I Am Number Four

“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.



CHAPTER TEN



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.”