The group chatted about alternative plans for New Year’s Eve while I stayed quiet and ran through the risks in my head. What if Dad came home early for no reason? Then I remembered – didn’t he say he was going on a romantic trip with Lisa in the car? Judging by how gooey-eyed he was talking about her this morning, there’s no way he’d leave that trip early.
Sure, he’d officially banned mortals from the house. But Lady Friend was a mortal and she was at the house every other weekend, I reasoned. Why was it one rule for him and another for me? Didn’t the ancient Greeks, like, invent the meaning of democracy? It was my house, too. Being able to invite my friends (and a few of their friends too) over was only fair.
I looked around the table. My friends looked so deflated, especially Yasmin. They’d done so much for me since I’d moved back. If it wasn’t for them, I’d probably still be spending lunch breaks and Friday nights alone.
Throwing this party had its risks, but it was the least I could do for my friends.
I sat up. “Guys, I have an idea.”
TWELVE
I had the biggest task ahead of me. All I had to do was make the house a mortal-friendly zone and erase every trace of immortal beings ever existing in our home. No biggie.
The minute the house was empty, I sprang into action. Armed with a cardboard box, I tucked away anything that was a dead giveaway. Basically, if it looked more like it belonged in a museum than a home, in the box it went.
Dad’s ancient marble figurines could stay (there was nothing weird about those, after all – unless an actual historian came and worked out that they were thousands of years old). However, the printed copy of “The Rules” on the fridge door had to go. There would be no easy way to explain that.
I also found a few pairs of winged sandals lurking in the shoe rack. Yes, I tried them on and no, the wings didn’t even flicker. They probably had to be activated by a god with powers. Still, I popped them in the box to be on the safe side. They were to stay with the tubs of Aphrodite’s mysterious ointment jars in the bathroom cupboard (they could be harmless, but why risk it?) and the metal-tipped arrows hiding in the airing cupboard (almost certainly not harmless).
Finally, I blocked the attic stairway with a couple of cardboard boxes full of junk from Dad’s office. I was sure Aphrodite would know instantly if a mortal was in her room. That wasn’t a scenario I wanted to see play out in front of half of my school.
As I rolled up the living room rug to make room for dancing (I saw that in a film once), someone came through the front door.
Uh-oh. Had Dad forgotten something for his trip? Had Aphrodite decided she was going to have a cosy night in front of the mirror instead of going out?
“Why are you rolling up the rug? Ooh, are you going to do that mermaid yoga pose I told you about?”
It was Eros. I’d forgotten about him! And now he was in the living room. The party flashed before my eyes. Was it ruined?
I didn’t like the idea of lying to my favourite family member, but needs must. “Oh, I’m just having a few friends over for New Year’s Eve. You’ve got big plans too, right?” I asked, not at all subtly.
“I think I’ve celebrated New Year’s Eve in every way possible, Helen,” he said. “This year I’ll be burning sage and playing my cleansing meditative music playlist. You know, start the year right.”
NO. NO NO NOOOOO.
Eros was going to be in all night. Why, oh why, did I assume that Eros would be partying it up? He loves nothing more than a night in of burning incense and chanting.
If this party had any chance of going ahead, I had to come clean. But could I trust him?
“The thing is, Eros, it’s going to be more than a few friends,” I said.
I told Eros everything: about this party being the party everyone’s talking about, and how we could never show our faces at school again if it got cancelled. Plus, Yasmin’s big chance with Jayden would be ruined and that would almost certainly result in heartbreak. That was bound to grab Eros’s attention.
“So let me get this straight. Father doesn’t know about the party?” he asked. I shook my head.
“I did think it was unusually lenient of him to have a bunch of unsupervised mortals in the house.”
“It will be fine though, right? Aphrodite and Dad aren’t here, I’ve hidden all the weird immortal things around the house, and—”
“It’s not that, Helen,” Eros said. “Believe it or not, we gods are more than capable of hiding our identity in front of mortals for a few hours. We’ve been doing it for centuries.”
They may not reveal their identities, but they could be hella embarrassing. I pictured Dad boring my friends to sleep with his collection of Edwardian postcards (some of which are rude for all the wrong reasons), and shuddered.
“If Father isn’t aware of the party, then chances are that he hasn’t deactivated the intruder lock,” Eros said.
“What, like an alarm system?” I asked. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound like it’d be good for my party.
Eros smiled indulgently at me, like I was a small child. I hated it when the gods did that.
“Not quite. Allow me to demonstrate,” he said, and we walked to the hallway.
That was one more immortals-only secret they were all in on. Couldn’t they keep me in the loop? You know, at least pretend we’re part of the same family.
“When we moved in, Father created an intruder lock. No one outside of our family can come into our house unless expressly welcomed by an immortal.”
He opened the front door. “Stand outside,” he said. I obeyed. “Obviously you can come in and out as you please. But this is what your mortal friends will feel if they try and come in. Give me one sec.”
Eros muttered something under his breath. “I’m changing the intruder lock settings so only full gods are allowed through.”
“This is getting silly now. I’m coming back in.” I tried to walk back in the house, but my feet couldn’t get past the entrance. The door was wide open. I could see that with my own eyes. But I couldn’t get through it, like there was a wall of invisible brick.
Eros held his hand out and pulled me into the house. The invisible brick wall didn’t hold me back this time.
“Do you see what I mean, Helen? Unless Father deactivates the intruder lock or another god is here to override it, no mortal is getting into this house.”
“Can you override it? Please, Eros, I’d owe you big time.”
Eros sighed. “Thing is, I really had my heart on trying out my new sage incense at midnight…”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. My new friends are the only ones keeping me sane – I can’t let them down, Eros.”
“Fine, I’ll help just this once. But you should know that my powers are weaker than Father’s. The easiest way to override the charm is for another god to welcome them in,” Eros said. “I’d have to greet every single party guest.”
Eros looked too old to pass for a friend. But with his brown skin and curly hair, we actually bore a resemblance to one another.
“I’ll just have to introduce you as my cousin, then,” I said. That wasn’t even a lie.
“I could make it work for a few hours at least,” he said. I gave Eros a massive hug. What would I do without him? If I’d tried to have this party alone, how would I have explained an invisible FORCE FIELD that literally wouldn’t let my friends in? I pictured a queue forming round the block while I stood at the front door, trying not to have a meltdown.
It was entirely too weird. What other secret booby traps was I oblivious to in this house?
Now that I had Eros on board, the house looked nearly normal and the small matter of how people were going to get into the house was solved, I had a much more important crisis on my hands.
WHAT THE HECK WAS I GOING TO WEAR?
I emptied the measly contents of my wardrobe on to my bed, but there was nothing suitable for a New Year’s Eve party.
As I looked at th
e only four dresses I had in my wardrobe (a floral number I wore for church with Grandma Thomas, two sundresses and what appeared to be a dress but was actually a really big T-shirt), I realized there was no other way. I was going to have to jailbreak an outfit from Aphrodite’s wardrobe.
I crept upstairs to find the bedroom empty. The first thing I noticed was the sheer size of the room. I got shafted on the bedroom choice, that’s for sure. Aphrodite’s room was three times the size of mine at least. She had space for a four-poster bed, for goodness’ sake! Why was I living like a second-class citizen in my single bed?
The second thing I noticed was Aphrodite. Not Aphrodite in the flesh, thank goodness. But she had images of herself everywhere. A huge Andy Warhol-style portrait dominated the room, and it didn’t stop there. Photos of herself throughout the years hung on the walls and in frames on the dressing tables (yes, she had more than one). I took a closer look at a small black-and-white framed photo that looked like it came from a 1940s murder mystery film. It was Aphrodite, all right.
Maybe it was the huge vases of white orchids dotting the room or the soft lighting, but even though it was a miserably grey day, the room felt bright and airy. This room felt like it belonged in another house altogether.
I made a mental note to ask Aphrodite for interior design tips, then remembered I was explicitly told never to come up here. Back to business!
I turned on the light in her walk-in wardrobe (which was bigger than my entire room – ridiculously unfair). The rows of clothes were organized by colour, with dozens of shoeboxes neatly arranged on the floor and top shelf. It was like a fashion wonderland, if you were into that kind of thing. It would have made Daphne weep.
There was no time to flick through the rails and have a proper look. Honestly? I was more scared of Aphrodite catching me in her wardrobe than Dad walking in on my house party. There was no knowing how she’d react.
A flash of peach peeked out at me from underneath a dust jacket. I pulled out a dress that looked to be around my size. When I went to try it on, the dress slipped over my head and stopped just above my knees. Sorted.
The matching shoes – a pair of fabric-covered T-bar heels with a diamante flower on each – were labelled in a box beneath the dress. Thank goodness for Aphrodite’s militant streak when it came to fashion. I grabbed my ill-gotten gains and rushed back downstairs to my room, convinced that she’d come back any minute, murder of a dress thief on her mind.
I had every reason to be nervous. If the myths about Aphrodite are true, her vengeance knows no bounds.
THIRTEEN
The doorbell buzzed, and I rushed downstairs to meet Eros by the front door. I looked through the glass peephole to see Yasmin and a tall guy I didn’t recognize – it must’ve been her big brother, Isaac.
I leaned in to Eros. “Are you ready?” He nodded, but he looked nervous. I didn’t blame him. Neither of us wanted to be on the wrong side of Dad’s lightning-bolt temper.
I opened the front door. “Hey, Yas. Come in!”
“I’m Helen’s cousin. So great to meet you!” Eros shook both of their hands, and they walked through the door without a hitch. We’d cheated Dad’s intruder lock!
I could see why half of the girls in our year were coming to the party because of Isaac. He was seriously hot. He stood head and shoulders above Yasmin (which isn’t hard, she’s quite petite) and his beard made him look way older than seventeen. When he thanked me for letting them use the house, I felt my face turn beetroot.
“Didn’t I tell you Helen was the coolest?” Yas said. “And don’t worry. We won’t leave you to clean it all up tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow morning?” I said.
“Yeah! I assumed we could sleep over seeing as your dad is away. That cool with you?”
I nodded even though I felt like rolling up into a ball, armadillo style. What if Aphrodite came back in the morning? What if Dad arrived before we cleaned up the party debris? What if— I stopped myself right there. I couldn’t spend the entire night worrying about if/when Dad would come back.
The party was happening now. It was too late to turn back, so I may as well enjoy it.
Over the afternoon, a steady stream of Isaac’s friends turned up with drinks, snacks and music equipment. Including a massive sound system. It was shaping up to be that type of party.
I was trying to squeeze the cans of soft drinks into the fridge, Tetris-style, when Yas tapped me on the shoulder.
“Helen, what’s your postcode?” Yasmin asked.
“It’s N7 9—wait. Why do you need that?”
“Isaac’s barber’s cousin’s girlfriend and her mates are stopping by at some point. You OK with that, hun?”
I nodded weakly (this was the fourth time I’d given my postcode out in the last hour).
“Listen, Yas. Do you think we maybe, possibly, have enough people already? I just don’t want the neighbours to—”
“There she is!” Isaac said. He was with a couple of equally gorgeous guys. “This party would be nothing without you, Helen, yeah?”
I blushed crimson and shrugged. “It’s nothing, I had a free house so…” I mumbled.
“Don’t worry, Helen,” Yasmin said when Isaac and his ASOS-model friends went next door to set up the speakers. “The boys won’t let anything get out of hand. Neither will I.”
Still, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. I had complete strangers messaging me for my address! The scale of the party was finally sinking in. Was I going to regret this?
Daphne and Noor soon arrived, armed with enough make-up and hairspray to kit out a fashion show. Even though we spent a lot of time on make-up (well, Noor did) at our sleepovers, doing it for a party felt way more exciting. The thought that I could have my first kiss tonight crossed my mind. It gave me butterflies, but not the giving-a-monologue-in-drama-class kind. The good kind.
After Noor did my make-up, I had to sort out my hair. What was I going to do with it? I didn’t have the time or energy to blow-dry and straighten it.
“You should totally wear your hair down!” Daphne said.
“Do it, babe,” chipped in Noor. “Set your curls free!”
The last time I wore my hair down to a party was in Year 7. Boys compared me to a garden hedge, and most of the girls plunged their hands into my hair like I was a fairground attraction. It was rude, and all the touching made my hair frizz out even more. I’d avoided wearing my hair down ever since.
But I couldn’t go to a party with my hair in the same style I wear to school every day, so I took a deep breath, teased my hair out of the elastic and worked product into my curls.
After all, I was throwing a forbidden house party and wearing a stolen outfit – letting my hair down (literally) was the least wild thing I could do that night.
I changed into the dress and took a look in the full-length mirror. The rosy coral of the dress was the perfect colour match for the pink gloss on my lips. Mini beads covered every surface of the dress, making it shimmer from rosy pink to gold whenever it caught the light. The top half was sleeveless with a simple V neckline (it was a little lower than I would have liked, but it’s not like I have much to show off), but the skirt was an explosion of sequins in a unique floral pattern. I’d never felt more glamorous. Goddess-like, even.
Maybe Aphrodite’s powers of beauty extended to her clothes? Because I couldn’t believe that fabric and sequins and thread could have such an effect.
Yasmin interrupted my moment of vanity. “Rah, Helen! This look is flames.”
“You look increds!” Daphne examined the hem of my dress. “Is it vintage? I’d say 1930s, but that’s impossible. The condition is too good.”
“Wow! You’re giving me strong Zendaya vibes,” Noor said.
I finally understood why women spend hours looking for that perfect dress, deliberating over lipstick shades. Because, for the first time in a while, I felt like I could take on the world.
I’m not stupid. I know having perfect hai
r and a perfect dress doesn’t make me smarter or nicer or more fun to be around. But it gave me a superhero surge of confidence that I don’t have in my usual jeans and trainers.
I looked so good that I didn’t feel a shred of guilt for breaking into Aphrodite’s closet and stealing a priceless vintage dress. And I’m sure it doesn’t count as breaking in if a) the door was unlocked and b) the room is in your own house. Right? Right.
“Selfie time!” said Noor, brandishing her phone.
Usually, I protested when Noor wanted to take selfies – which was every waking hour – but what the heck? It’s not very often you’re glammed up to the nines and hosting a party with half of North London talking about it. This was a milestone for sure, and I wanted to remember every second of it.
FOURTEEN
Over a dozen people arrived at the door, one after the other. Eros had to welcome them all in one by one, but because he’s so warm and charming no one seemed to think it was odd. In fact, it seemed to put them in an even better mood. Eros has that effect on people.
The party had officially started. Isaac and his mates (I had boys in my living room!) switched on the sound system. It all seemed to be going … well. Better than well. If the sound of laughter was anything to go by, people were having a good time.
I couldn’t quite believe that I was pulling this off. Me, the girl who blushes when she’s asked to read aloud in lessons, was throwing a banging house party without her parent’s knowledge. Who’d have thought?
I didn’t want to rest on my laurels, though. I did a periodic sweep of the upstairs rooms, just to make sure Dad’s office and Aphrodite’s room were safe from prying eyes. Something told me the gods would definitely know if their private rooms were invaded by mortals.
I checked the kitchen and found Eros surrounded by several girls I didn’t recognize, hooked on his every word.
“It’s like I always say,” Eros said, “if the feelings are mutual, the effort will be equal. It’s as simple as that.”
Oh My Gods Page 7
