by Linda Gerber
I couldn’t help but laugh, and he slugged my arm. Lightly. Such a gentleman.
Theia Alexa sprinkled in more salt, and then dropped the sticky mixture by spoonfuls into in a shallow pan to fry. The cooking keftedes made the whole kitchen smell fabulous … and my stomach grumble even more.
I don’t know if it was the wait, or because I was hungry, or if the keftedes really were that good, but I couldn’t get enough of them. And I wasn’t the only one. Nikos and Victoria and I ate the entire batch without stopping.
“You have a half hour until lights out,” Victoria told me. “Why don’t you and Nikos and Zoe enjoy the fresh air, and I’ll help Theia Alexa clean up.”
We didn’t have to be told twice. As fast as we could go, we ran out to the deck. In the moonlight, we walked around and talked about nonsense stuff … like soccer. (Nikos was a huge fan of the Panathinaikos, and Zoe loved the Olympiakos. From what I could tell, those two teams were major rivals.) They were so into their argument and recitation of stats that I don’t think either of them even remembered I was still there. It reminded me of when Logan and Mateo got going about soccer in Spain. I could have been on the moon for all they knew.
Still, I couldn’t help but smile. My job as Eros was complete. I decided to bow out so they could be alone together. “I should go in now,” I told them, backing away.
Remember that panicked-deer look? Now both of them had it. They stared at me, wide-eyed, making little gestures with their heads that I’m pretty sure meant they didn’t want me to leave. What were they—afraid of being alone together?
Yes.
Believe it or not, even though you could see that each of them had it bad for the other, I think they were afraid of running out of things to say, or saying the wrong thing, or freezing up, or whatever. Because it continued like that for the next two days. Wherever they were, I had to be there, too, to act as a kind of buffer.
I learned very quickly what is meant when people talk about a “third wheel.” They went out on the boat, played video games, strolled along the deck, Nikos played his bouzouki for Zoe … all with me tagging along.
I didn’t mind so much; it was fun hanging out, just the three of us. But I didn’t understand why both of them were so worried about keeping it secret.
“Maybe they’re just shy,” Logan said when I told him about it during one of our online chats.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Why would they be?”
Although, I guessed in a way it made sense; if we ever told anyone, if we ever talked about it openly, they would each have to own the fact that they liked each other. Once it was out there, the chance for rejection became a reality. It was much easier just to let things slide and hope that the other person liked you as much as you liked them without actually confronting them about it. I knew; I was doing the exact same thing by not talking to anyone about how much I liked Logan.
“Okay,” Logan said. “Then maybe there’s something else going on. I’ll bet you’re going to snoop until you find out what it is, aren’t you?”
“I resent that,” I sniffed, pretending to be hurt. “I never snoop.”
Logan laughed. “Right. You won’t be able to leave it alone.”
On day six of the cruise, our shoot
was scheduled on the island of Milos.
“We should see if Zoe can come,” I told Nikos as we sat in the makeup chairs.
Nikos slid a quick glance over to where his dad was talking on his cell phone and then he shook his head. “I think she said she had to help out here.”
“We’re only going to be onshore for three hours,” I said. “I’ll bet Theia Alexa could do without her for that long.”
But Zoe said the same thing as Nikos when I asked her. “I must prepare the dinner.”
“You have to come,” I said. “We’ll be going to the beach after the shoot.”
She just shrugged—rather sadly, I thought. “I can’t.”
I dropped the subject after that, but it didn’t stop me from wondering. For two people who wanted to be together, they sure were quick about giving in.
Another swarm of paparazzi were waiting to swoop in on us when we docked in Milos. By that time, I should have been used to it, but seeing all those cameras still gave me a little thrill, even though I knew by then that it wasn’t me they were coming to see.
I will say something for them; they sure brought out the best in Mr. Kouropoulos. He could be reclusive and cranky on the yacht, but as soon as the cameras appeared, suddenly he was Prince Charming.
Nikos’s mood changed in front of the cameras, too. He would be timid around his dad on board the yacht, but bring on the paparazzi, and he’d turn into his dad’s mini-me. All of a sudden he became confident and cocky, the true “Greek Romeo”—just like the fan magazines said.
I guess I probably changed a little in front of the cameras, too. It was fun to act like a diva once in a while. But I wasn’t in the mood to ham it up when we got to Milos. I was too bummed that Zoe wouldn’t be coming with us—and curious why neither she nor Nikos even asked to find out if she could.
Victoria took my elbow as we walked along the pier to the waiting limo bus. “Don’t forget to smile,” she reminded me.
I automatically turned on all one hundred watts, but only until I had climbed onto the bus and the door closed. As we drove away, I watched through the tinted glass as the yacht and the pier and the pack of paparazzi grew smaller in the distance, and I couldn’t help but think about Zoe, left behind.
“Cassidy,” Victoria said, “are you feeling well?” She pressed the back of her hand to my forehead.
“Oh, no. No.” CJ bent forward in her seat to peer at me. “Let’s not get sick. We don’t have time for illness.”
“I’m not sick,” I said. “It’s just … I left something behind on the Pandora.”
I tried to catch Nikos’s eye when I said that, but he just stared at the floor mats at his feet.
“Well, we don’t have time for retrieving forgotten items, either,” CJ said. “We’re running late as it is.”
“It’s okay,” I said, still looking at Nikos, “I’ll be sure to bring it next time.”
He wouldn’t look up, but I could see a flush creep across his olive cheeks.
Because the filming of our next segment took place on a rocky field that sloped down toward the water, the sea breeze was a bit of a challenge. First of all, it kept blowing my hair into my face. Jacqueline finally had to pull my hair back and shellac it in place with hair spray. Then the wind distorted our voices, so the sound guys had to fit our mics with special furry windscreen covers. And because all that took so long, the sun had moved, and the lighting guys had to shift all the screens.
Through it all, Nikos and I were expected to stand on our marks and keep smiling in case anyone wanted to take some “candid” behind-the-scenes stills. I heard somewhere that it takes more muscles to frown than to smile, but I can tell you, even with minimal muscle usage, my cheeks were beginning to hurt. At least my teeth had stopped aching from my stupid palate expander.
“You could have at least asked if she could come along,” I told Nikos through a broad, cheek-burning smile.
He flashed a toothy grin at me. “Who?”
“You know who,” I said pleasantly. “Zoe.”
“You don’t get it.” Nikos practically laughed. “Zoe is—”
“All right, people,” CJ yelled. “Let’s try it again from the top. Ready? And, action!”
Nikos didn’t miss a beat, but took the smile thing down a couple notches, looked directly into the camera, and launched into his lines. “You probably know her as the lady with no arms. The Romans called her Venus de Milo. But here on the island of Milos, she is known as Aphrodite, the goddess of love.” I was surprised he didn’t choke on that last part.
“The statue of Aphrodite of Milos was found here”—I swept my arm to encompass the field, the sloping hillside, and the ancient stone amphitheater at the bot
tom—“nearly two hundred years ago by a local farmer plowing his field.”
I’m proud to say that we got the entire segment down in just four takes. Not quite as good as the bit on the boat coming into Santorini, but this segment was longer, so I thought we weren’t too bad, considering. I even forgot to be angry at Nikos for not trying to include Zoe in our excursion. Well, almost forgot. Until we went to the beach after the shoot, and I couldn’t help but think how much she would have loved swimming with us.
Remember how I told you that the sunset at Santorini was beyond amazing? You should have seen the one we saw tonight from Sarakiniko Beach on the island of Milos.
This beach was like nothing you’ve ever seen before. The lava rocks surrounding it are as white as chalk and have been worn smooth from years of weather and water. There’s a narrow inlet through the rocks that forms a small beach with sand like vanilla sugar, and turquoise water.
But the amazing part was when the sun sank into the horizon and cast a sunset glow over everything. Those white rocks actually looked orange. I’m posting the pictures, but it was even more spectacular in—
A soft knocking startled me from my blog entry. I glanced at the time on my computer: 9:52. Eight minutes until lights-out. I hurried to answer the door. As I hoped, Zoe stood in the hallway. I looked both ways and then hurried her inside.
“I looked for you when we got back,” I told her. “Where did you go?”
Her secretive smile told me the answer was going to be good. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come tell me about it!”
“Nikos found me,” she said.
“Oh, he did. And … ?”
She closed her eyes, remembering, I guessed, judging from her smile. “We walk around the deck, talking about many things. I forget some of the words because …” She looked at me, and I suddenly understood the meaning of “starry-eyed.” “He hold my hand! All I can think of is my hand in his and … the happy energy.”
I liked the way she put it, “the happy energy.” “That’s exactly what it’s like when I talk with Logan,” I told her. “Like I want to jump, to shout. Like I could bounce off walls. I just have so much happy inside that it wants to burst out.”
“Yes!” she said. “Like it want to come out and fill the room.”
“Like you want to sing!”
“La! La! La!”
We fell back against the cushions and laughed. I was so happy for Zoe. And for Nikos. And for me, because I’d never had a friend I could talk with about boys before. No one I could laugh with like that.
I was so happy when I went to bed that night; I was still smiling. Everything had worked out perfectly. I was completely content.
But fortunes change.
The next morning, I woke up to my cell phone ringing. I thought it was my alarm and fumbled to turn it off before I realized it wasn’t the alarm ringtone. It was the incoming call one I had chosen for my mom and dad. I sat up in bed, suddenly very awake, a cold wave rolling through my stomach.
Calling on an international cell phone is expensive. I’ve gotten that lecture only about a million times. That’s why I talk to my mom and dad online. They wouldn’t call on the phone unless it was important. And knowing my parents, any good news could wait until I was online. Which could mean only one thing. They weren’t calling with good news.
I answered hesitantly. “Hello?
“Cassidy. Did we wake you?” It was Dad. Even with the distance and the feedback in the cell reception, I could hear the tight tone in his voice.
“Dad? What’s wrong?”
“We just received a call from the network,” he said.
My mind raced. The way he said it sounded ominous, but I couldn’t think of anything I had done that would make the network—and, as a result, my dad—angry. “Okay,” I said slowly.
“Do you recall our discussion about Facebook?” he asked.
Facebook? Now I was really confused. “Um, yes. You said I couldn’t make an account until I was fourteen and only then with the network’s approval.”
“Then could you explain,” Mom said, “how your picture, along with Nikos Kouropoulos, is being passed around the Facebook site?” She must have been on an extension or sitting right by Dad.
“What?” I said. “I don’t know what … oh.” Suddenly, I remembered that afternoon on the deck. Nikos with his camera. We should take our own pictures, he had said. I could post them on my Facebook page. “It wasn’t my account,” I said weakly.
“It’s not just about an account,” Dad said. “We discussed the need to control the kind of exposure you are subjected to. That means no content on social media without our approval.”
“I didn’t post the pictures,” I said. As if that would make a difference.
“Cassidy.” Mom’s tone was stern. “We have placed a lot of trust in you by allowing you to go on this trip. We do not expect you to disregard the rules you have agreed to.”
“I seriously didn’t mean to disregard anything,” I said. “I wasn’t even thinking.”
“Apparently not,” Dad said. “That will have to change.”
“Yes, sir.”
Travel tip: Mealtimes are for socializing. Expect a great deal of discussion at the table.
The morning only went from bad to worse when I went to breakfast. I knew something was up the moment I saw Mr. Kouropoulos, Victoria, and Nikos sitting together at the table, all straight-backed and unsmiling. It looked as if I was walking into the middle of something, and after the phone call that morning, I figured it was over the Facebook thing. But really? It’s not like they were bad pictures or anything. Plus, Nikos didn’t know anything about my rules or agreements. He shouldn’t be in trouble.
I was just debating if I should jump in and defend Nikos, or duck back down the stairs and come back later, when Mr. Kouropoulos glanced up and saw me. Too late.
“Ah. There you are,” he said. “Not an early riser, I see.”
“Uh,” I said brilliantly.
“Come join us,” Victoria said, patting the seat next to her.
“Oh. Yes.” I realized I had just been standing there staring, and I scurried over to sit by Victoria. Nikos was stirring the food around on his plate and wouldn’t look up. Even when I nudged his foot under the table.
“Your itinerary for the day,” Victoria said, sliding a sheet of paper toward me. “Courtesy of CJ.”
I glanced at it really quickly to make sure she hadn’t changed any of the times or anything since I last saw it. We were going to do a shoot on the island of Zakynthos that afternoon, and have a picnic at a place called Shipwreck Beach. Everything still looked the same as I remembered it from the information packet.
It was about that time that Zoe came through the swinging doors from the galley, balancing a tray with four bowls of grapefruit on it. She skillfully worked her way around the table, sliding a bowl from the tray at every place setting and gathering any empty plates.
When she got close to Nikos’s chair, she gave him one of her special smiles, but Nikos wouldn’t look at her. In fact, Nikos looked everywhere but at her. Like he was purposefully avoiding her.
A cloud of confusion crossed her face and her smile quivered a little bit, but she didn’t miss a beat at the table. She finished gathering up the empty plates and disappeared back into the kitchen.
What was that? I wanted to kick Nikos for real.
But then I noticed the way his dad was watching him. Carefully. Critically. What was going on?
After breakfast, Nikos went off with his dad and left Victoria and me at the table.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Victoria said. “Something to do with Theia Alexa is all I could gather. I came to the table just as she was leaving. She did not look pleased.”
“They didn’t say anything about it?”
“They hardly said anything at all. It was rather awkward, to say the least. Now hurry up and eat. We have just enough time to ge
t your three hours in before we reach Zakynthos.”
You’d have thought Victoria would
have figured out that I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on my lessons when I was preoccupied by something else. But she kept pushing through our allotted time, repeating herself two or three times. I’m not sure how often since I wasn’t really listening.
I kept wondering what had been going on at the table that morning. It couldn’t have been about the Facebook thing if Theia Alexa was involved. She didn’t have anything to do with Nikos’s photos. So what was it?
“I tell you what,” Victoria said, sliding my workbook away from me. “Since you seem to have trouble concentrating this morning, I’ll read you the questions. How’s that?”
“Sure,” I said, and went back to staring out the window.
If Mr. Kouropoulos had an issue with Theia Alexa, it really wasn’t any of my business, of course, but Nikos had totally blown Zoe off at the table. If this argument or whatever had anything to do with how he was acting, I wanted to understand.
“Cassidy.” Victoria tapped my hand with her pencil. “Are you listening?”
“Yes. Well, no. Sorry.”
“Let’s try again. Homer wrote that the history of the people of Zakynthos began with the arrival of what Trojan prince?” she asked.
I glanced up at her from my paper. “Huh?”
She sighed, deep and heavy, and repeated the question.
“I don’t know. Hector?”
She scrubbed her hand over her face. “Well, no. Hector was a Trojan prince, but he’s not the one I’m thinking of.”
“Paris?”
“Again,” Victoria said, her voice suddenly sounding very tired, “kudos for knowing the Trojan princes, but the answer to this question should be fairly obvious.”
Not to me, I thought, but I didn’t say it out loud.
She shook her head. “It’s clear you didn’t read your assignment,” she said, “but you should get this if you even glanced at it. Did you glance at it?”
I chewed my lip. “Sort of.”
“So you know the answer to this question would be … ?”
