I Am Number Four (Lorien Legacies)

By Pittacus Lore

Nine folks got here here.

We appear like you.

We speak like you.

We dwell between you—but

We should not you.

We have powers you dream of getting.

We are the superheroes you worship in video clips and comedian books—

But we're real.

They stuck #1 in Malaysia. quantity in England. And quantity 3 in Kenya.

They killed them all.

I am quantity 4. i'm next.

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Harris is smiling, proud, chuffed. yet it’s no longer him that I see. It’s what’s in the back of him, visible in the course of the home windows of his place of work. A blur of purple coming round the nook, relocating quicker than what's common, than what's secure. The squeal of tires because it zips into the lot. The pickup truck throwing gravel because it makes a moment flip. Henri leaning over the wheel like a few crazed maniac. He hits the brakes so forcefully that his entire physique jerks and the truck comes screeching to a cease. I shut my eyes. I position my head in my arms. in the course of the window I pay attention the truck door open. I pay attention it shut. Henri could be during this place of work in the minute. bankruptcy TWENTY-EIGHT “ARE YOU ok, MR. SMITH? ” THE central asks. i glance up at him. He makes an attempt his most sensible glance of outrage, a glance that lasts just a moment ahead of the toothy grin returns to his face. “No, Mr. Harris,” I say. “I’m no longer ok. ” I choose the sheet up off the ground. I learn it back. the place did it come from? Are they simply screwing with us now? there isn't any mobilephone quantity or handle, no identify. not anything yet 4 phrases and a query mark. i glance up and out the window. Henri’s truck is parked, fumes emerging from the exhaust. out and in as fast as he can. i glance again on the video display. the thing used to be published at 11:59 a. m. , nearly hours in the past. I’m surprised it took Henri this lengthy to reach. a feeling of vertigo seeps in. i believe myself sway. “Do you wish the nurse? ” Mr. Harris asks. The nurse, i believe. No, I don’t want the nurse. The nurse’s station is the room beside the house economics kitchen. What i would like, Mr. Harris, is to return there, fifteen mins in the past, earlier than the corridor video display arrived. Sarah should have the pudding at the range via now. i'm wondering if it’s boiling but. Is she having a look in the direction of the door, expecting me to come back? The faint echo of the varsity doorways slamming close reaches the principal’s workplace. Fifteen seconds until eventually Henri is the following. Then to his truck. Then domestic. Then the place? To Maine? Missouri? Canada? a special university, a brand new starting, one other new identify. I haven’t slept in virtually thirty hours and basically now do i think the exhaustion. yet then whatever else enters with it, and in that cut up moment among intuition and motion, the truth that I’m going away perpetually with no the opportunity to assert goodbye is all at once an excessive amount of to undergo. My eyes slender, my face twists in suffering, and—without pondering, with no actually figuring out what it really is that I’m doing—I lunge over Mr. Harris’s table and crash during the plate-glass window, which shatters right into a million little items in the back of me. A scream of concern follows. My ft land within the outdoor grass. I flip correct and run around the schoolyard, the school rooms passing in a blur to my correct, around the lot and into the woods that lie past the baseball box. There are cuts on my brow and left elbow from the glass. My lungs are burning. The hell with the ache. I preserve going, the sheet of paper nonetheless in my correct hand. I shove it into my pocket. Why could the Mogadorians ship a fax? Wouldn’t they simply appear? that's their major virtue, to reach unexpectedly, by surprise.

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