I do not own anything, just my ideas!

Chapter 6

TRIS

"Tris, I'll be right back. I have to go to one of the bars to fix something for tonight after the game." Tori yells as she walks out the door leaving me alone.

After a particularly awful nightmare last night that ended in screaming, Tori told me that I do not have to go to the game tonight. Because I know she won't let me stay unsocial for very long, I take the opportunity to stay home while I still can. Besides, I have been to a million football games because of Caleb, I don't need to see another especially when there is another one next week.

I go back to my 'school' sketch book and continue on a drawing of the mascot. These past few days, I've been drawing all the things around me. Kids eating at lunch, players practicing their different sports, students studying in the library—anything and everything that brings a new inspiration. I like it, and I'll admit it, my drawings don't look too bad. It is far different from everything else I have done. Well, anything I have done in the last few years.

A knock on the door brings me back to reality.

When I answer it, I find the last person I expect to see.

"Hello?" I ask.

"Is, uh... Tori here?" Four asks with hesitation.

Why is he here? The game is in a few hours and he should be at school getting ready. I know the drill for game days, and I am sure coming to someone's house like this is not a part of it.

"You just missed her, she went to one of her places. She should be back in like 15 minutes, if you really need to see her."

"It's okay, I'll just see her at the game tonight." He hesitates, "Are you going?"

"Um, no," I admit, but it feels heavy. For some odd reason, I feel like I need to explain myself. "I am not a big fan of crowds, or sports."

He looks at me surprised. "What do you have against sports? I would think someone who knew what you did in English today would be enough of a fan to want to come. And I've seen you in the gym almost every morning."

"Can't a girl work out?"

"It's not that, you just seem on a mission in there. The way you hit that punching bag... and you can run on the treadmill for forever. It's like you're training; you should really consider trying out for something."

"You've been paying attention?" I ask a little scared.

"Well, I'm used to being the only one at the gym at 6:30 in the morning. So when someone is actually there besides me, and works out just as hard as I do, I notice."

"I just want to get faster and stronger. I want to be able to take care of myself. I don't really have any desire to play a sport."

Again, I feel like explaining myself. Any other person, I would not care, but for some reason, I feel the need to share with him. I can't tell what it is. Maybe it's the way he speaks softly, like every word is on purpose. Or maybe it is the way his eyes open and search when I speak. Or maybe it is the way he holds himself. For a split second, I let myself believe that there is a reason to it—maybe he knows damage like me. But I shove the thought away. I am stupid to think others know what go through.

"What's wrong with playing a sport?"

"I don't have anything against sports, I just don't want to be a jock." I hesitate. That is not a good reason. "I feel like playing a certain sport defines you into one thing. And I feel like there is more to someone than just one side." That sounds confusing. "I just, I don't know. I'd rather be drawing than playing on a team, anyway. And I don't like big crowds. Especially the ones at football games."

"It's all a part of the high school experience, don't you want that? We're only here for so long."

"Yeah, but it feels like a lifetime," I say. "Some of us are just trying to get through high school. And getting through with all the weight is a little hard, I might add."

It is a vulnerable thing to say, and part of me regrets it as I say it.

"Okay," he ponders but does not press, which I appreciate. "But can't you come to show some school spirit?"

"I have my own ways of showing school spirit, and it is better than going to games painted head to toe, screaming at the top of my lungs."

"Oh yeah, and what is this amazing thing you do?"

I am intrigued at his curiosity, and his up front approval for what I have, even when he has not seen it or knows about it. He has faith in me, even though we have only known each other a few days. Either way, I allow myself to let him see it.

"I can't really tell you about it, I have to show you. Stay right here, I'll be right back."

I quickly run and grab my sketch book with all my school drawings in them. I come back and hand them to him. His eyes widen as he flips through the pages.

"So this is what you've been doing during lunch and after school." It dawns on me that he has been watching me. "These are really good, I mean really, really good. Where did you learn to draw like this?"

I ponder his question for a second. I feel a line blurring in front of me. I promised myself I would not open up at all. I am about to shrug the question off until I look into his eyes, and I feel safe... but I'm never safe. I'm always going to be haunted, even if the threat is hundreds of miles away; the nightmares are always holding on with a tight grip. He must see me zone out, because he takes a step closer and puts a hand on my arm. I can't help but like the closeness. I feel like I really can trust him with a little piece of who I am. And if I am bland enough, it won't count.

Besides, it seems like such a simple question.

"My mom, she liked to draw and I just picked it up from her. I've been drawing pretty much nonstop since I was eleven."

"You know they are about to announce a contest to choose someone to paint a mural in the cafeteria. You should apply, I'm sure you would win."

"I don't know, my drawing isn't that good."

"Not good?" he cuts me off. "It is amazing. You know what, I'll make you a deal. I am student president and am supposed to be on the board to choose the drawing. We are supposed to have a contest, but I can bring your work to the others and I'm sure we'll just choose yours."

Wow. I should say no. I should avoid the attention. But a part of me, a part that is larger than I hoped, really wants to do this. It could be really fun and take up a lot of time. I do love drawing and painting a moral would really help with applying for art school.

"Okay," I say, giving in. "You said this is a deal, what's the catch?"

"Well, I was going to say: I get you the art gig, and you come to every football game for the rest of the year."

"Oh... umm," I stutter. "How about we just start with tonight. And if you win I'll come to the next, and the same thing will apply to the next week. It all stops when you lose."

"So you'll be coming to every game, right"

"Cocky much?" I laugh.

I laugh? I look in the mirror to my left, and I'm smiling. How did he do this? I have only been talking to him for a few minutes.

"Okay, you come to the game tonight. If, and when, we win, you have to come to the next game. And that goes for every week of the season. The game we lose, the deal is off and you are a free woman."

"You make it sound restricting. But deal." We shake hands, and I can't help but feel how warm and strong his it is. His hand is not soft, but rough, and he holds onto my own longer than normal. He leans forward and says, "I'll be looking for you."

When we release, he dashes away. "Got to go," he yells over his shoulder. "Got a game to win!"


Author's Note

A deal? How will this pan out? What will happen at the game? (Cue dramatic music) I enjoyed writing this chapter, and I hope you all enjoy writing it. Remember, I love reviews and I love to hear what you all hope to happen. Maybe you will see your idea come to life in some way shape or form.

Alright everyone, I have a gift for you all... Four's POV, in the next chapter. (It's a little longer, too.) I have ANOTHER sneak peek for the next chapter, too. I really, really like writing this one, and I am very excited to share it with you all soon. So, here's the sneak peek, and let me know if you guys like them. Should I keep doing them?... Again, please review!

Be brave, everyone!


SNEAK PEEK: But I can see the fear that she tries to hide. I know it because I live with a fear too. No one knows, and I have avoided the beatings for a while now. However, the season is beginning, and I know he will find a reason to push me down. I can never be good enough for him, and I can never find the strength to defend myself. I want to be strong enough, but it's so hard to find the fire in me to fight for something more important.