Also by David Levithan
The Likely Story series (written as David Van Etten, with David Ozanich and Chris Van Etten)
THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2012 by David Levithan
Jacket art copyright © 2012 by Adam Abernathy
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
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Levithan, David.
Every day / by David Levithan.
p. cm.
Summary: Every morning A wakes in a different person’s body, a different person’s life, learning over the years to never get too attached, until he wakes up in the body of Justin and falls in love with Justin’s girlfriend, Rhiannon.
eISBN: 978-0-307-97563-8
[1. Love—Fiction. 2. Interpersonal relations—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.L5798Es 2012
[Fic]—dc23
2012004173
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
v3.1
Contents
Day 5994
Day 5995
Day 5996
Day 5997
Day 5998
Day 5999
Day 6000
Day 6001
Day 6002
Day 6003
Day 6004
Day 6005
Day 6006
Day 6007
Day 6008
Day 6009
Day 6010
Day 6011
Day 6012
Day 6013
Day 6014
Day 6015
Day 6016
Day 6017
Day 6018
Day 6019
Day 6020
Day 6021
Day 6022
Day 6023
Day 6024
Day 6025
Day 6026
Day 6027
Day 6028
Day 6029
Day 6030
Day 6031
Day 6032
Day 6033
Day 6034
Day 5994
I wake up.
Immediately I have to figure out who I am. It’s not just the body—opening my eyes and discovering whether the skin on my arm is light or dark, whether my hair is long or short, whether I’m fat or thin, boy or girl, scarred or smooth. The body is the easiest thing to adjust to, if you’re used to waking up in a new one each morning. It’s the life, the context of the body, that can be hard to grasp.
Every day I am someone else. I am myself—I know I am myself—but I am also someone else.
It has always been like this.
The information is there. I wake up, open my eyes, understand that it is a new morning, a new place. The biography kicks in, a welcome gift from the not-me part of the mind. Today I am Justin. Somehow I know this—my name is Justin—and at the same time I know that I’m not really Justin, I’m only borrowing his life for a day. I look around and know that this is his room. This is his home. The alarm will go off in seven minutes.
I’m never the same person twice, but I’ve certainly been this type before. Clothes everywhere. Far more video games than books. Sleeps in his boxers. From the taste of his mouth, a smoker. But not so addicted that he needs one as soon as he wakes up.
“Good morning, Justin,” I say. Checking out his voice. Low. The voice in my head is always different.
Justin doesn’t take care of himself. His scalp itches. His eyes don’t want to open. He hasn’t gotten much sleep.
Already I know I’m not going to like today.
It’s hard being in the body of someone you don’t like, because you still have to respect it. I’ve harmed people’s lives in the past, and I’ve found that every time I slip up, it haunts me. So I try to be careful.
