My immediate reaction is that he’s not gay at all. And that his name must start with an A. He was hitting on me, and when I caught him hitting on me, he made up that he was gay. It explains the connection I felt a little more. Both magnets were working. I know I should be offended, but part of me doesn’t mind if he was hitting on me, especially because he was too sweet to do it all the way. It’s still a lie, and I’m still angry about that. But at least it’s a flattering lie.
I know Rebecca would love it if I talked to her about this. I know she is perpetually ready for that kind of conversation—she thinks friendships are built out of that kind of conversation. I sit across from her at lunch and I can see the question marks darting out of her eyes—does she know something is going on, or is she just hoping? Justin is right next to me, so it’s not like I can say anything. But even if it was just me and Rebecca, safely alone in her car, I’m not sure I
would tell her. I like that it’s mine, and mine alone.
—
I get to the bookstore early and take a table by the window in the café. I’m nervous, like this is a first date. I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way—I’m only here for answers, not to get a boyfriend. I already have a boyfriend.
It’s amazing how many people will walk into a café area when you’re waiting for someone else. At least I already know what he looks like. I wonder if he’ll still be wearing a tie. Maybe that’s his thing. Maybe he’s really that much of a dork. I could be friends with that kind of behavior.
I try to distract myself with an Us Weekly, but my mind doesn’t even want to look at the pictures. A girl comes in and I don’t really notice her until she’s right in front of me, at my table, sitting down.
Rude. “I’m sorry,” I say. “That seat’s taken.”
I’m expecting her to tell me she’s sorry and move on. But instead she says, “It’s okay. Nathan sent me.”
Weird. I take a good look at the girl—her Anthropologie top, her Banana Republic pants—and figure she’s not evil. But her presence is still confusing.
“He sent you?” I say. “Where is he?” Was he so scared that I’d be pissed that he brought reinforcements? Total dork move. I look to see if he’s watching us, if he’s waiting to see if it’s safe to show his face. But he’s nowhere in sight.
“Rhiannon,” the girl says. I turn back to her and she’s looking right at me. Unsettling. There’s something big she’s not telling me. She’s both excited and terrified to tell me. It’s all there in her eyes.
I don’t look away.
I am not ready for this, whatever it is.
“Yes?” I whisper.
Her voice is calm. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to sound very, very strange. What I need is for you to listen to the whole story. You will probably want to leave. You might want to laugh. But I need you to take this seriously. I know it will sound unbelievable, but it’s the truth. Do you understand?”
What have I gotten myself into? What’s going on here? It doesn’t even occur to me to leave. No. This is now my life. Whatever she’s about to say is going to be my life.
It’s all there in her eyes.
We hold there for one very careful moment. Then she breaks it with her words.
“Every morning, I wake up in a different body. It’s been happening since I was born. This morning, I woke up as Megan Powell, who you see right in front of you. Three days ago, last Saturday, it was Nathan Daldry. Two days before that, it was Amy Tran, who visited your school and spent the day with you. And last Monday, it was Justin, your boyfriend. You thought you went to the ocean with him, but it was really me. That was the first time we ever met, and I haven’t been able to forget you since.”
No. That’s all my mind can come up with. No. This is not happening. This is not what I want. I came here to find something real. And now I’m being served bullshit.
It’s the punch of the punch line. I am the butt of the joke.
“You’re kidding me, right?” I’m so angry, so mad. “You have to be kidding.”
This girl is good. She doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t let down her guard at all. No. She keeps going, more urgent now, like I need to believe her, like I need to fall for it even worse.
“When we were on the beach, you told me about the mother-daughter fashion show that you and your mother were in, and how it was probably the last time you ever saw her in makeup. When Amy asked you to tell her about something you’d never told anyone else, you told her about trying to pierce your own ear when you were ten, and she told you about reading Judy Blume’s Forever. Nathan came over to you as you were sorting through CDs, and he sang a song that you and Justin sang during the car ride to the ocean. He told you he was Steve’s cousin, but he was really there to see you. He talked to you about being in a relationship for over a year, and you told him that deep down Justin cares a lot about you, and he said that deep down isn’t good enough. What I’m saying is that…all of these people were me. For a day. And now I’m Megan Powell, and I want to tell you the truth before I switch again. Because I think you’re remarkable. Because I don’t want to keep meeting you as different people. I want to meet you as myself.”
I feel stalked. I feel tricked. I feel like everything good that’s happened in the past eight days has just been pissed on. The beach. The dancing. Even taking that girl around the school. It’s all just someone else’s joke. And there’s only one person who could have done this. Only one person who could’ve known.
“Did Justin put you up to this?” I can’t believe this. I truly can’t believe this. “Do you really think this is funny?”
“No, it’s not funny,” she says—and the way she says it, there isn’t anything funny in there at all. “It’s true. I don’t expect you to understand right away. I know how crazy it sounds. But it’s true. I swear, it’s true.”
She really wants me to believe it. I guess that would make it even funnier.
What’s strange is that she doesn’t seem like a bitch. She doesn’t seem like someone who’d get off on torturing me. But isn’t that what she’s doing?