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run outside. It’s the only thing I can do. I’m barely aware that rain is pelting me, signaling the beginning of the wet season. My body shivers, even though the rain is warm. This tiny island suddenly feels huge and full of danger. Random thoughts keep shooting through my brain: You’ll have to do something with his body. He never knew how powerful your telekinesis had become. All the chores he’d done on this island are now yours— as I sink down to my knees. There’s distant thunder and the hogs squeal.
    It’s all too much.
    Alone, except for a bunch of pigs.
    It takes me a while to catch my breath as I sit on my knees, bent over the wet sand. My eyes fall on the reddened scar on my ankle. Two’s symbol.
    I almost laugh.
    There were nine of us and now there are seven, and we’re the ones who are supposed to defeat the Mogadorians. An entire army of aliens. And so they sent us to Earth with fragile protectors and scattered us across the globe. Hoping what? That at least one of us would survive?
    The rain beats down on me. I feel like my head’s going to explode—like something’s got to burst out of me. I shout from somewhere deep inside. The two palm trees nearest to me splinter in half under the power of my Legacy.

CHAPTER FOUR
    I BURY R EY IN THE FOREST .
    I wanted to send him out to sea—to put him in the sailboat and just push him out. I remember seeing that in some movie about Vikings once, and Rey taught me the basics of sailing. But I was too afraid the currents would push him back to the beach. That I’d wake up one morning and find his body washed up on the shore, eyes pecked out by seabirds and body shriveled up like jerky. I couldn’t see that.
    Burial seemed like the only solution. I couldn’t just leave him out in the elements as something for the little green lizards to pick at. So I find a place where there’s enough open land—once I’ve cleared away a few bushes—and start in with the shovel. Digging his grave is the hardest work I’ve done in a long time. Under different circumstances I’d joke that this was Rey’s last laugh—finally getting me to do some hard labor. But I miss him too much to do that.
    The rain doesn’t let up. For every shovel of mud I scoop out, twice as much floods back in rivers of brown. Before I even realize I’m doing it, I’m punching into the earth with my newfound power, mud coating my body and face. I use my telekinesis to burrow out the rest of the hole and keep the mud back.
    And then, once he’s in the bottom, I let all the mud and sand and earth and water fall in over him. His body is covered almost instantly.
    He’s gone.
    I carry on, alone on my island, through the wet season. Rey has taught me well—how to survive off the land—even if I didn’t realize he was doing it at the time. I know which plants to eat, and how to keep our shack dry on the inside as the sky continues to dump rain on me day after day. I continue running, and training—more so than I ever did when Rey was alive.
    I keep thinking that someone will show up. If the Garde’s deaths are burned into my leg, is it the same for the Cêpans? Will Rey’s mark show up on the Loric guardian who’s looking after Three? Or Four? Will one of them come and find me and tell me what I should be doing next?
    But no one does.
    And after weeks—maybe even months—of waiting for something to happen, I know what I have to do. Rey told me to stay on the island until I was stronger, but he didn’t know about my power. I am stronger now. Besides, he also told me to survive, and if I’m going to do that, I’m going to have to leave. If I stay, I’ll go crazy.
    Technically I can do whatever I want. I’m free. There’s no one looking after me. I’m alone.
    I can go anywhere I want.
    Martinique . It was the last island we were on. I didn’t mind it there. And it’s close. Or at least, it seemed close when we sailed from there.
    On a day when the rain finally starts to die down, I