Dauntless High School

Chapter 9

TRIS

When I walk into first period U.S. History, Uriah is in his seat with his head buried in his arms on the table in front of him. Satisfaction courses through me at the sight; after the shit he pulled last night, he deserves the hangover he's nursing, and to be stuck in school as he does.

I weave through the rows of two-person tables to my seat next to my boyfriend. I quietly set my backpack on the desk behind me and pull out my heavy, thick history book, binder, and a pen. Then I set the backpack on the floor and holding my binder and pen in my left hand and my book in my right, I hold the book a good yard above the table and drop it. It lands with a very loud thud that makes the few other students in the room jump and look my way, and no doubt reverberates through the desk and right into Uriah's pounding head.

Uriah groans, then lifts his head and glares at me. "I know you're mad, Zeke already repeated everything you said to him last night. But I already feel like shit. You don't have a be a bitch about it."

My jaw drops. "Did you seriously just call me a bitch?!" I hiss.

"Well, you're acting like one," he mumbles, rubbing his temples with his fingers. He looks awful. His hair is a mess, his eyes are red, and his usually warm light brown face looks pale.

"Did you at least take some ibuprofen or something?" I sigh, sliding into my chair.

"No," he groans. "We ran out this weekend, I forgot to buy more when I was at the store the other day."

I roll my eyes and dig through my purse for the small bottle of Advil I keep with me and shake two pills into my hand, then grab my water bottle out of my backpack. By the time I've got both ready, Uri's head is buried in his arms again. I nudge him with my elbow, not bothering to be gentle and he groans again. "Stop it, Tris," he mumbles.

"Fine, I'll just put this Advil away, then," I snap as I grab for my purse. "Not like you deserve it."

"Wait! No, I'll take it!" he hurries. I give it to him and after he has taken the pills and finished half my bottle of water he just looks at me for a second. The classroom is nearly full now and the teacher is shuffling through papers at the front of the room. "Look, I'm really sorry, Tris," Uriah says, his eyes lowered with shame. "I made some really bad decisions last night, and I shouldn't have talked to you the way I did a minute ago, either. Can you forgive me?"

I stare at him for a moment. Because the thing is, it isn't that simple. This isn't a one time thing, where he made a mistake and won't do it again. He's risking lives, and it's becoming a pattern, a habit. Anger burns through my veins every day for the man who killed my mother with his own reckless decision; every time Uriah gets behind the wheel drunk, I feel that same anger building toward him. How can I respect someone who chooses to take that risk after seeing the consequences for himself?

Before I can come up with an answer, the bell rings and Ms. Keene starts class. I open my notebook to take notes, suddenly much more interested in the Civil War than I usually would be. Throughout class, though, I feel Uriah's eyes boring into me and I can't keep his question out of my mind.

Eight minutes till the end of class. I close my notebook and slowly and quietly begin to pack up my bag. I want to get out of here as soon as we're dismissed. I know Uriah won't let this go until I give him an answer, and I don't have one ready for him yet.

Unfortunately, this is when Ms. Keene announces a new project. "Partner up with the person next to you," she calls. Uriah looks at me and scoots his chair closer. This classroom has tables instead of desks, two students to each table, so it's obvious who my partner will be. I would usually be perfectly happy to have my boyfriend as my partner on a project, but why does she have to assign this project right when I am trying to avoid him so I can think?