I unzipped my bag and felt inside for my kindle. If it is broken they’re dead. I pulled it out feeling desperate. Opening up the black leather case, I pressed the button but nothing happened. I pressed it again. Still nothing. The anger rushed through me: I felt like I needed to hit something. Hard. Preferably Sid’s head.
‘You Idiot!’ I shouted. He proved it by kicking me.
Hello, by the way. My name’s Jamie and this is a pretty normal day at school for me. I get quite a lot of idiots attacking me. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I seem different. Oh yes, and by the way, I have autism. My brain is very tunnel-visioned and I am really good at some things but not so good at others. When I say not so good, I mean pretty diabolical really. For example I can recite all the elements in the periodic table but I can’t recite the alphabet. What’s so interesting about the alphabet? When do you actually need it?
My sports are: underwater hockey, unicycling and white water kayaking. As you have probably gathered I’m not into mainstream sports. What I love about unicycling is you’re alone and in control. It’s not like a bike where you turn a handlebar, instead you turn your body, which makes it feel like an extension of you. And you don’t have to rely on other people, like you would with rugby or football. I hate football. I don’t like people. They smell, they tease and they get too close.
I pedalled hard, trying to imagine how it could be possible for someone not to be able to ride it. It feels like you’ve got four legs extending out keeping you stable. I am practising for the race. The thing with unicycling is you don’t really know how good you are. You can’t really compare because, well, there aren’t that many people who do it. Apparently it’s going to be 10k and it’s coming up in a week. I feel myself relaxing. I feel like I am free, like I am in control. If I want to stop I can stop. If I want to go faster I can go faster. No one can harm me when I’m on my unicycle. As I unclip my helmet I feel good. I feel, well, smiley. I hate trying to put my feelings into words. Perhaps that’s part of the autism.
Next day as I walk into school I hear Sid shouting behind me
‘Hey look. F……g Unicycle boy’s here.’ He sounds so full of himself.
And I smile to myself. Yeah, that’s me: