Page 19 of Role Model
“A microphone,” I say.
“Good girl. Now, this part has to clip onto your waist or go in your pocket.”
I’m wearing the hideous blue dress again, the same on from the palace. The dress with no pockets. “I–I don’t know–”
I’m starting to feel panicked. I don’t have a pocket, and it feels like a failure on my part. I’m worried this means he’ll need to put the microphone on me himself. I don’t like strangers being too close to me.
The panic is like smoke, morphing into a hand around my throat. It tightens gently and it’s harder to breathe. I know how these things go, they’ll all start frowning at me, wondering why I can’t do something that they think is simple. It’s what I’m used to seeing right before a meltdown. I haven’t had one in so long but every wave, even the highest wave, has71to come crashing down at some point.
“I need–can I just–”
“I’ll put it on for you,” he announces, stepping towards me and all of a sudden, he’s a giant. I feel two feet tall. I back away, terrified.
And there it is. The expression. The irritation mixed with confusion.
Why can’t you just be normal? I’ve been asked it so many times, their voices have become my own voice in my head. I can’t seem to drown it out.
He’s towering over me now, pinning the actual microphone to my collar while trying to hand me the battery pack. Everything becomes a kind of blur, with someone else coming over to help. I’m finally declared ‘good to go’ and so they walk me to the set. I’m still trying to make my breathing even. I’m still trying to adjust to the heavy lights over my head. I can see two presenters on a red couch.
“All right,” a grownup who hasn’t told me their name says to me. “When the footage starts playing, you move to sit on the empty part of the sofa.”
I try to nod but I’m starting to go under. That’s how it feels, when a meltdown is pressing at my back teeth and behind my eyes and threatening to boil over. It feels like slipping underwater. Everyone72keeps talking to you, frowning at you and wondering why you’re not answering and it’s because you’re slowly sinking to the floor of the ocean. They all look so far away from down here. Down with the whale bones and the creatures of the deep.
I’m slowly sinking and, if I don’t start swimming soon, I’m going to drown.
I’m sitting on the guest part of the sofa and the two news presenters are smiling at me. They seem nice. Genuinely nice. It’s a relief. The lady whispers to me, telling me to just relax and answer honestly.
I wish I could make people see the good parts of me. I don’t know how to get them out. I don’t know how to make it happen.
Then.
I don’t know if it’s the pressure of a countdown, of the live interview being seconds away from starting, or if it’s just frustration, but something in me changes. I’m soaring above me. Airborne, just like my name. I’m looking down at me and telling me to be great. Telling me to smile. Telling me to be perfect for once. Just this once.
“Our next story is a bit of a heartwarming one,” says the woman sitting next to me. She’s not speaking to me, though, she’s looking into the camera. “Aeriel73Sharpe is no ordinary thirteen-year-old. The newly elected Prime Minister’s daughter is making waves on social media as a new Gen Alpha role model. She’s got children up and down the country saying, “it’s okay to be me”. And we’re lucky to have her joining us today in the studio. Aeriel, thank you so much for being here today.”
Showtime. Something in me switches and, for the first time in months, I break into a massive, full-wattage smile.
“I’m so happy to be here, you guys, thank you!”
They both break into surprised smiles themselves and the man speaks next. “Thank you for coming here, you must have come straight from school, yes?”
The words come out as if someone else is rapidly typing them for me and I’m just a vessel. “Yes, I’m missing some very fun algebra homework to be here.”
They both laugh, some of the off-camera crew do as well.
“Did you expect that video we just played a clip of to go as viral as it did, Aeriel?”
“No,” I say, honestly. “I don’t think I would have been able to film it if I’d known it would be watched by so many people. But that’s the nature of the internet. It’s why we have to be careful about what we post.”
74I don’t know why I’ve turned into after-school-special girl, but they seem to really like it.
“Now, you talked about how you are autistic,” the woman says and I’m pleased that she says ‘autistic’ and not ‘have autism’. “Do you have anything you would like to say to the families of autistic children who might be watching this?”
I hesitate. “Well. I think I’d rather speak to the actual autistic people who might be watching.”
Neurotypicals do that a lot. They talk to the family members of autistics, rather than autistic people themselves. I find it weird and I don’t know why they do it.
“Excellent,” the man says hurriedly. “And what would you like them to say to them, Aeriel?”
