Page 39 of Role Model
“What do you mean?” I ask, speaking quietly so that Dr Mars cannot eavesdrop.
“It’s, like, a formal thing. My mum’s making me wear a tie and she said I should ask someone I like to go with me. So, I’m asking you.”
I feel myself filling with embarrassment, but it’s for all the wrong reasons. I like Txai. I think spending an evening with him sounds like so much fun, especially after what we did on Primrose Hill. But all I can see in my head are the faces that Sable, Jaya and Ana will make.
“Txai, I can’t.”
His face falls. “You can’t.”
“No.”
“Because… you don’t like me?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s… I’m kind of going with my friends.”
“Your friends,” he repeats, with obvious disdain.
“Yes,” I say, making sure to sound stern. “We have this colour blocking thing planned. We’re all going in pastels.”
152“That sounds,” he shrugs and moves his chair away from me, “very neurotypical, congratulations.”
“Don’t,” I say.
“Why should you and I care about what they think? Why should any autistic kid be forced to–”
“Txai!” I snap. “Stop. It’s fine for you. Your family accepts you. Your mum is a nurse, she understands you. Mine doesn’t. She thinks I have complete control over being autistic. If I allow any of it to slip out of my brain, I’ve failed. You have no idea what that’s like. I am always performing. I amalwaysperforming. And I am exhausted.”
He hears the hurt in my voice and his anger diminishes slightly. “Aeriel–”
“Do you know what they say about me?” I say, and my voice is no more than a whisper. “The people who watch me on the news and read about me in the papers?”
“Yes,” he says indignantly. “They say you’re an inspiration. And a role model. And the best thing since who knows what. They worship you.”
“And what else?”
He understands my meaning. “Aeriel–”
“Some of them say I’m cringe. Or wicked because I’m not exactly like the autistic person they know.153Or a liar. Or a freak. They say the most awful things and they don’t even know me. And they make sure to stop treating me like a person. Because if they remembered that I’m a person, they might actually feel bad about the awful things they say. I’m one autistic kid. But, suddenly, I have to be all autistic kids. When I can’t. I can only be me. And I don’t even really know how to be me…”
“Aeriel, please don’t be upset. You’re great! Just as you are. I don’t know that girl on the news, I know you. And I think you’re way better.”
“No,” I breathe, staring at my hands. Hands I have ordered to be still. “I’m only allowed to be autistic if I’m inspirational. And it’s killing me.”
At some point during my silly little speech, Dr Mars has approached the desk. She slides a piece of paper towards me and her silent message is clear. I should write it all down. All of these feelings that are inside of me. The voices, the opinions, the wasps in the jar – they’ve escaped their cage and are inside of me now. In my own head. Filling me with broken glass and hurt and I can’t shut them out.
“There’s nothing wrong with us,” Txai tells me and his voice is delicate and far away. “We’re just outnumbered. But that doesn’t mean we don’t add154up. We shouldn’t apologise for wanting to be heard. For who we really are. They need to listen for once.”
“Txai,” I say dejectedly. “Ever since being diagnosed, people have made me feel like it’s wrong. Or that I should shut up and never speak about it, because there are so many kids who have it worse. According to them.”
“Stuff that! We don’t tell people they can’t wear glasses because some people can’t see at all.”
He waits for me to speak and when I don’t, he lets out a sigh.
“I’m going to the library,” he says, sounding defeated. “But Aeriel? Those girls aren’t your friends. Trust me.”
He leaves. I fiddle with some Blu Tack, twisting it with my fingers and pulling it apart.
I know he’s right. I know something needs to change.
