Another Day (Every Day 2)

A is just a person.

I guess I know that. A is just a person.

—

Justin texts me when he’s off work.

Wanna hang out?

I don’t. So I tell him I’m tired.

He doesn’t text back.

—

I keep thinking about Kelsea all night, wondering what happens after A is gone.

In the morning, I can’t stand it. I realize I still have the phone number at their house. I can call and make sure she’s okay. I can pretend it’s a wrong number. I just want to hear someone’s voice. I want to be able to tell from the sound of her voice, or her father’s.

It’s nine in the morning. Nobody answers.

I call again. They can’t be sleeping. This would have woken them.

So they’re not there.

I email A:

A,

I hope it went well yesterday. I called her house just now and no one was home—do you think they’re getting help? I’m trying to take it as a good sign.

Meanwhile, here’s a link you need to see. It’s out of control.

Where are you today?

R

I think he needs to know what Nathan is saying, and the fact that people are listening to it.

I wonder if he’s dealt with this kind of thing before.

And then I step back and acknowledge how weird it is that I’ve accepted all this. I mean, I still want more proof. Which is where the idea comes from for what I’m going to do next.

I start searching the Internet again.

—

About an hour later, there’s a new email from A.

Rhiannon,

I think it’s a good sign. Kelsea’s father is now aware of what’s going on, and before I left, he was figuring out what to do. So if they’re not home, they are probably getting help. Thank you for being there—I would have done the wrong things without you.

I am sure you know this, but I am going to say it anyway: I am not the devil. Nathan had a very bad reaction to me leaving him—they weren’t the best circumstances, and I feel bad about that. But he has leaped—or been pushed—to the wrong conclusion.

Today I am a boy named Hugo. I’m going to a parade in Annapolis with some of his friends. Can you meet me there? I’m sure there will be some way for me to get away for a little bit, and I would of course love to see you. Let me know if you can make it. Or if you can’t reach me—I’m not sure I’ll be able to check here—look for a Brazilian boy with a “vintage” Avril Lavigne T-shirt on. It is, I imagine, the T-shirt of his that is least likely to be worn by anyone else.

Hoping to see you.