Lorien Legacies: The Lost Files (82 page)
Read Lorien Legacies: The Lost Files Online
Authors: Pittacus Lore
Tags: #Adventure, #Science Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Juvenile Fiction, #Survival Stories, #Action & Adventure, #Young Adult, #Fantasy, #Love & Romance, #Social Issues, #Adolescence, #Suspense, #Azizex666, #Fiction, #General, #Romance
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East – 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77–85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022
I HAVE TO KEEP REMINDING MYSELF WHO I AM
the first week at the new school. Not, like, I lost my memory or something. I
know
who I am in a literal sense. But I have to keep forcing myself to remember what being me means. So all week I keep a single thought repeating through my head:
You are Mark James
.
It’s what I think on Monday when some douche bag trips me while I try to find an empty seat among a precalc classroom full of strangers.
You are Mark James, the guy everyone at your old school looked up to. These idiots will learn
.
And Wednesday when someone loots my locker during weight training and forces me to walk around in sweaty gym clothes for the last two periods.
You are Mark James, all-conference quarterback. They’re just jealous
.
And at lunch on Thursday when I sit on the tailgate of my truck and someone in a loud old Camaro zips past, hurling an oversize Styrofoam cup of orange soda at me while yelling what I think is “ass pirate.”
You are Mark James, and you are the best fucking athlete the Paradise High Pirates ever saw
.
If someone had asked me a year ago what my future held, I’d probably have said something like “Mark James, Ohio State star quarterback.” Maybe if I’d had a beer or two I’d go so far as to say, “Mark James, first-round NFL draft pick.”
What I wouldn’t have said—what I couldn’t have even imagined thinking—was anything remotely close to “Mark James, survivor of an alien attack.”
For my entire life, the future seemed set for me. As soon as I threw my first pass, I knew what I wanted to do. Paradise High QB, college football star, NFL hopeful. But now the future is this stupid, dark thing I can’t predict, and I feel like my whole life has been heading towards something that doesn’t even matter. Might not even exist if we end up conquered by a bunch of superpowered aliens. I mean, my all-conference trophy was used to
murder
an alien. A Mogadorian. A bunch of pale, janky-looking assholes from another planet came to Earth hunting for a very human-looking alien named John Smith—
ha
—and his invisible friend. Then they destroyed my school. My kingdom. Almost killing me
in the process.
Some people did die. I guess I should count myself lucky, but I don’t
feel
lucky. I feel like someone who’s just found out that vampires exist or that reality is actually an elaborate video game. Everyone else keeps going on as usual, but the world has changed for me.
There are only a few people who know what really happened at Paradise High. Everyone thinks the school’s in shambles because weirdo-drifter/new student John Smith went crazy and jumped through the principal’s window one day, then came back that night and caused massive amounts of damage that took out half the building. Then he fled town. Word is that he’s some kind of teenage terrorist or member of a sleeper cell or a psychopath—it depends on who is telling the story.
But one exploding school can’t stand in the way of education, so now everyone from Paradise is being shipped to the next town over where there’s an actual building for us to go to. It just so happens that the next school over is Helena High, our biggest rival, who I beat in the best football game of my life, capping off an undefeated season by completely annihilating their defense. So, yeah, I guess I can see why I’m not the most loved guy in school. I just never thought I’d spend my last semester of high school washing orange soda out of my hair. Maybe if I was still the same old Mark
James I’d think it was kind of fun even. I’d be dreaming up ways to get back at the other students, ways for me and my football buddies to prank them and get the last laugh. But filling someone’s locker full of manure isn’t as high on my list of priorities now that I know beings from another world are walking among us and that a complete alien invasion is possible at any time. I
wish
manure were still higher on my to-do list.
A bunch of my teammates have told me I’ve gotten quiet and seem different since it happened, but I can’t help it. It’s kind of pointless to talk about cars and partying when I was literally almost squashed by some kind of extraterrestrial monster. How am I supposed to go back to being fun-loving, beer-chugging Mark James after all that? Now I’m “Paranoid That Aliens Are Going to Hunt Me Down” Mark James.
I can deal with the new school. Hell, I probably deserve it for the shit I put people like John through back in Paradise. It’s only a semester, and then I’ll have graduated. Maybe they’ll even be able to fix up the school auditorium in time for me to walk the stage in Paradise. What sucks is that I can’t tell everyone what’s going on. They’d throw me in a mental institution. Or worse, those bad aliens—the Mogs—would be after me to try and shut me up.
At least I have Sarah to talk to. She was there. She fought with me, almost died beside me. As long I have
Sarah, I don’t feel like I’m going to go crazy.
THERE ARE BIG SCHOOL BUSES SHUTTLING KIDS
back and forth between Helena and Paradise, but I was able to talk the principal into letting me drive myself. I told him I wanted to stay late and work out—that I didn’t want what happened in Paradise to keep me from being an unstoppable college football machine. He said that was fine: I’m guessing partly because he hopes anything I do in the future will make Paradise High look good, and partly because everyone in town still feels kind of bad for me because I threw a party and some kids accidentally burned down my house.
I don’t
think
that had anything to do with aliens. At least, I’ve made sure to tell everyone who insinuates that John blew up my house that it was really a couple of stoners down in the basement who were lighting stuff on fire for fun. That usually shuts people up—especially adults who like to pretend that stuff like
that never happens in good old Paradise. Besides, John saved Sarah and both of my dogs. There’s a YouTube video to prove it. No one should be giving him shit for that night. He gets a free pass on that one.
I meet Sarah in the parking lot after the last bell on the Friday of our first week in Helena. She waits for me at my truck. It’s kind of gray outside, and she’s got on a plaid sweater that makes her eyes look like they’re practically glowing blue. She looks gorgeous.
She always does.
Sarah Hart was—
is
—the love of my life. Even after she dropped cheerleading and came back to school as some kind of emo hipster who suddenly didn’t want to be dating the star QB. Even after she dumped me and started sorta dating an alien.
I smile at her as I approach, all teeth. It’s a reflex. I can’t help it. She smiles too but not as wide as I’d like.
Even with the “You are Mark James” mantra in my head all day, sometimes I don’t feel like me at all. Instead of being the cool, put-together guy I’ve always been, I start worrying about intergalactic war and if Mogs are watching me have breakfast. But even when I start to wonder if I should be building a bomb shelter out in the middle of the woods or something, part of me wants to stay planted in the world I knew before there was definite proof of aliens on Earth, where I’m just a dude who’s trying to win back his ex-girlfriend.
If this whole ordeal has had any bright side, it’s that I see a lot more of Sarah than I did before. I like to think that me saving John’s life impressed her, maybe even showed her that there’s more to me than she thought. Someday when this is all said and done, Sarah is going to come to her senses and realize that even if John is a good alien, he’s still freaking E.T. And I’ll be waiting, even if it means fighting off space invaders to keep her safe and show her I’m better than he is.
The waiting totally blows.
“You’re begging to get jumped, aren’t you?” she says as I get closer.
At first I’m confused, but then I realize she’s nodding at my chest, where my name is embroidered in gold over the heart on my Paradise High varsity letter jacket.
“What, this?” I ask, flexing a little and puffing out my chest. “I’m just repping our school. Trying to bring a little bit of Paradise to hell. That way we all feel like we’re at home.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You’re provoking them.”
“They’re the least of my problems these days.”
“Whatever,” she says. “Your truck still smells like orange soda.”
Once we’re in my truck, Sarah leans her head against the passenger window and exhales a long breath, as if
she’s been holding it in all day. She looks tired. Beautiful but tired.
“I got a new name in bio today,” she says, her eyes closed.
“Oh yeah?”
“‘Sarah Bleeding Heart.’ I was trying to explain that John wasn’t a terrorist who was going to try to blow up the White House. Like, literally, someone said that they heard he was going to blow up the White House.”
“Now who’s the one asking for it?”
She opens her eyes just enough to glare at me.
“I feel like all I do now is defend him, but everyone else refuses to listen. And every time I try to say something about how they don’t know the whole story, I lose a friend. Did you know that Emily thinks he kidnapped Sam? And I can’t even tell her that it’s not true. All I can say is that John wouldn’t do that, and then she looks at me like I’m part of some big plot to destroy America or something. Or worse, some lovesick loser who’s in denial.”
“Well, you’ve still got me,” I say reassuringly. “And I try to defend John whenever I can. Though I don’t think I’ve been very good at it. All the guys on the team think he was able to kick our asses after the hayride because he was trained as a special agent from Russia or something.”
“Thanks, Mark,” Sarah says. “I know I can count on
you. It’s just . . .”
She opens her eyes and looks out the window as we speed past a few empty fields, never finishing her sentence.
“Just what?” I ask, even though I know what’s coming. I can feel the blood in my veins start to pump a little faster.
“Nothing.”
“
What
, Sarah?” I ask.
“I just wish John was here.” She gives me a sad smile. “To defend himself.”
Of course, what she really means is that she wishes John was here because she misses him. That it’s killing her not to know where he is or what he’s doing. For a moment, I feel like my old self again as my hands tighten around the steering wheel. I want to find John Smith and punch him square in the jaw, then keep hitting him until my knuckles bleed. I want to go straight into a rant about how if he really loved her, he wouldn’t have left her here to get picked on and laughed at. He would have manned up. Even if he did leave to find other aliens like him to save our planet. If I were in his shoes, I’d have figured out a way to keep Sarah
and
the world safe. And happy.
I can’t believe these are the types of conversations I have with myself on a daily basis now.
Being super pissed at John just makes me sound like
the Mark that Sarah broke up with. So instead of talking shit about him, I swallow my anger and change the subject.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s happened lately. How the FBI and stuff have been handling it. My dad says that it’s kind of weird how they’re keeping the local law enforcement in the dark. I mean, he’s the sheriff and they aren’t telling him anything about what’s going on.”
“Yeah, but isn’t that so they can keep a lid on the investigation?” Sarah asks. “That’s the FBI’s
job
, right?”
“My dad doesn’t think so. He should at least be kept in the loop, even if he can’t tell the rest of his officers about what’s happening. Plus, I know they found some bodies at the school and there was a lot of damage, but John got moved straight to the FBI’s most-wanted list. That seems a little extreme, right? Especially considering there’s no
actual
evidence that John was the one behind all this.”
“So, what? Do you think this is some kind of government conspiracy?” She sits up straighter in the passenger seat, leaning towards me.
“I just think maybe they know more about what’s going on with John’s people than they let on. I’m
guessing
some of the people in black suits are smart enough to realize that it wasn’t just some angry teenager who dug gigantic claw marks in the football field.”
“Jesus, Mark, you’re starting to sound like Sam,” she says. Then she shrugs a little. “But I guess he was right about some of that stuff we all thought was crazy. That would make sense. I mean, if stuff like this is happening across the country,
someone
is keeping track of it all, right? The FBI swooped in here really fast. Maybe they’re working with John’s . . . species?”
I can’t believe Sarah has fallen for someone who could be classified as another species.
“Or else they’re working with the monsters with all the glowing swords,” I say. “Which would mean we’ve just allowed the opposing team to set up shop in town.”
Sarah lets her head fall against the window again.
“Where are you, John?” she whispers, her breath fogging up the glass in front of her. “Where are you?”
We’re quiet for the rest of the drive home.
All I can think of is the promise I made to John when everything was going down at the school—that I would keep Sarah safe. Of course I’ll do that. I’d be doing it even if he hadn’t asked me to. But it makes my insides twist up to know that he’s the one she’s thinking of while
I’m
the one who’s actually looking out for her.
