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They called me FIVE

**READ ME** THIS BOOK WILL BE UNDER REVISION. ******* My name? Lance Augustus Age? 15 Nickname? Five. Why they call me that? Because the mark tells us so. _________________________________ "Don't be stupid, steer out of trouble, and whatever happens, stay alive."  I really don't know why Dad always repeat those words to me everyday. I take heed of his words. Play by his rules, never dared to go against him except if it's extremely necessary. He's all that I need to get by. Our life was ordinary. Everything was perfectly fine, perfectly normal, just an everyday routine we get used to live. But then this guy calling himself 'The Seeker' came... And he start making a mess out of my life.  He said I have powers. - Who believe that crap? He said I have extraordinary abilities. - Cool! I want to be Superman. He said I was chosen. - Who? The god of newbie bullies? The mark of five imprinted deep into my skin proves that I am one of the TWELVE. - You sure it's not a tattoo? I firmly believe it's a tattoo. I never believe him. I drove him out. I did not listen. I wish I did. Maybe he could have help me. Maybe he could have save me from the trouble of falling right into their trap. I know nothing. Because of my stubbornness I lost everything. So now I'm all alone. But she stretch her hand to me. She gave me hope. She invited me to come. And I did. So our search began. For the remaining TEN. ___________________________________

phoenixhyperion · Urbano
Classificações insuficientes
243 Chs

What a situation

LANCE

My neck tingled. I think she just said something important and out of place. But she smiled sweetly. And blushed when Magnus stared right at her. 

For twenty minutes we dived in. Stomach full of goodies I never got to enjoy for days. I miss the rich flavor of pizza kissing my lips, tangling my tongue. As if hugging my mouth, telling me 'I miss this big eater'.

I murmured I miss you too. That garnered strange stare from Seven. For a while now, she'd been keeping an eye on glasses lady. The mistrustful observant gaze I sometimes see when my middle school teachers caught me cheating in exams last semester and is bent to catch me now.

I lowered my head, my lips just three inches from her ear. "What's up?" She drummed her fingers in the table. Her chocolate treats is now a pile of wrappers in tray. She sip through the vanilla shake given to three of us, Sam, Seven and I. 

She cast one last lingering stare and looked at her hands.