Every Day

“It must be pretty overwhelming, though, having everyone so interested. And all the blogs and stuff. And this reverend.”

I wonder if I’ve pushed too far. But Nathan seems happy to talk. AJ is a good guy.

“Yeah, he really gets it. He knew people would give me grief. But he told me I had to be stronger. I mean, having people laugh is nothing compared to surviving a possession.”

Surviving a possession. I have never thought about what I do in those terms. I never thought my presence was something that anyone would have to survive.

Nathan sees me thinking. “What?” he asks.

“I’m just curious—what do you remember from that day?”

Now a wariness creeps into his expression.

“Why are you asking?”

“Curiosity, I guess. I’m not doubting you. Not at all. I just feel like, in all the things I’ve read and all the things people have said, I never really got to hear your side. It’s all been secondhand and thirdhand and probably seventh- or eighth-hand, so I figured I’d just come and ask you firsthand.”

I know I’m on dangerous ground here. I can’t make AJ too much of a confidant, because tomorrow will come and he might not remember anything that’s been said, and that might make Nathan suspicious. But at the same time, I want to know what he remembers.

Nathan wants to talk. I can see it. He knows he’s stepped off his own map. And while he won’t pull back, he also regrets it a little. I don’t think he ever meant for it to take over his life.

“It was a pretty normal day,” he tells me. “Nothing unusual. I was home with my parents. I did chores, that kind of thing. And then—I don’t know. Something must have happened. Because I made up this story about a school musical and borrowed their car for the night. I don’t remember the musical part—they told me that later. But there I was, driving around. And I had these … urges. Like I was being drawn somewhere.”

He pauses.

“Where?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. This is the weird part. There are a few hours there that are completely blank. I have this sense of not being in control of my body, but that’s it. I have flashes of a party, but I have no idea where, or who else was there. Then suddenly I’m being woken up by a policeman. And I haven’t drunk a sip. I haven’t done any drugs. They tested for that, you know.”

“What if you had a seizure?”

“Why would I borrow my parents’ car to have a seizure? No, there was something else in control. The reverend says I must have wrestled with the devil. Like Jacob. I must have known my body was being used for something evil, and I fought it. And then, when I won, the devil left me by the side of the road.”

He believes this. He genuinely believes this.

And I can’t tell him it’s not true. I can’t tell him what really happened. Because if I do, AJ will be in danger. I will be in danger.

“It didn’t have to be the devil,” I say.

Nathan becomes defensive. “I just know, okay? And I’m not the only one. There are lots of people out there who’ve experienced the same thing. I’ve chatted with a few of them. It’s scary how many things we have in common.”

“Are you afraid it will happen again?”

“No. I’m prepared this time. If the devil is anywhere near me, I’ll know what to do.”

I sit right there across from him and listen.

He doesn’t recognize me.

I am not the devil.

This thought is what echoes through my mind the rest of the day.

I am not the devil, but I could be.

Looking at it from afar, looking at it from a perspective like Nathan’s, I can see how scary it could be. Because what’s to stop me from doing harm? What punishment would there be if I took the pencil in my hand and gouged out the eye of the girl sitting next to me in chem class? Or worse. I could easily get away with the perfect crime. The body that committed the murder would inevitably get caught, but the murderer would go free. Why haven’t I thought of this before?

I have the potential to be the devil.

But then I think, Stop. I think, No. Because, really, does that make me any different from everyone else? Yes, I could get away with it, but certainly we all have the potential to commit the crime. We choose not to. Every single day, we choose not to. I am no different.

I am not the devil.

There is still no word from Rhiannon. Whether her silence is coming from her confusion or from a desire to be rid of me, I have no way of knowing.

I write to her and say, simply:

I have to see you again.

A

Day 6009

There’s still no word from her the next morning.

I get in the car and drive.

The car belongs to Adam Cassidy. He should be in school. But I call the office pretending to be his father and say he has a doctor’s appointment.

It may last the entire day.