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Authors: Allison Rushby
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her plate away,
not looking at me. There's a long pause before
she turns back and her eyes meet mine. 'I'm really
not dumb, you know. It's just that I have this
thing ...'
'Thing?' I have no idea what she's talking
about.
She takes a deep breath before continuing. 'It's
... it's called dyslexia. It means I can't read or write
very easily. It's like I can't see words properly.'
I stare at her, unblinking.
Romy tries to stand up, but fails, her cast
sticking out at right angles. 'Now you think I'm
stupid too!'
I shake my hands. 'No way! I just can't believe
you said that. I know all about dyslexia. JJ's dyslexic
too.'
Romy stares at me, equally unbelieving. 'Are
you serious?'
I nod. Hard.
'But she's so smart!'
I give her a look and she blushes as she arranges
herself more comfortably in her seat again. 'Oh. I
guess I shouldn't have said that!'
'You know, I really can't believe you've just told
me this. JJ's really, really good at what she does,
but she went through all the same things you did.
Everyone at school thought she was just lazy, or
stupid, but she was lucky – her parents knew she
wasn't. They got her a lot of outside help and
she got through school okay. And now she does
something she's brilliant at that doesn't involve a
lot of reading or writing. A lot of dyslexic people
are like that. They find other sorts of careers and
excel at them. Picasso was dyslexic. Did you know
that?'
'Well, no.'
'And Edison and Einstein, da Vinci and Andy
Warhol were too. And, um ... JFK. And Richard
Branson.'
'Really?' Romy says. 'He never told me that!'
I pause. 'Well, did you tell him you were?'
Romy laughs at this. 'No, I didn't. But I might
the next time I see him!'
Hmpf, I think to myself. 'JJ always says dyslexia
is hard when you're a kid and easy when you're
an adult. Now you're out of school and don't have
to do stupid spelling tests and things, you can do
anything you want, can't you?'
'I guess so,' she says slowly, as if this is an earth-shattering concept.
'So, what are you good at?'
Her face falls once more at this. 'Not much.
Being "Romy". That's about it by the looks of
things.'
'Oh, come on.' I refuse to boogie at her pity
party. 'You just have to find something you're
good at. Everyone's good at something. It took JJ a
while to realise her thing was cooking.'
'Did it?'
'Sure. She'd always enjoyed cooking, but I don't
think it really occurred to her that she could make
a career out of it. Not when all her friends were
becoming teachers and nurses and things.'
'I know how that feels. All of my friends went
off to college. So what do you think I might be
good at?'
I give Romy a quick once-over. 'Well ... you're
obviously good at clothes and stuff. What do they
call it? Styling?' I wait to see what she thinks of
this.
All I get is a shrug. 'Putting on clothes. Big
deal.'
I almost laugh. Millions of women are copying
her style all over the world and Romy thinks about
it as 'putting on clothes'. You've got to admire
that. Obviously she's just a natural at it. 'Um ...
makeup?'
She wrinkles her nose. 'Never wear it if I don't
have to. I'm a lip-gloss and a bit of mascara girl,
really.'
I look at Romy's perfectly perfect un-made-up
face and consider the unfairness of it all. No one
should look like that without a whole tonne of
makeup. It just isn't right. 'Hmmm. Shoes?' I try
again. Maybe third time lucky?
Romy looks down at her cast.
I follow her gaze. 'Well, maybe not right now,
but shoes in general?' Romy is, after all, famous
for her ever-changing array of ballet-style flats.
'I HATE shoes,' she says so emphatically even
Fluffy looks up. And hisses.
I shush him before turning back to Romy. 'You
hate shoes?' I say, surprised. 'But you have so many.
It's your signature thing, isn't it?'
'Let's just say you don't have a lot of choice when
you're six feet tall. It's flats or freaksville.'
Three strikes and I'm out. 'I'm sure you're good
at something. We just need to find what it is.'
'Mmm.'
not looking at me. There's a long pause before
she turns back and her eyes meet mine. 'I'm really
not dumb, you know. It's just that I have this
thing ...'
'Thing?' I have no idea what she's talking
about.
She takes a deep breath before continuing. 'It's
... it's called dyslexia. It means I can't read or write
very easily. It's like I can't see words properly.'
I stare at her, unblinking.
Romy tries to stand up, but fails, her cast
sticking out at right angles. 'Now you think I'm
stupid too!'
I shake my hands. 'No way! I just can't believe
you said that. I know all about dyslexia. JJ's dyslexic
too.'
Romy stares at me, equally unbelieving. 'Are
you serious?'
I nod. Hard.
'But she's so smart!'
I give her a look and she blushes as she arranges
herself more comfortably in her seat again. 'Oh. I
guess I shouldn't have said that!'
'You know, I really can't believe you've just told
me this. JJ's really, really good at what she does,
but she went through all the same things you did.
Everyone at school thought she was just lazy, or
stupid, but she was lucky – her parents knew she
wasn't. They got her a lot of outside help and
she got through school okay. And now she does
something she's brilliant at that doesn't involve a
lot of reading or writing. A lot of dyslexic people
are like that. They find other sorts of careers and
excel at them. Picasso was dyslexic. Did you know
that?'
'Well, no.'
'And Edison and Einstein, da Vinci and Andy
Warhol were too. And, um ... JFK. And Richard
Branson.'
'Really?' Romy says. 'He never told me that!'
I pause. 'Well, did you tell him you were?'
Romy laughs at this. 'No, I didn't. But I might
the next time I see him!'
Hmpf, I think to myself. 'JJ always says dyslexia
is hard when you're a kid and easy when you're
an adult. Now you're out of school and don't have
to do stupid spelling tests and things, you can do
anything you want, can't you?'
'I guess so,' she says slowly, as if this is an earth-shattering concept.
'So, what are you good at?'
Her face falls once more at this. 'Not much.
Being "Romy". That's about it by the looks of
things.'
'Oh, come on.' I refuse to boogie at her pity
party. 'You just have to find something you're
good at. Everyone's good at something. It took JJ a
while to realise her thing was cooking.'
'Did it?'
'Sure. She'd always enjoyed cooking, but I don't
think it really occurred to her that she could make
a career out of it. Not when all her friends were
becoming teachers and nurses and things.'
'I know how that feels. All of my friends went
off to college. So what do you think I might be
good at?'
I give Romy a quick once-over. 'Well ... you're
obviously good at clothes and stuff. What do they
call it? Styling?' I wait to see what she thinks of
this.
All I get is a shrug. 'Putting on clothes. Big
deal.'
I almost laugh. Millions of women are copying
her style all over the world and Romy thinks about
it as 'putting on clothes'. You've got to admire
that. Obviously she's just a natural at it. 'Um ...
makeup?'
She wrinkles her nose. 'Never wear it if I don't
have to. I'm a lip-gloss and a bit of mascara girl,
really.'
I look at Romy's perfectly perfect un-made-up
face and consider the unfairness of it all. No one
should look like that without a whole tonne of
makeup. It just isn't right. 'Hmmm. Shoes?' I try
again. Maybe third time lucky?
Romy looks down at her cast.
I follow her gaze. 'Well, maybe not right now,
but shoes in general?' Romy is, after all, famous
for her ever-changing array of ballet-style flats.
'I HATE shoes,' she says so emphatically even
Fluffy looks up. And hisses.
I shush him before turning back to Romy. 'You
hate shoes?' I say, surprised. 'But you have so many.
It's your signature thing, isn't it?'
'Let's just say you don't have a lot of choice when
you're six feet tall. It's flats or freaksville.'
Three strikes and I'm out. 'I'm sure you're good
at something. We just need to find what it is.'
'Mmm.'
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