Page 43 of Role Model
“We should go back in,” I finally say.
Txai and Niamh look at me in surprise.
“You want to go back in where they are?” Niamh asks via her aid.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “They don’t get to win. They don’t get to take this night away.”
So we go back in. The cameras and the film crew have all gathered together at the entrance to the building. They leap into action at the sight of me and I suddenly see them for what they are, just as I saw through my supposed friends.
“You guys are weird,” Txai tells them, his voice dripping with disdain.
“Yeah,” I agree. I hold up my hands and their chattering quiets down. I know they expect something profound; I have nothing left. It’s all left me like the air leaving a balloon. So I settle for something plain.
“People who follow other people around and take166pictures of them without permission are scummy. You guys should find something better to do with your time.”
“Come on, Aeriel!” barks one of the older men. “Behave, be nice, girl.”
I turn to Txai and Niamh. “Shall we be nice?”
“They’ve not been particularly nice,” Niamh replies.
“Correct,” Txai agrees. “I say we give them the one gun salute.”
I’m feeling brave, but I’m not sure if I’m that brave. “I’ll definitely get in trouble.”
Txai shrugs. “I think you’ve put up with enough to earn it.”
We make our way inside and just as we reach the door to safety, I turn.
“One gun salute?” I ask Txai.
He grins. “Legionnaires. Salute!”
The cameras flash as we raise our middle fingers into the air, knowing it will send a stronger message than any speech. When it’s over, the three of us run into the dance hall. We eat sugary things. We laugh. We start a conga line.
We have fun and I come to the most brilliant realisation.
If you’re friends with the right people, every day can feel like a Snow Day.
167
Chapter Twenty-One
When I step back into the flat above Downing Street, Fizz is waiting.
I don’t hesitate, I run. I throw myself at her, like a bird falling out of the tree and knowing that it will learn to fly in the process. She hugs me. I hug back. Then Dad is there. He hugs us, too. Then Gideon, even though I know he isn’t the keenest on hugging. When we all laugh at the silliness of it, all of us bound together like a ball of rubber bands, we pull away.
And Mum stands in the corner of the room, watching us. She looks too nervous to join us.
So I hold out my hand.
“Aeriel,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
I look up at her and realise something. Mum is a grownup with one of the most important jobs in the whole world. But this is her first time around168the sun. Just like me. Adults don’t have this magical rule book that tells them what to do. That’s why they waste their money on self-help books and classes and coaches. They are always looking for the answers.
And they can’t own up to their mistakes as easily as kids can. Or then everyone would realise that they’re just big, scared kids too.
“It’s okay, Mum,” I say.
