Ways to Be Me, page 1
Praise for Can You See Me?
“This is a powerful and highly relatable story about fitting in and being yourself. Tally’s diary entries give an authentic insight into one girl’s perspective of being autistic, and smashing a host of common assumptions and stereotypes about autism as we see Tally’s potent sense of humour and her deep empathy.”
Booktrust
“Recommended for readers with autism who will feel genuinely seen and for those desiring to see others more clearly”
Kirkus
“This beautiful book needs to be shouted from the rooftops!”
Reader review
“This book provides a powerful lesson in empathy”
Reader review
“I am so grateful a story like this is finally in print”
Reader review
“A gorgeous story about standing up for yourself, finding your tribe and the importance of empathy”
Reader review
“Moving, insightful and laugh out loud funny”
Reader review
Also by Libby Scott and Rebecca Westcott:
Can You See Me?
Do You Know Me?
To Marnie and Frankie, thank you for letting me be your big sister.
To Louie, who unlocked the love I never thought I could feel again for another dog.
Libby
For everyone doing their best to figure out who they are.
Rebecca
Contents
Cover
Praise for Can You See Me?
Also by Libby Scott and Rebecca Westcott
Dedication
Prologue
All About Me
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Acknowledgements
Back Ads
Copyright
PROLOGUE
Three words.
Imagine that’s all you’ve been given to describe yourself. What would you choose?
Loud, tall, arty?
Quiet, small, sporty?
Or perhaps you’d go a little further and really think about what makes you you.
Loyal, kind, brave?
Funny, honest, hard-working?
Or, maybe you’d take a really long look at the person you are and go even deeper.
Impulsive, determined, principled?
Solitary, unpredictable, curious?
If Tally Olivia Adams were asked to describe herself in just three words, she’d have somewhat of a problem. In fact, she would struggle if she were allowed five words or ten words or even the huge classroom dictionary that sits on Miss Balogun’s desk.
She could possess all the words in the world, but it wouldn’t help. Because it’s almost impossible to describe yourself when you haven’t figured out who you are yet.
ALL ABOUT ME
NAME: Natalia Adams (but everyone calls me Tally)
AGE: Ten years old
THINGS I AM GOOD AT:
1.I can speak Spanish (a bit, anyway).
2.I’m pretty good on my skateboard even if I do sometimes fall off.
3.I’ve taught myself to play Taylor Swift songs on the ukulele and I can sing really high notes, which will be good if I ever need to communicate with a dolphin.
4.I can also hold my breath underwater for one whole minute.
THINGS I AM BAD AT:
1.Being interrupted, especially by my horrible big sister Nell, who hardly lets me say two words without shouting over me.
2.Making mistakes. I mean, don’t get me wrong - I make mistakes all the time. But I hate it and I’ll do anything not to get something wrong which often means that I won’t even try something, just in case I mess it up. Making mistakes makes me feel horrible inside.
3.Being told what to do – which is hard when I have to go to school because that’s all that teachers seem to want to do all day. They tell me where I have to sit and when I’m allowed to talk and even what colours I have to use when painting a tree (apparently blue isn’t OK – try telling Picasso that!).
CHAPTER 1
It’s all Granny Lola’s fault. If she had never created her so-called famous recipe, then there’s a chance that Tally’s day might have improved. A tiny chance, but a chance all the same. But the steaming portion of beef chilli that Mum has just placed in front of her has put an end to any hope that today is going to end well.
“No.” Tally drops her head and stares at the table. “I can’t eat that.”
Mum sits down next to Dad, who gives a big sigh.
“Don’t start, Tally. Not today.”
Mum pats him on the arm in the same way that she does when she’s trying to tell him to stop talking, and then looks at Tally with her special I am very calm smile plastered to her face.
“Nobody’s starting anything. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, and I just want us all to enjoy the nice meal that I’ve cooked and have a peaceful evening.”
Tally narrows her eyes and scowls. Mum isn’t the only one with a lot on her plate – there’s so much beef chilli on Tally’s plate that it’s almost oozing over the sides. Which is disgusting, and also one of the problems.
Not that Mum is going to listen to her.
“How was your visit to the gallery?” asks Dad, scooping up some rice. Tally watches as a few of the grains drop from the fork and land in the chilli sauce where they float like tiny maggots.
Mum nods. “It was good, actually. They want to take two of my larger canvases and eight of the smaller ones, so I’m going to be busy for the next few weeks.” She looks across the table at Tally and Nell. “You two are going to have to help out a bit more around the house while I get my paintings finished. I’m going to need you to sort the laundry and a few other things.”
Nell makes a grunting sound. “Well, I’ve got a ton of homework due in, and you already said that I could stay over at Rosa’s house this weekend.” She jerks her head towards Tally. “She’ll have to do some chores for a change.”
Tally blinks as everything seems to change colour, as if someone has just taken the lid off one of Mum’s paint pots and thrown it wildly around the room. She tries to see past the red mist that clouds the air for her.
“I’m sure we’re all happy to do our bit,” Dad tells Nell pointedly. “Especially if we want a lift to Rosa’s house on Saturday.”
Tally’s shoulders relax and she leans back in her chair, balancing on the back two legs. She has no intention of touching anyone’s dirty pants and socks, but it’s OK because she most definitely does not want to go to Rosa’s house at the weekend, so she doesn’t need to do any chores.
“Don’t rock on your chair,” says Mum, automatically. “And eat up. We’ve got blackberry crumble for pudding.”
“I can’t eat it,” Tally tells her, wobbling precariously on the chair. “I already told you.”
Mum slowly and deliberately puts her fork down on to the plate, and even though it hardly makes a sound, in Tally’s head it’s as loud as a gunshot.
“I spent ages making this and you’re going to eat it.”
Tally slams the chair legs down and glares at Mum. “I can’t.”
“Oh, deepest joy,” drawls Nell in the irritating voice that she woke up with on her fourteenth birthday last month. “Another wonderful Adams family mealtime where Tally has a strop and makes everything about her.”
Tally can feel her heart pounding, as if she’s running a race and not sitting quietly in the kitchen. “I do not make everything about me! Nothing is ever about me, actually. If it was then I wouldn’t be forced to eat disgusting food that I hate.”
“Don’t be so rude, Tally,” says Dad. “And you love Granny Lola’s famous beef chilli. We had it a couple of weeks ago and you ate it then.”
“It was right last time, but it isn’t right today!” Tally closes her eyes and tries to find the words, but they just won’t come. Instead of words, all she can see is pictures: snapshots of the day running through her head like a film reel.
Stepping in a puddle on the way to school.
Horrible Luke calling her rude names at break-time.
The way the noise in the school hall bounced off the walls and straight into her ears at lunchtime.
“Well, it’s the same meal that it was before,” Mum informs her, and when Tally opens her eyes she can see that Mum’s special smile has got even bigger. “But it’s your choice. You can eat your meal and then have some lovely crumble, or you can choose not to eat it and not have any pudding.”
Tally takes a deep breath and tries to stay calm, but it’s impossible when Mum has said something so monumentally ridiculous. It’s not Mum’s fault, Tally knows that – but it still hurts every time she tries to use one of the ridiculous strategies that she and Dad learnt on the useless parenting course they went on last year. Nell said that they should have sent Tally on a Ho
Tally hears Dad ask Nell a question about school, and for a few minutes the kitchen is filled with the sound of Nell’s long, boring speech about the demands of year nine and how she really, really needs a laptop, and blah blah blah and me, me, me. Tally stops listening and stares at her plate. The beef chilli lurks menacingly in front of her, the kidney beans all slimy and soft, and she gulps, trying to swallow the lump that has appeared in her throat. What Mum and Dad said is true – she did eat this meal a few weeks ago, and it is the same meal that it was before.
But she could cope with it last time. She can’t cope today. And there is no way that she can eat it. She extends one finger and pushes the plate, just a tiny bit.
“I only want to eat the crumble,” she says quietly.
“No chilli, no crumble,” says Dad.
The plate moves a little further.
“Just eat it,” snaps Mum, apparently forgetting that she is trying to be the calm parent. “I haven’t got time for this.”
Tally’s hand twitches.
“Can we please get back to talking about my new laptop?” whines Nell. “And not Tally’s latest fussy food fad. God – I’m glad Rosa didn’t come for supper tonight. Her little sister is really cute – not a brat like Tally. She’d think you’re a right pain if she was here.”
And then she yelps as Granny Lola’s famous beef chilli lands on the floor, splashing tomato sauce all over her socks.
“I’m not being fussy and I’m not a brat!” screeches Tally. “And I don’t care what other people think!”
“Tally!” Mum and Dad shout in unison, staring at the horror before them. “What on earth is wrong with you?”
The horror pushes her chair back and heads to the back door, ripping it open and then hurtling down the garden path to the safety of her den under the willow tree.
“There’s nothing wrong with me, is there?” she mutters, picking up her favourite soft toy, who was left there to guard her secret space when Mum called her in for tea. “Except that my feet were wet and scratchy all day and I couldn’t eat my yoghurt because I didn’t have a spoon and it was too noisy to think properly and people are mean.”
She hugs Billy tightly and gazes at his face. “Why does nothing ever work out for me?”
The teddy bear stares back at her sympathetically through its one remaining button eye, but he hasn’t got the words to explain it any more than Tally does. He has to agree, though.
Everything does seem to end up going wrong when Tally is involved.
TALLY’S LOVE/HATE LIST
SOME THINGS I HATE ARE:
Change
Labels
Seams in socks
Wearing a coat
Soggy cereal
Loud noises
School
Jokes I don’t get
Being told to do things – anything in fact
Being embarrassed in front of others
Having to stop doing something I’m enjoying
SOME OF MY FAVOURITE THINGS ARE:
Taylor Swift
The sound of rain (and the smell, actually)
The smell of stables
My fluffy slippers
The words “I don’t see why not”
Dogs and horses
Taylor Swift again
Music, but only my music – well, only Taylor Swift, really
CHAPTER 2
The instant Tally steps out of the car, everything hits her at once. The smell of the hay, the sounds of hooves coming from the other side of the yard, and best of all, the sight right in front of her.
“Can you believe that we’re doing this?” squeals Layla, standing beside her. “I couldn’t go to sleep last night because I was so excited.”
Tally looks around, trying to take it all in.
“This is so much better than chocolate,” she sighs.
Layla’s mum grins at Tally’s mum.
“That’s quite the endorsement,” she laughs. “I’m not sure that I think there’s anything better than chocolate!”
Tally steps forward, towards the fence that separates them from the horses.
“I would never eat chocolate again if it meant that I could keep coming here.”
Mum puts a hand on her shoulder. “This is a one-off visit,” she reminds her, for the millionth time. “An Easter gift instead of a chocolate egg.”
Layla’s mum sniffs loudly. “I could have bought two hundred eggs for the price of this little jaunt,” she says.
But neither Layla nor Tally is listening. The main door to the stables has just opened, and a woman in riding boots is striding towards them.
“Are you my ten o’clock lesson?” she barks, jerking a chin at their mothers. “I’m Ginny. You may as well leave them here and come back in two hours. It’s far too cold to stand out here waiting, and I don’t want you cluttering up my tack room.”
Mum throws Tally a quick look. “Do you want me to wait in the car?” she asks quietly.
“Off you go,” replies the woman before Tally can answer. “Best if you both go and get a coffee and let the kids get on with it.” Then she turns to face the girls and gives them a long look as if she’s trying to figure something out. “Hmmm. I think we’ll put you on Shadow,” she says, to Layla. “And as for you…” She stares hard at Tally’s face. “Yes. You’ll be perfect for Peaches. She’s spirited, like you.”
Tally breathes out in relief. She doesn’t know why, but she very much wants to impress this slightly snappy Ginny-woman, and it feels like she just passed some kind of test. Without checking to see if they’re following her, Ginny spins on her heel and marches back to the stables. Tally glances at Mum. They’d agreed that Mum would stay and watch. Doing this without her nearby was not part of the plan.
Tally swallows hard. She could make a fuss and demand that Mum be allowed to stay, but that would take time – precious time she could be using to meet Peaches. For a brief minute, she can feel tears prickle behind her eyes, and she wonders why even the nicest and best things always have to be so hard.
“Let’s go!” says Layla, grabbing hold of Tally’s hand. “The horses are waiting for us!”
It’s true. And Tally has been waiting for this day for so, so long.
“I’ll be here when you finish the lesson,” Mum tells her. “I can’t wait to hear about how you get on!”
Layla starts to walk towards the stables, tugging Tally behind her. There is just time to wave goodbye to Mum before they’re inside, and the outside world and everything in it immediately vanishes from Tally’s sight and her thoughts.
It’s warm inside the stables, and Tally can hear a soft whinnying coming from some of the stalls. The air smells grass-green and dandelion-yellow, and she inhales deeply, filling her lungs with the comforting scent. It feels like home, even though she’s never been here before.
“This is Saira,” Ginny tells Layla, as a teenage girl walks up to them. “She’ll show you what to with Shadow and make sure that you’re doing everything safely.”
“Hi,” says Saira. “Shall we go and meet Shadow, then? She’s a total darling and a sweetheart. and you’re going to love her!”
Layla beams excitedly at Tally and then follows Saira into a nearby stall. Ginny picks up a bucket and some brushes and starts heading towards the far end of the stables, while Tally pauses, unsure about what she should be doing.
“Hurry up, then,” calls Ginny, without breaking her stride. “If you’re coming.”
Tally dashes after her and reaches her side just as Ginny pulls aside the gate to the end stall.
“Is Peaches a total darling too?” she asks, panting for breath. “Am I going to love her?”
Ginny makes a snorting noise that sounds a little bit like it might have come from the horse that is standing in front of them.
