Page 27 of Role Model
“IT’S A SNOW DAY!”
The three of us yell and holler in delight, even Ilya who is always so stoic. We are pulling up to the school gates and the two frozen photographers waiting for us stare in astonishment as we dance about inside the car. I lock eyes with Fizz for a moment and we smile at each other. She and I never have this kind of relationship but it feels good.
It feels less lonely.
I look past the photographers and spot Txai and Niamh. They’re huddled together, clearly suffering from an early drop-off and parents who are already at work. I wind the window down and call over to them.
“Come here!”
They look at each other, clearly a little apprehensive. I deserve it. Txai will have told Niamh how awful I was to him. However, they tentatively make their way over to the car.
“It’s a Snow Day,” I tell them. “We can drop you home?”
“It’s just my mum,” Txai says quietly. “She doesn’t work at the school today, she’s at the hospital.101She’ll already be there; no one will be home.”
Niamh sighs, as if to say she’s in a similar predicament.
“Then send them a text saying you’re with us,” Fizz suddenly says, leaning across me to talk to them through the window. “We’re going to Primrose Hill to take advantage of this miracle. And you’re coming, too.”
I expect the two of them to look hesitant, but they look delighted. I watch them both type like fiends on their phones as they pile into the back of our car.
“Don’t mind me getting in the front, do you, Comrade?” Fizz asks Ilya as she jumps into the front passenger seat. I watch the back of Ilya’s neck turn pink.
Niamh sits behind Ilya and Txai sits in the middle. I’m behind Fizz.
“I’m sorry about what I did at lunch,” I tell Txai softly.
“It’s fine,” he says. “Your friends were watching.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
He shrugs. “I’m used to neurotypicals being nasty. It’s normal for them, when they want to show dominance. But… it always hurts coming from another autistic.”
He says it so casually and so I feel completely ashamed.
“But I have revenge planned, don’t worry,” he adds, just as casually.
I give him a sideways look but he’s smiling. There102is something on the radio that sounds quite serious but Fizz quickly turns it off.
We arrive at Primrose Hill. It’s completely covered in clean, unblemished snow. There are a few people on the path, clearly intending to have the same fun as us. A couple of families with dogs are frolicking at the bottom of the hill.
We get out of the car, Txai, Niamh and I all bundled up. Fizz is wearing knee high socks and a slip dress with only a scarf around her neck to keep her warm.
“I’m Scottish,” she says with a shrug when Ilya offers her his black woollen coat. “We don’t feel the cold.”
“I’m Ukrainian,” he retorts. “I win.”
“We don’t have sledges,” Txai says mournfully.
Fizz suddenly points to a ton of bin lids that have been stacked in a pile by the gates to the hill. “Grab two, we’ll have a race!”
“Is this allowed?” I ask as Txai and Niamh make a dash for the two large makeshift sledges.
“It’s fun, Aeriel,” Fizz says gently, squeezing me to her side as we follow the others to the top of the hill. “Sometimes that’s more important.”
We reach the peak and Niamh is the most eager to get going. She sits readily on top of her large bin lid and throws us a look as if to say, ‘Hurry up’.
103Fizz moves to sit behind her but then quickly asks, “Is it okay for me to grab onto you?”
