Page 28 of Every Day (Every Day 1)

“I’m fine,” I say, positioning myself in front of the screen.

“Alright, then. You have ten minutes more, then I want you to help me unload the dishwasher and head to bed. We have a long week ahead of us.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I turn back to the email. I don’t know how to respond, or if I should respond. I have a vague recollection of Nathan’s mother interrupting me while I was on the computer—I must have closed the window without clearing the history. So when Nathan loaded up his email, it must have been my address that popped up. But he doesn’t know my password, so the account itself should be safe. Just in case, though, I know I need to change my password and move all my old emails, quick.

I will not remain quiet.

I wonder what this means.

I can’t forward all my old emails in the ten minutes that I have, but I start to make a dent in them.

“Roger!”

Roger’s mother calls me and I know I have to go. But clearing the history and turning off the computer can’t stop my thoughts. I think about Nathan waking up on the side of the road. I try to imagine what he must have felt. But the truth is, I don’t know. Did he feel like it was something he had gotten himself into? Or did he immediately know that something was wrong, that someone else had been in control? Was he sure of this when he went to his computer and saw my email address?

Who does he think I am?

What does he think I am?

I head into the kitchen and Roger’s mother gives me another look of concern. She and Roger are close, I can tell. She knows how to read her son. Over the years, they’ve been there for each other. He’s helped raise his sisters. And she’s raised him.

If I really were Roger, I could tell her everything. If I really were Roger, no matter how hard it was to understand, she would be on my side. Fiercely. Unconditionally.

But I am not really her son, or anyone’s son. I can’t disclose what’s bothering Roger today, because it doesn’t have much bearing on who he’ll be tomorrow. So I brush off his mother’s concern, tell her it’s no big deal, then help her take the dishes out of the dishwasher. We work in quiet camaraderie until the task is done, and sleep calls.

For a while, though, I can’t go to sleep. I lie in bed, stare at the ceiling. This is the irony: Even though I wake up in a different body every morning, I’ve always felt in some way that I am in control.

But now I don’t feel in control at all.

Now there are other people involved.

Day 6001

The next morning, I am even farther from Rhiannon.

I’m four hours away, and in the body of Margaret Weiss. Luckily, Margaret has a laptop that I can check before we go to school.

There’s an email waiting from Rhiannon.

Nathan!

I’m so glad you emailed, because I lost the slip of paper that I wrote your email on. It was wonderful talking and dancing with you, too. How dare the police break us up! You’re my type, personwise, too. Even if you don’t believe in relationships that last longer than a year. (I’m not saying you’re wrong, btw. Jury’s still out.)

I never thought I’d say this, but I hope Steve has another party soon. If only so you can bear witness to its evil.

Love,

Rhiannon

I can imagine her smiling when she wrote this, and this makes me smile, too.

Then I open my other account, and there’s another email from Nathan.

I have given the police this email address. Don’t think you can get away with this.

The police?