Author's Note:
Hey, everyone! I hope you all liked the last chapter, and I hope you like this one just as much, if not more!
canadianbanana: I know it'd been a while; I apologize about that. This is my most often updated story, and I don't like taking a long time any more than you do, so sorry. Those are some good songs, right?! Thank you for the review and support! I appreciate it a lot more than you may ever know!
nikkibluv: I'm really glad you like the story and plan on continuing to read it! Especially thank you for the compliment on my writing! I really appreciate that! I definitely did not take your opinion on putting in songs the wrong way; I really appreciate that you told me what you liked and didn't like. I feel like it helps improve my writing. Thank you! To be honest, though, I kind of like including the music, so I will still probably include some, but I won't put in as much overall. Seriously, though, thank you for telling me, and I'm sure there are many other people who don't like that I put in the music. I appreciated your review and your support a lot; thank you! It makes me happy when you tell me what I should work on, and you're the first one to do that for me. Thank you!
.pansycakes.46: Just so you know, I really like your name on here! I really like Fall Out Boy, too! I'm so glad you like this story! I hope you continue to! "Centuries" is a good song; I agree. Thank you for your support!
fernandes3694: You've got good instincts! Thank you for your review and support! I really do appreciate it and I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Guest: I know, right: "Centuries" shout out! I'm glad you liked the update, and I hope you like this one, too! I'm glad you're excited to see what happens! Thank you for your review and support! I appreciate it lots!
I hope you all enjoy this chapter!
Hehe; I've got a little plan brewing for this chapter . . .
Disclaimer: I do not own the "Divergent" books; Veronica Roth does.
Wearing His Jersey
Chapter Six
Tris P.O.V.
I sighed just as the ninth period bell rang, and I stood from my seat and rushed out the door.
"Tris!" I heard, and turned around. "What are you so excited about?" Four smiled. I decided to play along.
"Oh, nothing," I smirked, and turned away, heading to my locker as quick as I could. I entered my combination and swung the door open. I put my books in my locker and my binder in my bag, swinging it over my shoulder. I laughed to myself as I slammed my locker shut, wondering why on Earth he didn't want anyone else to know.
He must just want it to be us I thought. I wonder what he's going to say, what he wants to talk about, if anything. It could easily just be getting to know each other better. I wonder if he made the team? I hope he did; he played really well.
As I headed though the halls, I ran into Uriah.
"Hey, Tris," he said.
"Oh, hey!"
"Where are you headed? If you need a ride, Zeke's driving me home; he can drop you off on the way, if you want."
"Thanks, but I don't need a ride today."
"Okay, some other time."
"I'm going to hold you to that," I laughed. He smiled.
"Okay. So, if you don't need a ride, why are you staying here? There isn't any after school stuff today." I could feel my palms beginning to sweat.
Think, think, think.
"Um, I'm staying to get some help in math. The teacher agreed to help me today."
"Really? Miss Matthews agreed to that?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't she?" I asked, although now that I had said my excuse aloud, I knew how bad an excuse it was. Miss Matthews does not like me. At all.
"Well, I don't know, because in class today she literally yelled at you for getting the right answer?" I laughed, remembering the way she accused me of cheating off of someone else's paper because of how quick I got the correct answer. It was pretty rude.
"She apologized," I said quickly. Wow, these excuses weren't too great.
"Really." He gave me a suspicious look. I sighed.
"She didn't apologize, but I'm staying after. Bye, Uriah; I'll see you tomorrow."
"Wait! Why are you staying?" I waved a hand as I continued walking, and soon was in front of the double doors that led into the large yard, the football field a short walk away. I glanced at my watch. I'm a few minutes early. I swung open the doors and took off across the yard toward the field. I set my bag on the first row of bleachers and looked around for the bag of footballs that were usually out here. After a moment, I spotted them a few yards away, and jogged toward them. I pulled the bag open and took one of the balls out. I walked a few more yards, further onto the field, and sat down, my legs straight out in front of me. I looked down at the football in my hands and set my fingers on the worn laces. I set my hands like I was getting ready to throw a pass and pulled my right arm back, preparing to throw. I brought it forward, as if I were actually sending a pass, then lowered it back down. I ran my fingers along the faded, light brown leathery surface of the football and looked around. Yesterday I had acted like not making the team had no affect on me. It does, though. I really wanted to be on the team, and all of the night before tryouts, I had been outside with Caleb practicing passes and catches. I had to agree to let him help me with my homework for a month to get him to practice with me; he's been trying to help me for awhile, but I always get out of it; I can do it myself. He insisted, though, and I really needed the practice. Anyway, I had been so sure I would make the team, and I figured that I do need to keep good grades to stay on the team, so a little homework help would only help me with staying on the team, so it was like a win - win. I thought I would win a third time by making the t team, and multiple times after that, helping the football team stay undefeated for the whole season.
But no.
I didn't make the team, and now I got zero wins. I spent hours in the heat practicing, for what? Nothing. I agreed to letting Caleb help me with my homework, when I already have fine grades. For what? Nothing. I tried out for the team, tried my best to make it onto the team, and for what? Nothing. I was hoping, really hoping, that I could help the team be undefeated for the first year ever here at Chicago High. But for what? Nothing, because I didn't make the team.
It was all for something. You wanted this so badly that little voice inside my head that always tries to make things better says, the one that's usually correct, but I don't often listen to it at first. You tried as hard as you could. It was good practice; now next year when you try out, you'll know what to expect. You get a whole other year to work on your football skills. You'll be an even better player a year from now!
"Sure," I muttered to myself. wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. I shook my head and glanced at my watch: 3:07. School let out about a half an hour ago; where is he? I walked back over to the football that I'd left on the grass and sat back down. He's probably just running a little late; a teacher probably asked him to stay with him or her for a little while to get him some extra help. He'll be here soon; he just doesn't seem like the type of person to blow you off.
"Hey, Tris," a voice said from behind me. I was right: just running a little late. I stood up and turned around.
"Hey, Fou-" I paused; someone was standing just a foot or two away, someone I don't know. "Who the Hell are you?"
"Me?" he smirked. "Oh, right. We haven't officially met. I'm Peter."
"Well, Peter, what are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
"What makes you think I would answer?" He just shrugged and smirked at me.
"Well, Tris, I am here because . . ."
"Because . . ." I continued, bringing my left hand up and twisting it out, urging him to continue.
"Because . . . I don't like that you made the boys' football team. At all." I rolled my eyes.
"I didn't." He looked momentarily confused, but the expression quickly disappeared.
"Don't lie to me, little girl," he hissed. I laughed. Peter isn't that much taller than me, and he seems to think he's one Hell of a hotshot. He seems like he's trying to be intimidating.
"Excuse me?" I said through my fading laughter. "I am not a little girl, and what makes you think you can just come over here and tell me I'm lying to you?"
"Well, I can do whatever I want." He paused. "Little girl." I held my breath, trying to keep from lashing out. I don't need another suspension; I have already gotten two just this year, both because, as the principal put it, I 'have a difficult time controlling my temper'.
"Okay, Peter, enough with the stalling. Why did you want to talk to me? I've got someone I'm supposed to be meeting, so please hurry up. I don't have the time for you to just tell me how much you don't like that I mad the team, even though I didn't, so please get a move-on."
"I told you that I don't like that you made the team, yet you seem to insist that you didn't which is a lie. I overheard the coaches talking about who would make the team. I made it, just so you know," he stated smugly. "And I don't want to be playing with you." I raised my eyebrows and counted to ten in my head.
"You need to understand this: I did not make the team."
"You know, I was afraid of this."
"Afraid of what?"
"That you would try to deny it, too weak to admit against me that, yes, you made the team. You must have known that I wouldn't like it, and now you are just trying to get me to leave you alone about it. Yes?"
"No! Peter, listen to me: I did not make the team." I said each word slowly and clearly.
"See, but you did, he said to me, then stuck a hand out behind him. "Drew! The list, please!" I raised my eyebrows at him, until out from behind the school, came a boy our age, holding a piece of notebook paper in his hand. He gave it to Peter, and stood behind him, to the side. "See, Tris?" He smoothed out the paper and stuck it out in front of my face. On it was the same handwriting that was used as Coach Jap wrote down what he thought about all the players, how they were playing. About halfway through the page, there was a line drawn in pencil, and in that section was a label: "Made the Team". Below it were names, and mine was one of the first.
"Where did you guys get this?" I asked, still looking at my name on the paper. There was no doubt that this was the paper the coach had used to write down how we all did on certain things and when he discussed who would make the team with the other coaches that were there, he had this paper. This paper has my name on it. I made the team. Then why did Coach Jap tell me I didn't?
"Peter, I have to go."
"No,You're staying here until you agree to tell Coach that you don't want to be on the team."
"No, I am not! I have things to do!" I walked over to the bag of footballs and almost put it in when someone jumped onto my back from behind.
"Get the Hell of me!" I hissed and reached my arm back, grabbing onto the person's forearm. I twisted it and ducked my head as I jerked forward and pulled him off my back. He hit the ground with a thud and I jumped on top of him. I sat on his stomach, set the football that was still in ,my left hand down next to me, and pushed his wrists into the dirt with my hands. "What do you think you're doing?!" I yelled at Drew. I looked over toward Peter, and saw him with one other person. Then realization dawned on me. I pulled a phone out of Drew's pocket and checked the time: 4:21. I finally understand it now: Four obviously doesn't like me at all. He sent me here, and sent Peter and his friends here to get me off the team. Wow. I had thought that Four was a nice guy. Guess not. He's friends with Will, Uriah, and Zeke; are they like this, too? I wonder if they helped him with this awful little scheme. I made a disgusted face. I can't believe this; to think, I had thought they were all nice people, that we'd be good friends.
Just then, another person came running toward me, not Peter. I don't know this one. He went to jump, prepared to knock me off of Drew, but I moved forward, and he went sailing past me. I stood up and stepped on Drew's wrist until heard a crack. I never wanted to have to do that. I stood as Drew rolled over and grabbed his broken wrist, before moving over to where the stranger lied on the ground. I grabbed his arm and twisted as hard as I could, flinching when I heard the crack of a broken bone. He rolled over and grabbed his arm, like Drew did. I turned around to face Peter just as he took off running toward me. He went to throw a punch, which I dodged. I kicked him in the side, making sure to do it at an angle where he wouldn't be able to grab my food and make me fall. When I kicked him, he barely flinched. He sent another punch toward my cheek, which I bent backward to avoid. When I came back up, I wasn't quick enough, because he was able to throw another one, hitting me square in the jaw. I cried out, and kicked him being his knees, making him fall to the ground; he jumped back to his feet, and I punched him in the thigh who he jumped back up, making him lose his footing and fall to the ground again. I quickly stepped on his foot, making sure to sprain it, so he couldn't follow me. I never wanted to have to do that, but I didn't have much of a choice. I made sure not to seriously injure any of them, though.
I sped over to my bag, grabbed it, and took off before they stood up and attacked again. I took off to my house, quiet tears running down my cheeks, onto my bruised jaw.