I Am Number Four (12 page)

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.

THE FIRST SNOWFALL COMES TWO 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
able
to 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
.