Page 101 of Another Day (Every Day 2)

It’s like it’s not entirely real to me. There’s a piece of me that’s still calling out for Justin, that thinks we’re still together, and meant to be together.

I can fix this, that piece believes. When, really, it’s the broken part.

It also asks, You gave up Justin for what, exactly?

I don’t know how to answer that.

—

I check my email quickly before third period. There’s a message from A, saying he’s on his way. I write back:

I don’t think today is really a good day.

But I’m not sure the message will get to A in time. A’s probably already kidnapped whoever’s body he’s in. I can’t stop it.

—

I tell Rebecca that I’m going to skip lunch. I know she’s going to offer to join me, but I tell her I’d rather be alone, to try to process everything.

Mostly I want to hide, and it’s easier to hide when you’re just one person.

“Are you sure?” Rebecca asks.

I tell her I’m sure.

“Remember, this is the worst of it,” she tells me. “The first day is always the worst.”

This is a little less than credible from a girl who will no doubt now go find her boyfriend and sit with him at lunch. But I resist telling her that she’s not allowed to talk to me until she cheats on Ben and he dumps her.

I don’t know where I’m going to go after Rebecca leaves me. Some dark corner of the library should be safe. I’ve never seen a librarian turn a girl away because the whole school is calling her a slut.

I’m about to head there when a voice behind me says, “Hey.”

I am not in the mood for someone else to give me an opinion on my behavior. I turn around and look at the person stopping me. It’s a boy, I think. Maybe a freshman. Also maybe a girl.

I’m confused. Then I look in his/her eyes and am not confused.

“Hey,” I say. “You’re here. Why am I not surprised?”

I know I should be more excited that A’s made it. But honestly? This is one more thing than an already hard day needs.

“Lunch?” A asks.

I guess I might as well. It’s not really the hiding I’d planned, but I don’t know how to explain that.

“Sure,” I say. “But I really have to get back after.”

“That’s okay.”

We walk down the hall. And you would think that maybe some people would be staring at the stranger next to me, a person they’ve never seen before. Maybe not the same guy I am rumored to have had sex with in the gym (there’s no mistaking him for that), but still—someone different.

But no. I’m still the main attraction.

A’s picking up on this, too. He sees them looking at me. He sees them turning away.

“Apparently, I’m now a metalhead slut,” I explain. I genuinely don’t care who overhears. “According to some sources, I’ve even slept with members of Metallica. It’s kind of funny, but also kind of not.” I stop talking for a second and look at A. “You, however, are something completely different. I don’t even know what I’m dealing with today.”

“My name’s Vic. I’m a biological female, but my gender is male.”