“Sometimes,” I say. Which only confuses him more.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“I’ll tell you,” I reply. “I promise. But let’s order first.”

I don’t really trust him, but I tell him I do, as a way of inspiring a reciprocal trust. It’s still a risk I’m taking, but I can’t think of any other way to give him peace of mind.

“Only one other person knows this,” I begin. And then I tell him what I am. I tell him how it works. I tell him again what happened the day I was inside his body. I tell him how I know it won’t happen another time.

I know that, unlike Rhiannon, he won’t doubt me. Because my explanation feels right to him. It fits nicely into his own experience. It what he’s always suspected. Because in some way, I primed him to remember it. I don’t know why, but when my mind and his mind concocted our cover story, we left a hole in it. Now I’m filling in that hole.

When I’m done, Nathan doesn’t know what to say.

“So … whoa … I guess … so, like, tomorrow, you’re not going to be her?”

“No.”

“And she’ll …?”

“She’ll have some other memory of today. Probably that she met a boy for a date, but that it didn’t work out. She won’t remember it’s you. It’ll just be this vague idea of a person, so if her parents ask tomorrow how it went, she won’t be surprised by the question. She’ll never know she wasn’t here.”

“So why did I know?”

“Maybe because I left you so fast. Maybe I didn’t lay the groundwork for a proper memory. Or maybe I wanted you to find me, in some way. I don’t know.”

Our food, which arrived while I was talking, remains largely untouched on the table.

“This is huge,” Nathan says.

“You can’t tell anyone,” I remind him. “I’m trusting you.”

“I know, I know.” He nods absently, and starts to eat. “This is between you and me.”

At the end of the meal, Nathan tells me it’s really helped to talk to me and to know the truth. He also asks if we can meet again the next day, just so he can see the switch for himself. I tell him I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll try.

Our parents pick us up. On the drive back home, Kasey’s mom asks me how it went.

“Good … I think,” I tell her.

It’s the only truthful thing I tell her the whole ride.

Day 6028

The next day, a Sunday, I wake up as Ainsley Mills. Allergic to gluten, afraid of spiders, proud owner of three Scotties, two of which sleep in her bed.

In ordinary circumstances, I would think this was going to be an ordinary day.

Nathan emails me, saying he wants to meet up, and that if I have a car, I can come to his house. His parents are away for the day, so he doesn’t have a ride.

Rhiannon doesn’t email me, so I go with Nathan.

Ainsley tells her parents she’ll be shopping with some friends. They don’t question her. They give her the keys to her mom’s car and tell her not to be back too late. They need her to baby-sit her sister starting at five.

It’s only eleven. Ainsley assures them she’ll be back in plenty of time.

Nathan is only fifteen minutes away. I figure I won’t have to stay too long. I’ll just have to prove to him that I am the same person as yesterday. Then that’s it—I don’t think I have anything else to offer. The rest is up to him.

He looks surprised when he opens the door and sees me. I guess he didn’t really believe it would be true, and now it is. He looks nervous, and I chalk it up to the fact that I’m here in his house. I recognize it, but already it’s started to blend into all the other houses I’ve lived in. If you put me in the main hallway and all the doors were closed, I don’t think I could tell you which door led to which room.

Nathan takes me into his living room—this is where guests go, and even if I’ve been him for a day, I am still a guest.

“So it’s really you,” he says. “In a different body.”

I nod and sit down on the couch.

“Do you want something to drink?” he offers.

I tell him water will be fine. I do not tell him that I plan on leaving soon, and water probably isn’t necessary.

As he goes to get it, I study some of the family portraits on display. Nathan looks uncomfortable in each of them … just like his father. Only his mother beams.

I hear Nathan come back in and don’t look up. So it’s a jolt when a voice that isn’t Nathan’s says, “I’m so glad I have a chance to meet you.”

It’s a man with silver hair and a gray suit. He’s wearing a tie, but it’s loose at the neck; this is casual time for him. I stand up, but in Ainsley’s slight body, there’s no way I can meet him eye to eye.

“Please,” Reverend Poole says, “there’s no need for you to stand. Let’s sit.”

He closes the door behind him, then chooses an armchair that’s between me and the door. He is probably twice Ainsley’s size, so he could stop me if he wanted to. The question is whether he’d really want to. The fact that my instinct is to wonder about these things is a tip-off that there may be cause for alarm.

I decide to come on tough.

“It’s Sunday,” I say. “Shouldn’t you be in church?”

He smiles. “More important things for me here.”