Game Over (A Divergent Fanfiction)

Chapter 5 | This Can't Be Real // Tris POV

WOOHOO! I am back with another chapter right on time. At least I think so, I honestly have no clue. I've completely lost track.

Aside from that though, I hope you guys like this chapter, it's gonna be intense. A big reveal too. But you might hate me too, unexpected stuff is gonna happen

Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent, all rights go to Veronica Roth.

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"It's not what you look at that matters, 

it's what you see." 

-Henry David Thoreau

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Tris POV

Never take a bet with the devil, or in this case, Christina.

I slowly open an eyelid, cautiously peeking out of the tiny open slit, unsure of what to expect.

Christina had bet me that she could do five miles in a day. And I mean come on, it's Christina, quite literally the laziest person I know, so of course I had to say yes. So, we were on our way over to the mall, and that's when I realized that it was black friday (there were huge light-up billboards with "black friday sales" written in giant letters).

You can guess what happens next.

So here I am, not only do I need to go to that douche's stupid party, but I also have to let Christina dress me up -clothes and makeup- for it. I can't possibly imagine a worse situation.

"Don't open your eyes!" Christina scolds me. I stand in front of my full-length mirror while Christina gets me ready. I wait patiently. Maybe she'll take too long and we'll miss the party. It'll only last till like midnight right? Oh who am I kidding, this is a party hosted by a bunch of drunk teenagers, it's never going to end.

"Ok, done!" Christina exclaims, "You can open your eyes now." I reluctantly start to open my eyes, bracing myself for the worst. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Christina step back and smile, admiring her work.

I glance in the mirror. I'm wearing a light teal, short-sleeved crop top ending right next to my belly button, with the words "Suck It." printed in big, bold letters. I also have on tight, black skinny jeans, after I refused to wear booty shorts. Hey, at least they're not ripped yet. Yet. When I complained to Christina about the cold, she lent me one of my favorite jacket's of her's. It's a bad-ass, pure-black, leather jacket with spikes. And after hours of arguing, we decided on black high-tops with chains hanging off. No heels or sneakers.

Christina slips the tie from my hair and I shake it out of its braid so it hangs wavy over my shoulders. Then she sits me down on a chair and goes to get a black pencil. "Eyeliner," she explains to me, I roll my eyes.

"You aren't going to be able to make me pretty, you know." I close my eyes and hold still. She runs the tip of the pencil along the line of my eyelashes.

"What are you talking about? You already look amazing with the outfit I chose for you. And plus, who cares about pretty? I'm going for noticeable."

I open my eyes and gasp. My eyes were blue before, a dull, grayish blue, but the eyeliner makes them piercing. With my hair framing my face, my features look softer and fuller. I still refuse to believe that I could be pretty, but I can see that Christina is right. My face is noticeable.

"See?" she says. "You look...stunning." I smile at her in the mirror. "You like it?"

"Yeah." I nod. "I look like an entirely different person."