Moving Forward (Prequel to Starting Over)

Chapter 3

Tris
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I slowly drag myself up from the old, worn down couch sitting in the middle of the living room in the abandoned house. Despite the dust and cobwebs, the couch isn't that dirty. It's uncomfortable, but cleaner than the ground I've been sleeping on the past few nights.

I reached my newest destination late last night and found an empty house to stay in for the night. The past few towns I've been to have beed desolate and run down. At every town they would say that the next one over was better. So far none of them have been. Looking for a job in this area has been impossible. I just want to make enough money to buy food and put a roof over my head. It doesn't have to be anything fancy either; anything is better than nothing.

I wander through town alone, looking for promising signs of life. I finally catch a glimpse of a convenient store as I get farther into town. I even see an apartment building and a few restaurants near the middle of town. There seems to be more shops and apartments on other streets, but I can't make them out from here.

"Can I help you?" a guy about my age asks when he sees me wondering around. "My name is Kyle." He extends his hand for a handshake. I shake his hand and introduce myself.

"I'm Tris. I'm new here."

"Not to be rude, but that's obvious. We're a small town so everybody knows everybody."

Candor, I find myself classifying him quickly. I have to remind myself that I'm no longer in the faction system. That we I shouldn't separate people into categories based on stereotypes. Old habits die hard.

"I'm looking for a place to stay, for a few days at least." My stomach growls, craving food that's not from a can. "And some good food. Do you think you could point me in the right direction?"

Kyle leads me down a side street claiming to know what place serves the best burger in the world. As we walk I observe things about Kyle that I didn't notice before. His hair is straight, brown, and comes down an inch or two past his ears. He has on a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Despite the lose shirt I can see some muscle definition under the fabric. He has on jeans and boots. The hem of his jeans has grease stains around the bottom and there's a hole in them at his lower thigh just above his knee.

We soon reach a diner on a road just off the main road. I can smell the food as soon as Kyle opens the door. My stomach growls louder than before.

Kyle walks over to the counter and sits down at one of the stools there. I follow his lead and sit down at the bar. I'm a little on edge since I can't see the door. I hate the feeling that someone could easily sneak up on me.

"Kyle, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in school?" the lady working behind the counter asks when she walks over.

"No, Mrs. Molly," Kyle replies. The name sends a chill down my spine and I try not to show it. "I graduated last year. You know that."

"What about you? You look like you're young enough to be in school still. How old are you?"

"I'm 18," I lie. "I graduated." At least that part is true. In the faction system at least.

"What's your name? I don't recognize you," Molly asks.

"I'm Tris. I'm not from here."