Page 2 of Role Model
Ana grew up on her mother’s vlogging channel6and knows all about trends and fashionable things. She has a designer handbag for her school supplies and always carries a big water bottle with a built-in straw.
“If she does win, will she let you get your hair done properly?” Sable asks.
I don’t look at her, letting the silence become slightly awkward. All I really know about Sable is that she can be pretty awful and it looks like today is going to be a “not nice” day.
“Sable,” Ana finally says, with only a little chastisement in her voice.
“What?” Sable looks around at everyone, pretending to be shocked. “That’s not being mean, that’s just asking a question? Can’t I ask her questions?”
I eat my lukewarm, unappetising pasta and ignore her. When I glance across the lunchroom to the door leading out to the grounds, I see Dr Mars. She’s the school SENco and I like her name. It conjures up images of the galaxy and faraway planets.
Stratospheres away from here.
She’s beckoning me so I excuse myself and abandon my lunch. I walk over to her. She’s short and round and always smiling.
“I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, Aeriel,” she says, beaming at me like she’s proud of me, even though she7doesn’t know me. Not even a little. “Come and join us in the SEN Space for a bit today, hm? Just until the end of lunch. I’m sure your friends won’t mind.”
“Dr Mars, I’m honestly good.”
“Just for a bit. You’ll love Txai and Niamh.”
“Sorry but I’m with my friends at lunchtime.”
Her eyes drift to something behind me and the slightly stricken look on her face makes me turn around. I see Sable pulling Jaya and Ana by the wrists. The three of them run from the lunchroom, giggling and glancing back at me. I watch Sable, full of glee. Jaya, full of middling amusement. Ana, guilt mixed with excitement. She knows it’s wrong but she likes doing it anyway.
“Some friends,” Dr Mars says softly.
I clench my fists, so dangerously hard I feel as though my nails might pierce the palm of my hand. I watch them dash out into school grounds. They go to sit on the edge of the grass, beneath the old tree with the wooden box. A few weeks ago, a bird was there with her nest but she decided to leave it. The baby birds were left alone.
The rest of the day is an angry haze and when I get home from school, Gideon is doing his homework on the kitchen table, utterly relaxed. He’s nine and8his homework is his happy place. Dad is talking to somebody on the phone. He gives my shoulder a squeeze and quietly tells me that we’ll know at ten o’clock at night if our lives are about to change.
He seems to definitely think that they will.
I watch the television with him as the exit polls come in. Those are the early guesses at who will win the election. They say it’s going to be my mother. Dad is crying with joy and he wakes Gideon up to tell him, then calls our grandparents and everyone we know.
I don’t care about any of it. I fixate. I ruminate. I wonder if it’s normal for your friends to hate you.
I think about the wooden bird box again, and the little birds that were inside of it.
I wonder who is going to teach them to fly away from here.
9
Chapter Two
I know, as soon as we arrive, that Downing Street will be very different.
Our rooms are above the official parts of the famous building and Ilya, who helps us with security, mutters something about how it’s ugly and dull. I disagree with him. I like looking at all of the portraits on the walls and I slide down the huge banisters a few times before Dad and Ilya wrestle me away from them. Mum is in full robot mode. Which means she’s smiling and laughing and only talking to grownups. Dad is on the phone constantly, speaking to friends about Mum’s new job. Her face is all over the news, according to Gideon.
I hate the attention. I can’t keep count of how often I think of the word ‘hate’ since moving away from Scotland. The anger sits inside my head like a bundle10of heavy beads, cluttering up my mind and giving me a sore, aching head.
Mum turns off robot mode for one minute to tell me that Fizz is coming to pick me up and take me out, while Dad takes Gideon to his gifted children’s art class.
“Why is Fizz coming?” I ask, and my voice must sound angrier than I mean it too because both Mum and Ilya look at me with confused expressions.
“I’m going to be swamped for the next few days,” Mum starts but Keren, one of her aides, interrupts.
“You’re going to be busy for the next few years, Ma’am. Now, Aeriel. You and your sister are going out for the day, understood? We need you out from beneath our feet. Ilya will go with you.”
