Another Day
Page 20
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?
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” I tell her, my voice shaking. “I don’t even know you!”
She can see she’s lost me, and it’s making her more desperate. “Listen to me,” she begs, her voice shedding some calm. “Please. You know it wasn’t Justin with you that day. In your heart, you know. He didn’t act like Justin. He didn’t do things Justin does. That’s because it was me. I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. But it happened. And I can’t erase it. I can’t ignore it. I have lived my whole life like this, and you’re the thing that has made me wish it could stop.”
I want to stop listening. I want to stop myself from driving over here. From wanting to know what was going on. I should have left it unknown. Because now it’s still unknown, but it’s a much worse unknown.
And the awful part is: She’s right. Justin didn’t act like Justin. I know that. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t Justin. It just means it was a better day than usual. I have to believe that. Because this story can’t be true. I mean, why not just say he was taken over by aliens? Bitten by a vampire? And—wait—then there’s the most unbelievable part of all. According to this story, I am The Girl. I am worth all that.
“But why me?” I ask, as if I’ve finally found the flaw, finally proven her wrong. “That makes no sense.”
But she doesn’t give in. She launches back with, “Because you’re amazing. Because you’re kind to a random girl who just shows up at your school. Because you also want to be on the other side of the window, living life instead of just thinking about it. Because you’re beautiful. Because when I was dancing with you in Steve’s basement on Saturday night, it felt like fireworks. And when I was lying on the beach next to you, it felt like perfect calm. I know you think that Justin loves you deep down, but I love you through and through.”
“Enough!” Oh God, now I’m the girl yelling in the café. Now I’m losing it. “It’s just—enough, okay? I think I understand what you’re saying to me, even though it makes no sense whatsoever.”
“You know it wasn’t him that day, don’t you?”
I want her to stop. I don’t want to know any of this. I don’t want to be thinking about this. I don’t want to be thinking about all the ways Justin has avoided talking about that day. About how my love for him made so much sense then, but hasn’t since. About how I haven’t found any of the him from that day in the him afterward. I don’t want to think about how I felt when I was dancing with Nathan. About how it felt when he sang that song. About the real reason I came here today. About what I really wanted.
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?
“I don’t understand why you’re doing this,” I tell her, my voice shaking. “I don’t even know you!”
She can see she’s lost me, and it’s making her more desperate. “Listen to me,” she begs, her voice shedding some calm. “Please. You know it wasn’t Justin with you that day. In your heart, you know. He didn’t act like Justin. He didn’t do things Justin does. That’s because it was me. I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. But it happened. And I can’t erase it. I can’t ignore it. I have lived my whole life like this, and you’re the thing that has made me wish it could stop.”
I want to stop listening. I want to stop myself from driving over here. From wanting to know what was going on. I should have left it unknown. Because now it’s still unknown, but it’s a much worse unknown.
And the awful part is: She’s right. Justin didn’t act like Justin. I know that. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t Justin. It just means it was a better day than usual. I have to believe that. Because this story can’t be true. I mean, why not just say he was taken over by aliens? Bitten by a vampire? And—wait—then there’s the most unbelievable part of all. According to this story, I am The Girl. I am worth all that.
“But why me?” I ask, as if I’ve finally found the flaw, finally proven her wrong. “That makes no sense.”
But she doesn’t give in. She launches back with, “Because you’re amazing. Because you’re kind to a random girl who just shows up at your school. Because you also want to be on the other side of the window, living life instead of just thinking about it. Because you’re beautiful. Because when I was dancing with you in Steve’s basement on Saturday night, it felt like fireworks. And when I was lying on the beach next to you, it felt like perfect calm. I know you think that Justin loves you deep down, but I love you through and through.”
“Enough!” Oh God, now I’m the girl yelling in the café. Now I’m losing it. “It’s just—enough, okay? I think I understand what you’re saying to me, even though it makes no sense whatsoever.”
“You know it wasn’t him that day, don’t you?”
I want her to stop. I don’t want to know any of this. I don’t want to be thinking about this. I don’t want to be thinking about all the ways Justin has avoided talking about that day. About how my love for him made so much sense then, but hasn’t since. About how I haven’t found any of the him from that day in the him afterward. I don’t want to think about how I felt when I was dancing with Nathan. About how it felt when he sang that song. About the real reason I came here today. About what I really wanted.
