Elude

Fabulous, Now Let Me Go.

"Be quiet," an official says and walks over to me. I stop talking, but he doesn't move. Great.

"I'm Matthew Emerson and I--"

He cuts me off. "Don't even try," he says. "We have so many people who claim to be him. Start walking."

I turn around and see that my line is leading. Officials are forcing us onto a bus.

"Where are you taking us?" I ask irritatedly. I need to see if there's any danger.

"The testing building," is the reply. "I advise you stop talking. I'll report the disruption to the people administrating the test."

I start to walk away, in the opposite direction of the bus, but the official runs after me and forces me on. He sits next to me, blocking any exit.

"How can I prove it to you?" I ask. I look down at my watch and try to text Caelan, but the officer takes my watch.

"You can't do that!" I exclaim. "Who even passed these stupid tests off as required? Once I get out of here I'll give that idiot a piece of my mind."

"I'm sorry I have to do this."

The next thing I know, I'm lying on the floor of a medium sized room. Someone stands over me holding a clipboard.

"I hear you were being very disruptive," she says calmly. I stand up and brush myself off.

"And understandably, too," I say. "Please get me out of here. I'm M-"

"He warned me that you were another imposter," she says. "We might have a case of split personality disorder or possibly insanity. You seem very convinced that you're Mr. Emerson."

Fine. I'll take the test. But only because if I refuse, I could get put in an asylum.

"Your name?" she asks.

"Matthew Emerson," I reply, ignoring the look that she gives me.

"Height?" is the next question.

"Six foot two," I say.

She asks me tons of questions about myself, like hair and eye color. Then she moves onto things I like and dislike. She seems concerned by my answers.

"I'm going to show you a picture," she says, "and tell you four options." She holds up a black paper with one red dot. "What does this make you feel?" she asks. "Lonely, curious, overwhelmed or desperate?"

I study the dot. "Curious," I say. "The black is unknown, it wants to explore." I feel like an idiot doing this.

The next picture is loopy aqua and green squiggles, and the options are lost, tranquil, blissful, and discombobulated.

"Tranquil," I decide. "It seems content, and I can see order in the mess."

The third picture is another black one, but this has large, jagged, red stripes.
The choices are angry, scared, confused, or happy.

"Happy." This one... Just soothes me more than the others did.

There are only a few more pictures. After we're done, she looks deeply concerned. "Your answers," she says. "Don't match up with any of the predicted ones. In fact, the people who answered the same as you, for the most part, had some sort of mental health issue."

"Fabulous," I say. "Can I leave?"

"We still have the physical part of the test," she explains. "Your blood sample was taken while you were still knocked out, so that's out of the way."

I don't even pay attention. Is it possible that I might not be who I think I am? That I tricked myself into thinking I'm Matthew Emerson? I shrug it off. That's impossible.

She stares at me expectantly.

"What?" I ask.

She hands me a knife and instructs me to throw it at the target on the wall.

"Aren't you worried I'll hurt you with it?" I ask. She shakes her head. Hmm. They must have some device that can knock me out if I try to hurt her.

I take the knife in my right hand, close my eyes, and throw it hard. It lands an inch to the right of the bullseye.

"Impressive," she says.

"I'm a lefty," I say and her eyes widen even more.

Then she has me jog back and forth for five minutes. Surprisingly she says nothing about my leg. I'm almost done when I start to feel dizzy, then I'm unconscious before I hit the floor.

• • •

When I wake up again I'm on the ground outside. The woman hands me a paper. "Here," she says. "You've been tagged so we can come find you when necessary. All information is on the paper."

I get up and start going back to my apartment, and my watch is on my wrist. As soon as I get to my room, Caelan walks over to me.

"Where have you been?" he asks quietly.

"I went to the market for dinner," I say. "And the people there were lined up. I had to take this stupid test and nobody believed me when I said who I was."

Caelan takes the paper and skims it.

"Oh, and apparently they put a tracker on me and they're going to come get me when they need me."

"How do you think you did?" Caelan asks, catching me off guard. He seems eerily silent, for once.

I don't reply. Should I just have gone along and lied about who I was? In hindsight, yes. "Not well," I say.

"Mhm," Caelan says. "You're right. They want to take you to a 'correctional facility'. And they'll be here soon."

"Once they see that I was telling the truth they won't want me," I say. Caelan's expression makes me reconsider. "Right?"

"I don't know," he says and falters. "I had to take a test like that. A few years back."

"And?" I ask. "How did you do?"

"Never mind," he says. "I was going to say that I could find the paper, but I remembered that I threw it away."

Lie. He knows I can see straight through it, but neither of us mention it. Do I say something? More importantly, why does he want me to know he's lying?

I hear the familiar ding and I'm filled with dread. The woman and five officials step in the room.

"Now do you believe me?" I ask.

She laughs. "I knew all along, Mr. Emerson," she says. "But when you just so happened to stumble upon me... It's a wonder what Jace can do with makeup."

No... It can't be.

"Winter?"