[Anh Ngữ] I Am Number Four - Lorien Legacies 1 - Pittacus Lore

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

I AM NUMBER FOUR
by PITTACUS LORE
Genre: Fantasy​

Spoiler: Chap 6

I WALK INSIDE AND LIE ON THE BARE MATTRESS in my room. The morning has worn me out and I let my eyes close. When I reopen them the sun is lifted over the tops of the trees. I walk out of the room. Henri is at the kitchen table with his laptop open and I know he’s been scanning the news, as he always does, searching for information or stories that might tell us where the others are.

“Did you sleep?” I ask.

“Not much. We have internet now and I haven’t checked the news since Florida. It was gnawing at me.”

“Anything to report?” I ask.

He shrugs. “A fourteen-year-old in Africa fell from a fourth-story window and walked away without a scratch. There is a fifteen-year-old in Bangladesh claiming to be the Messiah.”

I laugh. “I know the fifteen-year-old isn’t us. Any chance of the other?”

“Nah. Surviving a four-story drop is no great feat, and besides, if it was one of us they wouldn’t have been that careless in the first place,” he says, and winks.

I smile and sit across from him. He closes his computer and places his hands on the table. His watch reads 11:36. We’ve been in Ohio for slightly over half a day and already this much has happened. I hold my palms up. They’ve dimmed since the last time I looked.

“Do you know what you have?” he asks.

“Lights in my hands.”

He chuckles. “It’s called Lumen. You’ll be able to control the light in time.”

“I sure hope so, because our cover is blown if they don’t turn off soon. I still don’t see what the point is, though.”

“There’s more to Lumen than mere lights. I promise you.”

“What’s the rest?”

He walks into his bedroom and returns with a lighter in his hand.

“Do you remember much of your grandparents?” he asks. Our grandparents are the ones who raise us. We see little of our parents until we reach the age of twenty-five, when we have children of our own. The life expectancy for the Loric is around two hundred years, much longer than that of humans, and when children are born, between the parents’ ages of twenty-five and thirty-five, the elders are the ones who raise them while the parents continue honing their Legacies.

“A little. Why?”

“Because your grandfather had the same gift.”

“I don’t remember his hands ever glowing,” I say.

Henri shrugs. “He might never have had reason to use it.”

“Wonderful,” I say. “Sounds like a great gift to have, one I’ll never use.”

He shakes his head. “Give me your hand.”

I give him the right one and he flicks the lighter on, then moves it to touch the tip of my finger with the flame. I jerk my hand away.

“What are you doing?”

“Trust me,” he says.

I give my hand back to him. He takes hold of it and flicks the lighter on again. He looks into my eyes. Then he smiles. I look down and see that he is holding the flame over the tip of my middle finger. I don’t feel a thing. Instinct causes me to jerk my hand free anyway. I rub my finger. It feels no different than it did before.

“Did you feel that?” he asks.

“No.”

“Give it back,” he says. “And tell me when you do feel something.”

He starts at my fingertip again, then moves the flame very slowly up the back of my hand. There is a slight tickle where the flame touches the skin, nothing more. Only when the fire reaches my wrist do I begin to sense the burn. I pull my arm free.

“Ouch.”

“Lumen,” he says. “You’re going to become resistant to fire and heat. Your hands come naturally, but we’ll have to train the rest of your body.”

A smile spreads across my face. “Resistant to fire and heat,” I say. “So I’ll never be burned again?”

“Eventually, yes.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Not such a bad Legacy after all, huh?”

“Not bad at all,” I agree. “Now what about these lights? Are they ever going to turn off?”

“They will. Probably after a good night’s sleep, when your mind forgets they’re on,” he says. “But you’ll have to be careful not to get worked up for a while. An emotional imbalance will cause them to come right back on again, if you get overly nervous, or angry, or sad.”

“For how long?”

“Until you learn to control them.” He closes his eyes and rubs his face with his hands. “Anyway, I’m going to try to sleep again. We’ll talk about your training in a few hours.”

After he leaves I stay at the kitchen table, opening and closing my hands, taking deep breaths and trying to calm everything inside of me so the lights will dim. Of course it doesn’t work.

Everything in the house is still a mess aside from the few things Henri did while I was at school. I can tell that he is leaning towards leaving, but not to the point that he couldn’t be persuaded to stay. Maybe if he wakes and finds the house clean and in order it’ll tip him in the right direction.

I start with my room. I dust, wash the windows, sweep the floor. When everything is clean I throw sheets, pillows, and blankets on the bed, then hang and fold my clothes. The dresser is old and rickety, but I fill it and then place the few books I own on top of it. And just like that, a clean room, everything I own put away and in order.

I move to the kitchen, putting away dishes and wiping down the counters. It gives me something to do and takes my mind off of my hands, even though while cleaning I think about Mark James. For the first time in my life I stood up to somebody. I’ve always wanted to but never did because I wanted to heed Henri’s advice to keep a low profile. I’ve always tried to delay another move for as long as I could. But today was different. There was something very satisfying about being pushed by somebody and responding by pushing back. And then there’s the issue of my phone, which was stolen. Sure, we could easily get a new one, but where is the justice in that?

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

I AM NUMBER FOUR
by PITTACUS LORE
Genre: Fantasy​

Spoiler: Chap 7

I WAKE BEFORE THE ALARM. THE HOUSE IS COOL and silent. I lift my hands from under the covers. They are normal, no lights, no glow. I lumber out of bed and into the living room. Henri is at the kitchen table reading the local paper and drinking coffee.

“Good morning,” he says. “How do you feel?”

“Like a million bucks,” I say.

I pour myself a bowl of cereal and sit across from him.

“What are you going to do today?” I ask.

“Errands mostly. We’re getting low on money. I’m thinking of putting in a transfer at the bank.”

Lorien is (or was, depending on how you look at it) a planet rich with natural resources. Some of those resources were precious gems and metals. When we left, each Cêpan was given a sack full of diamonds, emeralds and rubies to sell when we arrived on Earth. Henri did, and then deposited the money into an overseas bank account. I don’t know how much there is and I never ask. But I know it’s enough to last us ten lifetimes, if not more. Henri makes withdrawals from it once a year, give or take.

“I don’t know, though,” he continues. “I don’t want to stray too far in case something else happens today.”

Not wanting to make a big deal of yesterday, I wave the notion away. “I’ll be fine. Go get paid.”

I look out the window. Dawn is breaking, casting a pale light over everything. The truck is covered with dew. It’s been a while since we’ve been through a winter. I don’t even own a jacket and have outgrown most of my sweaters.

“It looks cold out,” I say. “Maybe we can go clothes shopping soon.”

He nods. “I was thinking about that last night, which is why I need to go to the bank.”

“Then go,” I say. “Nothing is going to happen today.”

I finish the bowl of cereal, drop the dirty dish into the sink, and jump into the shower. Ten minutes later I’m dressed in a pair of jeans and a black thermal shirt, the sleeves pulled to my elbows. I look in the mirror, and down at my hands. I feel calm. I need to stay that way.

On the way to school Henri hands me a pair of gloves.

“Make sure you keep these with you at all times. You never know.”

I tuck them into my back pocket.

“I shouldn’t need them. I feel pretty good.”

At the school, buses are lined up in front. Henri pulls up to the side of the building.

“I don’t like you not having a phone,” he says. “Any number of things could go wrong.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have it back soon.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be right here at the end of the day.”

“I won’t,” I say, and get out of the truck. He pulls away.

Inside, the halls are bustling with activity, students loitering at lockers, talking, laughing. A few look at me and whisper. I don’t know whether it’s because of the confrontation or because of the darkroom. It’s likely that they are whispering about both. It is a small school, and in small schools there is little that isn’t readily known by everyone else.

When I reach the main entrance, I turn right and find my locker. It’s empty. I have fifteen minutes before sophomore composition begins. I walk by the classroom just to make sure I know where it is and then head to the office. The secretary smiles when I enter.

“Hi,” I say. “I lost my phone yesterday and I was wondering if anyone turned it in to lost and found?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m afraid no phone’s been turned in.”

“Thank you,” I say.

Out in the hallway I don’t see Mark anywhere. I pick a direction and begin walking. People still stare and whisper, but that doesn’t bother me. I see him fifty feet ahead of me. All at once the thrill of adrenaline kicks in. I look down at my hands. They’re normal. I’m worried about them turning on, and that worry might just be the thing that does it.

Mark’s leaning against a locker with his arms crossed, in the middle of a group, five guys and two girls, all of them talking and laughing. Sarah is sitting on a windowsill about fifteen feet away. She looks radiant again today with her blond hair pulled into a ponytail, wearing a skirt and a gray sweater. She’s reading a book, but looks up as I walk towards them.

I stop just outside of the group, stare at Mark, and wait. He notices me after about five seconds.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“You know what I want.”

Our eyes stay locked. The crowd around us swells to ten people, then twenty. Sarah stands and walks to the edge of the crowd. Mark is wearing his letterman jacket, and his black hair is carefully styled to look like he rolled straight out of bed and into his clothes.

He pushes away from the locker and walks towards me. When he is inches away he stops. Our chests nearly touch and the spicy scent of his cologne fills my nostrils. He is probably six one, a couple inches taller than I am. We have the same build. Little does he know that what is inside of me is not what is inside of him. I am quicker than he is and far stronger. The thought brings a confident grin to my face.

“You think you can stay in school a little longer today? Or are you going to run off again like a little bitch?”

Snickers spread through the crowd.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess we will,” he says, and moves even closer.

“I want my phone back,” I say.

“I don’t have your phone.”

I shake my head at him. “There are two people who saw you take it,” I lie.

By the way his brows crinkle I know I have guessed correctly.

“Yeah, and what if it was me? What are you going to do?”

There are probably thirty people around us now. I have no doubt that the entire school will know what has happened within ten minutes of the start of first period.

“You’ve been warned,” I say. “You have till the end of the day.”

I turn and leave.

“Or what?” he yells behind me. I don’t acknowledge it. Let him dwell on the answer. My fists have been clenched and I realize I had mistaken adrenaline for nerves. Why was I so nervous? The unpredictability? The fact that this is the first time I’ve confronted somebody? The possibility of my hands glowing? Probably all three.

I go to the bathroom, enter an empty stall, and latch the door behind me. I open my hands. A slight glow in the right one. I close my eyes and sigh, focus on breathing slowly. A minute later the glow is still there. I shake my head. I didn’t think the Legacy would be that sensitive. I stay in the stall. A thin layer of sweat covers my forehead; both of my hands are warm, but thankfully the left is still normal. People filter in and out of the bathroom and I stay in the stall, waiting. The light stays on. Finally the first-period bell rings and the bathroom is empty.

I shake my head in disgust and accept the inevitable. I don’t have my phone and Henri is on his way to the bank. I’m alone with my own stupidity and I have no one to blame but myself. I pull the gloves from my back pocket and slip them on. Leather gardening gloves. I couldn’t look more foolish if I were wearing clown shoes with yellow pants. So much for blending in. I realize I have to stop with Mark. He wins. He can keep my phone; Henri and I will get a new one tonight.

I leave the bathroom and walk the empty hallway to my classroom. Everybody stares at me when I enter, then at the gloves. There is no point trying to hide them. I look like a fool. I am an alien, I have extraordinary powers, with more to come, and I can do things that no human would dream of, but I still look like a fool.





I sit in the center of the room. Nobody says anything to me and I’m too flustered to hear what the teacher says. When the bell rings I gather my things, drop them into my bag, and pull the straps over my shoulder. I’m still wearing the gloves. When I exit the room I lift the cuff of the right one and peek at my palm. It’s still glowing.

I walk the hall at a steady pace. Slow breathing. I try to clear my mind but it isn’t working. When I enter the classroom Mark is sitting in the same spot as the day before, Sarah beside him. He sneers at me. Trying to act cool, he doesn’t notice the gloves.

“What’s up, runner? I heard the cross-country team is looking for new members.”

“Don’t be such a dick,” Sarah says to him. I look at her as I pass, into her blue eyes that make me feel shy and self-conscious, that make my cheeks warm. The seat I sat in the day before is occupied, so I head to the very back. The class fills and the kid from yesterday, the one who warned me about Mark, sits next to me. He’s wearing another black T-shirt with a NASA logo in the center, army pants, and a pair of Nike tennis shoes. He has disheveled, sandy blond hair, and his hazel eyes are magnified by his glasses. He pulls out a notepad filled with diagrams of constellations and planets. He looks at me and doesn’t try to hide the fact that he is staring.

“How goes it?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Why are you wearing gloves?”

I open my mouth to answer, but Mrs. Burton starts the class. During most of it the guy beside me draws pictures that seem to be his interpretation of what Martians look like. Small bodies; big heads, hands, and eyes. The same stereotypical representations that are usually shown in movies. At the bottom of every drawing he writes his name in small letters: SAM GOODE. He notices me watching, and I look away.

As Mrs. Burton lectures on Saturn’s sixty-one moons, I look at the back of Mark’s head. He’s hunched over his desk, writing. Then he sits up and passes a note to Sarah. She flicks it back at him without reading it. It makes me smile. Mrs. Burton turns off the lights and starts a video. The rotating planets being projected on the screen at the front of the class make me think of Lorien. It is one of the eighteen life-sustaining planets in the universe. Earth is another. Mogadore, unfortunately, is another.

Lorien. I close my eyes and allow myself to remember. An old planet, a hundred times older than Earth. Every problem that Earth now has—pollution, overpopulation, global warming, food shortages—Lorien also had. At one point, twenty-five thousand years ago, the planet began to die. This was long before the ability to travel through the universe, and the people of Lorien had to do something in order to survive. Slowly but surely they made a commitment to ensure that the planet would forever remain self-sustaining by changing their way of life, doing away with everything harmful—guns and bombs, poisonous chemicals, pollutants—and over time the damage began to reverse itself. With the benefit of evolution, over thousands of years, certain citizens—the Garde—developed powers in order to protect the planet, and to help it. It was as though Lorien rewarded my ancestors for their foresight, for their respect.

Mrs. Burton flicks the lights on. I open my eyes and look at the clock. Class is almost over. I feel calm again, and had completely forgotten about my hands. I take a deep breath and flip open the cuff of the right glove. The light is off! I smile and remove both gloves. Back to normal. I have six periods left in the day. I have to remain at peace through all of them.





The first half of the day passes without incident. I remain calm, and likewise have no further encounters with Mark. At lunch I fill my tray with the basics, then find an empty table at the back of the room. When I’m halfway through a slice of pizza, Sam Goode, the kid from astronomy class, sits across from me.

“Are you really fighting Mark after school?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

“That’s what people are saying.”

“They’re wrong.”

He shrugs, keeps eating. A minute later he asks, “Where’d your gloves go?”

“I took them off. My hands aren’t cold anymore.”

He opens his mouth to respond but a giant meatball that I’m sure is aimed for me comes out of nowhere and hits him in the back of the head. His hair and shoulders are covered with bits of meat and spaghetti sauce. Some of it has splattered onto me. While I start cleaning myself off a second meatball flies through the air and hits me square on the cheek. Oohs filter throughout the cafeteria.

I stand and wipe the side of my face with a napkin, anger coursing through me. In that instant I don’t care about my hands. They can shine as brightly as the sun, and Henri and I can leave this afternoon if that’s what it comes to. But there isn’t a chance in hell I’m letting this slide. It was over after this morning…but not now.

“Don’t,” Sam says. “If you fight then they’ll never leave you alone.”

I start walking. A hush falls over the cafeteria. A hundred sets of eyes focus on me. My face twists into a scowl. Seven people are sitting at Mark James’s table, all guys. All seven of them stand as I approach.

“You got a problem?” one of them asks me. He is big, built like an offensive lineman. Patches of reddish hair grow on his cheeks and chin as though he’s trying to grow a beard. It makes his face look dirty. Like the rest of them he’s wearing a letterman jacket. He crosses his arms and stands in my way.

“This doesn’t concern you,” I say.

“You’ll have to go through me to get to him.”

“I will if you don’t get out of my way.”

“I don’t think you can,” he says.

I bring my knee straight up into his crotch. His breath catches in his throat, and he doubles over. The whole lunchroom gasps.

“I warned you,” I say, and I step over him and walk straight for Mark. Just as I reach him I’m grabbed from behind. I turn with my hands clenched into fists, ready to swing, but at the last second I realize it’s the lunchroom attendant.

“That’ll be enough, boys.”

“Look what he just did to Kevin, Mr. Johnson,” Mark says. Kevin is still on the ground holding himself. His face is beet red. “Send him to the principal!”

“Shut up, James. All four of you are going. Don’t think I didn’t see you throw those meatballs,” he says, and looks at Kevin still on the floor. “Get up.”

Sam appears from nowhere. He has tried to wipe the mess from his hair and shoulders. The big pieces are gone, but the sauce has only smeared. I’m not sure why he’s here. I look down at my hands, ready to flee at the first hint of light, but to my surprise they’re off. Was it because of the urgency of the situation, allowing me to approach without preemptive nerves? I don’t know.

Kevin stands and looks at me. He is shaky, still having trouble breathing. He grips the shoulder of the guy beside him for support.

“You’ll get yours,” he says.

“I doubt it,” I say. I’m still scowling, still covered in food. To hell with wiping it away.

The four of us walk to the principal’s office. Mr. Harris is sitting behind his desk eating a microwavable lunch, a napkin tucked into the neck of his shirt.

“Sorry to interrupt. We just had a slight disruption during lunch. I’m sure these boys will be happy to explain,” the lunchroom attendant says.

Mr. Harris sighs, pulls the napkin from his shirt, and throws it in the trash. He pushes his lunch to the side of his desk with the back of his hand.

“Thank you, Mr. Johnson.”

Mr. Johnson leaves, closing the office door behind him, and the four of us sit.

“So who wants to start?” the principal asks, irritation in his voice.

I stay silent. The muscles in Mr. Harris’s jaw are flexed. I look down at my hands. Still off. I place them palms down on my jeans just in case. After ten seconds of silence, Mark starts. “Somebody hit him with a meatball. He thinks it was me, so he kneed Kevin in the balls.”

“Watch your language,” Mr. Harris says, and then turns to Kevin. “You okay?”

Kevin, whose face is still red, nods.

“So who threw the meatball?” Mr. Harris asks me.

I say nothing, still seething, irritated at the whole scene. I take a deep breath to try to calm myself.

“I don’t know,” I say. My anger has reached new levels. I don’t want to have to deal with Mark through Mr. Harris, and would rather take care of the situation myself, away from the principal’s office.

Sam looks at me in surprise. Mr. Harris throws his hands up in frustration. “Well then, why in the hell are you boys here?”

“That’s a good question,” says Mark. “We were simply eating our lunch.”

Sam speaks. “Mark threw it. I saw him and so did Mr. Johnson.”

I look over at Sam. I know he didn’t see it because his back was turned the first time, and the second time he was busy cleaning himself off. But I’m impressed at him saying so, for his taking my side knowing it will put him in danger with Mark and his friends. Mark scowls at him.

“Come on, Mr. Harris,” Mark pleads. “I have the interview with the Gazette tomorrow, and the game on Friday. I don’t have time to worry about crap like this. I’m being accused of something I didn’t do. It’s hard to stay focused with this shit going on.”

“Watch your mouth!” Mr. Harris yells.

“It’s true.”

“I believe you,” the principal says, and sighs very heavily. He looks at Kevin, who’s still struggling to catch his breath. “Do you need to go to the nurse?”

“I’ll be fine,” Kevin says.

Mr. Harris nods. “You two forget about the lunchroom incident, and Mark, get your mind straight. We’ve been trying to get this article for a while now. They might even put us on the front page. Imagine that, the front page of the Gazette,” he says, and smiles.

“Thank you,” Mark says. “I’m excited about it.”

“Good. Now, you two can leave.”

They go, and Mr. Harris gives a hard look at Sam. Sam holds his gaze.

“Tell me, Sam. And I want the truth. Did you see Mark throw the meatball?”

Sam’s eyes narrow. He doesn’t look away.

“Yes.”

The principal shakes his head. “I don’t believe you, Sam. And because of that, here is what we are going to do.” He looks at me. “So a meatball was thrown—”

“Two,” Sam interjects.

“What?!” Mr. Harris asks, again glowering at Sam.

“There were two meatballs thrown, not one.”

Mr. Harris slams his fist on the desk. “Who cares how many there were! John, you assaulted Kevin. An eye for an eye. We’ll let it go at that. Do you understand me?”

His face is red and I know it’s pointless to argue.

“Yep,” I say.

“I don’t want to see you two in here again,” he says. “You’re both dismissed.”

We leave his office.

“Why didn’t you tell him about your phone?” Sam asks.

“Because he doesn’t care. He just wanted to go back to his lunch,” I say. “And be careful,” I tell him. “You’ll be on Mark’s radar now.”





I have home economics after lunch—not because I necessarily care about cooking, but because it was either that or choir. And while I have many strengths and powers that are considered exceptional on Earth, singing is not one of them. So I walk into home ec and take a seat. It is a small room, and just before the bell rings Sarah walks in and sits beside me.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

Blood rushes to my face and my shoulders stiffen. I grab a pencil and begin to twirl it in my right hand while my left bends back the corners of my notepad. My heart is pounding. Please don’t let my hands be glowing. I peek at my palm and breathe a sigh of relief that it’s still normal. Stay calm, I think. She’s just a girl.

Sarah is looking at me. Everything inside of me feels as though it is turning to mush. She may be the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.

“I’m sorry Mark is being a jerk to you,” she says.

I shrug. “It’s not your fault.”

“You guys aren’t really going to fight, are you?”

“I don’t want to,” I say.

She nods. “He can be a real dick. He always tries to show he’s boss.”

“It’s a sign of insecurity,” I say.

“He’s not insecure. Just a dick.”

Sure he is. But I don’t want to argue with Sarah. Besides, she speaks with such certainty that I almost doubt myself.

She looks at the spots of spaghetti sauce that have dried on my shirt, then reaches over and pulls a hardened piece from my hair.

“Thanks,” I say.

She sighs. “I’m sorry that happened.” She looks me in the eye. “We’re not together, you know?”

“No?”

She shakes her head. I’m intrigued that she felt the need to make that clear to me. After ten minutes of instruction on how to make pancakes—none of which I actually hear—the teacher, Mrs. Benshoff, pairs Sarah and me together. We enter a door at the back of the room that leads to the kitchen, which is about three times the size of the actual classroom. It contains ten different kitchen units, complete with refrigerators, cabinets, sinks, ovens. Sarah walks into one, grabs an apron from a drawer, and puts it on.

“Will you tie this for me?” she asks.

I pull too much on the bow and have to tie it again. I can feel the contours of her lower back beneath my fingers. When hers is tied I put mine on and start to tie it myself.

“Here, silly,” she says, and then takes the straps and does it for me.

“Thanks.”

I try cracking the first egg but do it too hard, and none of the egg actually makes it into the bowl. Sarah laughs. She places a new egg in my hand and takes my hand in hers and shows me how to crack it on the rim of the bowl. She leaves her hand on mine for a second longer than is necessary. She looks at me and smiles.

“Like that.”

She mixes the batter and strands of hair fall into her face while she works. I desperately want to reach over and tuck the loose strands behind her ear, but I don’t. Mrs. Benshoff comes into our kitchen to check our progress. So far so good, which is all thanks to Sarah, since I have no idea what I’m doing.

“How do you like Ohio so far?” Sarah asks.

“It’s okay. I could have used a better first day of school.”

She smiles. “What happened, anyway? I was worried about you.”

“Would you believe it if I told you I was an alien?”

“Shut up,” she says playfully. “What really happened?”

I laugh. “I have really bad asthma. For some reason I had an attack yesterday,” I say, and feel regret at having to lie. I don’t want her to see weakness within me, especially weakness that is untrue.

“Well, I’m glad you feel better.”

We make four pancakes. Sarah stacks all of them onto one plate. She dumps an absurd amount of maple syrup over them and hands me a fork. I look at the other students. Most are eating off of two plates. I reach over and cut a bite.

“Not bad,” I say while chewing.

I’m not hungry in the least, but I help her eat all of them. We alternate bites until the plate is empty. I have a stomachache when we finish. After, she cleans the dishes and I dry them. When the bell rings, we walk out of the room together.

“You know, you’re not so bad for a sophomore,” she says, and nudges me. “I don’t care what they say.”

“Thanks, and you’re not so bad yourself for a—whatever you are.”

“I’m a junior.”

We walk in silence for a few steps.

“You’re not really going to fight Mark at the end of the day, are you?

“I need my phone back. Besides, look at me,” I say, and motion to my shirt.

She shrugs. I stop at my locker. She takes note of the number.

“Well, you shouldn’t,” she says.

“I don’t want to.”

She rolls her eyes. “Boys and their fights. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Have a good rest of the day,” I say.





After my ninth-period class, American history, I take slow steps to my locker. I think of just leaving the school quietly, without looking for Mark. But then I realize I will forever be labeled a coward.

I get to my locker and empty my bag of the books I don’t need. Then I just stand there and feel the nervousness that begins to course through me. My hands are still normal. I think of throwing the gloves on as a precaution, but I don’t. I take a deep breath and close the locker door.

“Hi,” I hear, the voice startling me. It’s Sarah. She glances behind her, and looks back at me. “I have something for you.”

“It’s not more pancakes, is it? I still feel like I’m about to burst.”

She laughs nervously.

“It’s not pancakes. But if I give it to you, you have to promise me you won’t fight.”

“Okay,” I say.

She looks behind her again and quickly reaches into the front pocket of her bag. She pulls out my phone and gives it to me.

“How did you get this?”

She shrugs.

“Does Mark know?”

“Nope. So are you still going to be a tough guy?” she asks.

“I guess not.”

“Good.”

“Thank you,” I say. I can’t believe she went to such lengths to help me—she barely knows me. But I’m not complaining.

“You’re welcome,” she says, then turns and rushes down the hall. I watch her the whole way, unable to stop smiling. When I head out, Mark James and eight of his friends meet me in the lobby.

“Well, well, well,” Mark says. “Actually made it through the day, huh?”

“Sure did. And look what I found,” I say, holding my phone up for him to see. His jaw drops. I pass by him, head down the hall and walk out of the building.

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

I AM NUMBER FOUR
by PITTACUS LORE
Genre: Fantasy​

Spoiler: Chap 8

HENRI IS PARKED EXACTLY WHERE HE SAID HE would be. I jump in the truck, still smiling.

“Good day?” he asks.

“Not bad. Got my phone back.”

“No fighting?”

“Nothing major.”

He looks at me suspiciously. “Do I even want to know what that means?”

“Probably not.”

“Did your hands come on at all?”

“No,” I lie. “How was your day?”

He follows the driveway around the school. “It was good. I drove an hour and a half to Columbus after dropping you off.”

“Why Columbus?”

“Big banks there. I didn’t want to draw suspicion by requesting a transfer for an amount of money larger than what is collectively contained within the entire town.”

I nod. “Smart thinking.”

He pulls onto the road.

“So are you going to tell me her name?”

“Huh?” I ask.

“There has to be a reason for that ridiculous smile of yours. The most obvious reason is a girl.”

“How’d you know?”

“John, my friend, back on Lorien this ol’ Cêpan was quite the ladies’ man.”

“Get out of here,” I say. “There is no such thing as a ladies’ man on Lorien.”

He nods approvingly. “You’ve been paying attention.”

The Loric are a monogamous people. When we fall in love, it’s for life. Marriage comes around the age of twenty-five, give or take, and has nothing to do with law. It’s based more on promise and commitment than anything else. Henri was married for twenty years before he left with me. Ten years have passed but I know he still misses his wife every single day.

“So who is she?” he asks.

“Her name is Sarah Hart. She’s the daughter of the real-estate agent you got the house from. She’s in two of my classes. She’s a junior.”

He nods. “Pretty?”

“Absolutely. And smart.”

“Yeah,” he draws out slowly. “I’ve been expecting this for a long time now. Just keep in mind that we might have to leave at a moment’s notice.”

“I know,” I say, and the rest of the trip home is made in silence.





When I get home, the Loric Chest is sitting on the kitchen table. It’s the size of a microwave oven, almost perfectly square, a foot and a half by a foot and a half. Excitement shoots through me. I walk up to it and grab the lock in my hand.

“I think I’m more excited about learning how this is unlocked than about what’s actually in it,” I say.

“Really? Well, I can show you how it’s unlocked and then we can just relock it and forget about what’s inside.”

I smile at him. “Let’s not be rash. Come on. What’s inside?”

“It’s your Inheritance.”

“What do you mean, my Inheritance?”

“It’s what’s given to each Garde at birth to be used by his or her Keeper when the Garde is coming into his or her Legacy.”

I nod with exhilaration. “So what’s in it?”

“Your Inheritance.”

His coy response frustrates me. I pick up the lock and try to force it open as I’ve always tried doing. Of course it doesn’t budge.

“You can’t open it without me, and I can’t open it without you,” Henri says.

“Well, how do we open it? There isn’t a keyhole.”

“By will.”

“Oh, come on, Henri. Quit being secretive.”

He takes the lock from me. “The lock only opens when we’re together, and only after your first Legacy appears.”

He walks to the front door and sticks his head out, then he closes and locks it. He walks back. “Press your palm against the side of the lock,” he says, and I do.

“It’s warm,” I say.

“Good. That means you’re ready.”

“Now what?”

He presses his palm against the other side of the lock and interlocks his fingers with mine. A second passes. The lock snaps open.

“Amazing!” I say.

“It’s protected by a Loric charm, just like you are. It can’t be broken. You could run over it with a steam-roller and it wouldn’t even be dented. Only the two of us can open it together. Unless I die; then you can open it yourself.”

“Well,” I say, “I hope that doesn’t happen.”

I try to lift the top of the box, but Henri reaches over and stops me.

“Not yet,” he says. “There are things in here you aren’t ready to see. Go sit on the couch.”

“Henri, come on.”

“Just trust me,” he says.

I shake my head and sit down. He opens the box and removes a rock that is probably six inches long, two inches thick. He relocks the box, then brings the rock over to me. It is perfectly smooth and oblong, clear on the outside but cloudy in the center.

“What is it?” I ask.

“A Loric crystal.”

“What’s it for?”

“Hold it,” he says, handing it to me. The second my hands come into contact with it both lights snap on in my palms. They are even brighter than the day before. The rock begins to warm. I hold it up to look more closely at it. The cloudy mass in the center is swirling, turning in on itself like a wave. I can also feel the pendant around my neck heating up. I’m thrilled by all this new development. My whole life has been spent impatiently waiting for my powers to arrive. Sure, there were times when I hoped they never would, mainly so we could finally settle somewhere and live a normal life; but for now—holding a crystal that contains what looks like a ball of smoke in its center, and knowing my hands are resistant to heat and fire, and that more Legacies are on the way that will then be followed by my major power (the power that will allow me to fight)—well, it’s all pretty cool and exciting. I can’t wipe the smile from my face.

“What is happening to it?”

“It’s tied to your Legacy. Your touch activates it. If you weren’t developing Lumen, then the crystal itself would light up the way your hands are. Instead it’s the other way around.”

I stare at the crystal, watching the smoke circle and glow.

“Shall we start?” Henri asks.

I nod my head rapidly. “Hell, yes.”





The day has turned cold. The house is silent aside from the occasional gust of wind rattling the windows. I lie on my back on top of the wooden coffee table. My hands dangle over the sides. At some point Henri will build a fire beneath them both. My breathing is slow and steady, as Henri has instructed.

“You have to keep your eyes closed,” he says. “Just listen to the wind. There might be a slight burning in your arms when I drag the crystal up them. Ignore it as best as you can.”

I listen to the wind blow through the trees outside. I can somehow feel them sway and bend.

Henri begins with my right hand. He presses the crystal against the back of it, then pushes it up my wrist and onto my forearm. There is a burn as he has predicted, but not enough of one to make me pull my arm free.

“Let your mind drift, John. Go where you need to go.”

I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I try to clear my mind and breathe slowly. All at once I feel myself drift away. From somewhere I can feel the sun’s warmth upon my face, and a wind far warmer than what is blowing beyond our walls. When I open my eyes I’m no longer in Ohio.

I’m above a vast expanse of treetops, nothing but jungle as far as I can see. Blue sky, the sun beating down, a sun almost double the size of Earth’s. A warm, soft wind blows through my hair. Down below, rivers forge deep ravines that cut through the greenery. I am floating above one of them. Animals of all shapes and sizes—some long and slender, some with short arms and stout bodies, some with hair and some with dark-colored skin that looks rough to the touch—are drinking from the cool waters at the river’s bank. There is a bend in the horizon line far off in the distance, and I know that I am on Lorien. It’s a planet ten times smaller than Earth, and it’s possible to see the curve of its surface when looking from far enough away.

Somehow I’m able to fly. I rush up and twist in the air, then torpedo down and speed along the river’s surface. The animals lift their heads and watch with curiosity, but not with fear. Lorien in its prime, covered with growth, inhabited by animals. In a way, it looks like what I imagine Earth looked like millions of years ago, when the land ruled the lives of its creatures, before humans arrived and started ruling the land. Lorien in its prime; I know that it no longer looks like this today. I must be living a memory. Surely it isn’t my own?

And then the day skips ahead to darkness. Off in the distance a great display of fireworks begins, rising high in the sky and exploding into shapes of animals and trees with the dark sky and the moons and a million stars serving as a brilliant backdrop.

“I can feel their desperation,” I hear from somewhere. I turn and look around me. There is nobody there. “They know where one of the others is, but the charm still holds. They can’t touch her until they’ve killed you first. But they continue to track her.”

I fly up high, then dip low, seeking the source of the voice. Where is it coming from?

“Now is when we have to be most cautious. Now is when we have to stay ahead of them.”

I push forward towards the fireworks. The voice unnerves me. Perhaps the loud booms will drown it out.

“They had hoped to kill us all well before your Legacies developed. But we’ve kept hidden. We have to stay calm. The first three panicked. The first three are dead. We have to stay smart and cautious. When we panic is when mistakes are made. They know it will only get harder for them the more developed the rest of you are, and when you are all fully developed, the war will be waged. We will hit back and seek our revenge, and they know it.”

I see the bombs fall from miles above Lorien’s surface. Explosions shake the ground and the air, screams carry on the wind, bursts of fire sweep across the land and the trees. The forest burns. There must be a thousand different aircraft, all dropping from high in the sky to land on Lorien. Mogadorian soldiers pour out, carrying guns and grenades that hold powers far greater than what is used in warfare here. They are taller than we are, and still look similar except in the face. They have no pupils and their irises are a deep magenta color, some of them black. Dark, heavy circles rim their eyes and there’s a pallor to their skin—an almost discolored, bruised quality to it. Their teeth glint between lips that never seem to close, teeth that look filed, coming to an unnatural point.

The beasts of Mogadore come off the planes close behind, the same cold look in their eyes. Some of them are as big as houses, razor teeth showing, roaring so loud that it hurts my ears.

“We got careless, John. That is how we were defeated so easily,” he says. I know now that the voice I’m hearing is Henri’s. But he is nowhere to be seen, and I can’t take my eyes off the killing and the destruction below me to look for him. People are running everywhere, fighting back. As many Mogadorians as Loric are being killed. But the Loric are losing the battle against the beasts, which are killing our people by the dozens: breathing fire, gnashing teeth, viciously swinging arms and tails. Time is speeding along, going much faster than normal. How much has passed? An hour? Two?

The Garde lead the fight, their Legacies on full display. Some are flying, some able to run so fast that they become a blur, and some disappear entirely. Lasers shoot from hands, bodies become engulfed in flames, storm clouds are brewed coupled with harsh winds above those able to control the weather. But they are still losing. They are outnumbered five hundred to one. Their powers are not enough.

“Our guard had dropped. The Mogadorians had planned well, picking that exact moment when they knew we were at our most vulnerable, when the planet’s Elders were gone. Pittacus Lore, the greatest of them, their leader, had assembled them before the attack. Nobody knows what happened to them, or where they went, or if they are even still alive. Perhaps the Mogadorians took them out first, and once the Elders were out of the way, that is when they attacked. All we really know is that there was a column of shimmering white light that shot into the sky as far as anyone could see on the day the Elders assembled. It lasted the entire day, then vanished. We, as a people, should have recognized it as a sign that something was amiss, but we didn’t. We have no one to blame but ourselves for what happened. We were lucky to get anyone off the planet, much less nine young Garde who might someday continue the fight, and keep our race alive.”

Off in the distance a ship shoots high and fast into the air, a blue stream following behind it. I watch it from my vantage point in the sky until it disappears. There is something familiar about it. And then it dawns on me: I am in that ship, and Henri is, too. It’s the ship carrying us to Earth. The Loric must have known they were beaten. Why else would they send us away?

Useless slaughter. That is how it all looks to me. I land on the ground and walk though a ball of fire. Rage sweeps through me. Men and women are dying, Garde and Cêpan, along with defenseless children. How can this be tolerated? How can the hearts of the Mogadorians be so hardened as to do all this? And why was I spared?

I lunge at a nearby soldier but go straight through him and fall down. Everything I am witnessing has already happened. I’m a spectator of our own demise and there’s nothing I can do.

I turn around and face a beast that must be forty feet tall, broad shouldered, with red eyes and horns twenty feet in length. Drool falls from its long, sharp teeth. It lets out a roar, and then lunges.

It passes through me but takes out dozens of Loric around me. Just like that, every one of them gone. And the beast keeps going, taking out more Loric.

Through the scene of destruction I hear a scratching noise, something separate from the carnage on Lorien. I am drifting away, or drifting back. Two hands press down upon my shoulders. My eyes snap open and I’m back in our home in Ohio. My arms are dangling over the coffee table. Inches below them are two cauldrons of fire, and both of my hands and wrists are completely submerged in the flames. I don’t feel the effects at all. Henri stands over me. The scratching I heard a minute ago is coming from the front porch.

“What is that?” I whisper, sitting up.

“I don’t know,” he says.

We are both silent, straining to listen. Three more scratches at the door. Henri looks down at me.

“There’s somebody out there,” he says.

I look at the clock on the wall. Nearly an hour has passed. I’m sweating, out of breath, unsettled by the scenes of slaughter I just witnessed. For the first time in my life I truly understand what happened on Lorien. Before tonight the events were just part of another story, not all that different from the many I have read in books. But now I have seen the blood, the tears, the dead. I have seen the destruction. It’s a part of who I am.

Outside, darkness has set in. Three more scratches at the door, a low groan. We both jump. I immediately think of the low groans I heard coming from the beasts.

Henri rushes into the kitchen and grabs a knife from the drawer beside the sink. “Get behind the couch.”

“What, why?”

“Because I said so.”

“You think that little knife is going to take down a Mogadorian?”

“If I hit them straight in the heart it will. Now get down.”

I scramble off the coffee table and crouch behind the sofa. The two cauldrons of fire are still going, faint visions of Lorien still moving through my mind. An impatient growl comes from the other side of the front door. There is no mistaking that somebody, or something, is out there. My heart races.

“Keep down,” Henri says.

I lift my head so that I can peer over the back of the couch. All that blood, I think. Surely they knew they were outmatched. But they fought to the end anyway, dying to save each other, dying to save Lorien. Henri grips the knife tightly. He slowly reaches for the brass knob. Anger sweeps through me. I hope it is one of them. Let a Mogadorian come through that door. He’ll meet his match.

There’s no way I’m staying behind this couch. I reach over and grab one of the cauldrons, thrust my hand into it and pull out a burning piece of wood with a pointed end. It’s cool to the touch, but the fire burns on, sweeping over and around my hand. I hold the piece of wood like a dagger. Let them come, I think. There will be no more running. Henri looks over at me, takes a deep breath and rips the front door open.

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

I AM NUMBER FOUR
by PITTACUS LORE
Genre: Fantasy​

Spoiler: Chap 9

EVERY MUSCLE IN MY BODY IS FLEXED, EVERYTHING tense. Henri jumps through the doorway and I am ready to follow. I can feel the thud-thud-thud in my chest. My fingers are white knuckled around the piece of wood still burning. A gust of wind bursts through the door and the fire dances in my hand and crawls up my wrist. No one is there. All at once Henri’s body relaxes and he chuckles, looking down at his feet. There, looking up at Henri through the tops of his eyes, is the same beagle I saw yesterday at school. The dog wags his tail and paws at the ground. Henri reaches down and pets him; then the dog pushes past and trots into the house with his tongue dangling.

“What’s he doing here?” I ask.

“You know this dog?”

“I saw him at school. He was following me around yesterday after you dropped me off.”

I put the piece of wood back and wipe my hand on my jeans, leaving a trail of black ash down the front. The dog sits at my feet and looks up expectantly, his tail thumping against the hardwood floor. I sit on the couch and watch both fires burn. Now that the excitement of the situation is over, my mind goes back to what I just saw in my vision. I can still hear the screams in my ears, still see the way the blood shimmered in the grass in the moonlight, still see the bodies and fallen trees, the red glow in the eyes of the beasts of Mogadore and the terror in the eyes of the Loric.

I look at Henri. “I saw what happened. At least the beginning of it.”

He nods. “I thought you might.”

“I could hear your voice. Were you talking to me?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand,” I say. “It was a massacre. There was too much hatred for them to only be interested in our resources. There was more to it than that.”

Henri sighs and sits on the coffee table across from me. The dog jumps into my lap. I pet him. He’s filthy, his coat stiff and oily under my hand. There is a tag in the shape of a football attached to the front of his collar. It’s an old tag, most of the brown paint worn away. I take it in my hand, the number 19 on one side, the name BERNIE KOSAR on the other.

“Bernie Kosar,” I say. The dog wags his tail. “I guess that’s his name, same as that dude in the poster on my wall. Popular guy around here, I guess.” I run my hand down his back. “He doesn’t seem like he has a home,” I say. “And he’s hungry.” Somehow I can tell.

Henri nods. He looks down at Bernie Kosar. The dog stretches out, rests his chin on his paws, and closes his eyes. I flip open the lighter and hold the flame over my fingers, then my palm, then run it up the underside of my arm. Only when the flame is an inch or two away from my elbow do I feel the burn. Whatever Henri has done has worked, and my resistance has spread. I wonder how long it will take until all of me becomes resistant.

“So what happened?” I ask.

Henri takes a deep breath. “I’ve had those visions, too. So real it’s like you’re there.”

“I never realized how bad it all was. I mean, I know you had told me, but I didn’t truly understand it until I saw it with my own eyes.”

“The Mogadorians are different than we are, secretive and manipulative, untrusting of almost everything. They have certain powers, but they’re not powers like ours. They are gregarious and thrive in crowded cities. The more densely populated, the better. That is why you and I stay out of cities now, even when living in one might make it easier to blend in. It would make it a hell of a lot easier for them to blend in as well.

“About a hundred years ago Mogadore began to die, much like Lorien did twenty-five thousand years before that. They didn’t respond the way we did, though—didn’t understand it the way the human population is beginning to now. They ignored it. They killed their oceans and flooded their rivers and lakes with waste and sewage to keep adding to their cities. The vegetation started to die, which caused the herbivores to die, and then the carnivores weren’t far behind. They knew they had to do something drastic.”

Henri closes his eyes, remains silent for a full minute.

“Do you know the closest life-sustaining planet to Mogadore?” he finally asks.

“Yes, it’s Lorien. Or was, I guess.”

Henri nods. “Yes, it is Lorien. And I’m sure you know now that it was our resources they were after.”

I nod. Bernie Kosar lifts his head and lets out a deep yawn. Henri heats a cooked chicken breast in the microwave, cuts it into strips, then carries the plate back to the couch and sets it in front of the dog. He eats with ferocity, as though he hasn’t eaten in days.

“There are a large number of Mogadorians on Earth,” Henri continues. “I don’t know how many are here, but I can feel them when I sleep. Sometimes I can see them in my dreams. I can never tell where they are, or what they are saying. But I see them. And I don’t think the six of you are the only reason there are so many of them here.”

“What do you mean? Why else would they be here?”

Henri looks me in the eye. “Do you know what the second-closest life-sustaining planet is to Mogadore?”

I nod. “It’s Earth, isn’t it?”

“Mogadore is double the size of Lorien, but Earth is five times the size of Mogadore. In terms of defense Earth is better prepared for an offensive because of its size. The Mogadorians will need to understand this planet better before they can attack. I can’t necessarily tell you how we were defeated so easily because there’s much of it I still don’t understand. But I can say for sure that part of it was a combination of their knowledge of our planet and our people, and the fact that we had no defense other than our intelligence and the Garde’s Legacies. Say what you will about the Mogadorians, but they are brilliant strategists when it comes to war.”

We sit through another silence, the wind still roaring outside.

“I don’t think they’re interested in taking Earth’s resources,” Henri says.

I sigh and look up at him. “Why not?”

“Mogadore is still dying. Even though they’ve patched the more pressing matters, the planet’s death is inevitable, and they know it. I think they’re planning to kill the humans. I think they want to make Earth their permanent home.”





I bathe Bernie Kosar after dinner, using shampoo and conditioner. I brush him with an old comb left in one of the drawers from the last tenant. He looks and smells much better, but his collar still stinks. I throw it away. Before going to bed I hold open the front door for him, but he isn’t interested in going back outside. Instead he lies down on the floor and rests his chin on his front paws. I can feel his desire to stay in the house with us. I wonder if he can feel my desire for the same.

“I think we have a new pet,” Henri says.

I smile. As soon as I saw him earlier I was hoping Henri would let me keep him.

“Looks like it,” I say.

A half hour later I crawl into bed and Bernie Kosar jumps up with me and curls into a ball at my feet. He is snoring within minutes. I lie on my back for a while, staring into the darkness, a million different thoughts swimming in my head. Images from the war: the greedy, hungry look of the Mogadorians; the angry, hard look of the beasts; the death and the blood. I think of the beauty of Lorien. Will it again sustain life, or will Henri and I go on waiting here on Earth forever?

I try to push the thoughts and images from my mind, but they don’t stay gone for very long. I get up and pace for a while. Bernie Kosar lifts his head and watches me, but then drops it and falls back to sleep. I sigh, grab my phone from the nightstand and go through it to make sure Mark James didn’t mess with anything. Henri’s number is still there, but it is no longer the only entry. Another number, listed under the name of “Sarah Hart” has been added. After the last bell rang, and before coming to my locker, Sarah added her number to my phone.

I close the phone, set it on the nightstand, and smile. Two minutes pass and I check my phone again to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. I wasn’t. I snap it shut and set it down, only to lift it again five minutes later just to look at her number again. I don’t know how long it takes to fall asleep, but I eventually do. When I wake in the morning my phone is still in my hand, resting against my chest.

 

[Khổng Lồ Một Mắt]

I AM NUMBER FOUR
by PITTACUS LORE
Genre: Fantasy​

Spoiler: Chap 10

BERNIE KOSAR IS SCRATCHING AT MY BEDROOM door when I wake. I let him outside. He patrols the yard, rushing along with his nose to the ground. Once he’s covered all four corners he bolts across the yard and disappears into the woods. I close the door and jump into the shower. I walk out ten minutes later and he’s back inside, sitting on the couch. His tail wags when he sees me.

“You let him in?” I ask Henri, who is at the kitchen table with his laptop open and four newspapers stacked in front of him.

“Yes.”

After a quick breakfast, we head out. Bernie Kosar rushes ahead of us, then stops and sits looking up at the passenger door of the truck.

“That’s kind of weird, don’t you think?” I say.

Henri shrugs. “Apparently he’s no stranger to car rides. Let him in.”

I open the door and he jumps in. He sits in the middle seat with his tongue dangling. When we pull out of the driveway he moves into my lap and paws at the window. I roll it down and he sticks half his body out, mouth still open, the wind flapping his ears. Three miles later Henri pulls in to the school. I open the door and Bernie Kosar jumps out ahead of me. I lift him back into the truck but he jumps right back out. I lift him back in again and have to block him from jumping out while I close the truck door. He stands on his hind legs with his front paws on the ledge of the door, the window still down. I pat him on the head.

“Have your gloves?” Henri asks.

“Yep.”

“Phone?”

“Yep.”

“How do you feel?”

“I feel good,” I say.

“Okay. Call me if you have any sort of trouble.”

He pulls away and Bernie Kosar watches from the back window until the truck disappears around the turn.

I feel a similar nervousness as I did the day before, but for different reasons. Part of me wants to see Sarah right away, though part of me hopes that I don’t see her at all. I’m not sure what I’ll say to her. What if I can’t think of anything at all and stand there looking foolish? What if she’s with Mark when I see her? Should I acknowledge her and risk another confrontation, or just walk by and pretend that I don’t see either of them? At the very least I’ll see them both in second period. There’s no getting around that.

I head to my locker. My bag is filled with books I was supposed to read the night before but never opened. Too many thoughts and images running through my head. They haven’t gone away and it’s hard to imagine they ever will. It was all so different from what I expected. Death isn’t like what they show you in the movies. The sounds, the looks, the smells. So different.

At my locker I notice immediately that something’s off. The metal handle is covered with dirt, or what looks like dirt. I’m not sure if I should open it, but then I take a deep breath and force the handle up.

The locker is half filled with manure and as I swing the door open, much of it comes pouring out onto the floor, covering my shoes. The smell is horrendous. I slam the door shut. Sam Goode was standing behind it and his sudden appearance from out of nowhere startles me. He is looking forlorn, wearing a white NASA T-shirt only slightly different from the one he wore yesterday.

“Hi, Sam,” I say.

He looks down at the pile of manure on the floor, then back at me.

“You, too?” I ask.

He nods.

“I’m going to the principal’s office. Do you want to come?”

He shakes his head, then turns and walks away without saying a word. I walk to Mr. Harris’s office, knock on his door, then enter without waiting for his reply. He is sitting behind his desk, wearing a tie that is tiled with the school mascot, no less than twenty tiny pirate heads scattered across the front of it. He smiles proudly at me.

“It’s a big day, John,” he says. I don’t know what he is talking about. “The reporters from the Gazette should be here within the hour. Front page!”

Then I remember, Mark James’s big interview with the local paper.

“You must be very proud,” I say.

“I’m proud of each and every one of Paradise’s students.” The smile doesn’t leave his face. He leans back in his chair, locks his fingers together, and rests his hands on his stomach. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to let you know that my locker was filled with manure this morning.”

“What do you mean ‘filled’?”

“I mean the whole thing was full of manure.”

“With manure?” he asks confusedly.

“Yes.”

He laughs. I’m taken aback by his total lack of regard, and anger surges through me. My face is warm.

“I wanted to let you know so it could be cleaned. Sam Goode’s locker is filled with it, too.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I’ll send Mr. Hobbs, the janitor, down immediately and we’ll make a full investigation.”

“We both know who did it, Mr. Harris.”

He flashes a patronizing grin at me. “I’ll handle the investigation, Mr. Smith.”

There’s no point in saying anything further, so I walk out of his office and head to the bathroom to run cold water over my hands and face. I have to calm down. I don’t want to have to wear the gloves again today. Maybe I should do nothing at all, just let it slide. Will that end it? And besides, what other choice is there? I’m outmatched and my only ally is a hundred-pound sophomore with a penchant for the extraterrestrial. Maybe that isn’t the whole truth—maybe I have another ally in Sarah Hart.

I look down. My hands are fine, no glow. I walk out of the bathroom. The janitor is already sweeping the manure from my locker, lifting out books and placing them in the trash. I walk past him and into the classroom and wait for class to start. Rules of grammar are discussed, the main topic being the difference between a gerund and a verb, and why a gerund is not a verb. I pay closer attention than I did the day before, but as the end of the period nears I start to get nervous about the next class. But not because I might see Mark…because I might see Sarah. Will she smile at me again today? I think it’ll be best to arrive before she does so I can find my seat and watch her walk in. That way I can see if she says hello to me first.

When the bell rings, I dash out of class and rush down the hall. I’m the first one to enter astronomy. The classroom fills and Sam sits beside me again. Just before the bell rings Sarah and Mark enter together. She’s dressed in a white button-up shirt and black pants. She smiles at me before sitting down. I smile back. Mark doesn’t look my way at all. I can still smell the manure on my shoes, or maybe the odor is coming from Sam’s.

He pulls a pamphlet from his bag with the title They Walk Among Us on the cover. It looks as though it was printed in somebody’s basement. Sam flips to an article in the center and starts reading intently.

I look at Sarah four desks in front of me, at her hair pulled back in a ponytail. I can see the nape of her slender neck. She crosses her legs and sits straight in her chair. I wish I were sitting beside her, that I could reach over and take her hand in mine. I wish it were eighth period already. I wonder if I’ll be her partner in home ec again.

Mrs. Burton begins lecturing. She’s still on the topic of Saturn. Sam takes out a sheet of paper and begins scribbling wildly, pausing at times to consult an article in the magazine he has opened beside him. I look over his shoulder and read the title: “Entire Montana Town Abducted by Aliens.”

Before last night I would have never pondered such a theory. But Henri believes the Mogadorians are plotting to take over Earth, and I must admit, even though the theory in Sam’s publication is ludicrous, at its most basic level there might be something there. I know for a fact that the Loric have visited Earth many times over the life of this planet. We watched Earth develop, watched it through the times of growth and abundance when everything moved, and through the times of ice and snow when nothing did. We helped the humans, taught them to make fire, gave them the tools to develop speech and language, which is why our language is so similar to the languages of Earth. And even though we never abducted humans, that doesn’t mean it’s never been done. I look at Sam. I’ve never met somebody with a fascination in aliens to the point of reading and taking notes on conspiracy theories.

Just then the door opens and Mr. Harris sticks his smiling face in.

“Sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Burton. I’m going to have to snag Mark from you. The Gazette reporters are here to interview him for the paper,” he says loudly enough so everyone in the class can hear.

Mark stands, grabs his bag and casually strolls out of the room. From the doorway I see Mr. Harris pat him on the back. Then I look back at Sarah, wishing I could sit in the empty seat beside her.





Fourth period is physical education. Sam is in my class. After changing we sit beside each other on the gymnasium floor. He is wearing tennis shoes, shorts, a T-shirt two or three sizes too large. He looks like a stork, all knees and elbows, somewhat lanky even though he’s short.

The gym teacher, Mr. Wallace, stands firmly in front of us, his feet shoulder width apart, his hands clenched into fists on his hips.

“All right, guys, listen up. This is probably the last chance we’ll get to work outdoors, so make it count. One-mile run, as hard as you can. Your times will be noted and saved for when we run the mile again in the spring. So run hard!”

The outside track is made of synthetic rubber. It circles around the football field, and beyond it are some woods that I imagine might lead to our house, but I’m not sure. The wind is cool and goose bumps traverse the length of Sam’s arms. He tries to rub them away.

“Have you run this before?” I ask.

Sam nods. “We ran it the second week of class.”

“What was your time?”

“Nine minutes and fifty-four seconds.”

I look at him. “I thought skinny kids are supposed to be fast.”

“Shut up,” he says.

I run side by side with Sam towards the back of the crowd. Four laps. That is how many times I must circle the track to have run a mile. Halfway around I begin to pull away from Sam. I wonder how fast I could run a mile if I really tried. Two minutes, maybe one, maybe less?

The exercise feels great, and without paying much attention, I pass the lead runner. Then I slow and feign exhaustion. When I do I see a brown and white blur come dashing out of the bushes by the entrance of the grandstand and head straight towards me. My mind is playing tricks on me, I think. I look away and keep running. I pass the teacher. He is holding a stopwatch. He yells words of encouragement but he is looking behind me, away from the track. I follow his eyes. They are fixated on the brown and white blur. It is still coming straight for me and all at once the images from the day before come rushing back. The Mogadorian beasts. There were small ones too, with teeth that glinted in the light like razor blades, fast creatures intent on killing. I start sprinting.

I run halfway around the track in a dead sprint before I turn back around. There is nothing behind me. I have outrun it. Twenty seconds have passed. Then I turn back around and the thing is right in front of me. It must have cut across the field. I stop dead in my tracks and my perspective corrects itself. It’s Bernie Kosar! He’s sitting in the middle of the track with his tongue dangling, tail wagging.

“Bernie Kosar!” I yell. “You scared the hell out of me!”

I resume running at a slow pace and Bernie Kosar runs alongside me. I hope nobody noticed how fast I ran. Then I stop and bend over as though I have cramps and can’t catch my breath. I walk for a **** Then I jog a little. Before I finish the second lap two people have passed me.

“Smith! What happened? You were dusting everyone!” Mr. Wallace yells when I run by him.

I breathe heavily, for show. “I—have—asthma,” I say.

He shakes his head in disapproval. “And here I thought I had this year’s Ohio state track champion in my class.”

I shrug and keep going, stopping every so often to walk. Bernie Kosar stays with me, sometimes walking, sometimes trotting. When I start the last lap Sam catches up to me and we run together. His face is bright red.

“So what were you reading in astronomy today?” I ask. “An entire Montana town abducted by aliens?”

He grins at me. “Yeah, that’s the theory,” he says somewhat shyly, as though embarrassed.

“Why would an entire town be abducted?”

Sam shrugs, doesn’t answer.

“No, really?” I ask.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Of course.”

“Well, the theory is that the government has been allowing alien abductions in exchange for technology.”

“Really? What kind of technology?” I ask.

“Like chips for supercomputers and formulas for more bombs and green technologies. Stuff like that.”

“Green technology for live specimens? Weird. Why do aliens want to abduct humans?”

“So they can study us.”

“But why? I mean, what reason could they possibly have?”

“So that when Armageddon comes they’ll know our weaknesses and be able to easily defeat us by exposing them.”

I’m kind of taken aback by his answer, but only because of the scenes still playing in my head from the night before, remembering the weapons I saw the Mogadorians use, and the massive beasts.

“Wouldn’t it be easy for them if they already have bombs and technologies far superior to our own?”

“Well, some people seem to think that they’re hoping we’ll kill ourselves first.”

I look at Sam. He is smiling at me, trying to decide whether I’m taking the conversation seriously.

“Why would they want us to kill ourselves first? What is their incentive?”

“Because they’re jealous.”

“Jealous of us? Why, because of our rugged good looks?”

Sam laughs. “Something like that.”

I nod. We run in silence for a minute and I can tell Sam is having a tough time, breathing heavily. “How did you get interested in all this?”

He shrugs. “It’s just a hobby,” he says, though I get the distinct feeling that he’s keeping something from me.

We finish the mile at eight minutes fifty-nine seconds, better than the last time Sam ran it. Bernie Kosar follows the class back to the school. The others pet him, and when we walk in he tries to come in with us. I don’t know how he knew where I was. Could he have memorized the way to the school this morning on the ride in? The thought seems ridiculous.

He stays at the door. I walk to the locker room with Sam and the second he catches his breath he rattles off a ton of other conspiracy theories, one right after another, most of which are laughable. I like him, and find him amusing, but sometimes I wish he would stop talking.





When home ec begins Sarah isn’t in class. Mrs. Benshoff gives instruction for the first ten minutes and then we head to the kitchen. I enter the station alone, resigned to the fact that I’ll be cooking alone today, and as soon as that thought occurs to me, Sarah walks in.

“Did I miss anything good?” she asks.

“About ten minutes of quality time with me,” I say with a smile.

She laughs. “I heard about your locker this morning. I’m sorry.”

“You put the manure there?” I ask.

She laughs again. “No, of course not. But I know they’re picking on you because of me.”

“They’re just lucky I didn’t use my superpowers and throw them into the next county.”

She playfully grabs my biceps. “Right, these huge muscles. Your superpowers. Boy, they are lucky.”

Our project for the day is to make blueberry cupcakes. As we start mixing the batter, Sarah begins telling me about her history with Mark. They dated for two years, but the longer they were together, the more she drifted from her parents and her friends. She was Mark’s girlfriend, nothing else. She knew she had started to change, to adopt some of his attitudes towards people: being mean and judgmental, thinking she was better than them. She also started drinking and her grades slipped. At the end of the last school year, her parents sent her to live with her aunt in Colorado for the summer. When she got there, she started taking long hikes in the mountains, taking pictures of the scenery with her aunt’s camera. She fell in love with photography and had the best summer ever, realizing there was far more to life than being a cheerleader and dating the quarterback of the football team. When she got home she broke up with Mark and quit cheerleading, and made a vow that she was going to be good, and kind, to everyone. Mark hasn’t gotten over it. She says he still considers her his girlfriend, and believes she’s going to come back to him. She says the only thing she misses about him are his dogs, which she hung out with whenever she was at his house. I then tell her about Bernie Kosar, and how he showed up at our doorstep unexpectedly after that first morning at the school.

We work as we talk. At one point I reach into the oven without the oven mitts and pull out the cupcake pan. She sees me do it and asks if I’m okay, and I pretend to be hurt, shake my hand as if it’s burned, though I don’t actually feel a thing. We go to the sink and Sarah runs lukewarm water to help with the burn that isn’t there. When she sees my hand, I just shrug. As we’re frosting the cupcakes, she asks about my phone, and tells me she noticed there was only one number in it. I tell her it’s Henri’s number, that I lost my old phone with all of my contacts. She asks if I left a girlfriend behind when we moved. I say no, and she smiles, which just about ruins me. Before class ends, she tells me about the upcoming Halloween festival in town, and says she hopes to see me there, that maybe we can hang out. I say yeah, that would be great, and pretend to be cool, even though I’m flying inside.

 

[kenny0112]

I AM NUMBER FOUR
by PITTACUS LORE
Genre: Fantasy​

Spoiler: Chap 11

Images come to me, at random times, usually when I least expect them. Sometimes they are small and fleeting—my grandmother holding a glass of water and opening her mouth to say something—but I never know the words because the image vanishes as quickly as it came. Sometimes they are longer, more lifelike: my grandfather pushing me on a swing. I can feel the strength in his arms as he pushes me up, the butterflies in the pit of my stomach as I race down. My laughter carries on the wind. Then the image is gone. Sometimes I explicitly remember the images from my past, remember being a part of them. But sometimes they are as new to me as though they never happened before.

In the living room, with Henri running the Loric crystal up each of my arms, my hands suspended over flames, I see the following: I am young—three, maybe four—running through our front yard of newly clipped grass. Beside me is an animal with a body like a dog, but with a coat like a tiger. His head is round, his body barrel chested atop short legs. Unlike any animal I have ever seen. He crouches, poised to leap at me. I can’t stop laughing. Then he jumps and I try to catch him but I’m too small and both of us fall to the grass. We wrestle. He is stronger than I am. Then he jumps in the air, and instead of falling back to the ground as I expect, he turns himself into a bird and flies up and around me, hovering just beyond my reach. He circles, then comes down, shoots between my legs, lands twenty feet away. He changes into an animal that looks like a monkey without a tail. He crouches low to lunge at me.

Just then a man comes up the walk. He is young, dressed in a silver and blue rubber suit that is tight on his body, the kind of suit I’ve seen divers wear. He speaks to me in a language that I don’t understand. He says the name “Hadley” and nods to the animal. Hadley runs over to him, his shape changing from a monkey to something larger, something bearlike with a lion’s mane. Their heads are level, and the man scratches Hadley beneath the chin. Then my grandfather comes out of the house. He looks young, but I know that he must be at least fifty.

He shakes hands with the man. They speak but I don’t understand what they are saying. Then the man looks at me, smiles, lifts his hand out, and all of a sudden I’m off the ground and flying through the air. Hadley follows, as a bird again. I’m in full control of my body, but the man controls where I go, moving his hand to the left or to the right. Hadley and I play in midair, him tickling me with his beak, me trying to get a grip on him. And then my eyes snap open and the image is gone.

“Your grandfather could make himself invisible at will,” I hear Henri say, and I close my eyes again. The crystal continues up my arm, spreading the fire repellent to the rest of my body. “One of the rarest Legacies there is, developing only in one percent of our people, and he was one of them. He could make himself and whatever he was touching completely disappear.

“There was one time he wanted to play a joke on me, before I knew what his Legacies were. You were three years old and I had just started working with your family. I came to your house for the first time the day before, and as I came up the hill for my second day the house wasn’t there. There was a driveway, and a car, and the tree, but no house. I thought I was losing my mind. I continued past it. Then when I knew I had gone too far I turned back and there, some distance away, was the house that I swore wasn’t there before. So I started walking back, but when I came close enough the house again vanished. I just stood there looking at the spot where I knew it must be, but seeing only the trees beyond it. So I walked on. Only on my third time by did your grandfather make the house reappear for good. He couldn’t stop laughing. We laughed about that day for the next year and a half, all the way till the very end.”

When I open my eyes I am back on the battlefield. More explosions, fire, death.

“Your grandfather was a good man,” Henri says. “He loved to make people laugh, loved to tell jokes. I don’t think there was ever a time that I left your house without having a stomachache from laughing so hard.”

The sky has turned red. A tree rips through the air, thrown by the man in silver and blue, the one I saw at the house. It takes out two of the Mogadorians and I want to cheer in victory. But what use is there in celebrating? No matter how many Mogadorians I see killed, the outcome of that day will not change. The Loric will still be defeated, every last one of them killed. I will still be sent to Earth.

“I never once saw the man get angry. When everyone else lost their temper, when stress encompassed them, your grandfather stayed calm. It was usually then that he would bring out his best jokes, and just like that everyone would be laughing again.”

The small beasts target the children. They are defenseless, holding sparklers in their hands from the celebration. That is how we are losing—only a few of the Loric are fighting the beasts, and the rest are trying to save the children.

“Your grandmother was different. She was quiet and reserved, very intelligent. Your elders complemented each other that way, your grandfather the carefree one, your grandmother working behind the scenes so that everything went off as planned.”

High in the sky I can still see the trail of blue smoke from the airship carrying us to Earth, carrying us Nine and our Keepers. Its presence unnerves the Mogadorians.

“And then there was Julianne, my wife.”

Far off in the distance there is an explosion, this one like the kind that comes from the liftoff of Earth’s rockets. Another ship rises in the air, a trail of fire behind it. Slowly at first, then building speed. I’m confused. Our ships didn’t use fire for liftoff; they didn’t use oil or gasoline. They emitted a small blue trail of smoke that came from the crystals used to power them, never fire like this one. The second ship is slow and clumsy compared to the first, but it makes it, rising through the air, gaining speed. Henri never mentioned a second ship. Who is on it? Where is it going? The Mogadorians shout and point at it. Again, it causes them anxiety, and for a brief moment the Loric surge.

“She had the greenest eyes I’d ever seen, bright green like emeralds, plus a heart as big as the planet itself. Always helping others, constantly bringing in animals and keeping them as pets. I’ll never know what it was she saw in me.”

The large beast has returned, the one with the red eyes and enormous horns. Drool mixed with blood falls from razor-sharp teeth so large they can’t be contained within its mouth. The man in silver and blue is standing directly in front of it. He tries to lift the beast with his powers, and he gets it a few feet off the ground but then struggles and lifts no farther. The beast roars, shakes, and falls back to the ground. It forces ahead against the man’s powers, but it can’t break them. The man lifts it again. Sweat and blood glisten in the moonlight on his face. Then he doubles his hands over and the beast crashes to its side. The ground shakes. Thunder and lightning fill the sky but there’s no rain to go with them.

“She was a late sleeper, and I always woke before she did. I would sit in the den and read the paper, make breakfast, go for a walk. Some mornings I would come back and she would still be sleeping. I was impatient, couldn’t wait to start the day together. She made me feel good just to be around her. I would go in and try to rouse her. She would pull the covers over her head and growl at me. Almost every morning, always the same thing.”

The beast flails but the man is still in control. Other Garde have joined in, every one of them using a power on the mammoth beast, fire and lightning raining down upon it, streaks of lasers coming from all directions. Some Garde are doing damage unseen, standing away from it and holding their hands out in concentration. And then high up a collective storm brews, one major cloud growing and glowing in an otherwise cloudless sky, some sort of energy collecting within it. All Garde are in on it, all of them helping to create this cataclysmic haze. And then a final, massive bolt of lightning drops down and hits the beast where it lies. And there it dies.

“What could I do? What could anyone do? In total there were nineteen of us on that ship. You nine children and us nine Cêpan, chosen by no means other than where we happened to be that night, and the pilot who brought us here. We Cêpan couldn’t fight, and what difference would it have made if we could? The Cêpan are bureaucrats, meant to keep the planet running, meant to teach, meant to train new Garde how to understand and manipulate their powers. We were never meant to be fighters. We would have been ineffective. We would have died like the rest. All we could do was leave. Leave with you to live and to one day restore to glory the most beautiful planet in all of the universe.”

I close my eyes and when I reopen them the fight has ended. Smoke rises from the ground among the dead and the dying. Trees broken, the forests burned, nothing standing save the few Mogadorians that have lived to tell the tale. The sun rising to the south and a pale glow growing on the barren land bathed in red. Mounds of bodies, not all of them intact, not all of them whole. On top of one mound is the man in silver and blue, dead like the rest. There are no discernible marks on his body, but he is dead all the same.

My eyes snap open. I can’t breathe, and my mouth is dry, parched.

“Here,” Henri says. He helps me off the coffee table, guides me into the kitchen and pulls out a chair for me. Tears are coming to my eyes though I try to blink them back. Henri brings me a glass of water and I drink every bit of it without stopping. I give him the glass and he refills it. I drop my head, still struggling to breathe. I drink the second glass, then look at Henri.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about a second ship?” I ask.

“What are you talking about?”

“There was a second ship,” I say.

“Where was there a second ship?”

“On Lorien, the day we left. A second ship that took off after ours.”

“Impossible,” he says.

“Why is it impossible?”

“Because the other ships were destroyed. I saw it with my own eyes. When the Mogadorians landed they took out our ports first. We traveled in the only ship that survived their offensive. It was a miracle that we made it off.”

“I saw a second ship. I’m telling you. It wasn’t like the others, though. It ran on fuel, a ball of fire following behind it.”

Henri watches me closely. He is thinking hard, his brows crinkled.

“Are you sure, John?”

“Yes.”

He leans back in his chair, looks out the window. Bernie Kosar is on the ground, staring up at us both.

“It made it off Lorien,” I say. “I watched it the whole way until it disappeared.”

“That makes no sense,” Henri says. “I don’t see how it could be possible. There was nothing left.”

“There was a second ship.”

We sit through a long silence.

“Henri?”

“Yes?”

“What was on that ship?”

He fixes me with a stare.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I truly don’t know.”



We sit in the living room, a fire in the hearth, Bernie Kosar in my lap. An occasional pop from the logs breaks the silence.

“On!” I say, and snap my fingers. My right hand illuminates, not as brightly as I’ve seen it before, but close. In the short amount of time since Henri started coaching me I’ve learned to control the glow. I can concentrate it, making it wide, like the light in a house, or narrow and focused, like a flashlight. My ability to manipulate it is coming more quickly than I expected. The left hand is still dimmer than the right, but it’s catching up. I snap my fingers and say “on” just to show off, but I don’t need to do either to control the light, or to have it come on. It just happens from within, as effortlessly as twitching a finger or blinking an eye.

“When do you think the other Legacies will develop?” I ask.

Henri looks up from the paper. “Soon,” he says. “The next one should start within the month, whatever it is. You just have to keep a close watch. Not all the powers will be obvious like your hands.”

“How long will it take for them all to come?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes all is complete within two months, sometimes it takes up to a year. It varies from Garde to Garde. But however long it takes, your major Legacy will be the last to develop.”

I close my eyes and lean back against the couch. I think about my major Legacy, the one that will allow me to fight. I’m not sure what I want it to be. Lasers? Mind control? The ability to manipulate the weather as I had seen the man in silver and blue do? Or do I want something darker, more sinister, like the ability to kill without touching?

I run my hand down Bernie Kosar’s back. I look over at Henri. He’s wearing a nightcap and a pair of spectacles on the tip of his nose like a storybook rat.

“Why were we at the airfield that day?” I ask.

“We were there for an air show. After it was over we took a tour of some of the ships.”

“Was that really the only reason?”

He turns back to me and nods. He swallows hard, and it makes me think that he’s keeping something from me.

“Well, how was it decided that we would leave?” I ask. “I mean, surely a plan like that would’ve needed more time than a few minutes’ notice, right?”

“We didn’t take off until three hours after the invasion started. Do you not remember any of it?”

“Very little.”

“We met your grandfather at the statue of Pittacus. He gave you to me and told me to get you to the airfield, that that was our only chance. There was an underground compound beneath the airfield. He said there had always been a contingency plan in case something of the sort occurred, but it was never taken seriously because the threat of an attack seemed ludicrous. Just like it would be here, on Earth. If you were to tell any human now that there is a threat of an attack by aliens, well, they would laugh at you. It was no different on Lorien. I asked him how he knew about the plan and he didn’t answer, just smiled, and said good-bye. It makes sense that no one would really know about the plan, or only a few would.”

I nod. “So just like that, you guys came up with a plan to come to Earth?”

“Of course not. One of the planet’s Elders met us at the airfield. He’s the one who cast the Loric charm that branded your ankles and tied you all together, and gave you each an amulet. He said you were special children, blessed children, by which I assume he meant you were getting a chance to escape. We originally planned to take the ship up and wait out the invasion, wait for our people to fight back and win. But that never happened…,” he says, trailing off. Then he sighs. “We stayed in orbit for a week. That was how long it took for the Mogadorians to strip Lorien of everything. After it became clear that there would be no going back, we set our course for Earth.”

“Why didn’t he cast a charm so that none of us could be killed, regardless of numbers?”

“There’s only so much that can be done, John. What you are talking about is invincibility. It’s not possible.”

I nod. The charm only does so much. If one of the Mogadorians tries killing us out of order, whatever damage it attempts is reversed and done to it instead. If one had tried shooting me in the head the bullet would have gone through its own head. But not anymore. Now if they catch me, I die.

I sit in silence for a moment thinking about it all. The airfield. Lorien’s lone remaining Elder who cast the charm on us, Loridas, now dead. The Elders were the first inhabitants of Lorien, those beings who made it what it was. There were ten of them in the beginning, and they contained all Legacies within them. So old, so long ago that they seem more of a myth than anything based in reality. Aside from Loridas, no one knew what had happened to the rest of them, if they were dead.

I try to remember what it was like orbiting the planet waiting to see if we could go back, but I don’t remember any of it. I can recall bits and pieces of the journey. The interior of the ship we traveled in was round and open aside from the two bathrooms that had doors. There were cots pushed to one side; the other side was devoted to exercise and games to keep us from getting too antsy. I can’t remember what the others look like. I can’t remember the games we played. I remember being bored, an entire year being spent inside an airship with seventeen others. There was a stuffed animal I slept with at night, and though I’m sure the memory is wrong, I seem to recall the animal playing back.

“Henri?”

“Yes?”

“I keep having images of a man in a silver and blue suit. I saw him at our house, and on the battlefield. He could control the weather. And then I saw him dead.”

Henri nods. “Every time you travel back it’ll only be to those scenes holding relevance to you.”

“He was my father, wasn’t he?”

“Yes,” he says. “He wasn’t supposed to come around much, but he did anyway. He was around a lot.”

I sigh. My father had fought valiantly, killing the beast and many of the soldiers. But in the end it still wasn’t enough.

“Do we really have a chance to win?”

“What do you mean?”

“We were defeated so easily. What hope is there for a different outcome if we’re found? Even when we have all developed our powers, and when we finally come together and are ready to fight, what hope do we have against things like those?”

“Hope?” he says. “There is always hope, John. New developments have yet to present themselves. Not all the information is in. No. Don’t give up hope just yet. It’s the last thing to go. When you have lost hope, you have lost everything. And when you think all is lost, when all is dire and bleak, there is always hope.”

 

[kenny0112]

I AM NUMBER FOUR
by PITTACUS LORE
Genre: Fantasy​

Spoiler: Chap 12

Henri and I go into town on Saturday for the Halloween parade, almost two weeks after arriving in Paradise. I think the solitude is getting to us both. Not that we aren’t used to solitude. We are. But the solitude in Ohio is different from that of most other places. There is a certain silence to it, a certain loneliness.

It’s a cold day, the sun peeking intermittently through thick white clouds gliding by overhead. The town is bustling. All the kids are in costume. We have bought a leash for Bernie Kosar, who is wearing a Superman cape draped over his back, a large “S” on his chest. He seems unimpressed with it. He’s not the only dog dressed as a superhero.

Henri and I stand on the sidewalk in front of the Hungry Bear, the diner just off the circle in the center of town, to watch the parade. In its front window hangs a clipping of the Gazette article on Mark James. He’s pictured standing on the fifty-yard line of the football field, wearing his letterman jacket, his arms crossed, his right foot resting atop a football, a wry, confident grin on his face. Even I have to admit he looks impressive.

Henri sees me staring at the paper.

“It’s your friend, right?” he asks with a smile. Henri now knows the story, from the near fight to the cow manure to the crush I have on his ex-girlfriend. Since finding out all this information he has only referred to Mark as my “friend.”

“My best friend,” I correct him.

Just then the band starts. It’s at the head of the parade, followed by various Halloween-themed floats, one of which is carrying Mark and a few of the football players. Some I recognize from class, some I don’t. They throw handfuls of candy to the kids. Then Mark catches sight of me and he nudges the guy beside him—Kevin, the kid I kneed in the groin in the cafeteria. Mark points at me and says something. They both laugh.

“That’s him?” Henri asks.

“That’s him.”

“Looks like a dick.”

“I told you.”

Then come the cheerleaders, walking, all in uniform, hair pulled back, smiling and waving to the crowd.

Sarah is walking alongside them, taking pictures. She gets them in action, while they’re jumping, doing their cheers. Despite the fact that she’s wearing jeans and no makeup, she’s far more beautiful than any of them. We’ve been talking more and more at school, and I can’t stop thinking about her. Henri sees me staring at her.

Then he turns back to the parade. “That’s her, huh?”

“That’s her.”

She sees me and waves, then points to the camera, meaning she’d come over but wants to take pictures. I smile and nod.

“Well,” Henri says. “I can certainly see the appeal.”

We watch the parade. The mayor of Paradise passes by, sitting on the back of a red convertible. He throws more candy to the children. There will be a lot of hyper kids today, I think.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around.

“Sam Goode. What’s the word?”

He shrugs. “Nothin’. What’s up with you?”

“Watching the parade. This is my dad, Henri.”

They shake hands. Henri says, “John has told me a lot about you.”

“Really?” Sam asks with a crooked grin.

“Really,” Henri responds. Then he pauses a minute and a smile takes shape. “You know, I’ve been reading. Maybe you’ve heard it already, but did you know that aliens are the reason we have thunderstorms? They create them in order to enter our planet unnoticed. The storm creates a diversion, and the lightning you see is really coming from the spaceships entering Earth’s atmosphere.”

Sam smiles and scratches his head. “Get out of here,” he says.

Henri shrugs. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

“All right,” Sam says, more than willing to oblige Henri. “Well, did you know that the dinosaurs really didn’t go extinct? Aliens were so fascinated by them that they decided to gather them all up and take them to their own planet.”

Henri shakes his head. “I didn’t know that,” he says. “Did you know that the Loch Ness monster was really an animal from the planet Trafalgra? They brought him here as an experiment, to see if he could survive, and he did. But when he was discovered the aliens had to take him back, which is why he was never spotted again.”

I laugh, not at the theory, but at the name Trafalgra. There is no planet named Trafalgra and I wonder if Henri has made it up on the fly.

“Did you know the Egyptian pyramids were built by aliens?”

“I’ve heard that,” Henri says, smiling. This is funny to him because though the pyramids weren’t actually built by aliens, they were built using Lorien knowledge and with Lorien help. “Did you know the world is supposed to end on December 21, 2012?”

Sam nods and grins. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. Earth’s supposed expiration date, the end of the Mayan calendar.”

“Expiration date?” I chime in. “Like, a ‘best if used before’ date that’s printed on milk cartons? Is Earth going to curdle?”

I laugh at my own joke, but Sam and Henri pay me no attention.

Then Sam says, “Did you know crop circles were originally used as a navigational tool for the Agharian alien race? But that was thousands of years ago. Today they are only created by bored farmers.”

I laugh again. I have the urge to ask what sorts of people create alien conspiracies if it is bored farmers who create crop circles, but I don’t.

“How about the Centuri?” asks Henri. “Do you know of them?”

Sam shakes his head.

“They’re a race of aliens living at Earth’s core. They are a contentious race, in constant discord with one another, and when they have civil wars Earth’s surface is thrown off-kilter. That’s when things such as earthquakes and volcanic eruptions occur. The tsunami of 2004? All because the Centuri king’s daughter went missing.”

“Did they find her?” I ask.

Henri shakes his head, looks at me, then back at Sam, who is still smiling at the game. “They never did. Theorists believe she is able to shift her shape, and that she is living somewhere in South America.”

Henri’s theory is so good, I think there’s no way he made it up that quickly. I stand there and actually ponder it, even though I’ve never heard of aliens called the Centuri, even when I know for a fact that nothing lives at Earth’s core.

“Did you know…” Sam pauses. I think Henri has stumped him, and as soon as that thought pops into my mind Sam says something so frightening that a wave of terror shoots through me.

“Did you know that the Mogadorians are on a quest for universal domination, and that they have already wiped out one planet and are planning to wipe Earth out next? They’re here seeking human weakness so that they can exploit us when the war begins.”

My mouth drops open and Henri stares at Sam, dumbfounded. He’s holding his breath. His hand tightens around his coffee cup until I’m afraid that if it tightens any further the cup will crumple. Sam glances at Henri, then at me.

“You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost. Does this mean I win?”

“Where did you hear that?” I ask. Henri looks at me so fiercely that I wish I had remained silent.

“From They Walk Among Us.”

Henri still can’t think of how to respond. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes. Then a petite woman standing behind Sam interrupts.

“Sam,” she says. He turns and looks at her. “Where have you been?”

Sam shrugs. “I was standing right here.”

She sighs, then says to Henri, “Hi, I’m Sam’s mother.”

“Henri,” he says, and shakes her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

She opens her eyes in surprise. Something in Henri’s accent has excited her.

“Ah bon! Vous parlez français? C’est super! J’ai personne avec qui je peux parler français depuis long-temps.”

Henri smiles. “I’m sorry. I don’t actually speak French. I know my accent sounds like it, though.”

“No?” She is disappointed. “Well hell, here I thought some dignity had finally come to town.”

Sam looks at me and rolls his eyes.

“All right, Sam, let’s get going,” she says.

He shrugs. “You guys gonna go to the park and the hayride?”

I look at Henri, then at Sam. “Yeah, sure,” I say. “Are you?”

He shrugs.

“Well, try to come meet us if you can,” I say.

He smiles and nods. “Okay, cool.”

“Time to go, Sam. And you might not be able to go on the hayride. I need your help at home,” his mother says. He starts to say something but she walks away. Sam follows her.

“Very nice woman,” Henri says sarcastically.

“How did you make all that up?” I ask.

The crowd begins migrating up Main Street, away from the circle. Henri and I follow it up to the park, where cider and food are being served.

“You lie long enough and you start to get used to it.”

I nod. “So what do you think?”

He takes a deep breath and exhales. The temperature is cold enough so that I can see his breath. “I have no idea. I don’t know what to think at this point. He caught me off guard.”

“He caught us both off guard.”

“We’re going to have to look into the publication he’s getting his information from, find out who is writing it and where it’s being written.”

He looks over at me expectantly.

“What?”

“You’re going to have to get a copy,” he says.

“I will,” I say. “But still, it makes no sense. How could somebody know that?”

“It’s being supplied from somewhere.”

“Do you think it’s one of us?”

“No.”

“Do you think it’s them?”

“It could be. I’ve never thought to check the conspiracy-theory rags. Perhaps they think we read them and can root us out by leaking information like that. I mean…” He pauses, thinks about it for a minute. “Hell, John, I don’t know. We’ll have to look into it, though. It’s not a coincidence, that’s for sure.”

We walk in silence, still a little stunned, turning possible explanations over in our minds. Bernie Kosar trots along between us, tongue dangling, his cape falling to one side and dragging on the sidewalk. He’s a big hit with the kids and many of them stop us to pet him.

The park is situated on the southern edge of town. At the far border are two adjacent lakes separated by a narrow strip of land leading into the forest beyond them. The park itself is made up of three baseball fields, a playground, and a large pavilion where volunteers serve cider and slices of pumpkin pie. Three hay wagons are off to the side of the gravel drive, with a large sign reading:

BE SCARED OUT OF YOUR WITS!

HALLOWEEN HAUNTED HAYRIDES

START @ SUNDOWN

$5 PER PERSON

The drive segues from gravel to dirt before it reaches the woods, the entrance to which is decorated with cutouts of ghost and goblin caricatures. It appears that the haunted hayride travels through the woods. I look around for Sarah but don’t see her anywhere. I wonder if she’ll be going on it.

Henri and I enter the pavilion. The cheerleaders are off to the side, some of them doing Halloween-themed face paintings for the kids, the others selling raffle tickets for the drawing to be held at six p.m.

“Hi, John,” I hear behind me. I turn around and there’s Sarah, holding her camera. “How did you like the parade?”

I smile at her and slide my hands into my pockets. There’s a small white ghost painted on her cheek.

“Hey, you,” I say. “I liked it. I’m think I’m getting used to this small-town Ohio charm.”

“Charm? You mean boringness, right?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, it isn’t bad.”

“Hey, it’s the little guy from school. I remember you,” she says, bending down to pet Bernie Kosar. He wags his tail wildly, jumps up and tries to lick her face. Sarah laughs. I look over my shoulder. Henri is twenty feet away, talking to Sarah’s mom at one of the picnic tables. I’m curious to know what they’re talking about.

“I think he likes you. His name is Bernie Kosar.”

“Bernie Kosar? That’s no name for an adorable dog. Look at this cape. It’s, like, cute overload.”

“You know if you keep that up I’m going to be jealous of my own dog,” I say.

She smiles and stands.

“So are you going to buy a raffle ticket from me or what? It’s to rebuild a not-for-profit animal shelter destroyed in a fire last month in Colorado.”

“Really? How does a girl from Paradise, Ohio, learn of an animal shelter in Colorado?”

“It’s my aunt’s. I’ve convinced all the girls on the cheerleading squad to participate. We’re going to take a trip and assist in the construction. We’ll be helping the animals and getting out of school and Ohio for a week. It’s a win-win situation.”

I picture Sarah dressed in a hard hat, wielding a hammer. The thought brings a grin to my face. “So you’re saying I’m going to have to cover the kitchen alone for a whole week?” I fake an exasperated sigh and shake my head. “I don’t know if I can support such a trip now, even if it is for the animals.”

She laughs and punches me in the arm. I take out my wallet and give her five dollars for six tickets.

“These six are good luck,” she says.

“They are?”

“Of course. You bought them from me, silly.”

Just then, over Sarah’s shoulder, I see Mark and the rest of the guys from the float walk into the pavilion.

“Are you going on the haunted hayride tonight?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah, I was thinking about it.”

“You should, it’s fun. Everybody does it. And it actually gets pretty scary.”

Mark sees Sarah and me talking and scrunches his face into a scowl. He comes walking our way. Same outfit as always—letterman jacket, blue jeans, hair full of gel.

“So you’re going?” I ask Sarah.

Before she can respond Mark interrupts. “How’d you like the parade, Johnny?” he asks. Sarah quickly turns around and glares at him.

“I liked it a lot,” I reply.

“You going on the haunted hayride tonight, or are you going to be too scared?”

I smile at him. “As a matter of fact, I am going.”

“You going to have a freak-out like in school and run out of the woods crying like a baby?”

“Don’t be an ass, Mark,” Sarah says.

He looks at me, seething. With the crowd around there is nothing he can do without causing a scene—and I don’t think he would do anything anyway.

“All in due time,” Mark says.

“You think?”

“Yours is coming,” he says.

“That might be true,” I say. “But it won’t be coming from you.”

“Stop it!” Sarah yells. She works her way in between us, pushing us away from each other. People are watching. She glances around as though embarrassed by the attention, then scowls at Mark first, then at me.

“Fine, then. You guys fight if that’s what you want to do. Good luck with it,” Sarah says, and turns and walks away. I watch her go. Mark doesn’t.

“Sarah,” I call, but she keeps walking and disappears past the pavilion.

“Soon,” Mark says.

I look back to him. “I doubt it.”

He retreats to his group of friends. Henri walks up to me.

“I don’t suppose he was inquiring about yesterday’s math homework?”

“Not quite,” I say.

“I wouldn’t worry about him,” Henri says. “He looks to be all talk.”

“I’m not,” I say, and then glance at the spot where Sarah disappeared. “Should I go after her?” I ask, and look at him, pleading to the part of him that was once married and in love, that part that still misses his wife every day, and not the part of him that wants to keep me safe and hidden.

He nods his head. “Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “As much as I hate to admit it, you should probably go after her.”

 

[kenny0112]

I AM NUMBER FOUR
by PITTACUS LORE
Genre: Fantasy​

Spoiler: Chap 13

Kids running, screaming, on slides and jungle gyms. Every kid with a bag of candy in his or her hand, with a mouth stuffed full of sweets. Kids dressed as cartoon characters, monsters, ghouls and ghosts. Every resident of Paradise must be at the park right now. And in the midst of all the madness I see Sarah, sitting alone, gently pushing herself on the swing.

I weave my way through the screams and shrieks. When Sarah sees me she smiles, those big blue eyes of hers like a beacon.

“Need a push?” I ask.

She nods to the swing that has just opened beside her and I sit.

“Doing okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine. He just wears me down. He always has to act so tough and he’s downright mean when he’s around friends.”

She twists herself on the swing until the rope becomes taut, then she lifts her feet and it spins her around, slowly at first, then gaining speed. She laughs the whole time, her blond hair a trail behind her. I do the same thing. When the swing finally stops the world keeps spinning.

“Where is Bernie Kosar?”

“I left him with Henri,” I say.

“Your dad?”

“Yes, my dad.” I am constantly doing that, calling Henri by his name when I should be saying “Dad.”

The temperature is quickly dropping, and my hands are white knuckled on the rope chain, becoming cold. We watch the kids run amok around us. Sarah looks at me and her eyes seem bluer than ever in the coming dusk. Our gaze stays locked, each of us just staring at the other, no words being said but much passing between us. The children seem to fade into the background. Then she smiles shyly and looks away.

“So what are you going to do?” I ask.

“About what?”

“Mark.”

She shrugs. “What can I do? I’ve already broken up with him. I keep telling him I have no interest in getting back together.”

I nod. I’m not sure how to respond to that.

“But anyway, I should probably try to sell the rest of these tickets. Only an hour before the raffle.”

“Do you want any help?”

“No, that’s okay. You should go have fun. Bernie Kosar is probably missing you right now. But you should definitely stick around for the hayride. Maybe we can go on it together?”

“I will,” I say. A happiness blooms inside of me, but I try to keep it hidden.

“I’ll see you in a little while, then.”

“Good luck with the tickets.”

She reaches over and grabs my hand and holds it for a good three seconds. Then she lets go, jumps off the swing, and hurries away. I sit there, gently swinging, enjoying the brisk wind that I haven’t felt in a very long time because we spent the last winter in Florida, and the one before that in south Texas. When I head back to the pavilion Henri is sitting at a picnic table eating a slice of pie with Bernie Kosar lying at his feet.

“How’d it go?”

“Good,” I say with a smile.

From somewhere an orange and blue firework shoots up and explodes in the sky. It makes me think of Lorien and of the fireworks I saw on the day of the invasion.

“Have you thought any more about the second ship I saw?”

Henri looks around to make sure there’s nobody within earshot. We have the picnic table to ourselves, positioned in the far corner away from the crowd.

“A little. I still have no idea what it means, though.”

“Do you think it could have traveled here?”

“No. It wouldn’t be possible. If it ran on fuel, like you say, it wouldn’t have been able to travel far without refueling.”

I sit for a moment.

“I wish it could have.”

“Could have what?”

“Traveled here, with us.”

“It’s a nice thought,” says Henri.



An hour or so passes and I see all the football players, Mark in front, walk across the grass. They are dressed up as mummies, zombies, ghosts, twenty-five of them in total. They sit in the bleachers of the nearest baseball field and the cheerleaders who were drawing on the children begin applying makeup to complete the costumes of Mark and his friends. It’s only then that I realize the football players will be the ones doing the scaring on the haunted hayride, the ones waiting for us in the woods.

“See that?” I ask Henri.

Henri looks at them all and nods, then picks up his coffee and takes a long drink.

“Think you should still go on the ride?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “But I’m going to anyway.”

“I figured you would.”

Mark is dressed as a zombie of sorts, wearing dark tattered clothes, with black and gray makeup on his face, splotches of red in random places to simulate blood. When his costume is complete Sarah walks up to him and says something. His voice becomes raised but I can’t hear what he’s saying. His movements are animated and he talks so fast that I can tell he’s stumbling over his words. Sarah crosses her arms and shakes her head at him. His body tenses. I move to stand, but Henri grabs my arm.

“Don’t,” he says. “He’s only pushing her further away.”

I look at them and wish with everything that I could hear what is being said, but there are too many screaming kids around to focus in. When the yelling stops they both stand looking at each other, a hurtful scowl on Mark’s face, an incredulous grin on Sarah’s. Then she shakes her head and walks away.

I look at Henri. “What should I do now?”

“Not a thing,” he says. “Not a thing.”

Mark walks back to his friends, head hung, scowling. A few of them look in my direction. Smirks appear. Then they start walking towards the forest. A slow methodical march, twenty-five guys in costume receding in the distance.



To kill time I walk back to the center of town with Henri and we eat dinner at the Hungry Bear. When we walk back the sun has set and the first trailer piled with hay and pulled by a green tractor takes off for the woods. The crowd has thinned considerably and those left are mostly high schoolers and free-spirited adults who total a hundred or so people. I look for Sarah among them but I don’t see her. The next trailer leaves in ten minutes. According to the pamphlet the whole ride is half an hour long, the tractor going through the woods slowly, the anticipation building, and then it stops and the riders are to get off and follow a different trail on foot, at which point the scares begin.

Henri and I stand beneath the pavilion and I again scan the long line of people waiting their turn. I still don’t see her. Just then my phone vibrates in my pocket. I can’t remember the last time my phone rang when it wasn’t Henri calling. The caller ID reads SARAH HART. Excitement rushes through me. She must have entered my number into her phone the same day she entered hers into mine.

“Hello?” I say.

“John?”

“Yeah.”

“Hey, it’s Sarah. Are you still at the park?” she says. She sounds as though her calling me is normal, that I shouldn’t think twice about her already having my number despite my never having given it to her.

“Yes.”

“Great! I’m going to be back there in about five minutes. Have the rides started?”

“Yeah, a couple minutes ago.”

“You haven’t gone yet, have you?”

“No.”

“Oh, good! Wait so we can ride together.”

“Yeah, definitely,” I say. “The second one is about to leave now.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there in time for the third.”

“See you then.”

I hang up, a huge smile on my face.

“Be careful out there,” Henri says.

“I will.” Then I pause and try to bring lightness to my voice. “You don’t have to stick around. I’m sure I can get a ride home.”

“I’m willing to stay and live in this town, John. Even when it’s probably smarter for us to leave given the events that have already happened. But you’re going to have to meet me halfway on things. And this is one of them. I don’t like the looks those guys gave you earlier one ****”

I nod. “I’ll be fine,” I say.

“I’m sure you will. But just in case I’m going to be right here waiting.”

I sigh. “Fine.”

Sarah pulls up five minutes later with a pretty friend who I’ve seen before but have never been introduced to. She has changed into jeans, a wool sweater, and a black jacket. She has wiped away the painted ghost that was on her right cheek and her hair is down, falling past her shoulders.

“Hey, you,” she says.

“Hi.”

She wraps her arms around me in a tentative hug. I can smell the perfume wafting up from her neck. Then she pulls away.

“Hi, John’s dad,” she says to Henri. “This is my friend Emily.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” Henri says. “So you guys are off into the unknown terror?”

“You ,” Sarah says. “Will this one be okay out there? I don’t want him getting too scared on me,” Sarah says to Henri, motioning to me with a smile.

Henri grins and I can tell he already likes Sarah. “You better stay close just in case.”

She looks over her shoulder. The third trailer is a quarter full. “I’ll keep him safe,” she says. “We better get going.”

“Have a great time,” Henri says.

Sarah surprises me by taking my hand and the three of us rush off towards the hay wagon a hundred yards away from the pavilion. There is a line about thirty people long. We get to the back of it and start talking, though I’m feeling a little shy and mostly just listen to the two girls talk. As we’re waiting I see Sam hovering off to the side as though contemplating whether or not to approach us.

“Sam!” I yell with more enthusiasm than I intended. He stumbles over. “You coming on the ride with us?”

He shrugs. “Do you mind?”

“Come on,” Sarah says, and motions him in. He stands next to Emily, who smiles at him. He immediately starts blushing and I’m ecstatic he’s along for the ride. Suddenly a kid holding a walkie-talkie comes over. I recognize him from the football team.

“Hi, Tommy,” Sarah says to him.

“Hey,” he says. “There are four spots left on this wagon. You guys want them?”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

We skip the line and jump up onto the trailer, where the four of us sit on a bale of hay together. I find it odd that Tommy doesn’t ask us for tickets. I’m curious as to why he let us skip the line altogether. Some of the people waiting look at us with disgust. I can’t say that I blame them.

“Enjoy the ride,” Tommy says with a grin, the kind I’ve seen people wear when told something bad has happened to someone they despise.

“That was weird,” I say.

Sarah shrugs. “He probably has a crush on Emily.”

“Oh God, I hope not,” Emily says, and then fake-gags.

I watch Tommy from the bale of hay. The trailer is only half full, which is another thing that strikes me as strange since there are so many people waiting.

The tractor pulls away, bumps along the pathway, and drives through the entrance of the forest, where ghastly sounds come through hidden speakers. The forest is thick and no light penetrates other than what shines from the front of the tractor. Once that is off, I think, there will be nothing but darkness. Sarah takes hold of my hand again. She’s cold to the touch, but a sense of warmth floods through me. She leans over to me and whispers, “I’m a little scared.”

Figures of ghosts hang just over us from the low branches, and off the drive grimacing zombies lean against various trees. The tractor stops and kills its headlight. Then come intermittent strobes that flash for ten seconds. There is nothing scary about them and only when they stop do I understand their effect: our eyes take a few seconds to adjust and we can’t see a thing. Then a scream shoots through the night and Sarah tenses against me as figures sweep around us. I squint to focus and I see that Emily has moved next to Sam, and that he is smiling widely. I’m actually a little scared myself. I put my arm carefully around Sarah. A hand grazes our backs and Sarah grips tightly to my leg. Some of the others scream. With a jolt the tractor turns back on and continues forward, nothing but the outlines of the trees in its light.

We drive for another three or four minutes. The anticipation builds, the foreboding fear of having to walk the distance we just drove. Then the tractor pulls into a circular clearing and stops.

“Everybody off,” the driver yells.

When the last person is off, the tractor pulls away. Its light recedes in the distance, then disappears, leaving nothing but the night and not a single sound other than what we make.

“Shit,” somebody says, and all of us laugh.

In total there are eleven of us. A path of lights turns on, showing us the way, then turns off. I close my eyes to focus on the feel of Sarah’s fingers interlocked with mine.

“I have no idea why I do this every year,” Emily says nervously, her arms wrapped around herself.

The other people have started down the trail and we follow. The pathway of lights occasionally flickers on to keep us on our way. The others are far enough ahead that we can’t see them. I can barely see the ground at my feet. Three or four screams suddenly ring out in front of us.

“Oh no,” Sarah says, and squeezes my hand. “Sounds like trouble ahead.”

Just then something heavy falls on us. Both girls scream and so does Sam. I trip and hit the ground, scraping my knee, tangled in whatever the hell the thing is. Then I realize it’s a net!

“What the hell?” Sam asks.

I tear straight through the twisted rope but the second I’m free I get shoved hard from behind. Someone grabs me and drags me away from the girls and Sam. I break free and stand, but am immediately hit from behind again. This isn’t part of the ride.

“Let go of me!” one of the girls yells. A guy laughs in response. I can’t see a thing. The girls’ voices are moving away from me.

“John?” Sarah calls.

“Where are you, John?” shouts Sam.

I stand to go after them but am hit again. No, that’s not right. I am tackled. The wind is knocked out of me when I’m plowed to the ground. I rush up and try to catch my breath, my hand against a tree for support. I pick dirt and leaves from my mouth.

I stand there a few seconds and don’t hear a single sound other than my own labored breathing. Just when I think I’ve been left alone, somebody shoulders into me and sends me flying into a nearby tree. My head slams against the trunk and I briefly see stars. I’m surprised by the person’s strength. I reach up and touch my forehead and feel blood on my fingertips. I look around again but can’t see anything other than the silhouetted trees.

I hear a scream from one of the girls, followed by the sounds of struggle. I grit my teeth. I am shaking. Are there people mixed in with the wall of trees around me? I can’t tell. But I feel a set of eyes on me, somewhere.

“Get off of me!” Sarah yells. She is being pulled away, I can tell that much.

“Okay,” I say to the darkness, to the trees. Anger surges through me. “You want to play games?” I say, loudly this time. Somebody laughs nearby.

I take a step towards the sound. I get shoved from behind but I catch my balance before I fall. I throw a blind punch and the back of my hand scrapes against the bark of a tree. There is nothing left to do. What point is there in having Legacies if they are never used when needed? Even if it means Henri and I load the truck tonight and drive off to yet another town, at least I will have done what I needed to do.

“You want to play games?” I yell again. “I can play games too!”

A trickle of blood runs down the side of my face. Okay, I think, let’s do this. They can do all they want to me, but they will not harm a single hair on Sarah’s head. Or Sam’s, or Emily’s.

I take a deep breath and adrenaline races through me. A malicious smile takes shape and my body feels as though it has grown bigger, stronger. My hands come on and glow brilliantly with bright light that sweeps through the night, the world suddenly ablaze.

I look up. I flash my hands across the trees and sprint off into the night.

 

[kenny0112]

I AM NUMBER FOUR
by PITTACUS LORE
Genre: Fantasy​

Spoiler: Chap 14

Kevin steps from the trees, dressed as a mummy. He’s the one who tackled me. The lights stun him and he seems dumbfounded, trying to figure out where they’re coming from. He’s wearing night-vision goggles. So that is how they are able to see us, I think. Where did they get them?

He charges me and at the last second I step out of the way and trip him.

“Let go of me!” I hear from down the trail. I look up and sweep my lights across the trees but nothing moves. I can’t tell if the voice is Emily’s or Sarah’s. A guy’s laughter follows.

Kevin tries to stand but I kick him in the side before he gets to his feet. He falls back to the ground with an “Ummpf!” I rip the goggles from his face and throw them as far as I can and know they will land at least a mile away, maybe two or three because I’m so angry that my strength is out of control. Then I race off through the woods before Kevin can even sit up.

The trail winds left, then right. My hands glow only when I need to see. I sense that I’m close. Then I see Sam up ahead, standing with a zombie’s arms around him. Three others are close by.

The zombie lets go of him. “Chill out, we’re just kidding around. If you don’t resist, you won’t get hurt,” he says to Sam. “Sit down or something.”

I snap my hands on and flash the lights in their eyes to blind them. The closest person steps towards me and I swing and hit him in the side of the face and he falls motionless to the ground. His goggles sail into the overgrown brambles and disappear. The second person tries to bear-hug me, but I break his grip and lift him off the ground.

“What the hell?” he says, confused.

I throw him and he hits the side of a tree twenty feet away. The third guy sees this and runs away. That just leaves the fourth, the one who was holding Sam. He lifts his hands in front of him as though I’m aiming a gun at his chest.

“It wasn’t my idea,” he says.

“What does he have planned?”

“Nothing, man. We just wanted to play a joke on you guys, scare you a little.”

“Where are they?”

“They let Emily go. Sarah is up ahead.”

“Give me your goggles,” I say.

“No way, man. We’re borrowing them from the police. I’ll get in trouble.”

I step towards him.

“Fine,” he says. He takes them off and hands them to me. I throw them even harder than I did the previous pair. I hope they land in the next town. Let them explain that one to the police.

I grab Sam’s shirt with my right hand. I can’t see a thing without turning on my light. Only then do I realize I should have kept the two pairs of goggles for us to wear. But I didn’t, so I take a deep breath and let my left hand glow and begin guiding us up the path. If Sam finds it suspicious, he doesn’t let on.

I stop to listen. Nothing. We continue on, weaving through the trees. I turn the light off.

“Sarah!” I yell.

I stop to listen and hear nothing but the wind blowing through the branches and Sam’s heavy breathing.

“How many people are with Mark?” I ask.

“Five or so.”

“Do you know which way they went?”

“I didn’t see.”

We push on and I have no idea in which direction we are headed. From far off I hear the groan of the tractor motor. The fourth ride is starting. I feel frantic inside and want to sprint, but I know that Sam can’t keep up. He’s breathing heavily already and even I’m sweating despite the temperature being only forty-five degrees. Or maybe I’m mistaking blood for sweat. I can’t tell.

As we pass a thick tree with a knotted trunk I get tackled from behind. Sam yells as a fist hits me in the back of the head and I’m momentarily stunned, but then I pivot and grab the guy by the throat and shine the light in his face. He tries to peel my fingers away but it’s useless.

“What is Mark planning?”

“Nothing,” he says.

“Wrong answer.”

I thrust him into the nearest tree five feet away, then I pick him up and lift him a foot off the ground with my hand again around his throat. His legs kick wildly, hitting me, but I tighten my muscles so that the kicks do no damage.

“What is he planning to do?”

I lower him until his feet touch solid ground, loosening my grip to allow him to speak. I sense Sam watching, drinking all of this in, but there is nothing I can do about it.

“We just wanted to scare you guys,” he gasps.

“I swear I will break you in half if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“He thinks that the others are dragging you two to Shepherd Falls. That’s where he took Sarah. He wanted her to see him beat the crap out of you, and then he was going to let you go.”

“Lead me,” I say.

He shuffles forward and I turn my light off. Sam takes hold of my shirt and follows behind us. When we walk through a small clearing lit by the moonlight overhead I can see that he’s looking at my hands.

“They’re gloves,” I say. “Kevin Miller was wearing them. Some sort of Halloween prop.”

He nods but I can tell he’s freaked out. We walk for nearly a minute until we hear the sound of running water just ahead of us.

“Give me your goggles,” I say to the guy leading us.

He hesitates and I twist his arm. He writhes in pain and quickly rips them from his face.

“Take them, take them,” he yells.

When I put them on the world turns to a shade of green. I push him hard and he falls to the ground.

“Come on,” I say to Sam, and we walk ahead, leaving the guy behind.

Up ahead I see the group. I count eight guys, plus Sarah.

“I can see them now. Do you want to wait here or come with me? It might get ugly.”

“I want to come,” Sam says. I can tell he’s scared, though I’m not sure if it’s because of what he’s seen me do or the football players ahead of us.

I walk the rest of the way as silently as I can, Sam tiptoeing behind me. When we are just a few feet away a twig snaps beneath Sam’s foot.

“John?” Sarah asks. She’s sitting on a large rock with her knees to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She isn’t wearing goggles and squints in our direction.

“Yes,” I say. “And Sam.”

She smiles. “Told you,” she says, and I assume she’s talking to Mark.

The water I heard is nothing more than a small babbling brook. Mark steps forward.

“Well, well, well,” he says.

“Shut up, Mark,” I say. “Manure in my locker was one thing, but you’ve gone way too far with this one.”

“You think? It’s eight on two.”

“Sam has nothing to do with this. You scared to face me alone?” I ask. “What are you expecting to happen? You’ve tried kidnapping two people. Do you really think they’ll keep silent?”

“Yeah, I do. When they see me whip your ass.”

“You’re delusional,” I say, then turn to the others. “For those of you who don’t want to go into the water, I suggest you leave now. Mark is going in no matter what. He’s lost his chance to barter.”

All of them snicker. One of them asks what “barter” means.

“Now’s your last chance,” I say.

Every one of them stands firm.

“So be it,” I say.

A nervous excitement plants itself in the center of my chest. As I take one step forward Mark steps back and trips over his own feet, falling to the ground. Two of the guys come at me, both bigger than me. One swings but I duck his punch and send one of my own into his gut. He doubles over with his hands holding his stomach. I shove the second guy and his feet leave the ground. He lands with a thud five feet away and the momentum pushes him into the water. He comes up splashing. The others stand rooted, shocked. I sense Sam moving over toward Sarah. I grab hold of the first guy and drag him across the ground. His errant kicks slice through the air but hit nothing. When we are at the bank of the brook I lift him by the waistband of his jeans and throw him into the water. Another guy lunges at me. I merely sidestep him and he lands face-first in the brook. Three down, four to go. I wonder how much of this Sarah and Sam can see without goggles on.

“You guys are making it too easy for me,” I say. “Who’s next?”

The biggest of the group throws a punch that comes nowhere near hitting me, though I counter so swiftly that his elbow catches me in the face and the goggle strap snaps. The goggles fall to the ground. I can only see slight shadows now. I throw a punch and hit the guy in the jaw and he falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes. He looks lifeless, and I fear that I’ve hit him too hard. I rip his goggles from his face and put them on.

“Any volunteers?”

Two of them hold their hands up in front of them in surrender; the third stands with his mouth gaping open like an idiot.

“That leaves you, Mark.”

Mark turns as though he intends to run, but I lunge forward and grab him before he can, pulling his arms up into a full nelson. He writhes in pain.

“This ends right now, do you understand me?”

I squeeze tighter and he grunts in pain. “Whatever you have against me, you drop it now. That includes Sam and Sarah. You understand?”

My grip tightens. I fear that if I squeeze any tighter his shoulder will pop from its socket.

“I said, do you understand me?”

“Yes!”

I drag him over to Sarah. Sam is sitting on the rock beside her now.

“Apologize.”

“Come on, man. You’ve proven your point.”

I squeeze.

“I’m sorry!” he yells.

“Say it like you mean it.”

He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“You’re an asshole, Mark!” Sarah says, and slaps him hard across the face. He tenses, but I’m holding him firmly and there isn’t a thing he can do about it.

I drag him to the water. The rest of the guys stand watching in shock. The guy I had knocked out is sitting up scratching his head as though trying to figure out what has happened. I breathe a sigh of relief that he isn’t badly hurt.

“You’re not going to say a word to anybody about this, you understand me?” I say, my voice so low that only Mark can hear me. “Everything that has happened tonight, it dies here. I swear, if I hear one word about it in school next week this is nothing compared to what will happen to you. Do you understand me? Not a single word.”

“Do you really think I would say anything?” he asks.

“You make sure you tell your friends the same. If they tell a single soul it will be you that I come for.”

“We won’t say anything,” he says.

I let go, put my foot on his butt, and push him face-first into the water. Sarah is standing at the rock with Sam beside her. She hugs me tightly when I get to her.

“Do you know kung fu or something?” she asks.

I laugh nervously. “Could you see much?”

“Not a lot, but I could tell what was happening. I mean, have you been training in the mountains your whole life or what? I don’t understand how you did that.”

“I was just scared something would happen to you, I guess. And yeah, there was the past twelve years of martial arts training high in the Himalayas.”

“You’re amazing.” Sarah laughs. “Let’s get out of here.”

None of the guys say a word to us. After ten feet I realize I have no idea where I’m going so I give the goggles to Sarah to lead the way.

“I can’t friggin’ believe that,” Sarah says. “I mean, what an asshole. Wait till they try to explain it to the police. I’m not letting him get away with it.”

“Are you really going to the police? Mark’s dad is the sheriff, after all,” I say.

“Why wouldn’t I after that? It was bullshit. Mark’s dad’s job is to enforce law, even when his son breaks it.”

I shrug in the darkness. “I think they received their punishment.”

I bite my lip, terrified of the police getting involved. If they do I’ll have to leave, no way around it. We’ll be packed up and headed out of town within the hour of Henri knowing. I sigh.

“Don’t you think?” I ask. “I mean, they’ve already lost several of the night-vision goggles. They’ll have to explain that. And that’s not to mention the icy cold water.”

Sarah doesn’t say anything. We walk in silence and I pray that she is debating the merits of letting it go.

Eventually the end of the woods comes into view. Light reaches in from the park. When I stop, Sarah and Sam both look at me. Sam has been silent the entire time and I’m hoping that it’s because he couldn’t really see what was happening, the dark for once serving as an unexpected ally, that maybe he’s a little shaken up by everything.

“It’s up to you guys,” I say, “but I’m all for just letting the matter die. I really don’t want to have to talk to police about what happened.”

The light falls on Sarah’s skeptical face. She shakes her head.

“I think he’s right,” Sam says. “I don’t want to have to sit and write a stupid statement for the next half hour. I’ll be in deep crap; my mom thinks I went to bed an hour ago.”

“You live nearby?” I ask.

He nods. “Yeah, and I gotta go before she checks my room. I’ll see you guys around.”

Without another word, Sam hurries away. He’s clearly rattled. He’s probably never been in a fight and certainly never one where he was kidnapped and attacked in the woods. I’ll try talking to him tomorrow. If he did see something he shouldn’t have, I’ll convince him his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Sarah turns my face to hers and traces the line of my cut with her thumb, moving it very gently across my forehead. Then she traces both my brows, staring into my eyes.

“Thank you for tonight. I knew you were going to come.”

I shrug. “I wasn’t going to let him scare you.”

She smiles and I can see her eyes glistening in the moonlight. She moves towards me and as I realize what’s about to happen my breath catches in my throat. She presses her lips to mine and everything inside of me turns to rubber. It’s a soft kiss, lingering. My first. Then she pulls away and her eyes take me in. I don’t know what to say. A million different thoughts run through my head. My legs feel wobbly and I’m barely able to stay upright.

“I knew you were special the first time I saw you,” she says.

“I felt the same with you.”

She reaches up and kisses me again, her hand lightly pressed to my cheek. For the first few seconds I’m lost in the feel of her lips on mine and in the idea that I’m with this beautiful girl.

She pulls away and both of us smile at each other, saying nothing, staring into each other’s eyes.

“Well, I think we better go see if Emily is still here,” Sarah says after about ten seconds. “Or else I’ll be stranded.”

“I’m sure she is,” I say.

We hold hands on the walk to the pavilion. I can’t stop thinking about our kisses. The fifth tractor chugs along the trail. The trailer is full and there’s still a line ten or so people long waiting their turn. And after everything that happened in the woods, with Sarah’s warm hand in mine, the smile doesn’t leave my face.

 

[kenny0112]

I AM NUMBER FOUR
by PITTACUS LORE
Genre: Fantasy​

Spoiler: Chap 15

The first snowfall comes to weeks later. A slight dusting, just enough to cover the truck with a fine powder. Since just after Halloween, once the Loric crystal spread the Lumen throughout my body, Henri has begun my real training. We’ve worked every day, without fail, through the cold weather and the rain and now the snow. Though he doesn’t say it I believe he’s impatient for me to be ready. It started with disconcerted looks, his brows crinkled while he chewed on his bottom lip, followed by deep sighs and eventually sleepless nights, the floorboards creaking under his feet while I lay awake in my room, to where we are now, an inherent desperation in Henri’s strained voice.

We stand in the backyard, ten feet apart, facing each other.

“I’m not really in the mood today,” I say.

“I know you’re not, but we have to anyway.”

I sigh and look at my watch. It’s four o’clock.

“Sarah will be here at six,” I say.

“I know,” Henri says. “That’s why we must hurry.”

He holds a tennis ball in each hand.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

He throws the first ball high in the air, and as it reaches its apex, I try to conjure a power deep within me to keep it from falling. I don’t know how I’m supposed to do it, only that I should be ableto do it, with time and practice, says Henri. Each Garde develops the ability to move objects with their mind. Telekinesis. And instead of letting me discover it on my own—as I did my hands—Henri seems hell-bent on waking the power from whatever cave it’s hibernating in.

The ball drops just as the thousand or so balls before it did, without a single interruption, bouncing twice, then lying motionless in the snow-covered grass.

I let out a deep sigh. “I’m not feeling it today.”

“Again,” Henri says.

He throws the second ball. I try to move it, to stop it, everything inside of me straining to just make the damn thing move a single inch to the right or left, but no luck. It hits the ground as well. Bernie Kosar, who has been watching us, walks out to it, picks it up, and walks away.

“It’ll come in its own time,” I say.

Henri shakes his head. The muscles in his jaw are flexed. His moods and impatience are getting to me. He watches Bernie Kosar trot off with the ball, then he sighs.

“What?” I ask.

He shakes his head again. “Let’s keep trying.”

He walks over and picks up the other ball. Then he flings it high in the air. I try to stop it but of course it just falls.

“Maybe tomorrow,” I say.

Henri nods and looks at the ground. “Maybe tomorrow.”



I am covered in sweat and mud and melted snow after our workout. Henri pushed me harder than normal today and came at me with an aggression that could only be steeped in panic. Beyond the telekinesis practice, most of our session was spent drilling technique in fighting—hand-to-hand combat, wrestling, mixed martial arts—followed by elements of composure—grace under pressure, mind control, how to spot fear in the eyes of an opponent and then know how best to expose it. It wasn’t Henri’s hard training that got to me, but rather the look in his eyes. A distressed look, tinged with fear, despair, disappointment. I don’t know if he’s just concerned about progress, or if it’s something deeper, but these sessions are becoming very exhausting—emotionally and physically.



Sarah arrives right on time. I walk outside and kiss her as she’s coming up to the front porch. I take her coat from her and hang it when we’re inside. Our home-ec midterm is a week away, and it was her idea to cook the meal before we’ll have to prepare it in class. As soon as we begin cooking Henri grabs his jacket and goes for a walk. He takes Bernie Kosar with him and I’m thankful for the privacy. We make baked chicken breasts and potatoes and steamed vegetables, and the meal comes out far better than I had hoped. When all is ready the three of us sit and eat together. Henri is silent through most of it. Sarah and I break the awkward silence with small talk, about school, about our going to the movies the following Saturday. Henri rarely looks up from his plate other than to offer how wonderful the meal is.

When dinner is over Sarah and I wash the dishes and retreat to the couch. Sarah brought a movie over and we watch it on our small TV, but Henri mostly stares out the window. Halfway through he gets up with a sigh and walks outside. Sarah and I watch him go. We hold hands and she leans against me with her head on my shoulder. Bernie Kosar sits beside her with his head in her lap, a blanket draped over both of them. It may be cold and blustery outside, but it’s warm and cozy in our living room.

“Is your dad okay?” Sarah asks.

“I don’t know. He’s been acting weird.”

“He was really quiet during dinner.”

“Yeah, I’m going to go check on him. I’ll be right back,” I say, and follow Henri outside. He’s standing on the porch—looking out into the darkness.

“So what’s going on?” I ask.

He looks up at the stars in contemplation.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Okay. Let’s have it.”

“I don’t know how much longer we should stay here. It doesn’t feel safe to me.”

My heart sinks and I stay silent.

“They’re frantic, and I think they’re getting close. I can feel it. I don’t think we’re safe here.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

“We’ve kept hidden.”

Henri looks at me with a raised brow. “No offense, John, but I hardly think you’ve stayed in the shadows.”

“I have where it counts.”

He nods. “I guess we’ll see.”

He walks to the edge of the porch and places his hands on the rail. I stand beside him. New snowflakes start falling, sifting down, specks of white shimmering on an otherwise dark night.

“That’s not all,” Henri says.

“I didn’t think it was.”

He sighs. “You should have already developed telekinesis. It almost always comes with your first Legacy. Very rarely does it come after, and when it does, it’s never longer than a week later.”

I look over at him. His eyes are full of concern, and creases of worry traverse the length of his forehead.

“Your Legacies come from Lorien. They always have.”

“So what are you telling me?”

“I don’t know how much we can expect from here on out,” he says, and pauses. “Since we’re no longer on the planet, I don’t know if the rest of your Legacies will come at all. And if that is true, we have no hope of fighting the Mogadorians, much less defeating them. And if we can’t defeat them, we’ll never be able to go back.”

I watch the snowfall, unable to decide whether I should be worried or relieved, relieved since perhaps that would bring an end to our moving and we could finally settle. Henri points at the stars.

“Right there,” he says. “Right there is where Lorien is.”

Of course I know full well where Lorien is without having to be told. There is a certain pull, a certain way that my eyes always gravitate towards the spot where, billions of miles away, Lorien sits. I try to catch a snow-flake on the tip of my tongue, then close my eyes and breathe in the cold air. When I open them I turn around and look at Sarah through the window. She’s sitting with her legs beneath her, Bernie Kosar’s head still in her lap.

“Have you ever thought of just settling here, of saying to hell with Lorien and making a life here on Earth?” I ask Henri.

“We left when you were pretty young. I don’t imagine you remember much of it, do you?”

“Not really,” I say. “Bits and pieces come to me from time to time. Though I can’t necessarily say whether they are things I remember or things I’ve seen during our training.”

“I don’t think you would feel that way if you could remember.”

“But I don’t remember. Isn’t that the point?”

“Maybe,” he says. “But whether or not you want to go back doesn’t mean the Mogadorians are going to stop searching for you. And if we get careless and settle, you can be assured they’ll find us. And as soon as they do, they’ll kill us both. There’s no way to change that. No way.”

I knows he’s right. Somehow, like Henri, I can sense that much, can feel it in the dead of night when the hairs on my arms stand at attention, when a slight shiver crawls up my spine even though I’m not cold.

“Do you ever regret sticking with me for this long?”

“Regret it? Why do you think I would regret it?”

“Because there’s nothing for us to go back to. Your family is dead. So is mine. On Lorien there is only a life of rebuilding. If it wasn’t for me you could easily create an identity here and spend the rest of your days becoming a part of someplace. You could have friends, maybe even fall in love again.”

Henri laughs. “I’m already in love. And I’ll continue to be until the day that I die. I don’t expect you to understand that. Lorien is different from Earth.”

I sigh with exasperation. “But still, you could be a part of somewhere.”

“I am a part of somewhere. I’m a part of Paradise, Ohio, right now, with you.”

I shake my head. “You know what I mean, Henri.”

“What is it that you think I’m missing?”

“A life.”

“You are my life, kiddo. You and my memories are my only ties to the past. Without you I have nothing. That’s the truth.”

Just then the door opens behind us. Bernie Kosar comes trotting out ahead of Sarah, who is standing in the doorway half in and half out.

“Are you two really going to make me watch this movie all by my lonesome?” she asks.

Henri smiles at her. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says.



After the movie Henri and I drive Sarah home. When we get there I walk her to her front door and we stand on the stoop smiling at each other. I kiss her good night, a lingering kiss while holding both her hands gently in mine.

“See you tomorrow,” she says, giving my hands a squeeze.

“Sweet dreams.”

I walk back to the truck. Henri pulls out of Sarah’s driveway and steers towards home. I can’t help feeling a sense of fear while remembering Henri’s words the day he picked me up from my first full day of school: “Just keep in mind we might have to leave at a moment’s notice.” He’s right, and I know it, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Like I’m floating on air when we’re together, and I dread the times when we’re apart, like now, despite having just spent the last couple of hours with her. Sarah gives some purpose to our running, and hiding, a reason that transcends mere survival. A reason to win. And to know that I may be putting her life in danger by being with her—well, it terrifies me.

When we get back, Henri walks into his bedroom and comes out carrying the Chest. He drops it on the kitchen table.

“Really?” I ask.

He nods. “There’s something in here I’ve wanted to show you for years.”

I can’t wait to see what else is in the chest. We pop the lock together and he lifts the lid in such a way that I can’t peer in. Henri removes a velvet bag, closes the Chest, and relocks it.

“These aren’t part of your Legacy, but the last time we opened the Chest I slipped them in because of the bad feeling I’ve been having. If the Mogadorians catch us, they’ll never be able to open this,” he says, and motions to the Chest.

“So what’s in the bag?”

“The solar system,” he says.

“If they aren’t part of my Legacy then why have you never shown me?”

“Because you needed to develop a Legacy in order to activate them.”

He clears the kitchen table and then sits across from me with the bag in his lap. He smiles at me, sensing my enthusiasm. Then he reaches down and removes seven glass orbs of varying sizes from the bag. He holds them up to his face in his cupped hands and blows on the glass orbs. Tiny flickers of light come from within them, then he tosses them up in the air and all at once they come to life, suspended above the kitchen table. The glass balls are a replica of our solar system. The largest of them is the size of an orange—Lorien’s sun—and it hangs in the middle emitting the same amount of light as a lightbulb while looking like a self-contained sphere of lava. The other balls orbit around it. Those closest to the sun move at a faster rate, while those farthest away seem to only creep by. All of them spinning, days beginning and ending at hyperspeed. The fourth globe from the sun is Lorien. We watch it move, watch the surface of it begin to form. It is about the size of a racquetball. The replica must not be to scale because in reality Lorien is far smaller than our sun.

“So what’s happening?” I ask.

“The ball is taking on the exact form of what Lorien looks like at this moment.”

“How is this even possible?”

“It’s a special place, John. An old magic exists at its very core. That’s where your Legacies come from. It’s what gives life and reality to the objects contained within your Inheritance.”

“But you just said that this isn’t part of my Legacy.”

“No, but they come from the same place.”

Indentations form, mountains grow, deep creases cut across the surface where I know rivers once ran. And then it stops. I look for any sort of color, any movement, any wind that might blow across the land. But there is nothing. The entire landscape is a monochromatic patch of gray and black. I don’t know what I had hoped to see, what I had expected. Movement of some kind, a hint of fertileness. My spirits fall. Then the surface dims away so that we can see through it and at the very core of the globe a slight glow begins to form. It glows, then dims, then glows again as though replicating the heartbeat of a sleeping animal.

“What is that?” I ask.

“The planet still lives and breathes. It has withdrawn deep into itself, biding its time. Hibernating, if you will. But it will wake one of these days.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“That little glow right there,” he says. “That is hope, John.”

I watch it. I find an odd pleasure in seeing it glow. They tried to wipe away our civilization, the planet itself, and yet it still breathes. Yes, I think, there is always hope, just as Henri has said all along.

“That isn’t all.”

Henri stands and snaps his fingers and the planets stop moving. He moves his face to within inches of Lorien, then cups his hands around his mouth and again breathes onto it. Hints of green and blue sweep across the ball and begin to fade almost immediately as the mist from Henri’s breath evaporates.

“What did you do?”

“Flash your hands on it,” he says.

I make them glow and when I hold them over the ball the green and blue come back, only this time they stay as my hands shine upon it.

“It’s how Lorien looked the day before the invasion. Would you look how beautiful it all is? Sometimes even I forget.”

It is beautiful. Everything green and blue, plush and verdant. The vegetation seems to waver beneath gusts of wind that I can somehow feel. Slight ripples appear on the water. The planet is trulyalive, flourishing. But then I turn my glow back off and it all fades away, back to shades of gray.

Henri points at a spot on the globe’s surface.

“Right here,” he says, “is where we took off from on the day of the invasion.” Then he moves his finger half an inch from the spot. “And right here is where the Loric Museum of Exploration used to be.”

I nod and look at the spot he is pointing to. More gray.

“What do museums have to do with anything?” I ask. I sit back in the chair. It’s hard to look at this without feeling sad.

He looks back at me. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you saw.”

“Uh-huh,” I say, urging him on.

“It was a huge museum, devoted entirely to the evolution of space travel. One of the wings of the building held early rockets that were thousands of years old. Rockets that used to run on a kind of fuel known only to Lorien,” he says, and stops, looking back to the small glass orb hanging two feet above our kitchen table. “Now, if what you saw did in fact happen, if a second ship managed to take off and escape from Lorien during the height of the war, then it would have to have been housed at the space museum. There’s no other explanation for it. I’m still having a tough time believing that it would have worked, and even if it did, that it would have gotten very far.”

“So if it wouldn’t have gotten very far, then why are you still thinking about it?”

Henri shakes his head. “You know, I’m not really sure. Maybe because I’ve been wrong before. Maybe because I’m hoping I am wrong now. And, well, if it had made it anywhere, then it would have made it here, the closest life-sustaining planet aside from Mogadore. And that’s to assume that there was life on it in the first place, that it wasn’t just full of artifacts, or that it wasn’t just empty, meant to confuse the Mogadorians. But I think there had to have been at least one Loric manning the ship because, well, as I’m sure you know, ships of that nature couldn’t steer themselves.”



Another night of insomnia. I stand shirtless in front of the mirror, staring into it with both lights in my hands turned on. “I don’t know how much we can expect from here on out,” Henri said today. The light at Lorien’s core still burns, and the objects we brought from there still work, so why would that magic have ended there? And what about the others: are they now running into the same problems? Are they without their Legacies?

I flex in front of the mirror, then punch the air, hoping that the mirror will break, or a thud will be heard on the door. But there is nothing. Just me looking like an idiot standing shirtless, shadowboxing with myself while Bernie Kosar watches from the bed. It’s nearly midnight and I’m not tired in the least. Bernie Kosar jumps off the bed, sits beside me, and watches my reflection. I smile at him and he wags his tail.

“How about you?” I ask Bernie Kosar. “Do you have any special powers? Are you a superdog? Should I put your cape back on so you can go flying through the air?”

His tail keeps wagging and he paws the ground while looking at me through the tops of his eyes. I lift him up and over my head and fly him around the room.

“Look! It’s Bernie Kosar, the magnificent superdog!”

He squirms under my grip, so I set him down. He plops on his side with his tail thumping against the mattress.

“Well, buddy, one of us should have superpowers. And it doesn’t look like it’s going to be me. Unless we go back to the Dark Ages and I can supply the world with light. Otherwise, I’m afraid I’m useless.”

Bernie Kosar rolls onto his back and stares at me with big eyes, wanting me to rub his belly.