Tuesday, the First Time

The Tuesday started the way most Tuesdays did, which was badly.

Bea woke up late. Her older brother had used all the hot water. The cereal she wanted was finished and the only thing left was the kind with dried fruit in it that she did not like. The bus was two minutes early and she missed it by thirty seconds, which she knew because she could see it pulling away from the stop as she rounded the corner still trying to tie her left shoelace.

She arrived at school seven minutes late and her teacher, Mr. Okoro, gave her the look that meant this is the third time this half term and we will be having a conversation about this.

She slid into her seat next to her two best friends, Tomasz and Wren.

"You missed the bus again," Tomasz said.

"Thank you, Tomasz," Bea said. "I had not noticed."

"You have cereal on your shirt," Wren said.

Bea looked down. She did. The dried fruit kind, which made it worse somehow.

The day continued in the same spirit. She got a question wrong in maths that she definitely knew the answer to. She dropped her lunch tray in the cafeteria and everyone looked. She tripped on the step outside the science block and tore a small hole in her left trouser leg. In the afternoon she discovered that the history project she thought was due next Friday was actually due this Friday, which was in three days.

By the time the final bell went Bea was the kind of tired that is less about not sleeping and more about the world being persistently annoying.

She walked home with Tomasz and Wren the long way, through the park, because the long way was nicer and she needed nicer.

In the middle of the park there was an old stone fountain that had not worked in years. The water had been turned off so long ago that the basin was completely dry and someone had planted flowers in it, which Bea had always thought was a rather good use of a broken fountain.

As they walked past it today something happened that had never happened before.

The fountain made a sound. A low hum, felt more than heard, the kind of vibration that you notice in your back teeth. Then it stopped. Then the day restarted.

Bea was in her bed. Her alarm was going off. It was Tuesday morning.

She lay there for a moment staring at the ceiling with the distinct and bewildering feeling that she had already done this.

Then her brother used all the hot water and there was only the dried fruit cereal and the bus left two minutes early and she missed it by thirty seconds.

She arrived at school seven minutes late.

"You missed the bus again," Tomasz said.

Bea turned and looked at him very carefully. "Tomasz," she said. "Has today already happened?"

Tomasz stared at her. "It is eight forty-three in the morning," he said. "Nothing has happened yet."

Bea looked at Wren. Wren looked back at her with the expression she used when she was waiting to see if something was going to be interesting or concerning.

"I think," Bea said slowly, "that we have a problem."