It’s hard to leave. It’s hard to be a part of this girl’s story and then walk away from it.

I realize as I’m leaving that I don’t even know her name. So I ask A.

“Kelsea,” she tells me.

“Well, Kelsea,” I say, imagining she can hear me, “it’s good to meet you. And I really, really hope you’ll be okay.”

But there’s no way to know for sure, is there?

Chapter Eleven

When I get home, I need to distract myself. I get on the computer and binge on all the stupid websites I like to look at when my brain can’t take anything deeper. I am not expecting to find anything that has to do with me. So when I see it, I’m shocked.

Just one new window. One click. And there he is—Steve’s fake cousin Nathan—staring back at me.

THE DEVIL AMONG US!

At first I think it’s a prank. But how? This isn’t some high school website. This is a Baltimore newspaper. Not a good one, but still.

It’s definitely Nathan. If I was unsure about the photo, his name is right there in the article: Nathan Daldry, age 16. He claims to have been possessed by the devil six nights ago. He woke up after midnight, at the side of the road. He has no idea what happened to him.

But I do. That’s the night I danced with him.

I read the article with a strange numbness. He’s not the only person who claims to have been “taken over.” Other people say the devil went into their bodies and made them do evil things.

Only, Nathan doesn’t really specify what evil things he was made to do. He just assumes that anything he can’t remember is bad.

The devil. They are saying A is the devil.

But the devil wouldn’t have helped Kelsea. The devil wouldn’t have been so scared.

I don’t know what A is, but A is not the devil.

I think about Nathan in his tie. Awkwardly standing around the party. I wonder how much of that was A and how much of it was Nathan. I wonder what would make him think he’d been possessed. It sounds like people are making a big deal of it, and that there’s even a reverend acting as his spokesman. Is Nathan out for the attention? Or does he genuinely not know?

After dinner, I search some more. Nathan’s story has gotten out there. If A left his body right before midnight, he must have woken up without any memory of me or the party. Or did he remember the party and have to make an excuse to the police officer who found him asleep at the side of the road?

I wish I knew Kelsea’s last name so I could look her up, too. Not that I think she’ll be updating her online status tonight to say Everything’s okay! I can’t really imagine what A is going through. What A has to do. But I’m certain that A is doing it.

Because A is not the devil. And A is not an angel, either.

A is just a person.

I guess I know that. A is just a person.

Justin texts me when he’s off work.

Wanna hang out?

I don’t. So I tell him I’m tired.

He doesn’t text back.

I keep thinking about Kelsea all night, wondering what happens after A is gone.

In the morning, I can’t stand it. I realize I still have the phone number at their house. I can call and make sure she’s okay. I can pretend it’s a wrong number. I just want to hear someone’s voice. I want to be able to tell from the sound of her voice, or her father’s.

It’s nine in the morning. Nobody answers.

I call again. They can’t be sleeping. This would have woken them.

So they’re not there.

I email A:

A,

I hope it went well yesterday. I called her house just now and no one was home—do you think they’re getting help? I’m trying to take it as a good sign.

Meanwhile, here’s a link you need to see. It’s out of control.

Where are you today?

R

I think he needs to know what Nathan is saying, and the fact that people are listening to it.

I wonder if he’s dealt with this kind of thing before.

And then I step back and acknowledge how weird it is that I’ve accepted all this. I mean, I still want more proof. Which is where the idea comes from for what I’m going to do next.

I start searching the Internet again.

About an hour later, there’s a new email from A.

Rhiannon,

I think it’s a good sign. Kelsea’s father is now aware of what’s going on, and before I left, he was figuring out what to do. So if they’re not home, they are probably getting help. Thank you for being there—I would have done the wrong things without you.

I am sure you know this, but I am going to say it anyway: I am not the devil. Nathan had a very bad reaction to me leaving him—they weren’t the best circumstances, and I feel bad about that. But he has leaped—or been pushed—to the wrong conclusion.

Today I am a boy named Hugo. I’m going to a parade in Annapolis with some of his friends. Can you meet me there? I’m sure there will be some way for me to get away for a little bit, and I would of course love to see you. Let me know if you can make it. Or if you can’t reach me—I’m not sure I’ll be able to check here—look for a Brazilian boy with a “vintage” Avril Lavigne T-shirt on. It is, I imagine, the T-shirt of his that is least likely to be worn by anyone else.

Hoping to see you.

Love,

A

Annapolis is far. Not too far, but far. Especially if there’s no way to know if I’ll get to see him.

I do not have the energy to chase around after someone else.