Dauntless High School

Chapter 32

TRIS

Over the past few weeks, I have grown to hate Wednesday nights. Wednesday is the night that Four has dinner with his dad each week. I feel his absence more every week.

I miss Uriah, too. He spent so much time here keeping me company, maybe that is part of the reason I hung onto our relationship for so long. Although if I'm honest with myself, even six or seven months ago we were fine, we were happy. It was only five or six months ago that it all began to change. We had a big fight the first time he drove drunk to my place, and Lauren, who had weaseled her way into the group, took full advantage. He turned her down in the end, and we made up about a week later, but things were never the same.

It's only a little after 9:00 when I change into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tank top, wash my face, and climb into bed. I have an English test coming up on Friday, so I curl up with my favorite fuzzy purple blanket and a copy of Catcher in the Rye.

Reading is just about putting me to sleep, and I am jolted back to attention by my phone ringing. I fumble for it, barely finding where it is tangled in my blankets before in time to answer. I see a photo of my gorgeous boyfriend pop up on the screen and smile as I quickly swipe to answer it.

"Tris." The moment I hear his voice, I am on high alert. I sit up straight, suddenly wide awake and serious. "I need help."

"Four? Are you okay? What's wrong?" I rush out.

"I just, I was trying to drive home and I can't... I had to pull off. I need you to come get me."

I jump out of bed and pull on my old, worn Chucks. "What happened? Why can't you drive, Four?"

"I'm hurt."

"Were you in an accident?" I ask, grabbing my keys off the dresser.

"No."

"How did you get hurt? Tell me what's wrong with you, Four." I press on my way down the stairs.

After a short pause, "Tris, please, just tell me you're coming."

"Of course I am." I awkwardly juggle my phone while pulling on my jacket. Obviously pressing for answers is getting me nowhere, so I accept defeat... for now. "Where are you?"

-o-o-o-o-o-

It takes about twenty-five minutes to drive to the grocery store parking lot where Four waits for me in his Mustang. I pull up next to him and see his silhouette, hunched over with his forehead resting against the steering wheel. I hop out of the truck and he stiffly sits up as I approach, and gets out of the car.

The evidence of his injury is not on his exposed skin, but in the way he moves, stiff and slow and deliberate. I see him straining to reach for the bags in the backseat and pull him away by the arm, gesturing to my truck with a tilt of my head. He nods without making eye contact. I grab the backpack and duffel bag from his car, check to make sure he hasn't left the keys inside, and lock the doors. After throwing his bags in the bed of my truck

I climb in and turn the ignition. I pause and watch him for a moment. Four is sitting hunched forward, gripping the front of the seat with his hands, eyes closed and face pinched. I take a deep breath in and out before putting the truck in reverse.

For more than fifteen minutes, I just drive and neither of us says a word. Finally we are nearing home and I can't wait any longer. "I'd really like to know what happened, Four," I sigh.

"I know," he says ― more like groans.

I wait for a moment with no sign that he is going to explain himself. So I just sigh again and say, "Can I help with whatever it is? I mean, first aid or whatever?"