Day 1 / 13:08
‘Hey, Noah.’
It’s the girl from yesterday. Juliet Ryan.
Noah checks the time. 13:08. 7 minutes more and he’ll have to stop and put on the kettle, make tea in his powder-blue Monday mug.
‘Do you mind if I …’
She’s not really asking, though. She’s sliding down the frame of his open door, coming to rest on the floor.
‘Open Door Time’ it says on the timetable above Noah’s desk. According to the information booklet, that’s one of the times ‘residents are encouraged to socialise, spend time getting to know each other’.
Now she’s propping her feet against the other side. No shoes, Noah notices. Short denim shorts and a skimpy black vest top.
‘So, how long are you in for?’
She makes it sound like a prison sentence. Noah checks the calendar on his wall. Another 83 days, he could tell her. He could even give the exact number of hours and minutes, but he stays silent.
Juliet looks up at him from under her fringe and blinks slowly, 1, 2, 3 times.
‘I’m here for the duration,’ she says, ‘the full three months.’ She blinks again, 3 times more, and Noah wonders if she’s counting.
She’s still talking, telling him that her parents are always relieved when they can shunt her off to Greenhills. ‘My third time,’ she says. ‘But this is the longest. Not that my mom notices much. She’s pretty much out of it from the time she wakes up until she goes back to bed.’
Another blink, and now Juliet is running her tongue back and forth over her upper lip. She leans forward and her top slides off one shoulder to reveal the strap of the sort of bra Maddie wears for gym. She looks over at Noah quickly, but he’s looking at his mugs, wondering how he’s going to solve the tea-time dilemma.
‘My dad couldn’t care whether I’m there or not,’ Juliet continues. ‘We’re one big disappointment to him, my mom, my sister and me.’
Too much information, Noah.
She’s telling him all this stuff and Noah’s not sure why. Plus there’s the blinking and lip-licking. Maybe it’s some sort of nervous twitch, like when call-me-Si jumps if someone says his name.
He doesn’t have time to listen though. He needs to put the kettle on right now. If she stays here much longer …
He stares at his mugs, willing his fingers to keep still.
Juliet’s still talking, about her sister now. Lily.
‘She’s three years younger than me. Just started senior school.’ Her voice slows and she looks at Noah, her blue eyes misty. ‘I wish I was back home,’ she says. ‘Keeping an eye on her.’
Noah sees Maddie, standing near him, warning people off with her glare. Juliet is a big sister. She looks after Lily, her little sister. With him, it’s different. Maddie stands guard over Noah. Something to think about, maybe even tell Ms Turner, but he seriously doesn’t have time to think about it now. If she doesn’t leave, he’s going to have to have his tea and biscuits while she watches. He can’t see any way around it.
Tell her to leave. It’s as simple as that.
It’s not simple, though. Noah can’t be that rude. He’ll have to choose the lesser of the two evils. Make tea for just himself, and then maybe she’ll take the hint and leave. She doesn’t seem to be very good at that though. Taking hints. When people don’t answer, it means they don’t want to talk, but she’s not reading the situation very well.
He gets up, switches on the kettle that Greenhills provides.
‘Ooh, tea. Lovely,’ says Juliet.
Noah shakes his head.
‘Oh. Right.’ Her voice is understanding. ‘Never mind, dude. I get it. It’s not like I haven’t met my fair share of OCDS. Seven mugs. Seven days of the week. All colour-coded. Light blue all the way through to navy. Right?’
Indigo, Noah wants to say, but he just nods and opens the tin where he keeps the teabags.
‘But the water, that’s not a problem? I mean you don’t measure it or anything?’
He shakes his head again.
‘Cool. Give me a sec.’
She’s gone and Noah feels his shoulders relax.
But not for long.
She’s back at his door in seconds. ‘Crisis averted,’ she says, handing him a mug with a teabag in it. ‘Black for me, please. And not too strong.’
There’s nothing for it. He takes her mug and fills it with boiling water, extracts her teabag quickly.
‘Perfect,’ Juliet says.
A quick dash of milk and Noah’s tea is ready. He looks at the biscuits but Juliet’s there before him. ‘Help yourself, Noah. I only like biscuits if I have coffee.’
His faces mirrors alarm and she laughs. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll bring my own tomorrow.’
Tomorrow? She’s coming back here again?
Juliet settles back down on the floor and sips. She looks at Noah over the rim of her mug and blinks, more of a flutter, really, a quick movement of her eyelids. ‘Greenhills isn’t too bad, actually. Not as far as places like this go.’ She blinks again and shifts slightly so that her vest gapes.
Noah doesn’t have time for any more of her. It’s 12:48. If she doesn’t leave soon, he’s going to run short of time. He still has to wash his mug, tidy his tea shelf, sort out his desk, check the number of steps to the Rec Room and get there before everyone else does so that he can assess the seating situation.
That’s something he can ask this Juliet girl. He clears his throat and she looks up at him, without any fluttering.
‘The Rec Room?’
‘Yes?’
‘The seating?’
Juliet’s puzzled for a while and then she smiles. ‘Oh. Sorry dude. You can’t choose where to sit. It’s pretty much whoever’s last in winds up next to the therapist. Who, as of a short while ago, is our new arrival, Ms Ellen Turner.
‘Actually, we’d better get a move on. I’ll see you there.’ Juliet slurps the last of her tea and leaps to her feet.
Finally. Noah stands too.
‘See you there, Noah Groome.’ She leans into his room and places her mug on his desk. ‘I’ll grab this on my way back, okay?’
Before he can say, ‘No, not okay, definitely not,’ she’s gone, sauntering down the corridor, leaving her unwashed mug behind her.
12:53. There’s time to rinse them quickly in the small sink next to his shelf. He’ll place hers next to the kettle, in the front of his mugs.
Noah pushes his chair into his desk, straightens his desk organiser and puts his notebook into his top pocket. He checks the clock again. 12:56. He has 4 minutes to count the steps to the Rec Room and find a seat.
1. Rec – where group meets.
2. Rec – sounds like ‘wreck’.
3. Rec – short for re-creation, where they want to make you over.
4. Recuperate – where they want to you to recover.
5. Recreation – where you play.
Good thing he hasn’t been asked to factor relaxation into his new timetable. He couldn’t handle that. It’ll be bad enough having to head to the Rec Room every day for group. Bad enough having to pick up his mat and walk there for Exercise. Noah couldn’t handle much more Rec.