You don't know what you're cooking?" I ask confused.
You have to know what you're cooking to be cooking it.
"This is an invention of the sort… Four makes me cook it for him in the mornings. All I can tell you that it tastes like hell of a good breakfast meal."
"Four makes you cook it for him?" I ask the thought of somebody making breakfast for Four hysterical.
Somebody clears their throat gruffly behind me and says, "Chef, I wasn't aware that I made you cook this for me today."
I spin around to face Four who has his cobalt eyes narrowed in questioning. Chef Tori rolls her eyes and gives Four a pointed look.
"Ok, yes I did want it, but I didn't make you..." Four trails off flicking his eyes over to me and acknowledging me with a terse nod.
Chef Tori laughs and I crack a smile slightly wary of offending Four.
"Would you like some Tris? You are quite early," Chef Tori asks me.
"No thank you, I'm fine."
"No, no, no you are here, so you are trying," Four interrupts raising his eyebrows at me daring me to question.
"But-"
"No buts," Four confirms sitting down straddling his chair.
I bite my lip trying not to smile. I don't know why, but my eyes wander over to him every once in a while as if something new is going to happen that I need to be prepared for.
"I've never asked, Four, but... what is this called?" Chef Tori asks.
"Uh I never named it. How about Dauntless cake?" He asks.
The more in depth they approach the subject the more my confusion grows and curiosity on the ingredients.
"Dauntless cake! No, Mr. Four, this," she says pulling out a slice of dark chocolate frosted cake from the fridge, "is Dauntless cake."
Simultaneously she clicks of the stove and plops down on a chair eating the cake with her fingers.
Well this is a new experience. I'm watching a teacher eat cake- with her fingers- while my instructor, who happens to be a student also, sits as if this isn't obviously odd.
"So Four, have you thought of whom you want sous-chef-ing?" Chef Tori asks Four.
I took the seat furthest away from the stove and a slight distance away from Chef and Four.
My stomach tightens at the thought of the competition, at the thought of Caleb. I could have never fathomed that culinary would be a topic that would made me feel a plethora of sickening emotions. I hear them discuss the topic, but the boiling in my stomach burns, and blocks out the words to a dull low throb.
[Page Break]
"So Stiff, it seems you've brought backup this time?" Molly hisses in my ear as she takes a seat west of where my friends and I reside.
I don't acknowledge her and she strides away her eyebrows creased, displeased.
"As you know we going to learn the responsibilities of a sous-chef," Chef Tori announces.
The class stops abruptly quieting to a whisper and giggle and then dead silence. The soft patter of rain outside assumes the rightful place of the verbalization that we departed with seconds ago.
"Sous-chef," Chef Tori continues. "Is rightfully the most arduous position in the kitchen; the chef's tasks hardly compare to the grueling work sous-chefs undertake.
"Why wouldn't being a chef be harder?" Peter laughs. "They are after all, the head of the kitchen.
"Because," Four says making a low irritated sound in his throat. "The sous-chef directs the kitchen, the planning of the food. They must be quick to know each position and what the responsibilities of each of them. The sous-chef will fill in for the chef if he or she is not present. We discipline the lower ranks and keep them in place."
Peter's smirk dissipates as Four scowls at him menacingly. The challenge is apparent, more so on Peter's side then on Four's.
"Yes, Four here has experience as a genuine sous-chef so I would be attentive to his words. Even if you aren't in the competition," Chef Tori nods her tone sternly directed toward Peter. "By the end of the week seniors are required to have chosen a sous-chef who will assist them in their cooking," Tori states throwing a pointed look at Four.
His expression darkens washing over with an emotion I can only describe as conflicted.
The lecture continues and I find myself engrossed in the definitions, explanations, and the pure significance of a culinary lecture from an authentic chef. It seems, as I'm the only one focused of the lecture though because when the bell rings I am still caught in some sort of a daze.
"Tris! Tris do you hear me? Juliana just asked me to sous-chef for her!" Christina squeals in my ear euphoria bouncing in the tone of her voice.
"Really, that's great!" I fake a genuine smile.
The burning at my gut tightens. Christina is in the competition now. I should be happy, excited for her, yet the fire consumes me. I dash out of the room my teeth jagged on the soft insides of my cheek.
[Page Break]
There is a hidden window on the second floor of the Dauntless Compound. It resides near the culinary research library and the infinite halls of the upper floor. The window is concealed by black curtains swathed on all sides of the jutted out wall. The relaxing factor is the plush mahogany tinted window seat that is about six feet in length and large enough in width to accommodate two full-grown human beings.
Situating myself on the left corner of the seat I run my fingers through the fabric breathing quietly to take pleasure in the scenic view.
Water glides across the glass dotting it with orbs of clear liquid. The window is slightly ajar allowing crisp fresh air to enter my system; it smells of rain, the pleasurable aroma of wet pavement. The trees outside sway leisurely as if in beat with the harmonic music that just doesn't reach my capacity of hearing. The sky is colored with a pale stormy grey the edge my own eyes occasionally reflect when something is bothering my peace of mind.
Classes ended with unusual commotion of students vying for senior's attention and the hoots of laughter and euphoria of a junior or an occasional sophomore accepting the task of taking on the position of sous-chef. Uriah was grudgingly asked by Zeke and Lynn by her sister Shauna. Will and I hadn't been asked by anybody although the way I took it internally bothered me more than the fact that wasn't asked.
Juliana, the senior who asked Christina to sous-chef for her wasn't somebody I knew well although we've crossed paths multiple times seeing as one of the senior CC classes followed sophomore CC.
High-pitched chirps from birds travel to my ears and soften my expression slightly. The sound is sharp and distinct although sweet in sound. The swirl of color in the sky reminds me of a sudden memory that is so fleeting that the harder I try to remember it the faster it fades. My eyes flicker once a wave of drowsiness drowning my thoughts and subduing them to a placid hum. Before I accept that, I'm too far gone from reality there's a dreamy voice that I can't distinguish from male or female, reality or dream:
"Be my sous-chef?"
A/N: AH it's Dan Reynolds birthday so this chapter is to Imagine Dragons. This chapter was supposed to be done sooner, but I went to Six Flags and then I had cleaning and there goes two days. Read & review! Ideas and thoughts are always welcome.
-TFW