David Levithan - Every Day

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

“No.”

“And she’ll …?”

“She’ll have some other memory of today. Probably that she met a boy for a date, but that it didn’t work out. She won’t remember it’s you. It’ll just be this vague idea of a person, so if her parents ask tomorrow how it went, she won’t be surprised by the question. She’ll never know she wasn’t here.”

“So why did I know?”

“Maybe because I left you so fast. Maybe I didn’t lay the groundwork for a proper memory. Or maybe I wanted you to find me, in some way. I don’t know.”

Our food, which arrived while I was talking, remains largely untouched on the table.

“This is huge,” Nathan says.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I remind him. “I’m trusting you.”

“I know, I know.” He nods absently, and starts to eat. “This is between you and me.”

At the end of the meal, Nathan tells me it’s really helped to talk to me and to know the truth. He also asks if we can meet again the next day, just so he can see the switch for himself. I tell him I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll try.

Our parents pick us up. On the drive back home, Kasey’s mom asks me how it went.

“Good … I think,” I tell her.

It’s the only truthful thing I tell her the whole ride.

Day 6028

The next day, a Sunday, I wake up as Ainsley Mills. Allergic to gluten, afraid of spiders, proud owner of three Scotties, two of which sleep in her bed.

In ordinary circumstances, I would think this was going to be an ordinary day.

Nathan emails me, saying he wants to meet up, and that if I have a car, I can come to his house. His parents are away for the day, so he doesn’t have a ride.

Rhiannon doesn’t email me, so I go with Nathan.

Ainsley tells her parents she’ll be shopping with some friends. They don’t question her. They give her the keys to her mom’s car and tell her not to be back too late. They need her to baby-sit her sister starting at five.

It’s only eleven. Ainsley assures them she’ll be back in plenty of time.

Nathan is only fifteen minutes away. I figure I won’t have to stay too long. I’ll just have to prove to him that I am the same person as yesterday. Then that’s it—I don’t think I have anything else to offer. The rest is up to him.

He looks surprised when he opens the door and sees me. I guess he didn’t really believe it would be true, and now it is. He looks nervous, and I chalk it up to the fact that I’m here in his house. I recognize it, but already it’s started to blend into all the other houses I’ve lived in. If you put me in the main hallway and all the doors were closed, I don’t think I could tell you which door led to which room.

Nathan takes me into his living room—this is where guests go, and even if I’ve been him for a day, I am still a guest.

“So it’s really you,” he says. “In a different body.”

I nod and sit down on the couch.

“Do you want something to drink?” he offers.

I tell him water will be fine. I do not tell him that I plan on leaving soon, and water probably isn’t necessary.

As he goes to get it, I study some of the family portraits on display. Nathan looks uncomfortable in each of them … just like his father. Only his mother beams.

I hear Nathan come back in and don’t look up. So it’s a jolt when a voice that isn’t Nathan’s says, “I’m so glad I have a chance to meet you.”

It’s a man with silver hair and a gray suit. He’s wearing a tie, but it’s loose at the neck; this is casual time for him. I stand up, but in Ainsley’s slight body, there’s no way I can meet him eye to eye.

“Please,” Reverend Poole says, “there’s no need for you to stand. Let’s sit.”

He closes the door behind him, then chooses an armchair that’s between me and the door. He is probably twice Ainsley’s size, so he could stop me if he wanted to. The question is whether he’d really want to. The fact that my instinct is to wonder about these things is a tip-off that there may be cause for alarm.

I decide to come on tough.

“It’s Sunday,” I say. “Shouldn’t you be in church?”

He smiles. “More important things for me here.”

This must have been what it was like when Red Riding Hood first met the big bad wolf. What she felt must have been as much intrigue as terror.

“What do you want?” I ask.

He folds his leg across his knee. “Well, Nathan told me the most interesting story, and I’m wondering if it’s true.”

There’s no use denying it. “Nathan wasn’t supposed to tell anyone!” I say loudly, hoping Nathan hears me.

“While for the past month you’ve left Nathan hanging, I have been attempting to give him answers. It’s natural that he should confide in me when he is told such a thing.”

Poole has an angle. That much is clear. I just don’t know what it is yet.

“I am not the devil,” I say. “I am not a demon. I am not any of the things you want me to be. I am just a person. A person who borrows other people’s lives for a day.”

“But can’t you see the devil at work?”

I shake my head. “No. There was no devil inside of Nathan. There is no devil inside of this girl. There is only me.”

“You see,” Poole says, “that’s where you’re wrong. Yes, you are inside of these bodies. But what’s inside of you, my friend? Why do you think you are the way you are? Don’t you feel it could be the devil’s work?”

I speak calmly. “What I do is not the devil’s work.”

At this, Poole actually laughs.

“Relax, Andrew. Relax. You and I are on the same side.”

I stand up. “Good. Then let me go.”

I make a move to leave, but as I anticipated, he blocks me. He pushes Ainsley back to the sofa.

“Not so fast,” he says. “I’m not finished.”

“On the same side, I see.”

The grin disappears. And for a moment, I see something in his eyes. I’m not sure what it is, but it paralyzes me.

“I know you so much better than you give me credit for,” Poole says. “Do you think this is an accident? Do you think I’m just some religious zealot here to exorcise your demons away? Did you ever ask yourself why I am cataloging such things, what I’m looking for? The answer is you, Andrew. And others like you.”

He’s fishing. He has to be.

“There are no others like me,” I tell him.

His eyes flash again at me. “Of course there are, Andrew. Just because you’re different, it doesn’t mean you’re unique .”

I don’t know what he’s saying. I don’t want to know what he’s saying.

“Look at me,” he commands.

I do. I look into those eyes, and I know. I know what he’s saying.

“The amazing thing,” he tells me, “is that you still haven’t learned how to make it last longer than a single day. You have no idea the power that you possess.”

I back away from him. “You’re not Reverend Poole,” I say, unable to keep the shaking out of Ainsley’s voice.

“I am today. I was yesterday. Tomorrow—who knows? I have to judge what best suits me. I wasn’t going to miss this .”

He is taking me beyond another window. But right away, I know that I don’t like what’s there.

“There are better ways to live your life,” he continues. “I can show you.”

There’s recognition in his eyes, yes. But there’s also menace. And something else—an entreaty. Almost as if Reverend Poole is still inside somewhere, trying to warn me.

“Get off of me,” I say, standing up.