Switched
A/N: I know I said that my events are pretty accurate. They are, but I like to have some originality in my writing, so no need to tell me that I changed a chapter, because I KNOW! :D
Tris: Disclaimer: This Anna person doesn't own Divergent. Veronica Roth does.
Switched
Chapter 2
I walk Tobias down to the dining hall, and try to think of a good nickname for him. He's brave, and this name needs to reflect that.
Four fears is amazing. I used to have the lowest amount, with six, but he managed to beat me. He should be proud that he has only four fears.
Suddenly, I realize; that is his new nickname. Four. It will be good for him to be free from his past, and realize he has strength.
I walk him over to the initiates' table. He drops into an empty chair across from Eric. He looks a little sick, but I'm sure he's just recovering from his fears.
"Congratulations." I say. "You all made it out alive. You completed your first day of initiation with varying degrees of success." I eye Eric for a second, then my eyes flick back to to Tobias. He is staring at the table.
"None of you did as well as Four, over here, though." I continue, pointing at him. Then I turn and shout across the room, to Tori,
"Hey, Tori! Have you ever heard of someone having only four fears in their fear landscape?"
"The last I hears, the record was like seven, or eight, why?" She replies. I'm immediately offended.
"Hey! I have six fears! That's the record!" I shout.
"Oh, right!" She snickers.
"I've got a transfer over here with only four fears!"
She points to Tobias, and I nod.
"That's gotta be a new record!" She says.
I look down at Tobias, or Four, and smile a little. "Good job." I say. Then, I plop myself down into the only empty seat, which happens to be next to Four.
I start eating my meal and listen of the chatter around me. Even after two years, I am used to the quiet of the Abnegation.
"Jeez, Stiff," Eric says. "Looks like you're gonna be sick." He snickers, and so do the Candor boys. Sean and Sam, I think.
I glance at Four, and it indeed looks like he's ill. His face is so pale, it looks slightly green. I am about to ask him if he's okay, but Eric beats me to it, or so I thought.
"What's your real name again?" He raises an eyebrow. "Starts with an E...?" Four grimaces. This angers me, and I'm about to speak up, but it would make Four look weak.
Luckily, Four speaks up.
"My name is Four." He practically growls. "Call me 'Stiff' or any other name again, and you and I will have a problem."
I smirk a little. Four goes back to his food. The table is quiet, while all the other tables around us are loud and rowdy. Occasionally, an initiate will whisper to another, but most stay quiet.
All of a sudden, the chair next to me is shoved back, as Four gets up and practically bolts out the door, a hand clamped over his mouth. I see that Christina, one of my best friends, is looking at me. I leave to go after Four.
"Watch the others for me!" I shout over the noise. She nods wordlessly, and goes over and takes my seat. It's a rule that on the first day here, initiates cannot run around the compound without a member.
I burst through the door to the boys bathroom and hear him puking his guts out. Poor kid.
I walk over and knock on the only closed and locked stall.
"Four, are you alright?" I ask. I know it's silly to ask him if he's alright while he's violently sick, but I don't really know what to say.
"You know you're not supposed to be in here," Four croaks, before he gags again. My stomach wrenches for him. I hate being sick.
"Yeah, I know." I admit. "But we're not allowed to let the initiates wander around."
"Does it look like I'm up to wandering around?" Four moans.
"No, but rules are rules." I say.
"I guess you've got-" He doesn't get to finish his sentence because he is vomiting again. My chest squeezes with sympathy.
I would be lying if I said I hadn't already taken a liking to Four. He reminds me of my old home, and not only has he faced his worst fears (one in reality too, I realize), but he also is getting the pleasure of being sick in front of an instructor.
"-A point." He gasps, breathing heavily. I hear the toilet flush, and the stall door opens.
Four looks... Sick. There's really no other description. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, his face is pale with a very small hint of green. His expression displays raw embarrassment and exhaustion.
He can barely stand. His body shudders. Quiet, yet guttural groans escape his lips every couple seconds. And his hands clutch at his belly.
"Four, I'm going to take you to the infirmary." I say. I start to guide him by his elbow, but he pulls away. For a second I think he's going to be sick again.
"No, I don't need a doctor." He says. He would have probably sounded and looked harsh when he said that if he wasn't so exhausted and weak.
"It's most likely the flu, or something." He groans, sagging against the wall. His eyes close. Then, his face contorts and he doubles over, one hand bracing the wall and the other clutching his abdomen, and moans.
I grip his shoulders and guide him to the stall. He doesn't resist. About ten seconds later he starts convulsing again, emptying his stomach.
I am actually surprised he's not dry-heaving yet. I rub soothing circles on his back, and sit there.
In about the middle of his back I feel a... Raised bump? Something. I follow the bump down. It's long. Like a keloid scar. With a start, I realize that is most likely exactly what it is.
I am brought back from my observations when I hear the toilet flush again, and Four starts struggling to get to his feet. I help him up, and start leading him out the door.
"Where are we going?" Four whispers. He still looks awful. He cannot stand on his own, so I'm kind of dragging him. He is hunched over, hugging his belly.
I really want to take him to the infirmary, but I have a feeling that would not go over well.
"Since you refused the infirmary, we're going to my apartment. I have a spare bedroom. You can stay there with me until you're better." I say.
I expect him to protest, and say crap about how it would be selfish of him to accept my offer. In all truth, he looks like he is considering it, but I think the fact that he feels awful is keeping him from protesting.
I've been sick a couple times, so I know what Four is feeling like right now. I'm sure his head hurts. All of his muscles probably ache. He is definitely clammy and exhausted. But most of all, he is probably focused on his exceedingly tender, burning, twisting, gurgling, quaking stomach.
When we reach my apartment, I unlock the door, and more or less drag him inside. I close and lock the door, and lead him toward the spare bedroom. I hardly ever use this room. Even when Christina spends the night, she usually sleeps in my room with me. What's the point of having a best girl friend over without talking until three in the morning?
I was so distracted, that I accidentally lead Four right into my counter.
"Sorry!" I exclaim, gently pulling him away from the edge of the counter.
"It's okay." He groans, rubbing his already tender stomach.
I get him situated in the guest room bed, and place my hand on his forehead. He's sweaty, but it's a cold sweat. He's cold and clammy
"I'm going to get some things to check your illness with, okay?" I murmur.
"Like what?" He whispers.
"You know, thermometer, stethoscope, and such." I say.
I'm not exactly sure what Four has. It seems exactly like the flu, except he doesn't have a fever. My guess would be food poisoning, but no one else got sick from what I've heard. All I know is that it's not contagious. So as long as he is is feeling better, he is at least watching the training tomorrow.
He fell asleep an hour ago, but I've been sitting here, watching him. He looks almost normal when he sleeps, except for his ghostly pale and sickly complexion, and the fact that he is curled up facing me, hugging his belly.
I hear a knock on the door and run out to answer it. When I open it, I put a finger to my lips.
It's Christina. She walks in and sits on my couch.
"Hey." I say. "How were the rest of the initiates?" I keep my voice low. I don't want to wake Four.
"Good," Christina replies softly. "How's... Uh... What's his name?"
"Four." I reply.
"Yeah, him." She says. "Wait a second. Is he the boy with only four fears?"
"Yes," I respond. "And uh, he's pretty sick. He was throwing up in the bathroom for a good half hour. Maybe forty minutes?"
"Oh, the poor kid." She sighs. "What is it?"
"I'm not sure. He doesn't have a temperature, so it's not the flu. But I'm not sure what it is."
"Then it's not contagious."
"No."
"Good luck." She says. "Tell him I hope he feels better soon."
"I will." Maybe an allergic reaction. I hope it's nothing serious.
A/N: okay! Four getting sick is my change to the events. Of course, he'll be fine. He'll still come in first.
Any ideas on what Four should have? Possibly appendicitis? Let me know in the reviews!