Count On Me

A/N: A couple things... first, the song referenced near the end of the chapter is Count On Me by Bruno Mars.

The second thing... is that I think I'm going to have to slow down the updates on this story for a while. I've been updating Wednesdays and Saturdays but I think it'll just be Saturdays maybe for the rest of the summer. My son is autistic and we just started a new therapy program that I participate in with him 15 hours a week (in addition to the other therapies and stuff we do.) So, that's really cutting into my time to do everything else. So if I start going a week or more between updates, I'm not losing interest in the story or anything. It's just my real life getting in the way.

---------------------------------------

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 22, 2014 | 7 PM | TRIS

I'm now three days late, and my friends are noticing how distracted I have become. The possibility that I could be pregnant dominates my thoughts. I feel sick to think of how disappointed my mother would be. Of course she would be kind and supportive, unlike my father, but that would have almost made it feel even worse to let her down this way.

It doesn't matter, I tell myself. She's gone. I can't disappoint her any more.

I am lying to myself. It does matter, it matters to me. More than anything I want to be someone that she would have been proud of. I don't feel like someone my mother would be proud of right now. I am not brave and bold Tris today. I'm scared, weak little Beatrice, too cowardly to drive down to the pharmacy and buy that little plastic stick that will give me the answers I need, or to even confront the wedge that that one single night has placed between me and Uriah.

I can't deal with that conversation until I know whether I'm pregnant. But I am too afraid to face finding out the truth.

I shake my head and try to focus my eyes on my history textbook. I have a test coming up on Thursday and have barely paid attention to the lectures, thanks to my wandering mind.

I have only made it through the first paragraph when the doorbell rings. I leave my textbook open on the desk and hop up from my chair, not minding the interruption. Anything to distract me. Studying certainly isn't cutting it. I jog down the hall and take the steps two at a time, then fling open the front door. Guess this wasn't much of a distraction ― the heaviness is back in the pit of my stomach.

"Uriah. Um... hey," I say, my hand gripping the doorframe. "What's up?"

He steps around me and into the house without waiting for an invitation, removes my hand from the doorframe, and pushes the door shut before looking me in the eye. "We need to talk, Tris."

I chew on my lip. "This isn't really a good time, Uriah. I'm studying for a test and I really need to―"

"What test?"

"History," I answer quietly.

Uriah shakes his head. "We're in the same history class, Tris. That test isn't till Thursday."

"I know, but―"

"Talk first, then study. We can quiz each other or whatever after. I'm not leaving until we've talked, Tris."

I can tell he means it. I am not getting out of it this time, no matter how badly I want to. "Fine. Let's go up to my room, in case my dad comes home."

"Has he been home more often?" Uriah asks while following me up to my room.

"Yeah, I mean, sort of," I shrug. "He hasn't been away on any trips for a couple of weeks, but he usually works late. I just...avoid him. I don't think he's even noticed the lip piercing yet."