Day 44 / 14:13
Ms Turner’s given them another sheet of paper and asked them to fill it in as fast as they can.
1. If I could . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
2. If I could . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
3. If I could . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Only 3 slots to fill in, but maybe, if Noah writes really fast, he can add a 4th and then a 5th.
When they’ve all finished they’ll take turns to read one thing out. ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ says Ms Turner, and Noah relaxes.
‘If I could take a magic pill,’ Vuyokazi’s saying, ‘just one a day. Enough to feed me and make me stronger. Just one swallow and then water for the rest of the day, I wouldn’t care about the flavour. I’d even take it if it tasted like liver.’ She laughs. ‘The worst taste ever, but I’d line up for it every day, if it was one a day only.’
‘No. It’s sour milk,’ Morné grimaces. ‘When you get to the fridge and take a swig.’
‘What about when you vomit in your mouth,’ Simon says. ‘That happens to me.’
‘Nah,’ Juliet’s joining in now. ‘Eggplant. Slimy. Gross.’
‘What about you, Ms Turner?’
Why do the people in this group have to talk so much?
Ms Turner laughs. ‘This is going to sound very strange,’ she says, ‘but I’ve had a lifelong aversion to pears.’
‘Pears?’ Even Wandile’s talking now. ‘Pears are delicious!’
‘Maybe to you, Wandile.’ She pulls a face. ‘Not me. I don’t know. It’s got something to do with the texture. That gritty feeling on your tongue. No thanks.’
‘Any of the above,’ says Vuyokazi. ‘Just one pill, once a day and my life would be a dream—’
‘—sweetheart,’ Noah almost adds, one of his mother’s songs humming in his head. Instead he raises his hand.
Do not volunteer.
He opens his mouth.
Careful. Don’t give anything away.
But he does. Before he knows what’s happening, he’s reading from his slip of paper.
‘If I could go back in time, I would. Back to before the day I broke Kyle Blake’s arm.’
As he finishes the last sentence, Juliet erupts.
‘Oh, come on! Seriously? You’d go back to before, when jerks like him were bullying you? Pushing you, shoving you.’
‘I’m with J-J-Juliet,’ Wandile says.
At first Noah thought Wandile (Wordless Wandile, Juliet calls him) and he were alike, scared to use words in case something catastrophic happens, but that’s not the case. He’s heard him speak almost normally when they’re in the dining room, or watching TV. Stuttered Speech Syndome. That’s Wandile’s label – sort out his Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD, something he and Simon share) and hopefully that will help with his stutter. Noah’s watched him trying to talk to his parents out on the lawn. His mom and dad are always on the way from somewhere or to somewhere important. ‘Pots of money,’ Sadie says one day. ‘My dad says Wandile’s father could buy and sell us all.’
Wandile’s their only child. Heir to all that fame and fortune. Quite something to have to take on.
‘W-w-w-we h-h-h-h-have to st-st-stand-up-to bullies.’ The last words come out in a rush of air and Wandile hangs his head.
‘Oh, wow.’ Juliet’s eyes are wide. She leans over and punches him gently on the arm. ‘So many words, Wandile.’
‘What about you, Juliet?’ says Ms Turner. ‘Do you have a bully in your life?’
Juliet looks around the circle. Even Sloppy Sadie is paying attention.
‘Yeah,’ she says, ‘I guess I have.’
The attention has swung away from Noah, and that’s a relief. It’s one thing to write his lists of 5 or his answers to Ms Turner’s exercises, quite another to expose them to the group. But then again … those words: ‘The sooner you give them what they want, the sooner you’ll get out of here.’
You are stepping beyond the bounds. This has to—
Noah raises the shield of Juliet’s words, dented and scorched, but still whole, and the Dark retreats with a hiss.
It’s a 3-month programme with 6 weeks, 2 days gone. If he wants to get out, he has to give them what they want. The more, the better.
Noah’s hands are shaking, but his head is quiet.