Another Day (Every Day 2)

Where/who/how have you been?

R

I hit send even though it doesn’t sound right, because I can’t imagine how to make it sound better. He doesn’t want to hear the details about Justin, and I don’t want to tell them. So I’ve flattened my weekend before mailing it to him. I haven’t given him any reason to be interested.

Which is maybe for the best.

—

The next morning I wake up and feel off. At first I think it’s because I fell asleep in my clothes. That doesn’t happen very often, so it’s weird to see my T-shirt, my jeans. But that’s not the only thing. It’s like I’ve woken up in an unfamiliar bed, even though this is my bed, in my room. I expect to look at my clock and find it’s four in the morning, to explain the disorientation. But it’s the normal time to wake up. My alarm is going off.

It must be because it’s Monday, I think.

But then I correct myself.

No, it’s Tuesday.

When I go to hit off the alarm, I find a folded piece of paper on top of it. Even before I open it, I have a vague idea it’s a letter I wrote. But I don’t remember what it says.

Dear Rhiannon,

Before I say anything, or explain anything, I want you to stop reading and try to remember everything you did yesterday.

It’s my handwriting—but I know immediately that I didn’t write this.

I know immediately.

A.

Here.

A.

Me.

I start to shiver uncontrollably. I want to yell out, but I’m afraid my parents will hear.

I cannot believe this.

But I can believe this.

I know I will only have one chance to remember what happened before whatever is written on this piece of paper colors my memories or fills in the blanks. So I put the letter down. I sit back in bed.

Yesterday, I tell myself. What was yesterday?

I remember climbing. I’m outside, on my own. And I am climbing up a mountain. I am looking out over all of these trees.

It’s peaceful.

I didn’t skip school. I was in school before that. I had lunch with Justin. He called me Silver again. He ate pizza and complained about Stephanie and Steve. I remember that Stephanie and Steve had a fight—but that was Saturday night, at the party. It was not yesterday. I don’t think I saw Stephanie or Steve yesterday. I can’t remember.

I also can’t remember what I said to Justin. I can remember him talking to me. But nothing that I said.

Maybe I didn’t say anything.

I remember leaving dinner early. Coming up here.

I remember writing the letter.