Home > I Am Number Four (Lorien Legacies #1)(15)

I Am Number Four (Lorien Legacies #1)(15)
Author: Pittacus Lore

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.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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 bit.”

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 bet,” 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.

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