Week 1: Day 1 / 06:24
Noah pulls himself out of his dream. He was running free, no need to count his steps, or his breath, or stop and count again when he made a mistake. He often dreams of running, or balancing, suspended high above a city street, moving nimbly on a wire that dips and sways with the weight of his body but never lets him fall. Below him there are shadows threshing, a wild yowling, but he floats above it, step after perfect step. Nothing fogs his brain or slows his speech or dulls his responses.
His fingers move to his pulse, beats waiting to be counted for 1 minute exactly. As that minute ticks away, his breathing relaxes and his heart slows and the running no longer pushes his body on.
Step by slowly measured step he starts his day, 1st allowing his eyes to open, then checking each corner of his new room. 1 2 3 4 and – a quick glance to the centre – 5. He sits up slowly, letting the sound of running fall away. He swings his legs to the side of his bed; 1 leg, 2.
Next he forces his body to stand and begin its slow walk around the room. Step by step, he examines his space. If he can count in batches of 5, so much the better. The main thing, the most important thing, is that he counts every object, every article, and that everything is where it should be.
But it’s all newly positioned here. If he makes a mistake he will have to begin again, move more deliberately. This is his punishment for carelessness. Starting over, more slowly, more carefully, against the relentless tick of the clock. The slower he goes, the louder it grows, chastising, hectoring, but if he hurries, he will make a mistake. And then he will have to start again.
A vicious circle. But that’s life, Noah. That’s life.
His eyes sweep the room one last time. Everything is in its right place (for now), which is just as well because today is Monday, his first proper day at Greenhills and Noah has to speak to Ms Turner. He thinks of the sheet he filled out last night. ‘5 Things About Me’. It sits on his desk and he picks it up, folds it into 4 and slips it inside his notebook. He doesn’t like the way the twice doubled-over sheet distorts the spine. He will have to devise a new system for storing the lists. This is something he can talk to Ms Turner about.
He still hasn’t worked out the distance between her room and his—
Hurry along, Noah. You can’t be late.