Page 14 of Role Model
I burst out laughing at that. “Wow. Okay.”
“Does your mum have her team do that, too?”
I think about it. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
A comfortable silence falls between us and I take in the grandeur of the room again.
“Do you want to run up and down the corridor?”
I glance back to this strange boy and wonder what52he’s actually doing here. “Sorry?”
“The corridor? It’s long and fun to canter up and down in.”
So that’s what we do. We gallop up and down Buckingham Palace and laugh as our feet thunder on the carpet. We ignore the hum of the important adults in the rest of the palace and find freedom in acting like sheepdogs herding an invisible flock; like the collies back in Scotland who come alive when they’re allowed to run. We stretch our legs and laugh and shriek. Everything feels less scary and more fun, until–
“Aeriel?”
I hear Dad’s frantic whisper from the massive, ornate hallway.
“Aeriel?! What are you doing?”
Dad is standing in the doorway, looking flustered. Like he did that one time when we were all going to the theatre and Mum kept getting phone calls, meaning that we would miss the curtain. I watch as he takes in the boy I’ve been playing with and a change comes over him. Something in his face hardens, but he forces a tight smile.
“Excuse us, your Royal Highness.”
I round on the boy, glaring. “What?”
53He gives me an apologetic smile but does not deny the title.
“Aeriel,” Dad says shortly. “Come on. His Highness will need to get changed; I think.”
“Yes,” the boy says wearily. “That’s true. See you at dinner, Viral Girl.”
“That was Prince Richard?” I whisper to Dad as he marches me back into the reception area.
“Yes,” Dad says. “I’m shocked you don’t recognise people, Aeriel, I really am.”
It’s facial blindness. I have real difficulty identifying people, especially out of context. I have to see someone quite regularly in order to recognise them. It’s only become more difficult since Mum’s win.
“You didn’t say anything, you know, Aeriel-like to him, did you?” Dad presses as we re-renter the large room full of twinkling chandeliers and formally dressed people.
“What do you mean?” I say, insulted.
He throws me a quick smile. “Nothing. Be good now.”
What happens next is a blur. The President and her family arrive. The applause is so overwhelming, and there are so many people in the room, it makes me feel like someone is covering my mouth with their hand. I feel panicky. Like I should dive under a table and hide. Then the royal family enter after a man with54the voice of a foghorn announces them. I realise that Richard was right about all of the fuss being used as a tool to make everyone nervous.
Mum is now standing with the two important families, greeting them with the smile she only ever uses at work. Dad slowly moves me to join everyone and I’m worried that they’ll hear my ragged breathing.
“This is my daughter, Aeriel,” Mum tells them all.
“What a curious name,” the King says, smiling down at me. He looks too normal to be a king. If he weren’t wearing the regalia, he would pass for one of the fathers at my school.
“My husband and I met studying Shakespeare, sir,” Mum tells him.
“Ah,” the Queen breaks into a triumphant smile. “A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”
“The Tempest,” I correct her.
