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Chapter Two-

Sarah brings me to the principal's office before telling me that she'll see me later, letting go of my hand she walks away waving.

The principal's name is Mr. Harris. He's fat and mostly bald, except for a few long hairs at the back and sides of his head. His belly reaches over his belt. His eyes are small and beady, set too close together. He grins at me from across the desk, and his smile seems to swallow his eyes.

"So you're a sophomore from Santa Fe?" he asks.

I nod, say yes even though we've never been to Santa Fe, or New Mexico, for that matter. A simple lie to keep from being traced.

"That explains the tan. What brings you to Ohio?"

"My dad's job."

Henri isn't my father, but I always say he is to allay suspicion. In truth, he is my Cêpan, or what would be better understood on Earth as my guardian. On Lorien, there were two types of citizens, those who develop Legacies, or powers, which can be extremely varied, anything from invisibility to the ability to read minds, from being able to fly to using natural forces like fire, wind, or lightning. Those with the Legacies are called the Garde, and those without are called Cêpan. I am a member of the Garde. Henri is a Cêpan. Every Garde is assigned a Cêpan at an early age. Cêpans help us understand our planet's history and develop our powers. The Cêpan and the Garde—one group to run the planet, the other group to defend it. Mr. Harris nods.

"And what does he do?"

"He's a writer. He wanted to live in a small, quiet town to finish what he's working on," I say, which is our standard cover story.

Mr. Harris nods and squints his eyes.

"You look like a strong young man. Are you planning on playing sports here?"

"I wish I could. I have asthma, sir," I say, my usual excuse to avoid any situation that might betray my strength and speed.

"I'm sorry to hear that. We're always looking for able athletes for the football team," he says, and casts his eyes to the shelf on the wall, on top of which a football trophy sits engraved with last year's date.

"We won the Pioneer Conference," he says and beams with pride.

He reaches over and pulls two sheets of paper from a file cabinet beside his desk and hands them to me. The first is my student schedule with a few open slots. The second is a list of the available electives. I choose classes and fill them in, then hand everything back. He gives me a sort of orientation, talking for what seems like hours, going over every page of the student manual with painstaking detail. One bell rings, telling kids to go to class then another informing us that class has started. When he finally finishes he asks if I have any questions. I say no.

"Excellent. There is a couple of minutes left of the first period, and you've chosen astronomy with Mrs. Burton. She's a great teacher, and her class is next on your schedule. She won an award from the state once, signed by the governor himself."

"That's great," I say.

After Mr. Harris struggles to free himself from his chair, we leave his office and walk down the hall. The bell rings and kids start pouring into the hallway, being sure to be on their best behavior with the principal walking by. His shoes click upon the newly waxed floor. The air smells of fresh paint and cleaner. Lockers line the walls. Many are covered with banners supporting the football team. There can't be more than twenty classrooms in the whole building. I count them as we pass. It seems he sees someone in the hallway as he calls out to them a second later

"Miss Hart, would you please show Mr. Smith here to his next class? He shares astronomy with you," Mr. Harris says.

"Sure I don't mind," Sarah responds as she walks over

Mr. Harris extends his hand. I shake it.

"We're happy to have you. I like to think of us as a close-knit family. I'm glad to welcome you to it."

"Thank you," I say.

Mr. Harris walks away back towards his office after Sarah comes over.

"Well come on let's get to class," She says as she grabs my arm pulling me to our class.

I notice a taller boy walking towards us as we begin to turn six one maybe, about my height. His hair is black, full of hair gel, carefully styled so it goes in all directions. He has meticulously trimmed sideburns, stubble on his face. Bushy eyebrows over a set of dark eyes. From his letterman jacket, I see that he is a senior, and his name is written in gold cursive stitching. It reads MARK JAMES.

We turn into room seventeen I can see kitchen tables scattered across the room with three chairs for each table. We go towards the back before sitting down me towards the wall and her sitting in the middle seat. Another girl joins us a second later, and after the rest of the students come in the teacher comes in who then proceeds to close the door behind her just as the bell rings. She looks about sixty, wearing a pink wool sweater and red plastic glasses attached to a chain around her neck. She smiles widely, her hair graying and curly.

"Goodmorning class, it appears we have a new student with us today," She says while still smiling. "Would you please stand and introduce yourself?"

I stand up with everyone in the room looking over at me, I try and give my best smile.

"And what is your name?" she asks.

I take a deep breath and say, "John Smith."

"Great! And where are you from?"

"Fl—," I begin, but then catch myself again before the word fully forms. "Santa Fe."

"Class, let's give him a warm welcome."

I get a couple of claps and a smile from Sarah who is still next to me, but I get one scowl from that guy in the hallway earlier. Mark James I do believe going off of his jacket at least. I could literally break him in half if I wanted to. I could throw him into the next county. If he tried to run away and got into a car, I could outrun his car and put it at the top of a tree. Henri's words echo in my mind: "Don't stand out or draw too much attention."

I know that will be a futile effort here, I can tell that he doesn't like me and that he is going to try and do something.

Mrs. Burton stands at the head of the class. She describes why there are rings around Saturn, and how they're made mostly of ice particles and dust. After a while, I tune her out and look at the other students. A whole new group of people that I'll yet again try to keep at a distance. It's always a fine line, having just enough interaction with them to remain mysterious without becoming strange and thus sticking out. I've already done a horrible job of that today.

I take a deep breath and slowly exhale. My hands feel warmer than usual, a little bit of adrenaline and nervousness from my first time going to school, and being so close to a pretty girl is making me a little warm under the collar.

I open and close my hands. My palms are sweaty and beginning to burn. Another deep breath. My vision is blurring. Five minutes pass, then ten. Mrs. Burton is still talking but I don't hear what she is saying. I squeeze my fists shut, then reopen them. When I do my breath catches in my throat. A slight glow is coming from my right palm. I look down at it, dumbfounded, amazed. After a few seconds, the glow begins to brighten. I close my fists. I try and meditate to calm my nerves and to try and rest some control. My initial fear is that something else has happened to one of the others. But what could happen? We can't be killed out of order. That is the way the charm works. But does that mean that some other harm can't befall them? Has somebody's right hand been cut off? I have no way of knowing. But if something had happened, I would have felt it in the scars on my ankles. And only then does it dawn on me. My first Legacy must be forming.

I pull my phone out of my bag and send Henri a text that says Come. I'm too dizzy to send anything else. I close my fists and place them in my lap. They're burning and shaking. I manage to calm a bit and the heat starts to dissipate. My left palm is bright red, my right is faintly glowing. I glance at the clock on the wall and see that class is almost over. I start counting the seconds: sixty, fifty-nine, fifty-eight. I focus on counting. Forty, thirty-nine. They're tingling now, as though little needles are being stuck into my palms. Twenty-eight, twenty-seven. I open my eyes and turn to glance at Sarah with the hope that looking at her will distract me. Fifteen, fourteen. Seeing her makes it worse. The needles feel like nails now. Nails that have been put in a furnace and heated until they're glowing. I close my eyes and try and rest my head on the table hoping that it will help cool me off. Sarah notices my off behavior while doing so she leans towards me.

Whispering to me she says, "Are you okay?"

Hearing her voice sends a jolt up my spine but I've managed to get control of the nausea.

"I think I might actually have a fever, I'm not feeling all that well," I'm able to just get out while still resting my head.

The ringing of the bell startles me, prompting me to raise my head, Sarah is looking at me with worry

"Do you want me to help you to the nurse's office?" She offers as she grabs my arm.

I'm in enough control that her grabbing me just feels like ice on my skin instead of making it ablaze.

"I texted my dad he is on his way, I am just going to go outside and wait for him."

Getting up and grabbing my things I stuff my hands into my pockets hoping the glow has stopped. Walking out into the hallway with Sarah still helping me along we head towards the front doors when I hear a voice behind us.

"Where are you two going?"

Glancing back behind us is Mark and a couple of his jock friends, arms folded and glaring us down.

"He's not feeling well Mark I'm helping him outside so his dad can get him easier," Sarah says for me with a frown on her face.

I can tell that she isn't happy with this guy and doesn't want to talk with him right now. I feel someone separating us and pushing me away, I stagger but have managed to regain some control and stay standing. Sarah steps in front of Mark.

"Leave him alone," she says.

"This has nothing to do with you," he says.

"Right. You see a new kid talking to me and you try immediately to start a fight with him. This is just one example of why we aren't together anymore."

She grabs my arm again and we start to walk away again behind us I can hear a couple of people talking. The school's exit is a hundred feet away. That is a lot of steps. People are whispering.

"Does he even go to school here?"

"I hope so, he's cute."

"Come on Mark we'll get him later," that final one comes from one of the guys near Mark I can't tell which one.

We managed to get out the door and I see Henri's truck come flying into the parking lot peeling gravel everywhere, he is obviously afraid something bad has happened to me. Stopping a few feet away from us waiting for him at the curb, Sarah opens the passenger door and helps me in collapsing into the seat.

"Thank you for helping me out Sarah," I croak out to her.

"It's no problem, look I'm sorry about Mark and I hope you feel better soon," She says as she walks away.

"Did you check yourself out, John?" Henri asks.

"No."

"Stay put I'm going to run in real quick and tell them I'm taking you home," he says as he quickly gets out and jogs inside.

While he is inside I look at myself in the mirror, I'm a bit redder then I thought. Finally, though the first legacy that I can use in combat has formed, I'm sure that Henri will show me how to use it to its fullest soon enough. Coming back outside he is smiling proudly and hops inside.

"Been a shit long wait," he says.

"Huh?" I ask.

He looks over. "A shit long wait," he says again. "For your Legacies."

I laugh. Of all the things Henri has learned to master while on Earth, profanity is not one of them.

"A damn long wait," I correct him.

"Yeah, that's what I said."

He turns down our road.

"So, what next? Does this mean I'll be able to shoot lasers from my hands or what?"

He grins. "It's nice to think so, but no."

"Well, what am I going to do with light? When I'm getting chased am I going to turn and flash it in their eyes? Like that's supposed to make them cower from me or something?"

"Patience," he says. "You aren't supposed to understand it yet. Let's just get home."

I can tell that he has been working. The three chairs from the front porch have been cleared away and all the windows are open. Inside, the sheets over the furniture have been removed, some of the surfaces wiped clean.

He stares at me when we finally get inside to the dining room table.

"What happened?" he asks in that voice I recognize.

The voice that suggests I start giving him some info before we have to plan something else and maybe even move depending on what happened. I start to explain meeting up with Sarah and then eventually getting to class, followed by the emergence of the lights in my palms. Ending with what happened with Mark in the hallway. Henri doesn't look pleased with that last part.

"Will this be an issue?" He asks knowing that I can take care of myself.

"I think that going under the radar isn't going to happen, but no one noticed my hands and I got control of them pretty quickly," I take a breath before continuing.

"I haven't had a chance to find Sam Goode just yet but I think I can get this guy off my back and still get the results we need."

"Very well, we still have a lot to talk about."

"I've never seen you this tired before. Sleep a few hours. We'll talk after."

He nods. "A nap would probably do me some good."

Henri goes into his bedroom and closes the door. I walk outside, pace around the yard for a bit. The sun is behind the trees with a cool wind blowing.

I reach down and feel the three scars on my right ankle, remembering what I am doing all of this for. Three circles that represent the three dead. We are bound to each other by more than mere race. As I feel the scars I try to imagine who they were, whether they were boys or girls, where they were living, how old they were when they died. I try to remember the other kids on the ship with me and give each of them numbers. I think about what it would be like to meet them, hang out with them. What it might have been like if we were still on Lorien. What it might be like if the fate of our entire race wasn't dependent on the survival of so few of us. What it might be like if we weren't all facing death at the hands of our enemies.

It's terrifying to know that I'm next. But we've stayed ahead of them by moving, and running when we needed to. Even though I'm sick of the running I know it's the only reason we're still alive. If we stop, they will find us and while I am ready for a fight, Henri has made sure I know that we don't know what they will through our way and that we don't want to get stuck anywhere. And now that I'm next in line, they have undoubtedly stepped up the search. Surely they must know we are growing stronger, coming into our Legacies.

And then there is the other ankle and the scar to be found there, formed when the Loric charm was last in those precious moments before leaving Lorien. It's the brand that binds us all together.

I walk into my room and lie down on the mattress, I don't have any sheets or blankets down yet. The morning has worn me out and I let my eyes close. When I reopen them the sun is lifted over the tops of the trees. I walk out of the room. Henri is at the kitchen table with his laptop open and I know he's been scanning the news, as he always does, searching for information or stories that might tell us where the others are.

"Did you sleep?" I ask.

"Not much. We have internet now and I haven't checked the news since Florida. It was gnawing at me."

"Anything to report?" I ask.

He shrugs. "A fourteen-year-old in Africa fell from a fourth-story window and walked away without a scratch. There is a fifteen-year-old in Bangladesh claiming to be the Messiah."

I laugh. "I know the fifteen-year-old isn't us. Any chance of the other?"

"Nah. Surviving a four-story drop is no great feat, and besides, if it was one of us they wouldn't have been that careless in the first place," he says, and winks.

I smile and sit across from him. He closes his computer and places his hands on the table. His watch reads 11:36. We've been in Ohio for slightly over half a day and already this much has happened. I hold my palms up. They've completely shut off and are cool

"Do you know what you have?" he asks.

"Lights in my hands."

He chuckles. "It's called Lumen. You'll be able to control the light in time."

"I still don't see what the point is, though."

"There's more to Lumen than mere lights. I promise you."

"What's the rest?"

He walks into his bedroom and returns with a lighter in his hand.

"Do you remember much of your grandparents?" he asks.

Our grandparents are the ones who raise us. We see little of our parents until we reach the age of twenty-five when we have children of our own. The life expectancy for the Loric is around two hundred years, much longer than that of humans, and when children are born, between the parents' ages of twenty-five and thirty-five, the elders are the ones who raise them while the parents continue honing their Legacies.

"A little. Why?"

"Because your grandfather had the same gift."

"I don't remember his hands ever glowing," I say.

Henri shrugs. "He might never have had reason to use it."

"Wonderful," I say. "Sounds like a great gift to have, one I'll never use."

He shakes his head. "Give me your hand."

I give him the right one and he flicks the lighter on, then moves it to touch the tip of my finger with the flame.

"What are you doing?"

"Trust me," he says.

I give my hand to him. He takes hold of it and flicks the lighter on again. He looks into my eyes. Then he smiles. I look down and see that he is holding the flame over the tip of my middle finger. I don't feel a thing.

"Did you feel that?" he asks.

"No."

"Tell me when you do feel something."

He starts at my fingertip again, then moves the flame very slowly up the back of my hand. There is a slight tickle where the flame touches the skin, nothing more. Only when the fire reaches a little past my wrist do I begin to sense the burn. I pull my arm free.

"Ouch."

"Lumen," he says. "You're going to become resistant to fire and heat. Your hands come naturally, but we'll have to train the rest of your body."

A smile spreads across my face. "Resistant to fire and heat," I say. "So I'll never be burned again?"

"Eventually, yes."

"That's awesome!"

"Not such a bad Legacy after all, huh?"

"Not bad at all," I agree. "Now what about these lights? How do I control them?"

"You'll have to be careful not to get worked up for a while. An emotional imbalance will cause them to come right back on again if you get overly nervous, or angry, or sad. Otherwise, I'm not too sure just yet"

"For how long?"

"Until you learn to control them." He closes his eyes and rubs his face with his hands.

"Anyway, I'm going to try to sleep again. We'll talk about your training in a few hours."

After he leaves I stay at the kitchen table, opening and closing my hands, taking deep breaths, and trying to calm everything inside of me so the lights will dim. Of course, it doesn't work.

Everything in the house is still a mess aside from the few things Henri did while I was at school.

I figure that I could help out with the cleaning since I'm not at school, so I start with my room. I dust, wash the windows, sweep the floor. When everything is clean I throw sheets, pillows, and blankets on the bed, then hang and fold my clothes. The dresser is old and rickety, but I fill it and then place the few books I own on top of it. And just like that, a clean room, everything I own put away and in order.

I move to the kitchen, putting away dishes and wiping down the counters. It gives me something to do and takes my mind off of my hands, even though while cleaning I think about Mark James. I've always tried to delay another move for as long as I could. But today was different. I had felt a surge of rage at not lashing out against him when I was pushed. I don't plan on showing my full strength but I also don't plan on being pushed around, it's time that I start to express who I am and show everyone I'm not someone you can just push around.