Every Day (Every Day 1)

I get home and Lisa’s mother is cooking dinner. It smells amazing, but I can’t imagine having to sit at the table and make conversation. I can’t imagine talking to a single other person. I can’t imagine making it through the next few hours without screaming.

I tell her I’m not feeling well, and head upstairs.

I lock myself in Lisa’s bedroom, and feel that’s where I’ll always be. Locked inside a room. Trapped with myself.

Day 6027

I wake up the next morning with a broken ankle. Luckily, I’ve had it for a while and the crutches are next to my bed. It’s the one thing about me that feels newly healed.

I can’t help it—I check my email. But there’s no word from Rhiannon. I feel alone. Completely alone. Then I realize there’s one other person in the world who vaguely knows who I am. I check to see if he’s written me lately.

And indeed he has. There are now twenty unread messages from Nathan, each more desperate than the previous one, ending with:

All I ask is for an explanation. I will leave you alone after that. I just need to know.

I write him back.

Fine. Where should we meet?

With her broken ankle, Kasey can’t exactly drive. And since he’s still in trouble for his blanked-out joyride, Nathan’s not allowed to use the car, either. So our parents have to drop us off. Even though I don’t say it is, mine just assume it’s a date.

The hitch is that Nathan is expecting me to be a guy named Andrew, since that’s who I said I was last time. But if I’m going to tell him the truth, being Kasey will help me illustrate my point.

We’re meeting at a Mexican restaurant by his house. I wanted somewhere public, but also somewhere our parents could drop us off without raising eyebrows. I see him walk in, and it’s almost like he’s dressed for a date, too—even if he doesn’t look sporty, he’s certainly trying to be his best self. I raise one of my crutches and wave to him; he knows I have crutches, just not that I’m a girl. I figured I’d save that for in-person.

He look

s very confused as he’s walking over.

“Nathan,” I say when he gets to me. “Have a seat.”

“You’re … Andrew?”

“I can explain. Sit down.”

Sensing tension, the waiter swoops in and smothers us with specials. Our water glasses are filled. We give our drink order. Then we’re forced to talk to each other.

“You’re a girl,” he says.

I want to laugh. It freaks him out so much more to think he was possessed by a girl, not a guy. As if that really matters.

“Sometimes,” I say. Which only confuses him more.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you,” I reply. “I promise. But let’s order first.”

I don’t really trust him, but I tell him I do, as a way of inspiring a reciprocal trust. It’s still a risk I’m taking, but I can’t think of any other way to give him peace of mind.

“Only one other person knows this,” I begin. And then I tell him what I am. I tell him how it works. I tell him again what happened the day I was inside his body. I tell him how I know it won’t happen another time.

I know that, unlike Rhiannon, he won’t doubt me. Because my explanation feels right to him. It fits nicely into his own experience. It what he’s always suspected. Because in some way, I primed him to remember it. I don’t know why, but when my mind and his mind concocted our cover story, we left a hole in it. Now I’m filling in that hole.

When I’m done, Nathan doesn’t know what to say.

“So … whoa … I guess … so, like, tomorrow, you’re not going to be her?”

“No.”