Chapter 13
-Holyhead, England-
Four was making his way to Holyhead. He knew he'd been hours behind Tris, but it was better than nothing. He hoped and prayed that the ferry would stop her long enough for him to catch up. He knew they left every three hours, and he'd get there around six o'clock. He also knew Tris was supposed to arrive at around three. The ferries left every three hours, which meant Tris would would either get the one at three o'clock or the one at six o'clock. Four really, really, really wished she'd miss that three o'clock ferry. If she didn't miss the three o'clock ferry, he knew he'd probably never see her again. Sure, he could go to the World Body-Painting Festival and track her down, but there'd be millions of people there.
His mission wasn't to protect her anymore.
His mission was to simply be with her. That was it.
He didn't want to be her bodyguard, or her lackey, or even her lesser. He wanted to be her equal. He didn't care if she was the first daughter; he was aware that she wanted to be treated like a normal person that lived in a non-white house. Tris was a simple woman that wanted the best for her and her future.
"The future belongs to those who know where they belong."
Four had always hated that quote. The future of someone is in their hands, yes, but they might not know where they belong. He knew he'd have a good future, but he didn't know where he belonged.
He believed that if he knew where he was going he would lose his way. If he had his mind set on a certain place, he thought he'd screw it all up. He let the wind take him wherever it may've gone.
And he didn't mean to sound like a hipster. Quite literally he meant it. He lived in the now. The everlasting spectacular now was irreplaceable.
Tris got off the train at Holyhead with her head held high and not a care in the world. She arrived at 2:57 and rushed to the ferry service, knowing that it left at three. The next one left at six. She assumed that Tobias caught the three o'clock train to Holyhead. So if she missed the ferry, he'd be at Holyhead by the time the next ferry left.
And she needed to avoid him at all costs.
If she did happen to miss the 3 o'clock ferry, she'd walk right past him, pretending not to notice. Surely he'd notice her though. She wouldn't go off on him, she wouldn't acknowledge him, and she wouldn't act like he existed. She just wanted to leave that all behind her and continue on with the journey of her lifetime.
She had to make the 3 o'clock ferry. She would make the 3 o'clock ferry.
She ran toward the dock, following the signs leading to it. Right when she reached the end of the dock, she saw "O'Hare Ferries" labeled across the boat headed away from her.
Groaning and upset, she put her face in her hands.
"Damn it all," she mumbled. So she turned around and started walking the crowded streets again. She spotted a payphone and walked over to it. She inserted the coins, then dialed his number.
"Tris. Where are you?"
"Holyhead. And how did you know who it was?"
"I had a feeling you'd call me."
"So did you check Mom's desk?" she asked Caleb.
He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and that clued Tris in on the answer to her question. "I'm sorry, lil sis. I found it open in the drawer of her desk in the oval."
She sighed. "I should've known. All of these lies make me question everything she's ever said."
"I know what you mean."
"Please don't say anything to her while I'm gone. I want to be the one to tell her I know what she did and that I got accepted."
"Okay. I won't."
"I want you there by my side when I tell her though. Just for support."
"I'll always be by your side. Oh, and Tris?"
"Hm?"
"I got into Oberlin."
She heard the excitement in his voice, and it started to grow into her own. "Oh my god! Caleb!"
"I know. So, looks like we'll both be disappointing our parents," he chuckled.
"Did you find the letter in Mom's desk?"
"Yeah."
"I'm sorry, big bro."
"Me too."
"All right. Well, I'll probably call you when I get into France tomorrow around noonish."
"Okay. When will you be home?" he asked longingly.
"Probably… What's today?"
"Wednesday."
"Friday night or Saturday morning, depending on the time change and flight times.
"Okay. Love you, lil sis."
"Love you too, big bro."
Tris hung up the phone, and then started to walk toward the nearest little coffee shop called McCoy's. She ordered a simple plain bagel with cream cheese and a water bottle. She sat down at a table set for two, and five minutes later, a cute Irish boy about 18 or 19 years old brought out her things.
"Hi. My name is Kian. If you don't mind me asking, are you the First Daughter of the United States?"
She sadly smiled. "Yeah. I am."
"Why're you all by your lonesome?"
She shrugged. "I don't need bodyguards. I'm just a normal person."
He smiled at her. "Modest and beautiful. Quite a catch." He winked at her.
She looked down and blushed. She looked back up and said, "I'd ask you to sit, but you're working."
"Actually"—he checked his watch—"my shift ended two minutes ago. So…" Kian sat down across from her. "What're you doing here in England?"
"I could ask you the same," she chuckled. "You look Irish."
"I'm from Ireland," he said with a nod. "My family moved here to Holyhead for ferry business. You know. O'Hare."
"Ah. Yes. I missed the three o'clock one, so now my bodyguard will probably catch up with me." She bit into her bagel just after she finished her sentence.
"You escaped?"
She chuckled, then swallowed. "Yes. Quite a few people are looking for me."
He smiled at her. "I like you. You aren't the typical pampered rich girl."
She shrugged. "I just want to be a normal person. That sounds crazy though, right? I've got everything I want."
Kian shrugged. "I don't know. If you aren't doing what you love then, no, you don't have everything you want. I get what you mean though. I come from a rich family that wants me to take over the family ferry business. I want to be an artist though."
"Really?" she asks, leaning forward. "I want to be a photographer. I applied to KCL without my parents knowing, but when the acceptance letter got sent, my mom kept it in her office without me knowing. The same with my brother."
"My parents forbid me from going to college."
"My parents forbid me from not doing anything but politics."
"My parents blame me for my brother's death."
Tris's eyes went wide. "Oh… I think you've got me beat there," she gave a dry chuckle.
"Man, I'm sorry. That just got really depressing really fast."
"What happened?" she asked solemnly.
He shrugged and scratched behind his ear. "My friends and I were sledding down a steep hill one day when I was fifteen and he was eleven and he wanted to come. I let him, and he drowned in a nearby pond." He stayed silent. Then, "I tried to save him, I did, but…I wasn't quick enough."
"I'm so sorry, Kian."
"Me too."
They stayed silent for a few minutes.
"Anyway," he began to say, "sounds like your parents aren't very supportive."
She sighed. "They want me to be a politician. And my brother. It's the only thing they want us to do. But I don't want to talk about that. What about you? Hopes, dreams?"
"Well I want to be an artist…," he began.
"Over the next three hours they talked about everything. They talked about everything from their favorite foods to their deepest secrets to their family.
When it was 5:45, Tris sadly said, "I better get going. I need to make the six o'clock ferry."
"Well"—his phone buzzed, and he checked it, smiling—"it actually looks like we're both in luck," he said in a happy tone. "My parents have told me that we're visiting family in Dublin and that I need to board the six o'clock ferry."
Tris grinned a bigger grin. "Well, if you don't mind, I may need a tour guide tonight. I'm planning on taking a flight tomorrow morning to Paris because that's when the World Body-Painting Festival starts. So as long as your cool with staying up all night…"
"Definitely. I'd be honored to be your tour guide," he said as he began to stand up.
Tris and Kian walked out and headed toward the ferry docks.
"So an Irish priest is driving home from the bar and is pulled over. The policeman smells alcohol on the priest's breath and then sees an empty wine bottle beside him. He asks the priest, 'Sir, have you been drinking?' The priest responds, 'No officer, just water.' The policeman asks, 'Then why do I smell wine?' The priest looks at the bottle and says, 'The Good Lord! He's done it again!'"
Tris busts out laughing. She was aware that Irish people had been known to drink quite frequently, and that was one of the reasons why it was funny.
"That was clever," she said. "Do you drink?"
He smiled. "I'm Irish. Of course I drink."
She grinned. "I do sometimes, but I rarely get the chance because of… you know."
He nodded. "Yeah. I would always just sneak out, but it's not like you can exactly do that," he sadly chuckled.
She liked Kian. She thought he was pretty cool, funny, and just a natural social butterfly. She didn't like him as in dating, but as a friend, she thought he was pretty cool.
"Tris!" someone shouted.
And she knew that voice. She stopped her tracks.
You told yourself you wouldn't acknowledge him, she warned herself. Don't do it, she told herself. Do it, she contradicted.
"Four." She spun around to see him trying to reach out to her. She glared at his outstretched hand. He pulled back.
"Tris, please just let me explain," he said breathlessly. "Please."
She looked down. "You know what? We've got three hours to discuss that on the ferry, because I can't stop you from coming, can I?"
"I'm sorry," interrupted Kian, "but I'm afraid I don't know you."
"Four, this is Kian, Kian this is Four, my bodyguard."
"Ex-bodyguard."
Tris eyed him with a curious look. He just slightly shook his head.
"Okay. Well it looks like we'll all be stuck with each other for three hours, eh?" Kian said, trying to break the tension.
Tris somewhat chuckled.
"Oh, and we'll get on for free. No worries." He turned to Tob—Four, she reminded herself. "My family owns the ferry business."
Four nodded. "I appreciate it. Thanks."
Kian scouted the docks. "Looks like they're boarding, guys. Let's go."
So they followed Kian, walking in a triangle; Kian leading the way with Four and Tris in tow. Tobias—Tris didn't bother correcting herself—and she walked close together, their hands brushing up against the other's occasionally.
Tris didn't realize she was doing this intentionally. But when she did, she didn't bother doing anything.
Maybe I don't hate him, she thought. Maybe I was only mad because I knew nothing between us would ever happen.
Maybe I was wrong.