We are the only whites for many miles, and though we both speak good Spanish, there’s no confusing us for natives of the place. Our only regular contact with the locals is our once-a-week trip into town to buy essentials at the small store. Katarina and I make no attempt to blend in with the other residents, Mexican farmers and their children. The sun is bright and hard in Puerto Blanco, the air impossibly dry. But our life had gone sour there, and Katarina figured we’d been there long enough as it was. We had no immediate reason to believe our slip would raise the kind of suspicion that could attract the Mogadorians to our location.
Then Eliza told her mother and that’s when people started to get suspicious. Katarina remembered differently, and claimed Tallahassee as our previous home. Before Denver we’d lived in Nova Scotia for a cold, cold winter, but as I remembered it, our story, the lie we’d agreed to tell, was that we’d lived in Boston before Denver. Something I said to my friend Eliza had contradicted something Katarina had said to Eliza’s mother. To this day I can remember our conversation as we drove away from Denver, headed to Mexico for no other reason than we’d never been there, both of us trying to figure out how exactly we’d blown our cover. But those identities allowed us to live out in the open. Our names, our lives, our stories were all fictions, identities for me and Katarina to hide behind. In public, Katarina played the part of my mother, claiming that her “husband” and my “father” had been killed in a car accident when I was an infant. By night, it was a well-stocked combat training gym, with hanging bags, floor mats, weapons, and even a makeshift pommel horse.
#LORIEN LEGACIES LOST FILES LIST TV#
By day, it was an ordinary suburban rec room, with a big comfy couch and a TV in one corner and a Ping-Pong table in the other. My real life took place in our basement, where Katarina and I did combat training. I liked my friends and the life we had there okay, but I had already been moved around by my Cepan Katarina enough to know that it wasn’t going to be permanent. I had sleepovers with some of them, the girls I called “my friends.” I went to school during the school year, and in the summer I went to a swimmers’ camp at the YMCA. We lived there for two years, and I wore barrettes in my hair and pink rubber bracelets on my wrists, like all the other girls at my school. My name then was Sheila, a name I hate even more than my current name, Kelly. Katarina says there is more than one way to hide.īefore we came down here to Mexico, we lived in a suburb of Denver. What happened there would change Six forever.
Before Paradise, Ohio, before John Smith, Six was traveling through West Texas with her Cepan, Katarina. But who is she? Where has she been living? How has she been training? When did she develop her legacies? And how does she know so much about the Mogadorians? In I Am Number Four: The Lost Files: Six's Legacy, discover the story behind Six. Number Six – when John meets her in I Am Number Four she's strong, powerful, and ready to fight.
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