[Comments Closed]
It clicks. Your name... Colin Samuel McAllister. Geez, how could you forget? Of course that's your name, and it would be stupid to think it was anything else.
Despite being 15 years old, your parents are sometimes rather concerned for you for a variety of reasons, one of which being your obsessive yearning for sleep. At school, your most popular nickname is Drowsy, due to the fact that you managed to snore through an entire week of classes and only wake up to move from room to room. Your grades kept up though, so you didn't get questioned as to how the hell you pulled off acing the midterms. "Cole's Asian. That's all there is to it." Some of them would scoff. You hate having to remind the idiots that you're only half Asian, but they don't care. The fact you have black hair and slightly slanted eyes is enough for all those dopes.
For specific reasons, you have distaste for your name. To lessen the blows, you've adopted the nickname Cole. Colin just sounds tacky anyway, and if people found out your middle name was Samuel? You would blow your own brains out before that happened. You can't even fathom why your parents gave you such a stupid name, but you have to go with it. It's on every legal document you know of, and therefore, you're bound to it.
But with your operator, you're bound to a different name.
Learza Tozen.
The roll of the "r" makes your spine tingle with power. The double "z" 's? Priceless. Just having a different identity makes you feel special. Unique. Sure, it may seem a little over done, probably a bit too hard-thought, but you like it. After all, you picked it.
As you come back from a second round of day dreaming, you focus back on the voices drifting from upstairs. A velvety string of words seeps through your door, and as you tune into them, you realize that it wasn't your name that hadn't called, but instead, you had managed to pick out your name from the exchange below as you were discussed like an object. You cringe slightly as your mother uses your real name, but you grit your teeth and pursue the conversation.
It's hard to distinguish from the slight clattering of pots and pans as your mother cooks breakfast, but you can pick out at least 2 different voices talking quietly back and forth. You're not entirely sure if there's a third person, but sometimes there's a grunt of agreement or rejection.
Your bed beckons, but so does the urge to eat as your stomach voices a small complaint. You could always try sneaking out from your bedroom window again, but you might get caught, as the patio has a clear view of the area you land in. What if your dad was having some kind of... book club, or something? You're not really sure what day it is, so you're hesitant to brashly jump.
What do you do?
Credit to: Jacob Laves, Bobbie, Ginger, CWagen, Aronic, Lupine Estill (Anonymous)