First Day~Tris's POV~
I stomped towards Mount Gays High School. My eyes dragged along the ground, and I bumped into a boy, causing his books to fall. He had blonde hair and blue eyes. "Watch it," he said to her. Then he sighed. He stuck out a hand and offered it to me. I slowly put my hand in his and shook. "I'm Luke Castellan," he said, smiling at her brown hair, which was pulled behind her ears in a messy ponytail, and she took in his pale blue eyes, his messy blonde hair."Tris," she said. "Tris?" said Luke, confused. "B-Beatrice Prior," she said, offering a faint smile. Suddenly, Luke slid his hand out of hers and dashed away, clumsily scooping up his books in the process. "Percy! Percy!" he seemed to scream.
I sighed. "Great. My first day here and I can't make a friend."
"At least you still have me!"
I jumped at the noise.
Christina was standing next to me.
"Christina..." I rolled my eyes.
"C'mon," Christina said, sulking. "I spent more than two months visiting the hospital in Erudite illegally, watching them attempt to get the bullet out of your heart. And when they did, I threw a surprise party for you!"
I knew she was right.
Me and Christina kind of spaced out, thinking about everything that had been going on back in Chicago. Wars between the factions. All that jazz. I shook my head. Christina's eyes looked glazed, her mouth open and her breathing shallow. A yell interrupted our thoughts.
"Peeta! That's NOT funny!" We turned to see a girl named Katniss Everdeen smack a boy named Peeta Mellark. His cheek burned a bright pink, but he didn't notice. "I DID see Prim! I did! I did!" insisted Katniss as she swung open the swinging double doors of the building. I stopped. I stared. "I can't do this," I breathed.
Four had his arm around a girl.
She has a gas tank behind her, on a red wagon that she pulled with her. "Your beautiful, Hazel."
She didn't giggle like I would of done. I spotted sadness in her eyes.
"Please. Call me Hazel Grace."
Suddenly, a ringing sounded in my ears. Me and Christina took off running towards the building, skidding to a stop in front of our french class. The class was beautiful. Floral wallpaper ran up and down the cream-colored walls. The teacher had a few bobby pins stuck in her blonde hair, which was piled onto her head and secured with a pink elastic band.
She wrote a word on the chalkboard.
"Mrs. Amirault," read Christina. She was across the room from me, but I could still hear her.
"Bonjour," she said.
She asked a few people their names and where they hailed from, and finally she got to me.
"Bonjour. Quel est votre nom?"
"Mon, nom est Tris."
"Je suis originaive de Chicago. Voulez-vous ma faction?"
Kids were starting to get bored. Peeta yawned dramatically. I instantly got a dislike for him.
"Ca ne fait rien."
She went to the girl next to me. Her name was Annabeth, and she harked from Camp Half-blood, she said.
We learned some french abbreviations, and then the bell rung. The class flooded out into the hallway.
Luke passed me while going from Algebra to French, and gave me a smile. I didn't return it. I gave him a frown.
And that's how the day started.