A/N- I do not own Divergent or any of its characters, rights go to Veronica Roth.
August 2nd
Having only arrived home in the early hours of this morning, I decided to sleep in until this afternoon, since it only seemed fair. Beauty sleep is an important thing, my mother even told me so. Eventually, I decided it's time to roll out of bed and slowly thud down the stairs, leaning my body heavily on the bannister the whole time. Our house is small and pretty basic, but I like it because I usually have it all to myself. My mother works as a nurse and the hospital doesn't pay her enough so she tend to take extra shifts whenever they decide to give them to her. Therefore leaving me home-alone for the majority of the time.
I pour a bowl of cereal out and sit on the breakfast counter, hood up, watching old cartoons on the television whilst I try to bring some life into my sleepless body. Suddenly, something extremely out of the ordinary happens. The house phone rings. This is honestly probably going to be the most unusual event of my day, since no one ever rings our house phone, ever. In fact, my mother was even going to cut it off the other day, but decided to keep it "incase of emergencies". Annoyed that I am being disrupted from my calming morning- or should I say afternoon- routine, I drop my spoon into my cereal bowl, flinching at the sharp sound of the metal clattering against the ceramic. I heave myself off the bar stool and drop down onto the floor, in order to lift the phone off its hook on the wall.
"Prior residence." I cringe at my choice of greeting.
"Hello Tris." Even though I only heard it for the first time yesterday, I could recognise that voice from a mile off.
"Good morning, Four, how can I help you?" I ask in a teasing manner.
"Well, I don't know what country you live in, but here in Chicago, it is in fact the afternoon. But I'm glad to see that you remembered my name."
"With a witty sense of humour like yours, you should be on the stage."
"How do you know I'm not a comedian?"
"I've seen your face, Four. You're the most serious person there ever was."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"Why are you ringing me, anyway?"
"I just wanted to let you know that you left your math books at my place, I wondered if you wanted to pick them up or I could drop them off-"
"Math books? I don't own any math books."
"Well, I suppose your mom brought them here then and left them in the hopes that we would continue our tutoring sessions."
I honestly can't say I'm surprised. This is typical of my mother, she probably hid them behind the couch so that when Four came across them, he would have a reason to call me. Well, I'm not going to satisfy her.
"I'll just come and pick them up whenever, thanks for calling." I hastily slam the phone back onto its hook. I hate to admit it, but there's something intriguing about Four's character. I return to my bowl of cereal in attempts of admonishing my thoughts about him. A short while later, when I've showered and returned back to my bed, I start to think. The most unusual event of my day will not be the house phone ringing. Instead, it will be the fact that Four was the person who dialled the number.
I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up to a bang that's coming from inside my bedroom. I spring up from my bed and I am about to go on a remote-control throwing rampage when I see Lynn scramble up from the floor.
"Chill out it's only me!" She shrieks.
"What are you doing climbing through my bedroom window?!" I yell back.
"You weren't answering your front door and I knew you were in here because lets face it, where else would you be? So I climbed that bush at the side of your house and hey presto, here I am!" She smirks and wiggles her eyebrows at me.
"One day, you are going to make the most fantastic stalker."
"I know, right? One of my many special talents," she pauses to sit next to me on the bed. "So, you just gonna sit here all day?"
"Pretty much."
"I thought I was supposed to be the one with the mood issues? Looks like you've taken my place!" I throw my pillow at her but she catches it, hitting me on the head with it instead. I laugh and begin to examine her, noticing a small but deep purple bruise on her neck underneath her jaw line.
"Lynn, is that a…" I lean my head in towards her neck and poke the bruise. "Hickey?"
She shoves my hand away "Do you mind? That hurt!"
"Who the hell gave you that?" I demand, and she lowers her head. "Marlene," I answer for her.
"Don't judge me okay?"
"B-but I thought she wasn't even gay?"
"If she wasn't gay then last night must have been one hell of a sick dream," she snickers.
"I know you two have hooked up before, but I thought she kept telling you she was straight?" The whole Marlene/Lynn situation is deathly confusing and sometimes downright irritating. Lynn has shed blood, sweat and tears for Marlene, with only a few passion-fuelled nights in return.
"Yeah she does, but when I'm with her, I don't even care."
"So, she just uses you to get her fix, and you're okay with that?"
"Well I'd rather have her for just one night than to not have her at all."
It's not worth the argument, I tell myself. Usually, I just let her do as she pleases, and then I'll be there with the tissues and ice cream when her heart gets broken.
"I actually met a few people last night, and I was wondering if you wanted to come out with us later on?" Lynn says.
I avoid her question, "where did you even go to meet Marlene last night? I was at your house until past midnight."
"I texted her and she was at a house party. She asked me if I wanted to go so I said 'yeah'. There were only a few people there, and they asked me if I wanted to hang out with them sometime. So I think we should go."
"You know I hate being around big groups of people Lynn, I don't know if I'm up for it."
"Come on!" She begs me, pulling on my arm. "You've got to at least try these things. And if you don't like them, we can just go home."
"That was a stupid thing of you to say. You know that there's an incredibly high chance that I'm not going to like them."
"Alright, well, if you feel like you're going to murder them then. Deal?"
"Deal." I spit on my hand and shake hers.
"We're so gross!" She laughs.
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
Lynn and I ended up dozing off until her alarm woke us up at six, signalling that we needed to get ready and head out. I don't make a huge effort with my clothes, just a skirt and top with sandals that haven't been scuffed and ran into the ground. No surprise, Lynn is trying to impress Marlene again. She wears a floaty cream maxi skirt, something I would have never envisioned her in before. I'm starting to suspect Marlene has a thing for hippies, it would explain a lot of Lynn's recent fashion choices.
"Where are we even going?" I ask Lynn, who is perched looking out my window smoking a cigarette.
"To this bar type thing. It's called 'Faction avenue' but people just call it 'Faction ave' for short."
"Strange name," I reply, "so what do people do there? Just sit at the bar and drink all day?"
"No, its not just a bar, there are big tables and couches and a few arcade games. They serve food as well. It's pretty much the place to be," she laughs.
"If it's the place to be, then why have we never been there before?"
"Because, we're both introverts and you moved away, remember?"
"How could I forget."
Once Lynn is finished, we head down the stairs and into her van. It's not the normal vehicle of choice for an eighteen year old these days, it's an old retro camper van. She begged her dad to get it her for her birthday, and it was a total wreck at first but she's done a pretty good job at fixing it up. It still needs the paint work doing, but the inside is immaculate. We drive to Faction Ave, which doesn't take long at all, and hop out the van. I'm starting to feel nervous. Lynn didnt say exactly who was going, but the only thing that I'm bothered about is the fact that I've never met them before and there's probably going to be a large group of them. I hope I don't start shaking like an idiot and turn red whenever one of them tries to speak to me.
"Hey," Lynn waves her hand in front of my eyes. "You'll be cool, okay? Just chill, we won't stay long."
I nod my head in reply and try to give a reassuring smile. Lynn waves to a group of people who look about our age. As we approach them, I see the last person I wanted to see today. Four.
"Hey, Lynn!" A boy with a handsome face and smile calls us over. We sit on the spare couch that's against the wall.
"Uriah," Lynn nods her head in a friendly way. I see Marlene sat next to him, looking as gorgeous as ever. I can see why Lynn has a weakness for her. Lynn smiles at her and says "hi", Marlene just smiles awkwardly in reply.
"Guys this is Tris," everyone nods their heads and gives me their greetings. "Tris, this is Uriah, Uriah's brother Zeke, you know Marlene, Shauna, Christina, Will and Four."
"She knows who I am." Four says in a deadly calm voice, while he drags his fingers along the condensation on his beer bottle.
"You two know each other?" Uriah asks.
"Yeah," Four replies, "our families go way back."
"I went to his house yesterday," I say.
"You went to Four's house?" The boy named Zeke says in shock, looking at me weirdly. Now, everyone's staring at me and I'm desperately trying to fight the blush that's creeping on my cheeks.
"Yeah, problem?"
"Not at all. It's just no one's ever been to Four's house. Ever," Zeke replies, but then Shauna taps on his shoulder and starts to talk to him about something. The rest soon follow, engaging in chatter and private conversations. Four leans over to me, to the point where he's almost sat on the couch.
"I'm a very…private person," he smiles apologetically.
"Maybe. But I just think you've got a stick up your ass," I smirk.
"I'm starting to think that maybe you're right," he leans back in his chair and takes a swig of his beer, the whole time not breaking eye contact with me.
I stayed at Faction Ave for a couple of hours, and then headed home with Lynn. She dropped me off at my place and I told her I would see her soon. I unlock the front door and make my way inside, slipping my shoes off and dumping my bag and keys on the side table. I slump into the brown corduroy couch in our living room, head tipped back, eyes closed. The couch is currently my favourite place in the house besides my bed, since it's new and comfortable. Nearly everything else we own is outdated since we didn't move in too long ago and can't afford to replace all of the furniture straight away. My mother laughs about it, saying people pay fortunes for the 'vintage effect'. However, I disagree, thinking it just looks tired and farm-house like. I don't know how long I've been sat here when my mother eventually arrives home, looking happier than usual. She's wearing a black cocktail dress and looks like she spent a while doing her hair.
"Hey sweetie," she beams at me.
"Hi…mom," I reply, suspiciously. "Where've you been?"
"Oh, just with a friend."
"A friend? You have friends?"
"Yes I do," she turns her nose up at me and goes to walk in the kitchen. Then it all kicks in.
"You've been with a man, haven't you?"
"I have," she sighs. "But he's very nice Beatrice, you would like him. We should all go out sometime."
I stand up from the couch holding my hand to my head out of pure frustration. "Oh yeah?" My voice raises, "so that we can all play happy families? That's you mom. That's not me. I don't want you screwing everything up again just because you think you need a man to be happy."
"Do you not think that after everything I deserve to be happy? What about me? It's not all about you and your teenage emotional turmoil!"
"Teenage emotional turmoil? Good one."
"It's true. And you need to get over everything that's happened. Maybe if you did, you'd be happy like I am."
"Happy? How long have you known him? Two hours?" I taunt.
My mother slams her purse down on the kitchen counter and walks over, leaning against the doorway. She grinds her jaw and glares at me, sussing out what to say next. "I just-"
"Look," I cut her off with a sigh, " I don't care what you do, alright? But he's not coming in the house."
"You're nearly eighteen, I will respect your wishes until then. But in twenty-five days when you turn old enough to live on your own, I'm making my own decisions."
I don't argue back. Instead, I get down from the couch, grab my bag, and jog up the stairs. I slam my bedroom door, causing the top of my poster to flop down and the door hangings to shake and rattle. I'm angry. We moved back to Chicago in the hope that things would get better, but I just think they're going to get worse.