"So," Trea says as soon as we get in. "Where does everyone sleep?" I look at him. This is not right. How does he not know? Could he have been so close to death that there is no way for him to remember now? Unfathomable. And I don't use big words like that anymore, either. Which means there is something to say in that itself. No way.
"Same as usual," I state simply. He looks at loss. Fist thing in the morning, I am going to check out Tugley Wood again. This can't be Trea. He just can't be. Something is not right. I roll my eyes as though this is a normal, stupid thing he does all the time. "You, in there," I say pointing. "Me, in here. Everyone else fights for whats left," I say, keeping it general. Wait. I don't want him in Trea's old Living Room! "Actually, on second thought," I say.
"You always change your mind," he says with a naughty twinkle in his eye. No way.
"You get the couch tonight, Trea. The guests get the guest room. And I get the masters." He looks at me in shock. "After all," I say. "The lady always gets to choose first and the guests must have the best we have to offer. Too bad the men," the word being distasteful in my mouth, but not letting on, "get left with the couch."
"Ok," he says after a quick recovery. "You are absolutely right."
"With that said, Good-night!" And I retreat quickly into Trea's former living room. As I close the door behind me, I turn around, holding the handle with both hands. I lean back against the door with my eyes closed, taking a deep breath. My first moment in Dimmerland alone. In the quiet. A moment where havoc isn't being wreaked. I get into Trea's old bed; I need to sleep and to think clearly.
This guy that's pretending to be Trea has the wrong smile. He doesn't have the right glimmer in his eye. The wrong personality. Trea never had a naughty glimmer in his eye, either. And I doubt that the real him would now. The real Trea knows me so much better than this. This person, whoever he is, doesn't even know his own 'home'. No wonder I don't know this person. So much about him says 'stranger', not 'home'. The only thing about him that is heart-quickening is his voice. Too bad he uses it wrong, saying all the wrong things. All the things that make me realize that he is most definitely without a single doubt, is NOT Trea, the Hatter, the beloved King of Dimmerland. Who ever this guy is, he isn't Trea. My Hatter, as Mr. Dodo from so long ago had said. With all the events playing in my head, I come to realize it's only been about a week. That can't be possible. Too bad it is. And that it's the truth. I turn over in the bed and cry softly to sleep.
I knew it!
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