A/n: Hey, gang! For once, I'm posting on time! With my procrastination issues, that's certainly saying something! So, I'm goonna appologize for my sloppy posting of the chapter on Thursday, but I was in a hurry to get it up before my friend called. So, before we get into the chapter, I want to give a shout-out to my absolutely fantastic beta, CavyGirl1991. She caught all the stuff I missed, and she's a big part of why this chapter is up on time. So, huge thanks to her.

Disclaimer: I don't even claim rights to the tree that was cut down for the paper to publish Divergent.

Chapter Seven:

Here I am, in the Starbucks right across the street from the hospital. My mom had to sign the discharge papers before I could go, but she didn't have time to drive me home or she would be late to work. So, she asked if I could wait until second block, when caleb would pick me up during His study hall. I agreed, so long as she could take me to the Starbucks, not the one in the hospital, so I wouldn't have to sit in the hospital all day.

It's time for second block, and my brother still isn't here. I take another sip of my espresso and text him to see where in the world he's at. He probably doesn't even remember that he was supposed to pick me up.

Tris: where are you?

Caleb: at school. Where else?

Tris: you were supposed to pick me up.

Caleb: I was? Oops! Sorry! Text Christina.

I sigh, and finish off my coffee. Christina only has one block where she can pick me up, and that's her lunch period. I text her, anyways.

Tris: Does anyone have a block where they can pick me up from the Starbucks? Caleb was supposed to, but being a scatterbrain, he forgot all about it.

Christina: Try Marlene. If not her, then try Zeke.

Rolling my eyes, I log onto the group chat.

Tris: Can anyone pick me up from Starbucks?

Shauna: Why are you there? Weren't you supposed to go straight home?

Tris: Ya, but my mother didn't have time to take me home. She left me at the Starbucks, and Caleb was going to pick me up after his first block. He forgot, though.

Four: I'm free. Share your location with me.

Tris: Okay. Thanks. Sorry.

Four: It's cool. See you in a few.

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, he pulls up in his red chevy truck. I rush out, through the rain to meet him. He opens the door for me, like a real gentlemen. I climb into it, and lean back into the seat.

"Thanks, Four. I'm gonna kill my brother when he gets home."

Four laughs, and enters my address into his GPS. I survey the city flashing by outside, remembering the first time I ever visited here, back when Gramma Lily was still alive. As if reading my mind, Four asks, "So, if you don't mind me asking, why'd you move here"0

"My grandmother lived here. The first time I came to visit is hard for me to remember. I do know I was young, before I was diagnosed. Gramma lived on this side of town, and she always pushed mom to put her foot down and make Dad quit the military. Up until her death late last year, that was her main mission; to make my father "see some sense and stop fooling around with those guns."

"You're father was military?" he asks. I nod.

"After her death, my parents had a full-out argument. Mom said that she hated that we had to move so much.

Dad finally agreed to quit, and we moved to where Gramma Lily lived. I wouldn't say it's the best story, but it's one of the only interesting things I have to talk about." My mind wonders off, back to happy memories.

Baking cookies in Gramma's kitchen. Learning how to knit. The smell of her perfume. Going to the swimming pool during the hot summer days. And, the wierdest of all, frying an egg on the sidewalk one scorching summer day.

Four's hand on my knee brings me out of my thoughts. "You okay?" He asks, putting on the brakes at a red light.

"Yeah." I say, nodding. One might wonder, judging by the twinkle in his eyes, if he really believes me; I don't think so.

"If you say so," he says, making the turn into my driveway. Have I really been in my own world that long;

He helps me out, and we walk up the steps to the door. I reach under the mat, and remove the spare key; mine is still on the hall table.

When I open the door, I'm greeted with the smell of meatloaf; eww. I've only been out of the hospital for two hours, and Mom is already trying to poison me. Thanks Mom!

"You good?" Four asks. I nod, he squeezes my shoulder, tells me to text him if I need anything, and runs off so he can make it to third block.

I close the door behind him and smile. I have a good group of friends.

I go into the living room, and flip through the movies in the cabinet. I finally unearth one worth watching; If I stay.

When the movie is over, I check the time, and get up to get some lunch; preferably not the meatloaf.

I don't find much; just a couple bags of chips, some moldy bread that looks as if it hasn't been touched since the stone ages, and a jar of glucose tablets, which, even if I am low, I don't eat because they taste like flavored chalk.

I leave a note for Mom saying that I'm going to the store and the post office to get our mail; we're getting a mailbox next week. I have to stay home from school today, so I might as well lift some of the stress off Mom's shoulders.

I drive down to the Walmart, holding Mom and Dad's list in one hand, Caleb, Shae's and mine in the other. It takes a while for me to find everything, pay for it, and get everything into the trunk, so I decide to eat something before I get too low. I grab a granola bar, test my sugar, and decide not to bolus, as my reading comes in at 80.

I put some country music on the radio as I drive, roll the windows down, the wind whipping my hair into my face.

The post office is open, and it's a good thing, we have a ton of mail. So much, in fact, that it takes me and an employee three trips each to get it all into the car.

When I get home, I unpack the groceries, make myself a sandwich, and eat it while sorting out the mail. There's a box full of pods for my insulin pump that I put into the supply cabinet, a thick stack of bills, a book order for Caleb, something Mom ordered from Amazon, and a couple of magazines for Shae. Nothing too intriguing.

Finally, at the bottom of the stack, I come across something for me. It's a large envelope with "American Diabetes Association" scrawled across the front. Mom must've ordered it for me behind my back.

I spread the pamphlets out across the floor and begin looking through them. Nothing too interesting, so I pack it all back into the Envelope, drop it on the hall table, and go back to lie on the couch.

I awake to the sound of the fire alarm blarring in my ears. I jump off the couch to find the meatloaf burning on in the oven.

I put out the fire, and settle down at the table to do some homework after opening up the windows to air out the kitchen.

I must've dozed off at the table, because the next thing I know, Mom is murmuring, "Go to bed, Tris."

I do as I'm told, and crash. I wake up only once to a voice murmuring, "Good night, sweet girl."

A/n: So, this is where I put all my excuses for not getting a chapter out on time, but I don't have any this time, so yay! I'll just gonna say in advance, happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day! See you next Saturday, February 2nd. If I don't get it up, just blow up my PMs. Alrighty, audios amigos!

Bianca.

Review responses:

Charm22: You're so very welcome! I'm working on betterment. I'm glad you liked the chapter.

6Divergent4ever: Yeah. But Mom would have my head if I broke one. Gld you're loving this story! It means a lot.

6Divergent4ever: I've never been on crutches. I have, however, broke two toes. Same toe on both feet.

QOTD shout-outs: Charms22, 6Divergent4ever

QOTD: Who's your favorite Egyptian god or goddess?

AOTD: Isis, and Horus. (I read the Kane Chronicles, and am in love. LOL)