Whoo-hoo, ten chapters! Since it's ten chapters, I decided to present you readers with a longer chapter than usual. By the way, I am SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO sorry for the wait. I've just been really busy. Anyway, I'm trying to lengthen out my chapters more so you folks get to read more and then review and stuff like that. But anyway, I don't want to blab too much, on and on and on - so without further ado - Chapter 10.
"All right, kids," Mrs. Pedrad says, brushing some loose gray hair out of her eyes. We're all seated at desks, and Mrs. Pedrad's face is serious, but not too serious. I think she spotted something. And I'm right. "If you know what's good for you, Uriah, you'll stop drawing lips on Marlene's leg."
Uriah jerks up. He's holding a red marker in his hand, and as he comes up, he accidentally streaks it up Marlene's cheek.
"Uriah!" Marlene says in annoyance, rubbing it off. She runs to the back, gets a Clorox wipe, and wipes it off. I frown. Clorox wipes sting when they get rubbed on your skin.
The class laughs, but Four is sitting in his usual spot and still doodling. This time it's of a man and a little boy next to him, but instead of smiles, both of them have scowls on their faces. The little boy looks a little like Four himself. Huh. Weird.
"Tris, could you come up to me for a moment?" Mrs. Pedrad asks, beckoning to me. I raise my eyebrows but walk up towards her, trying to ignore Four's stare piercing into my back.
"Everyone else, you do whatever you like," she tells the rest of the class. "And Four, seriously, use the backs of pages when you doodle. We're almost out of paper." Four shrugs nonchalantly, like he doesn't care, even though it's a total waste of the environment. Hana smiles a bit. "Right, I forgot. The Amazon Forest is going to be completely cut down before you decide you're done with doodling, am I right?"
Four remains silent still, adding a house in the background of his picture. "It's not doodling, Hana," he finally says. "It's drawing. There's a difference."
"Sure, sure. But seriously, Tori's getting pretty pissed with you. Paper costs a lot, you know."
Four scoffs. "My parents are paying for my tuition. Charge the costs on them."
Hana rolls her eyes. I have a feeling she knows she can't beat him with words.
"Tris?" she says quietly when I arrive at her desk.
"Yeah?"
"I just wanted you to know that when I saw the whole exchange with Four and you, I was going to prevent it, but I didn't. I let it happen, Tris, and I want you to think about why I did as I did." She nods at me, flashes a quick smile, then says, "Get back to your seat. It's almost first period."
I frown. "Mrs. Pedrad, are the schedules the same every day?"
"Well, yes," she answers, and leans forward conspiratorially. "When other teachers aren't around, you can call me Hana."
My eyebrows contract. This is odd. "Hana, ever since I came, I felt like you're a kid just like us."
Hana laughs, gesturing to her wispy gray hair. "I wish, Tris. I try to get to know all of my students personally, so I can know more about you guys. It's easier for me that way, so I don't have to have any trouble, you know, with the jokes and things, you know?"
I nod. "Sure, sure."
She changes the subject abruptly. "Tris, when you walked into Roth High, you changed. I know who you used to be, Tris. And I know you're not that person anymore." She forces me to look at her by lifting my chin up with a firm yet weathered hand, and I feel like a child being reprimanded by its mother.
"Listen to me, Tris," she continues. "You're going to be teased. There are some kids in this school who won't stand for 'bullies.' They are the bullies, though. They started off as nerdy kids, then got their growth spurts and are now on the defensive side, constantly. Nerds and new kids look up to them, but seasoned students think of them as sensitive, highly explosive bullies.
"They believe they are the protectors. Once they see a potentially mean kid, they swarm and attack. Then they become the bullies, unknowingly. Kids fear them and love 'em at the same time. But some think they're jerks. Take my sons and their friends, for example. My older boy, Zeke, constantly complains about how he would love to kick their asses. Then, out of the blue, he tells me a long story about how rude and smartass they are, and while I'm distracted, his friend Four – yep, the Four who beat you up – and Uriah, and Christina – I'll tell you more about her later -, Will, and some other folks – they go and attack the leader of the group. His name's Peter. Now, when Uriah's serious about something, you know it's practically the Apocalypse, so Peter was scared out of his wits when Uriah approached him, kicked some ass, and told 'im to stop ruining his life, keeping a straight face all the while."
I gape. "Hana" –
"Sorry for the excessive cussing, I get it from my boys," she explains, smiling.
"Not so excessive, Hana. I've heard worse," I say, grinning. "But, uh, I've kinda lost the point of this conversation."
"Me too. Um, let me think." Hana taps a pencil to her left temple thoughtfully, then her eyes light up. "Ah! I remember now. All I wanted to tell you was that once you came back to school, Peter would be after you. Peter is after you. Along with his crew. And you are gonna be beat up pretty bad if you're defenseless. That's why I'm ordering you – and by the way, this is supported whole-heartedly by the principal – you need someone capable with you at all times."
"Oh, so I'm not capable?" I ask, some of the sass coming back into my voice as I realize I cannot defend myself.
"Tris, don't argue. We know fully well that you do not need bodyguards, therefore we are not going to force you to be shadowed in class, only at transition times. Look, Tris, I'm trying to protect you. About a million moms have said this for bad things, but really, Tris, these kids can do serious damage. I don't want you to get hurt, you hear me?"
"Yeah, yeah," I say half-heartedly. How embarrassing is this, having to be followed around by someone who's apparently more capable than me!
"So mainly, your people who are gonna be with you are gonna be in a rotation, and most of them are going to be part of the 'gang' that kinda 'subdued' Peter last year."
My mouth drops open. "Please no …" I whisper.
Hana smiles sympathetically. "Sorry, Tris. Principal's orders. Four's gonna be in the rotation."
Okay, this is officially the worst thing that's ever happened in my life. I am so mortified. Four is going to have to practically babysit me and, if necessary, defend me!
Oh dammit. Dammit dammit dammit. What am I going to do?
"Don't worry, Tris. He's well into the rotation. Anyway, your first partner is a girl named Christina Kravitz. She's the biggest chatterbox you have ever seen, trust me. She's obsessed with shopping and she was the one who distracted everyone else while Four and Uriah and the others scared Peter."
"Okay," I say. Doesn't sound too bad.
"She's the girlfriend of Will, as I'm sure you know. Anyway, I'll introduce you two at the end of homeroom."
I raise an eyebrow. "Looks like it already is the end, Hana."
"Yeah, sure," she answers. "You're right. Christina!" she calls. "Can you come over here please?"
The dark-skinned girl gets up and strides over to us. She has short, straight black hair and a bunch of tattoos all over.
"Christina, remember how I told you about Tris, the girl who needs watching?" Hana asks quietly, but I hear.
"Hana, that's it," I say, my ingrained rudeness coming to life. "What is wrong with you? I can defend myself. Now get out if you don't think I'm capable. I can't stand you."
Hana sighs. "Four!" she calls. As if Four's been expecting it, he gets up and walks over to us, looking at Hana with a perfect poker face.
"Yes, Hana?" he asks politely.
"I think Tris needs a little demonstration," she says, and I gasp when Four pins my arms behind my back with inhuman force. He twists them, not enough for them to break, but enough for them to hurt a lot.
Then he does something so incredibly terrifying, horrifying, and insane at the same time. His eyes glow as he's doing it, and there is a spark of concentration in his eyes as he does it.
He flips me. He, Four, flips me over his arm, but the incredible part is he catches me. He literally cradles me in his arms a millisecond before I slam into the ground, and then he almost punches me. When I say almost, I mean he sends his fist forward into my right temple and stops a millimeter away.
Hana smiles sympathetically. "I'm sorry for that, Tris. But that was just a demonstration of what Peter would do to you without protection, and let me tell you, he would not be catching you and stopping his fist as he lobbed a hand at you, d'you understand me?"
I nod, mouth dry, as I remember how close Four's and my lips were when he caught me.
"If you argue again, than we'll listen," she says, and I stare at her.
"What do you mean?" I ask snidely. I feel like I am permanently in my "bad mood" again.
"You don't need people to watch over you," Hana says, indifferent and cold, and I sense fire in her eyes and that she's mad.
But I don't want to back down. "Fine," I say triumphantly. "No people to watch over me. I can fight my own battles, Hana."
Four raises his eyebrows, and grabs my shoulder as I turn away.
I spin around. "What is it?" I snap.
"Careful, Tris," is all he says finally, and I spit at him and flounce back to my seat.
Finally the bell rings, and I check my schedule.
Homeroom: Hana Pedrad, Room 301
First Period: Math, Room 207
Second Period: History, Room 219
Third Period: Language Arts, Room 310
Fourth Period: Gym, Gymnasium
Lunch
Fifth Period: Life Skills, Gymnasium
Sixth Period: Creative Writing, Room 213
Seventh Period: Assembly, Gymnasium
Math, Room 207.
I march out and head to math. Then I go to History. My teacher there is a woman named Jeanine Matthews. She's pretty nice but kinda strict too. It's a really kind of weird curriculum this year. Basically, it's all about religious history. So we study, like the Jews in Israel, and Jesus in Israel, and Muhammad on the mountain, and stuff like that. Actually, we're starting with the Jews and she said we'd learn about the stuff next.
As I head to Language Arts, the hall is bustling with noise and activity. I push through the crowd, but it seems rather easy, like the crowd is parting for me.
Then I realize they are not parting for me, they are parting for a blonde-haired boy with sharp green eyes, followed by a huge, bulky dude and a shrewd-looking blonde behind him. There's also a black-haired guy who looks like he uses a gallon of hair gel each morning and has a ton of piercings and tattoos.
The blonde-haired, green-eyed guy who looks like the leader of them sees me and his eyes light up. He strides over to me.
"Hello, my name is Peter. I've been looking for you," he says.
Sorry for the cliff-hanger. I'll try and update soon!
Peace out.