Dauntless High School

Chapter 55

FOUR

I am not sure what I expected ― maybe something more like a log cabin ― but the immaculate, sprawling home before me isn't it. I had no idea the Phillips had so much money. The property must cover a couple of acres. A long driveway forming a semi-circle and connecting to the street at either end of the large front lawn is already packed with cars, and I drop the brothers, Zeke pushing Uriah in his wheelchair, as near to the door as possible before parking on the street a block-and-a-half away. Old-fashioned-looking lamps light the edges of the driveway and most of the windows lining the front of what appears to be a two-story house are lit up.

As I make my way up the driveway, I notice that the house is built on a hillside; the side yard on either side of the house appears to drop off with the steep decline toward the lake behind the house. I imagine that this must be one of those lakes with all private beaches, entirely surrounded by homes like this, owned by rich Chicago businessmen and left empty most of the year.

I wonder why Marcus never bought a fancy vacation home like this. I suppose he isn't the type to take his family on vacation, though I know he has been to plenty of places like this on corporate retreats and business trips.

Bypassing the driveway, I make my way across the lawn and offer my classmates nods of greeting and thanks as I dodge their congratulatory shoulder pats. My eyes search constantly search for Tris. She has become the one person I want to share my successes with, and my failures, too.

It isn't until I am inside the house that someone successfully makes contact. "Hey, Four, you made it!"

Sidestepping, I shrug Peter's hand off my shoulder. I eye him warily. His congenial smile puts me on edge. "Yeah... you know it's only been like an hour since I saw you, Peter. Which way to the beer?" At least so long as I have my eye on him, he can't try to drug me again.

"Uh, yeah, sure, it's through here," Peter says, nodding and being way too helpful as he leads me to the kitchen. I grab a cheap beer out of the cooler and crack it open. "But can I ― can I talk to you for a minute?" he asks as I slurp the beer foaming out of the top.

I stand straighter and cross my arms. "Sure."

Peter glances around. "Let's go―"

"No," I interrupt. "Whatever you want to talk about, we can talk right here. I'm not going off to some back hallway where you and Drew can double up on me, start a fight, and somehow make it out to be all my fault."

Peter's face drops. "It hurts me," he says, hand over his heart, "that you think I would do that. See, that is actually what I wanted to talk to you about. This silly feud between us has gone on long enough, don't you think? I mean football is over now. Can't we be over, too?"

The guy is good. I don't trust him as far as I can throw him, but he has the innocent face down pat. As much as I hate to think of the two of them together, I can see how Peter fooled Tris for as long as he did.

"Are you breaking up with me, Peter?" I keep my face blank and serious, but I let a bit of a mocking tone into my voice.

"You know what I'm saying. Let's just call a truce, okay?"

"The feud has always been all you, Peter. I had nothing to do with it."

For the first time, Peter's facade breaks, his face twisting like he tastes something sour. "Oh, come off it. You know I saw you after you planted that smoke bomb."

I raise my eyebrows, trying to mimic his mask of false innocence. "It hurts me that you think I would do that," I mock. Over his shoulder, I see Lynn amble past the kitchen doorway. "But if you want to stop all the shit you've been pulling, that would be great, thanks."