Page 40 of Role Model
I stare at the pen for a moment and then pick it up.
Dear Autism,
I can’t keep writing letters like this to you. Because you’re not this separate thing. You’re all of me. And I’ve been hearing the same thing since becoming famous, if that’s what you can even call it. People telling me not to let my autism define155me. “Oh, don’t let it define you”, they say. Again and again. And I don’t like that. It feels like they’re telling me not to mention it. Or feel it. Or talk about it. And that’s all I want to do. I want to be free, like the spirit in the Shakespeare play. But I have to set myself free. And so I need to set you free. You’re not this other part of me, you’re me. And I’m you.
I’ve said so many terrible things about you, the whole world has. But you’ve never said a bad word about me. Not once.
All of this happened because I wanted a friend. I find life so lonely. I find it so mysterious. I want someone to walk with me through the mist and over the mountain and out of the shadow. I want us to laugh. I want us to tell each other about what we’re interested in. I don’t want to be alone.
So I have to be a friend to myself. And remember that you are always on my side. You are here. You are the stardust. It’s not the flower’s fault that the soil is bad. We just need better soil.
I’ll find it for us. I’ll be stronger.
I’ll teach us to fly.
Aeriel
156
Chapter Twenty
The dance draws nearer and my friends are speaking to me. Only just. Ana has regained her favour and I’m on the edge. Jaya is more distant than ever, but Sable keeps insistently checking that I’m still happy to wear the lavender dress for the dance.
“If you’re not in a pastel, it will throw all of us off,” she repeats again and again.
“I know,” I assure her, as we leave school after the last bell. “I promise. I won’t mess it up.”
There have been no apologies about the party but I suppose they just didn’t realise how I would react. It’s seemingly behind us. Ana asks about my hair and makeup plans. We all agree to meet in the middle of the dancefloor at quarter past seven on Friday evening.
“It’s awful, being the first ones to arrive,” Jaya says,157finally speaking after a long stretch of silence.
“Agreed,” I say, trying to be exactly what they need me to be. “Quarter past seven.”
“In lavender?” Sable asks, one final time as she walks to her mother’s car.
“Yes,” I confirm, as I join Ilya at ours.
Later, while I get dressed at home, I remember what Dr Mars said about a film crew being there. I’m relieved that at least I’ll be part of a group. The purple among the blue, pink and yellow. I’ll be part of something, rather than on my own. I stare at myself in the mirror. The lavender dress hits the floor. It has so many layers. The fabric around my neck is so high and it feels like a chain. As do the long sleeves.
But it’s the dress my friends picked for me.
Mum offers to come with me in the car but it’s a quiet drive back to the school. I can tell she doesn’t know what to say.
“You like nice,” she finally manages. “It’s a nice colour.”
I look down at the fussy, heavy dress. “Yeah. I think I would have preferred blue but… someone else picked that.”
She smiles. “You can’t both be blue?”
“No,” I say, softly. “It’s one of their rules.”
And they have so many rules. If I break any more158of them, even though it’s almost always accidental, I’ll be thrown out of the group.
“Fizz said,” Mum says my sister’s name as though it’s painful, “that they’re not very nice to you, these girls.”
I stim. I fidget. The question makes me feel like I’m on trial. “It’s normal, though. For friends to do what they do. It’s… our age, I think. Things change a lot. And sometimes people are mean.”
Mum makes a small noise of amusement as Ilya pulls up to the school. “It sounds like politics.”
