Okay, for starters, there will be mentions of self harm and abuse in this story, so if that is a trigger for you, please stop reading now!

Other than that, Caleb is 6 years older than Tris in this story, and that's about it. Hope you guys like it. Feedback would be appreciated!

My eyes are trained on the clock on the wall across from me. Lunch is going to start soon. Not that it matters. They pulled me out of sixth period. I'm sure they don't care if I'm late to lunch. As long as I'm sitting in this office, I could be out of classes all day, and nobody would care. Not that anybody really cares about me much anyway.

"Beatrice?"

I look up, breaking free from my thoughts, only to find Principal Matthews staring at me. I must have zoned out while she was talking. Her snake-like eyes are narrowed on me, as she pushes a lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Tris," I correct sharply.

"Tris." She gives me a smile that never reaches her eyes. "I know that you're not all for this, but we are only pushing this because we are concerned for your well-being."

I roll my eyes at this. I know very well that this has nothing to do with me. Ever since Al committed suicide last year, nobody could even complain about their homework without being reported. It's been said that there were a lot of signs that Al was considering suicide before he actually did it, which means that a lot of people are blaming the staff for not paying attention. Now, they're watching all the students like a hawk because the all-perfect Jeannine Matthews does not want to handle anymore negative press.

If she wasn't under fire for Al's suicide, I know that I wouldn't even be sitting in this office right now. After all, Principal Matthews has never been a fan of me.

"It's only once a week," she continues when I say nothing. "It's with people your age, and there are a few people who might have had very similar experiences as you."

"I'll think about it," I mutter. "Is that all?"

"It's either this or mandatory one-on-one counseling." Her lips turn into a straight line, showing that she is frustrated with me. "It's your choice."

I purse my lips, as we glare at each other. She knows how much I hate one-on-one counseling, which would explain why I've skipped my last few sessions. At least, with a support group, I could just sit back and listen to everyone else without having to say a word.

"I'll join the support group," I say just loud enough for her to hear.

"Good." She gives me another fake smile, as she hands me a card with the information for the group on it. "If you do not attend the sessions, the leader of the group will contact me. So, I suggest you take this seriously. That's all, Beatrice."

I roll my eyes again, as I stand up and stuff the card into my pocket and walk out of her office. The bell rings, as I walk into the hallway and within seconds, I am surrounded by students. Not that it matters, seeing as none of them talk to me.

I've only ever had a few friends in this school. One was Al, who is obviously gone now. And one girl named Susan, who stopped talking to me when I started falling into a downward spiral. I didn't expect her to understand what I was going through, but it still hurt when she stopped talking to me all together.

I stop at my locker and open it up, looking at the small mirror that I had glued to the inside. There is a thin line of eyeliner on my eyes, and I check to make sure my messy bun is still in place.

"Hey, girl."

I look to my side, as Christina leans against the locker next to mine. She ducks her head to check her own hair and makeup, as I grab some books out of my locket.

"You coming out with me?" I ask.

"Is that even a question?"

I smirk, and she smirks right back at me. I shut my locker, and we bypass the cafeteria completely. We check to make sure no teachers are around before we slip outside through one of the back doors. As we walk, I reach into my pocket and pull out a pack of cigarettes, which is the main reason we're out here.

Once we've reached the field, we duck under the bleachers, and we each take one out and light them. I lean against the bleachers, as Christina sits down on the grass and takes a long drag.

"Matthews called me in today," I say before taking an equally long drag.

"Yeah?" She raises an eyebrow. "What was it this time?"

"She's making me do this stupid support group."

"No shit." She narrows her eyes at me before smirking. "Me, too."

"Really?" She nods at me, and I snort. "Well, at least now I know it won't be a total waste of time."

"Yeah." She shrugs her shoulders. "All we gotta do is sit there and say nothing, and then we can leave and talk about all the pathetic people that are there just to whine about their life."

"Basically my plan," I say. "What about this weekend? Did you figure anything out?"

"Well, since you got us banned from Eric's house-"

"He tried to sleep with me." I roll my eyes. "I didn't want to sleep with him. Fuck me, right?"

"Well, that's what he was trying to do." I glare at her, and she smirks. "Anyway, I think I might have found somewhere else to go instead. That guy, Zeke, is having a party."

"Football Zeke?" She nods her head, and I groan. "You couldn't find anything else?"

"Whatever!" she says, actually looking irritated for a second. "You got us kicked out of our regular spot. You're not really in a position to complain, Trissy."

"Fine," I say reluctantly.

Once the thirty minutes of lunchtime is almost over, we put out our cigarettes and sneak back into the school where we separate to go to our own classes. The rest of the day flies by, and I am walking out of the front doors before I know it.

As I walk out, I spot Caleb's car parked behind the buses. I saunter over and slide into the passenger seat, making him look up from his phone for a split second.

"How was school?" he mumbles, still working on a text.

"Same as usual."

I look out the window, as he finally puts his phone away and starts driving. We drive in silence, save for the radio in the background, for a few moments before he finally speaks up again.

"Have you talked to Principal Matthews?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say slowly, giving him a look even though he's watching the road. "How did you know?"

"She called me the other day," he says nonchalantly. "She wanted to make sure that I was okay with it before she went to you about it."

I roll my eyes at this and look back to the window. Ever since Caleb became my legal guardian, he started acting more like a parent than my brother every day. It irks me especially that Matthews talks to him as if he is my father when she knows our situation.

"You should at least think about it," he tries again after a minute of silence. "It might help."

"I'm gonna do it," I mutter. "Matthews is making me."

I hear him sigh, as we pull up to the apartment building. He parks by the walkway and looks at me. I know that he will not be coming in with me. Every day, he picks me up from school, drops me off at home, and then goes off to his cushy office job.

"Beatrice, I know that this is hard for you, but you need to at least be open to it."

"Okay, I will," I say quickly, as I open the car door.

I step out and throw my book bag over my shoulders. When I look back, he is watching me with a sad expression on his face. I try to ignore it, as I turn and head to the entrance of the building. I walk up the stairs to Caleb's apartment. And yes, I call it Caleb's apartment. I've been here for two years, but it still doesn't feel like a home to me.

Everything in this place is Caleb. The books stacked on the sleek tables. The neatness in each room- except my room of course- almost makes me feel like I'm in a model apartment, not a real one. Even the air freshener is the same scent as the ones he used in his room growing up. I'm sure that this place is perfect for him, but it all feels so temporary for me.

Still, moving in with Caleb was the best option after everything that happened with my parents. It was either that or foster care, and Christina had told me so many horror stories about foster care that her childhood friend, Molly, suffered through. While I knew that not all foster homes would be the same, I was still afraid that I would end up in a bad situation.

Just as I fall down on my bed and start pulling off my shoes, my phone lights up, and Christina's name appears on the screen. I pick it up and read the message.

That party at Zeke's is tomorrow night, it reads. Are you in or not?

I sigh, knowing that I don't have much of a choice. Whether I say yes or not, Christina will still go without me. She is different than me in that she can go to a party alone since all she has to do is take a few shots, and suddenly she's friends with everyone in the room.

Anyway, if I don't go with her, that means I'll have to spend my Friday night with Caleb, watching some old, weird movie. I groan, as I text back, saying that I will go with her. Within seconds, she has texted back.

Awesome! Meet me outside your building in five. We need to get some new outfits.

I roll my eyes. As much I love Christina, I really hate that she needs a brand new outfit every time she goes to a party. Still, I know she won't let me get out of shopping with her, so I put my shoes back on and get out of bed. I grab my things and saunter from my room to Caleb's. I go to his bedside table and open the top drawer. I then reach in and grab an envelope filled with twenty dollar bills.

I don't take money from Caleb too often because I don't want him to realize that it's missing. I only take it when I'm low on money myself. Maybe I should feel guilty, but any guilt I have goes away as soon as I remember just how much he makes. I tell myself that he won't even miss it.

"About time," Christina says when I leave the building.

She smirks at me, a cigarette poised between her lips.

"I was taking out a loan," I joke, as she hands it to me so I can take a drag.

She laughs, as I hand the cigarette back to her.

Funny enough, Christina is the one who handed me my first cigarette. She was the one who came to my aid when she found me crying under the bleachers. She was the first person who tried to help me without looking at me with pity in her eyes, and she was the first person who didn't suggest therapy or journaling. Instead, she sat with me and lit her cigarette. She handed it to me, telling me that it would ease the pain. Growing up, I had learned that smoking was wrong just like every other kid, but at that point, I was in too much pain to care.

I know that Caleb can smell it when I come home reeking of cigarettes, but he doesn't say anything anymore. He has tried to keep me away from Christina, but at the end of the day, he knows that we will still find a way to get to each other, no matter how hard he tries. She is my best friend, my only friend. The only person who truly understands me. Nobody could come between us, not even Caleb.

As she drops her cigarette on the floor, I throw my arm around her shoulders and we start walking to the store.

We are two broken people, but nothing will ever break us from each other.