The Alliance Archive

Are You Who You Say You Are?

Hey guys! You're going to re-meet a character this chapter, but I don't think I got his appearance right. So tell me if I'm off, because I couldn't find a good pic of him that wasn't distorted by other people... Sorry. I'm ranting. Enjoy!

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We decided after three days at the cabin to go home. It was a decision we came to unanimously, and the second we got on the moped Liz turned to me.

"Remember what we agreed."

I nodded. She kicked the vehicle, and we were off.

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"I'm home!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. I knew this call was futile, as no one was home. But since I'd done this for three years straight every day after school, it was habit. But today was different.

"Hello?" A voice came down the hall to where I was standing. My heart stopped. This voice... so familiar! It sounded like someone I had met before...

I swallowed hard and edged toward the living room.

A boy sat on the couch.

"Z..." I couldn't get the word out. "Zahmat?"

I gave him an attack hug, crushing the air from his lungs. He wheeze-laughed.

"You're as tall as I am!" I chuckle.

Now before you go pointing fingers and whispering gossip, let me clear things up. Zahmat had been my friend since seventh grade (Approximately the end of the section Liz and I couldn't remember). I had met him at a coffee shop, him talking to someone on his phone in Persian and me chasing a runaway coffee cup. I slammed into him, crushed his phone with my foot, and ended up having to pay for it by working for his father's weapon company oiling machinery. I payed off my debt, but him and I stayed in touch, seeing one another frequently and becoming amazingly close friends. But then Zahmat moved to the Ukraine, we only called or saw one another ever so often.

"Matt, what the flip are you doing here?" I push him away and hold him in front of me so I can get a look at his face.

He has the same red hair, glasses, and intelligent eyes that I remember, but these hold something in them. Unrecognition. I'm startled by the look, and I step back.

"You okay?" He puts his hand on my shoulder and leads me to a chair. I barely react. All I can think about is the way we used to laugh, and how I tried to call him for hours to no avail.

He sits across from me while I ponder, and I look at his face.

"What's wrong?"

I laugh bitterly. "I could always read you like a book."

"Excuse me?

"I can see it in your face. You don't know me, or even care for me. You were never my friend and never will be. I can't tell if you even lived in the Ukraine! The person I knew is gone, the laughable, friendly guy who I thought was my best friend is now just someone I met on the street. You're nothing I care about now, and I know now that I was wrong to trust you. I wish I'd seen it before. So WHY," I spat. "Are you here? And answer me this, ARE YOU WORKING FOR THAT DAMNED GENIUS!!??"

There was a silence. I could feel rage bubbling up in me.

He sighed and pulled off his glasses. "You got me. Sorry 'bout this, but you can't really remember this."

He stares at me.

"Human."

I look at him like he's crazy.

"HUMAN."

I keep staring at him like he's gone nuts. "Is this some sort of joke?"

He stops, then pulls off my glasses as if they're in the way of something.

"Human."

I sigh in irritation and look right into his eyes, being entirely truthful.

"If you don't get out of this house right now, I'm going to pull a sword on you, and that's the sworn truth."

He looks shocked. "Why didn't it work?" He mumbles. He sits there for a minute. Finally, I unsheath the hidden dagger in my boot and stick it under his neck.

"Leave," I growl. "Now."

The dagger cuts into his skin a little bit.

Then I step back, because tiny sparks are weaving across his neck, patching up the wound and sucking up the droplets of blood as they fall, like a reverse version on the thing I just did. I'm shaken, but I don't want to do anything more. So I take a shuddery breath and point to the door.

"Wait!" He snaps to his senses. "Don't you want to know my true name!?"

I nod, still pointing.

"Zahmat sounds weird to the english ear, right?" He's backing away, and avoiding the question.

"Sure?"

"That's because it's Persian."

"What does it mean?"

"Trouble."

"Treble? What kind of a name is that?"

"It's MY name! And it's Trouble. Trouble Kelp."