Page 12 of Role Model

Snow fell overnight and I don’t think anything makes me happier.

Fizz is with us in the car and she and I beg Ilya to blast festive music as we drive to school.

It’s quite a heavy fall of snow, like the kind we see in Scotland.

Unusual for London, Ilya tells me. All of the radio presenters are acting like it’s the apocalypse.

Trains are being cancelled left and right and the message is clear: stay home from work.

Which, I realise with delight, means the same might be said for school.

“I’m calling reception,” Fizz says, her voice full of the excitement of a possible Snow Day. We’re almost at the school but I just know. Deep inside, I know that it’s cancelled. We get to have a Snow Day and it’s the most amazing feeling.

100 “Thank you,” Fizz says into the phone as she finishes her conversation. She hangs up. We wait in silence for a moment, as she gives nothing away.

Then–

“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. 101 She’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. There 102 is 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’.

103 Fizz moves to sit behind her but then quickly asks, “Is it okay for me to grab onto you?”

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 me 104 tightly 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 upon 105 Niamh, 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.