I Am Number Four

I bathe Bernie Kosar after di

"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 ru

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.