Page 96 of Every Day (Every Day 1)

“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.

He seems amused. “I’m not touching you. I am sitting here, having a conversation.”

“Get off of me!” I say louder, and start ripping at my own shirt, sending the buttons flying.

“What—”

“GET OFF OF ME!” I scream, and in that scream is a sob, and in that sob is a cry for help, and just as I’d hoped, Nathan hears it, Nathan has been listening, and the door to the living room is flung open, and there he is, just in time to see me screaming and crying, my shirt ripped open, Poole standing now with murder in his eyes.

I am betting everything on the common decency I saw in Nathan, back when I was inside of him, and even though he is clearly terrified, the common decency does rise, because instead of running away or closing the door or listening to what Poole has to say, Nathan yells, “What are you doing?” and he holds the door open for me as I flee, and he blocks the reverend—or whoever he is inside—from catching me as I run out the front door and into my car. Nathan summons the strength to hold Poole back, buying me those crucial seconds, so by the time Poole is on the lawn, my key is already in the ignition.

“There’s no point in running away!” Poole yells. “You’re only going to want to find me later! All the others have!”

Trembling, I turn up the radio, and drown him out with the sound of the song, and the sound of me driving away.

I don’t want to believe him. I want to think he’s an actor, a charlatan, a fake.

But when I looked closely at him, I saw someone else inside. I recognized him in the same way that Rhiannon recognized me.

Only, I also saw danger there.

I saw someone who does not play by the same set of rules.

As soon as I’m gone, I wish I’d stayed a few minutes longer, let him talk a little bit more. I have more questions than I’ve ever had before, and he might have had the answers.

But if I’d stayed just a few more minutes, I don’t know if I could have left. And I would have been dooming Ainsley to the same struggle as Nathan, if not worse. I don’t know what Poole would have done with her—what we would have done with her, if I’d stayed.

He could be lying. I have to remind myself that he could be lying.

I am not the only one.

I cannot wrap my thoughts around this. The fact that there could be others. They may have been in the same school as me, the same room as me, the same family as me. But because we keep our secret so hidden, there’d be no way to know.

I remember the boy in Montana whose story was so similar to mine. Was that true? Or was it just a trap Poole set?

There are others.

It can change everything.

Or it can change nothing.

As I drive back to Ainsley’s house, I realize it’s my choice.

Day 6029

Darryl Drake is very distracted the next day.