New York, NY caite.info Library of Congress Cataloging-in- Publication Data. Lore, Pittacus. I am number four / by Pittacus Lore. — 1st ed. by Pittacus Lore. I Am Number Four: The Beginning: Books Collection. I Am Number Four: The Beginning: Books Collection. by Pittacus Lore. by Pittacus . View PL 01 - I Am Number caite.info from BAMA at Lyceum of the Philippines University - Cavite - General Trias, Cavite. I Am Number Four Pittacus Lore.
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I Am Number Four. Pittacus Lore. Contents. Chapter One. IN THE BEGINNING THERE WERE NINE OF US. We left Chapter Two. I STAND IN THE MIDDLE OF. PITTACUS LORE I'VE REACHED THE POINT WHERE I DON'T KNOW how long I 've been alone anymore. I should have been keeping track all this time. I Am Number Four Pittacus Lore Contents Chapter One IN THE BEGINNING THERE WERE NINE OF US. We leftâ€¦ Chapter Two I.
Just having some good, old-fashioned rabbit-style fun. I watch him from a distance for a while. I've learned that some memories surprise you and reveal a sharp edge just when you least expect it. Lore Pittacus. Saga Pittacus Lores. He was just staring at me.
Report an error in the book. The Power of Six , 3: The Revenge of Seven , 6: Generation One. Related books All. Kiersten White Mind Games. Veronica Roth Four Divergent Stories: Kiera Cass The Prince. Kiera Cass The Queen. Kiera Cass The Elite.
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On the bookshelves All. The Best of Young Adult. English books. Saga Pittacus Lores. Impressions All. Sign in or Register. Like Comment Share. Report this. Quotes All. He says we need to live in the real world, where war and death are a reality, not pretend. It is my decision to make. The shake is subtle and stops almost immediately.
They lift their heads to listen, a fourteen-year-old boy and a fifty-year-old man, who everyone thinks is his father but who was born near a different jungle on a different planet hundreds of lightyears away. My hair now falls almost to my shoulders and my arms have grown thick and ropy with muscle.
But there's no one to ask how much I've grown or what else about me may have changed. There's no one who remembers what I looked like before. The only one who really knew me was Reynolds, and he's gone. Here, now, there is only me—me and the mountains and the sky and the animals. Sometimes I wonder where I stop and the rest of it begins. Sometimes I think there is no difference at all.
It might drive some people crazy, living like this, but the quiet keeps me company. I spend my days swimming in the lakes and running through the mountains. I have no name, and I like it that way because when I'm myself, not trying on some new, different identity, my memories return. I try to linger only on the ones that make me happy and skip over the ones that are painful, but sometimes it's hard to know which are which. Sometimes they are one and the same.
I've learned that some memories surprise you and reveal a sharp edge just when you least expect it. I could be wandering through the woods, stumbling down rocky mountain paths in search of dinner and thinking about a happy time with Reynolds—the two of us wandering through the markets of New Delhi, me sucking on a juicy mango as he tells me a story about the life he left behind on our faraway planet, his face at a certain angle where the light catches his laughing eyes, his smile tilted up at the corner just so.
Then, suddenly, the scene will shift and I'll see those same laughing eyes, that same tilted smile, but they'll be for Lola. And just like that, the memory becomes darker, terrible. And I'll be taken back to the time she betrayed us. I never cry with these memories. But sometimes I scream. I should have been able to save him.
I blame myself. Reynolds had been training me for that moment ever since we arrived on Earth, first teaching me to be fast and strong and then, when I was older, teaching me to master my abilities—my Legacies—for the day I would confront my enemies, the ones who drove me from Lorien to this distant planet. When I discovered that I could move objects with my mind, Reynolds taught me how to exercise my brain like a muscle, until I could go from lifting a small pebble to lifting almost anything.
And then, when I disappeared one day on a crowded street only to find myself a block away from where I'd started, he taught me to control my teleportation power so that I could do it whenever I wanted, as easily as blinking my eyes. And he taught me about who I really am. Who we are: In the beginning there were nine of us. We are called the Garde. I know from the scars on my ankle that there are only six of us left.
Three are dead. I also know that someday, somehow, I will rejoin the others. I am Number Eight. But without Reynolds, I have no idea how to find them. I don't know what they look like; I don't know their names.
My Chest—the only physical tie I still had to my planet, Lorien—is also gone and I'm vulnerable without it. But coming together again is part of our destiny. I believe that as much as I believe in Lorien. So I can only hope that one of the others has a plan.
That they know more about the rest than I do. Because even though Reynolds had been helping me develop my Legacies, training me for the day when I would come face-to-face with the Mogadorians and be able to defeat them, I wasn't ready. Alone, I couldn't stop them. Because of the Charm, I did not become just another scar on the ankles of the rest of the Garde.
So they killed Reynolds instead. After Reynolds was killed, I stayed up here in the mountains by myself. I didn't know where else to go. For a while, I thought I might die up here, alone, forgotten by the others.
Then, one day, I woke up from a long sleep to see a small black rabbit sitting right next to me. He was just staring at me. They were the first words I'd spoken aloud in ages.
The rabbit tilted his head but didn't run away, even when I sat up. He still wasn't scared. It almost seemed like he felt sorry for me—like he didn't want me to be alone. We just looked at each other for a while. It made me feel good to have company, and then I pretended he was a real person who could understand me and told him first one joke and then another.
It was obvious from the way his nose twitched that I was really cracking him up. For a few minutes, I felt like my old self.
And then I was a black rabbit too. I didn't even notice it happen at first—I just knew that the world seemed different. Everything was bigger but also easier to understand. Smells and sounds took on their own form and shape; paths appeared where they hadn't been before. My memories gave way to instincts. The rabbit and I began chasing each other through the bushes, jumping over rocks, darting behind trees. Just having some good, old-fashioned rabbit-style fun.
Then I heard a noise behind me. It was nothing—just a rock falling—but before I knew it, I'd been frightened back into my own body. The other rabbit was gone.
I never saw him again, but he'd reminded me that I had a job to do, that I had to stop feeling sorry for myself and start having some fun again.
He'd also showed me my newest Legacy—the power to change shape. I wonder if I would have been able to save Reynolds if I'd had this shape-changing Legacy when Lola betrayed us. Late at night, when I can't sleep and Reynolds's final moments are flashing through my mind, I imagine how I might have done it.
I picture myself turning into a lion and ripping the Mogadorians to shreds. Or becoming a dragon and breathing flames and destruction down on them.
But these are still only fantasies. Because even now, even though I've had this Legacy for a while and have been practicing as often as I can, I can't become a dragon or a lion. And I don't know what good the ability to become a bunny is going to do against an alien army. I've tried—have spent hours in my cave making myself angry, trying to summon a lion's fierceness and strength and pride.
It never works. I can only become a small black rabbit. This morning I wake up and crawl out from under the outcropping of rocks where I have made my home and look up at the sky.