“Same,” Noor said. “It’s like the ball is in your court.”
“Honestly, this guy sounds too good to be true,” Daphne said. “Gorgeous, and a feminist? Swoon.”
We heard the front door open. “That must be my baba,” Noor said. “Dad, we’re in my room!” She shouted.
“It’s gone six, ladies. I need to go home and get a head start on my religious studies essay,” Yasmin said.
“Same, Mum will be back from work soon,” Daphne said.
“Hels, you’re welcome to stay for dinner if you want?” Noor asked. “Mum’s made way too much stew.”
Even though I knew Maria’s prepared dinner would be waiting for me in the fridge, I didn’t fancy the thought of going home to an empty house again. I joined Noor and her family for dinner instead. Eating with people, laughing and talking (even if Hasan and Noor argued the entire meal), made a nice change.
That evening I had a choice between finishing off my (late, thanks to Aphrodite) French homework or calling Marco. It seemed rude to leave him on tenterhooks. Like Daphne said, he did sort of pour his heart out in that email.
I took a few calming breaths but my fingers still trembled as I dialled his number. Seriously, Helen? He was just a boy (sure, a total hottie with an accent that made my knees wobbly, but no big deal).
The phone rang. Oh crap. What was I going to say? I should have rehearsed my opening line with the girls, maybe something like—
“Hello?” Marco answered the phone (I mean, who else was it going to be?). His voice was so swoony I may have dribbled a bit.
Miraculously, I managed to will my mouth into action. “Hey, Marco. It’s Helen?”
“Ah, Helen. It’s so good to hear from you,” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice. He was happy I called! My nerves faded.
“Listen, I’m sorry for leaving like … that,” I said, cringing at the memory of me running into the house after our kiss. “But I saw some people messing up my dad’s office. He didn’t know about the party.”
Marco laughed. “Wow, Helen. I didn’t have you pinned as a rebel,” he said. “So the party stayed secret?”
I lowered my voice. “Yeah, I think we got away with it. His new girlfriend is keeping him busy, anyway.” Being a parent didn’t seem to matter to Dad as much lately.
“If you ask me, Helen,” he said. Ungh! My tummy flipped whenever he said my name. “I’d rather a laid-back dad to an overbearing one. I’m just saying it could be worse.”
“Oh, you haven’t met my big sis. She found out about the party and totally blackmailed me!” I said. “I think she might by pure evil. Or at least 99.9 per cent evil.”
I ended up telling Marco about Aphrodite’s stupid wonder cream, and me being the guinea pig. I even told him the embarrassing story about my skin “allergy” on the first day back at school. It felt good to make him laugh.
“Remind me to steer clear of anything your sister makes. What’s she going to call this disaster product?”
“She wants to set up an online shop. Call it something like ‘Aphrodite’s Beauty Parlour’,” I said. Oops. Had I given too much away? “She’s obsessed with Greek myths,” I added.
“No way! Your sister and my father have that in common. Maybe we could rant about them on the weekend? Are you free on Saturday?”
It took every bit of effort not to scream “YES YES YES” down the phone.
“I’m pretty sure I’m around on Saturday,” I said. “But can I check and get back to you?” Playing it cool like Daphne said.
“Yeah, get back to me,” he said. “Goodnight, Helen.”
Once again I forgot to ask so many basic questions – I still didn’t even know where Marco was from! But if I had to guess, I’d say somewhere in Southern Europe. Everything about him seemed Mediterranean, from the tailored coat he wore at the party (even I can recognize quality fashion when I see it) to the tanned skin that had seen many long, hot summers. The kind you can only get here for about ten days in August.
I was making assumptions about Marco’s heritage, which I knew was wrong. Goodness knows it’s irritating enough when it happens to me (“So where are you really from?”). But I’d never do it to his face, obviously. I just couldn’t stop thinking about him.
I also didn’t know Marco’s surname, what exactly he was up to in London or how he ended up at my party. Most importantly, I didn’t have an Instagram page for me and my friends to inspect.
But that didn’t seem to matter. I had my first ever Saturday night date to think about.
And I was bricking it.
EIGHTEEN
When I came in from school, Aphrodite was showing Maria something on her laptop. Which was weird, because a) she’s hardly been home lately and b) Aphrodite barely talks to Maria unless it’s to complain that she didn’t buy the right brand of granola.
“375,689 and counting,” Aphrodite said triumphantly.
“Eh?”
“It’s the total number of views my latest skincare video has on YouTube!”
“How?” I was struggling with complete sentences, clearly.
“Because I am brilliant, of course. And mortals, despite being dim, recognize greatness when they see it. No offence.”
I was about to take offence and launch into what Aphrodite calls my “tiresome rants”, but it wasn’t the time. How had she managed to get so many hits on an ordinary beauty video? Aphrodite hadn’t used her powers, had she?
That would be phenomenally stupid, even by her standards.
“It’s a trending topic, apparently! I’ve been assured that you’re nothing unless you’ve trended.”
“If I were you, I’d keep that laptop away from Zeus,” said Maria, interrupting Aphrodite’s reverie. “He won’t like it.”
Aphrodite shot daggers at Maria while she served up a delicious-smelling plate of pasta for my dinner (Maria, not Aphrodite. She won’t go within three feet of refined carbs).
“Well, unless I make it into National Geographic, I doubt Father will be finding out,” Aphrodite snapped. “He still hasn’t taken the smartphone I got him for Christmas out of the box.”
“What would happen if Dad found out?” I asked, grating a small mountain of cheese on to my pasta.
Aphrodite shrugged. “Oh, he’d just get his beige chinos into a twist over nothing. It’s just a bit of fun.”
I wondered if she really believed that was true.
*
At school the next day, I heard two Year 9s talking about Aphrodite’s latest video. I caught the phrases “Foam of the Sea”, “saw it on Instagram” and “old but gorgeous” (referring to Aphrodite I assume, hahahaha).
I guessed that Dad, working in a dusty university, wouldn’t clock on. If he did find out about Aphrodite’s fame, he’d have her packed off to Mount Olympus faster than you could say “tzatziki”.
I came home to find Dad was out for the night again (with Lisa, probably). Lucky for Aphrodite. She’d been fielding press requests all afternoon – something she couldn’t have done with Dad around.
She was in the kitchen with Eros, which seemed to have become her unofficial office (at least until Maria came back from the supermarket). I kicked off my boots and headed to the fridge for my usual snack of cereal.
“So that’s a column in HuffPo plus an interview with BBC Radio One tomorrow, and we’re just waiting for Saturday Morning Breakfast to confirm that you’ll be sharing top beauty tips on this weekend,” said Eros, scribbling notes.
Holy crap. Aphrodite was going to be on the telly?
“Perfect, darling. Thanks for being my little assistant!” Aphrodite said, kissing Eros on the cheek. She looked like the cat who got the cream.
“Wow. Was all this because of that one video?” I asked, crunching on my cereal.
“Well, that certainly kicked things off. I took advantage of the moment and spent all of last night creating new videos,” Aphrodite said. “As an influencer, fresh content is key.”
I forgot that, though they find the odd nap quite pleasant, the gods don’t actually need to sleep. Another somewhat unfair advantage Aphrodite had over her competitors, but I guess all is fair in love and cleansing.
“The most popular by far is my ‘Detox Your Skin in a Flash’ video,” she continued. I didn’t recall asking about her videos, but whatever. “It shows how to hide the usual teen skin complaints with make-up so it looks like you’ve spent three weeks in an Alpine spa retreat. Although not eating sugary snacks would help, too,” Aphrodite said, looking pointedly at my cereal. She’d never miss an opportunity to judge my diet choices.
If making her little videos (and not, say, making me her human guinea pig) kept Aphrodite busy then I was all for it. But I couldn’t help but wonder what Dad would have to say about the whole thing. If he was ever here.
NINETEEN
Dear Mum,
It’s official: my family have lost the plot.
Dad has one job, and that’s to make sure his offspring don’t reveal their immortal identity to the world. They keep a low profile, mind the rules and the Council lets them live their happy lives on earth. But that seems to be impossible.
Take Aphrodite. She seems hell-bent on making sure everyone knows how strong her powers are. Thanks to her hit YouTube channel, her Foam of the Sea wonder cream sold out in minutes and is set for global domination. Her make-up artist mates spread the word on Instagram, and now everyone with a face wants a tub.
I bet you’re wondering why I don’t tell Dad. It’s a complicated situation. If I snitch, Aphrodite will definitely tell him about the secret New Year’s Eve party I threw at the house when he wasn’t there. I won’t see the light of day until summer. So I have no choice but to put up with it and hope that Dad wakes up before things get out of control.
I don’t get why he isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to this madness. He of all people should know how arrogant and self-obsessed the gods are. Why isn’t he keeping an eye on them?
You’d think Dad would care about getting called back to Mount Olympus. He’d have to break up with Lisa and I don’t know what would happen to me. Maybe he doesn’t care about that last bit. I feel like I haven’t seen him in months. I could have dropped out of school and run away to join the circus, for all he knows.
Dad definitely hasn’t been himself since Lisa made her appearance. I haven’t noticed him pottering about in his shed or fermenting any new vegetables lately. And he hasn’t so much as glanced at my homework in weeks. Weirdly, I kind of miss our Sunday afternoon tutoring time together.
He should at least be around to keep Aphrodite in check. Especially at the rate her fame is growing. There’s something off about this whole thing.
There is one tiny bonus to having an absent father. At least he won’t be here to give me grief about my date this Saturday. That’s right, Mum. I have a date! With the guy I met on New Year’s Eve. I think he’s sixteen, but you don’t need to worry about him being older. I get the feeling he’s a complete gentleman.
I’m sad you won’t get to meet him. But I can’t wait to tell you all about it.
Love for ever,
Helen xxx
TWENTY
I spent Friday night (just one day to go until my date – eeeek!) at Daphne’s sleepover. That night, Noor and Daphne wanted to watch this new reality TV show called House of Stars. It’s like a cross between a musical talent show full of wannabes and Big Brother.
It was good fun, and the presenter was hot. They had the usual ratio of totally gorgeous, kooky and extremely fame-hungry people queuing up to join the show. I started to zone out, thinking about what I was going to wear on Saturday, when Daphne’s voice broke into my thoughts.
“Helen, isn’t that your brother?”
I froze. Because she was right. There, in skinny jeans and a buttoned-up pale pink shirt, was my half-brother Apollo.
“Oh, I recognize him,” Noor said. “He played that awesome set at your party. I didn’t realize you were related!” Apollo, with his shock of floppy blond hair, didn’t look a thing like me.
“Why didn’t you tell us he was going to be on telly?!” shrieked Yasmin.
“I had no idea!” And it was totally true. Apollo must have kept this a secret from everyone. Aphrodite’s endless publicity for Foam of the Sea was one thing, but playing in a prime-time TV talent contest? That had to be breaking the rules. No wonder Apollo wasn’t blaring this news from the rooftops.
“Shhh, they’re going to interview him!” Daphne said.
“So DJ Sunny,” the presenter began, although you could barely hear him over the screams from the audience. “The ladies certainly love you. How are you feeling?”
Apollo smiled, and the applause went even wilder. If he had this effect on all female viewers, then he would be a shoo-in to win.
“I’m feeling good, Jamie.” Another cocky smile and yet more applause.
“DJ Sunny, I see you’ve brought your guitar with you. What do you think will set you apart from the other contestants?”
“I’m one of those rare artists, right? Not only am I a producer and a DJ, but I also write my own songs from start to finish. Lyrics, melody, everything. Authenticity is, like, everything to me.”
Ugh. Why wasn’t everyone grossed out by his arrogance?
“Awesome. We can’t wait to see you in action. Everyone, please give DJ Sunny a warm welcome as he enters the House of Stars!”
Apollo gave a barely-there nod to his new adoring fans before walking up the lit path and opening the door to a large stone-grey building. After he disappeared into a dark corridor, the camera cut to the presenter on stage outside.
“Will DJ Sunny light up the stage and win a recording contract worth a whopping £500,000? Come back next week for his first performance, where your vote decides if he walks away with a life-changing prize.”
We watched the rest of the episode, but I wasn’t paying attention. Instead, I was thinking about how much Dad was going to hit the roof when he found out. And where I’d be hiding when it happened. What on earth was Apollo thinking?!
To be honest, it served Dad right. He shouldn’t have been gallivanting around with a woman he’d only just met. It had been weeks since he’d been home for any decent length of time. He, of all people, knew that his offspring can’t be trusted not to cause trouble.
“I wish I had cool siblings like you.” Noor’s voice interrupted my preoccupied state. “All I have is two little brothers who leave disgusting smells around the house. Don’t ever live with pre-teen boys.”
“Or teen boys. Having a big brother is the worst. I can’t even use his ID!” Yasmin said.
“You’re so lucky, Helen,” Noor said, turning to me. “All your siblings are way older. You’re practically an only child!”
“Yeah, and they treat me like a toddler. You saw how rude my big sis is,” I said. And they didn’t know the half of it. I could never tell them about the “makeover” Aphrodite gave me when I first moved in.
This conversation was starting to irritate me, and I couldn’t work out why. Maybe I couldn’t deal with my friends bickering about their perfectly normal families with perfectly normal siblings. I’d love to have the type of family where I could just invite my friends over at a moment’s notice. The type of family my friends had.
“Helen, I completely forgot to ask!” Yasmin said. “Where are you going on your date with Marco tomorrow?”
I smiled and everyone went “ooooooooh” like the studio audience on House of Stars.
“He messaged me last night saying it was a surprise,” I said. “All I know is that we’re meeting at Holloway Road tube station at seven thirty p.m., and I should wrap up warm.”
With this grim weather, it looked like I’d be smothered in a parka, scarf, boots and several layers anyway. January is definitely not the time for figure-hugging date outfits. Not that I have much of a figure to hug. But anyway.
“A surprise! That’s hella romantic,”
Yas said. “What would you do if he took you to somewhere dead fancy? Ooh, like the Shard?”
“Nah, no one goes to the Shard on a first date,” Noor said. “That’s, like, marriage proposal levels.”
“You’re so lucky to have a boyfriend on the horizon, Helen. I turn fifteen this year and nothing!” Daphne said. “In the olden days, I would have had a husband and, like, five kids by now.”
“Do you want a husband and five kids?” Yasmin said.
“Yeah, and it wouldn’t stop there. You’d have to do all the cooking and wash their lice-infected clothes by hand,” I said.
“Oh, forget it. I was just making a point,” Daphne said.
“Anyway, what happened to Adam from Spanish?” I asked. The last I knew, things between them seemed promising.
Her ears went pink, but not in a good way. “He decided he wanted homework help from Sareeta Moore instead,” she said. “But that was ages ago.” Why didn’t I hear about this?
“I’m still not talking to Adam,” said Yasmin as she put her arms around Daphne. “He asked to borrow my protractor in maths yesterday, and I blanked him.”
Daphne must have noticed my confusion. “It happened last week. The day after Marco emailed you,” she said.
Waves of guilt washed over me (more like a splash than a tsunami – but still). I’d been so obsessed with Marco the last few days that I hadn’t clocked Daphne’s boy trouble. I wasn’t going to be the type of person who dumps their mates the second they get attention from guys.
“Honestly, girls, I’m over it,” said Daphne. “But Yas? Feel free not to lend him any stationery.”
TWENTY-ONE
I came home from Daphne’s the next afternoon, welcomed by Buddhist chanting music and the smell of something delicious being cooked. But it was freezing – like the heating hadn’t been on in days. I took off my ankle boots and went to the kitchen to switch it on.
Eros was there, frying onions and wearing nothing but khaki shorts and Maria’s striped apron. Which would usually be weird in the middle of January, but the gods aren’t bothered by the elements.
Oh My Gods Page 10
