Page 28 of Role Model
Niamh looks surprised to be asked but she nods delightedly. Fizz settles in behind her and they both look expectantly at Txai and me. He moves to sit on the other bin lid and I hesitate before finally sitting behind him, arms around his waist. He smells nice. Most thirteen-year-old boys smell like the inside of a gym bag but he smells like lemons.
“On the count of three, we go!” Fizz tells us bossily.
“Your sister is so different to you,” Txai says, and it’s with a tone of surprise.
“Yeah,” I say bitterly. “She’s the fun one.”
“One!” Fizz yells. Ilya is watching from the bottom of the hill. “Two!”
She whispers something into Niamh’s ear and they suddenly both push off before she yells “three!”. I curse but Txai is quick. We take off after them and the two pretend sledges zoom down the massive hill and its snowy runway with buoyant speed. I hear myself scream in delight as the crisp air hits my face.
The sledge flies. We fly. It’s the most magnificent feeling of freedom.
We go again. And again. We switch teams. I race with Niamh and then with Fizz. She squeezes me104tightly as we soar down the white river of snow.
It’s the happiest I’ve been since moving to London. Me and three other neurodivergent kids, one of them a big kid, flying on top of the snow.
I spot some photographers at the black gates marking the entrance to Primrose Hill. They must have followed us from school, but I don’t care. There is nothing here except me having fun for the first time since going viral. I don’t care if they see.
“Remember how I said I had revenge planned?” Txai says, as we line up together to race Fizz and Niamh again.
I freeze. “What?”
He doesn’t answer but, as we speed down the hill, he suddenly launches us to the right. We become buried in a pile of snow and I screech at the cold. The screech becomes laughter all too quickly, and I pelt him with snowballs. He throws more back at me, both of us snorting at how terrible we are at hitting a moving target.
Niamh watches with laughter in her eyes, stimming so intensely that I’m worried for a split second that she’s distressed. But when I look closely, I see how much delight she’s taking in the Snow Day. Fizz is talking to Ilya, and Txai and I descend upon105Niamh, pretending to bury her in the snow as she gasps with joy.
I love it. I love this. I love everything today. I love me, the way I am, on a day like today.
Until…
“Aeriel!”
Mum is standing by a black car on the road by the bottom of the hill. Her security, driver and Keren are standing with her. Both Mum and Keren look comical, standing on the slushy snow in their black stilettos.
Except, Mum looks so thunderous, I can’t find it funny for long. She beckons for me to join her in the car, while the photographers take advantage of the unfolding scene. I know what this means. She’s going to wait until we’re somewhere private to shout at me.
The Snow Day is over.
106
Chapter Thirteen
Mum arranges for Txai and Niamh to be taken to their parents and Fizz is banished with a mere look. I’m driven home in silence while Mum rides with Keren in the car in front. She waits until we’re all inside and out of the cold. Everyone in the room is dismissed, apart from Keren. Mum waits until the bustle of people leaving falls silent and then she glares at me.
I shift, uncomfortable beneath her stony glare. “What?”
“Have you got absolutely no clue what you’ve done?” Mum speaks to me with a deceptively calm voice, which means that the volcano is just waiting to erupt.
“No.”
Keren shakes her head softly, as if I’m a terrible person. I feel a flush of annoyance. I’ve done everything they’ve asked me to do, even though I’ve hated107every minute, and now they’re acting as though I’ve disappointed them.
“Because of the snow,” Mum says slowly, as if speaking to a four-year-old, “there was a bus crash in town. Lots of injuries. None dead, thank goodness.”
I wait, unsure of what this has to do with me unless Mum thinks that for some reason I was driving the bus. “That’s awful.”
“Yes, it is,” Mum says. “It will be the front page of every London paper. And what else do you think they’ll put on that front page?”
