From Geek to Goddess (Zodiac Girls)

by Cathy Hopkins

  “Ah. The zodiac vouchers.”

  “Yeah. My mum spoke to Mrs Blain this afternoon and they’re both okay with the vouchers if we both go. Apparently Nessa, the lady who owns the salon, is related to Dr Cronus and Hermie, so it’s not like we’re going to see a stranger. And Mrs Blain wants to go to the workshop tonight as she’s into goddesses, so no one can object. Can’t you see? This is exactly what we need.”

  Ruth was staring at me with her usual look of panic. “Who, me? Find my inner goddess?”

  “Yeah, come on. It will be fun.”

  Ruth looked doubtful and began shaking her head.

  “Oh, come on. Please. For me. I want to audition for the part of Tallulah, and she’s a real goddess if ever there was one. I’m sure this is all meant to be.” I got off the bed and went into one of Tallulah’s song and dance routines. When I’d finished, she actually clapped!

  “Hey Gemma, you’re really good,” she said.

  “Thanks. I’ve rehearsed enough times, that’s for sure, and if I can find my inner goddess, I’m sure I’ll make more of an impact and I might get a part in the show. And you can find your inner goddess and be more confident.”

  “But I don’t want to be a goddess or in the show.”

  I sighed. “You don’t have to be in the show. I just thought… well, it would be nice to have someone to go to the workshop and the makeover with. Company. And you might get something out of it. And… and if you don’t come with me, I can’t go. Mrs Blain said I could only go if you came and… no one else is going to come. They all have friends.”

  Ruth shook her head and put her headphones back on. “Sorry,” she mouthed.

  I got up off the bed and went to lie on my own. Life sucks, I thought as I turned to the wall. It gives you a break. Then it takes it away.

  I felt close to blub mode. For a moment I’d had hope and now it seemed there was none. I didn’t know what else to do.

  After a few minutes, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  “Okay,” said Ruth as I looked round. “If it really means that much to you, I’ll come with you. Not for a makeover or to be a goddess, but to keep you company.”

  “You’re a top babe,” I said and leant over and gave her a hug. She looked nice when she smiled.

  “Okay, my lovely goddesses, gather round,” said Nessa, the lady running the class.

  Goddesses. I had to laugh. It was Thursday night, and as promised, Mrs Blain had given us a lift to Pentangle. I’d been looking forward to it all day. I imagined that the class would be like a session at a model agency with tips on how to walk, how to get made up, hair advice, everything I’d need to land the part of Tallulah.

  The décor in the salon was fabulous. It looked like a cross between Santa’s grotto and a planetarium with planet mobiles spinning from the ceiling and star fairy lights twinkling around the doors, arches and mirrors. The assembled “goddesses”, however, couldn’t have looked less divine as we assembled in the manicure room at the back of the salon. The group was:

  Mrs Blain and her enormous bosom.

  Ruth and her look of panic.

  Me and my spots.

  A stooped old lady who resembled a tortoise and had brought her knitting along.

  A tiny red-haired girl who looked like she was going to burst into tears at any moment.

  A tall girl with lank dark hair who was so pale, she looked like a ghost.

  On the other hand, Nessa was pure goddess. Straight out of the pages of Hello magazine, she was glamorous and a half, in a footballer’s-wife type of way. She was tanned, tall and curvy, with long, highlighted blonde hair, silver stars on her ears and glittery nail extensions. She was dressed in figure-hugging white. A top babe, as Jess’s brother used to say.

  “Alwight, girls,” she said in a strong Essex accent as we gathered awkwardly around her. “As you know this class is to find yer inner goddess. Alwight?”

  “Alwight,” we nodded back.

  I couldn’t wait for it to begin. Nessa was so stunning to look at, I felt like a frump besides her. But not for long, I thought. If finding her inner goddess had helped her look the way she does, I’d come to the right place.

  “Now I want you to have a quick glance at yer goddesses,” she instructed, “then we’ll ’ave the slide show.”

  I sat down and glanced at the paper, expecting to see all the contemporary goddesses listed: Madonna, Britney Spears, Kylie, Julia Roberts, all the stars that we see in films and in mags. But no. It looked like a history-homework handout. Pages and pages of it: African goddesses, Asian, Himalayan, Greek, Roman, South American, North American, Egyptian, Hindu…

  “Fascinating, isn’t it?” said Mrs Blain as she sat next me to and began to read. “I find these ancient entities so interesting.”

  “Er, yes…” I said as I glanced at my own sheet. The writing was a bit blurry, so it was hard to read, but I could just about make out some of the names:

  Branwen. Lady of Love.

  Cerridwen. Lady of Inspiration.

  Hine-Moa. Passionate Princess.

  Kura. Falling Flower.

  Inanna. Queen of Heaven.

  Allwise. Swan Maiden.

  Some of the names sounded lovely and I wondered which one was going to be my inner goddess as I scanned the sheet. I hoped that the slide show would be more informative though. I wasn’t really interested in lists of names from history. I was interested in the present.

  A few minutes later, the lights went down and the slide show began. This will be it, I thought, she’s probably going to show us how to glide on a catwalk. How to stand and move like a goddess.

  But no.

  It was a slide show of a load of old statues and sacred sites.

  “The power of these names,” said Nessa, “and the power of the entities who once claimed these names has been forgotten, the devotion of the faithful considered odd, superstitious even…”

  Strange, I thought as I listened. Nessa’s voice lost its Essex accent as she spoke and she sounded more serene and authoritative. All the same, I didn’t come here for this. Luckily, Mrs Blain got out a box of Maltesers and passed them round, which provided a bit of a distraction. She was riveted by the talk, and even Ruth looked interested. I felt like nodding off. Where’s the make-up lesson? I asked myself. The top tips? Maybe this is just the beginning. We’ll probably get going on the good stuff later.

  But no.

  Nessa told us about the traditions, myths and legends of goddesses in different countries throughout time. Not a word on how to apply your lip gloss. Peculiar, I thought as I watched Nessa enthusing on about temples and sacred sites. She didn’t look the type to be into that sort of stuff, but she was clearly passionate about it.

  After the slide show was over, Nessa asked us all to gather in a circle around a table with an open box on it.

  “And now we’re going to find our inner goddess,” she announced.

  At last, I thought.

  “I’ve put the names of all the goddesses on a piece of paper in the box,” she said. “Now I want you all to close your eyes and ask your inner goddess to direct your hand to the paper with the name of your personal goddess. I’ll go first.”

  She put her hand in the box and pulled out a piece of paper.

  “Graeco-Roman goddess,” she smiled then smoothed her hands over her curves and winked. “Venus. Mistress of love, beauty and pleasure!”

  “Quite right,” said Mrs Blain as Nessa turned to the old tortoise lady.

  “Okay,” she said. “Your go, Betty.”

  Betty closed her eyes and put her hand in the box.

  “Wotsit say, darlin’?” asked Nessa, her accent back, thick and strong. “Read it out.”

  “I’ve got a Central American one,” said Betty. “Ix Chel, the lady weaver.”

  “And that’s just what you are, with your knitting,” said Nessa with a nod. “Lydia, you’re next.”

  The tall pale girl closed her eyes and picked.

 
“Northern European goddess,” she whispered. “Holda, host of the dead.”

  Dead right, I thought. She looks like someone only dug her up this morning.

  “Brill,” said Nessa. “Don’t look so glum, Lydia. Death often means rebirth in ancient myths. A new beginning.” She indicated the box again. “Mrs Blain?”

  Mrs Blain closed her eyes and picked.

  “Like Betty,” she said. “I’ve got a Central American one too, Mayahuel,” then she chuckled and adjusted her bosom. “The many-breasted one!”

  We all laughed. Once again, the name seemed apt.

  “Mary,” said Nessa looking at the little red-haired girl who looked like she’d been crying all day.

  Mary took her turn and picked a paper.

  “Eastern European goddess. Bozaloshtsh. Lady who cries.”

  Wow! These are so accurate, it’s scary, I thought. I wonder which one I’ll be.

  Nessa turned to Ruth. “What about you, Ruth? You going to give it a go?”

  Ruth shook her head and looked at the floor.

  Nessa smiled at her. “Come on, love. No one’s going to pick on you. You’re safe here. You’re amongst goddesses.”

  Ruth hesitated, then got up and picked from the box.

  “It’s an Egyptian one,” she smiled up at Nessa. “Seshat, mistress of books.”

  Well, that definitely fits! I thought. She’s never got her nose out of one.

  “And last but not least,” said Nessa, “Gemma.”

  I closed my eyes and put my hand into the box. What would it be? Mistress of flowers? Lady of Spring? Swan Maiden?

  “Wotsit say, love?” asked Nessa as I read.

  “South American goddess, Caipora,” I said. I quickly folded up the paper and put it back on the table.

  “And what’s she the goddess of?” asked Mrs Blain.

  “Oh, nothing,” I said.

  “Can’t be,” insisted Mrs Blain. “They’re all the goddess of something.” She put her hand in the box and retrieved my paper, then burst out laughing. “Caipora. The Lady of the Beasts.”

  I felt myself go bright red as everyone laughed with her. Typical, I thought. There were some beautiful-sounding ones. Ladies of the moon, the forest, rivers or the stars or the sea but no, my inner goddess is the Lady of the blooming Beasts.

  I wished I hadn’t come.

  Chapter Seven

  Showtime

  Lunchtime. Friday.

  Dear Diary,

  Caipora, Lady of the Beasts here. Gemini Zodiac mad girl. That’s me.

  Life stinks. I’m spotty and ugly and everyone hates me. This week has been the worst ever since time began.

  First I meet some weird motorbike messenger called Hermie and he tells me that I’m a Zodiac Girl. He must be having such a laugh with his cousin Nessa or whatever relative she is. Maybe she’s his girlfriend and they’re in it together. I’m never listening to him again and have thrown his stupid mobile phone in the bins out the back. It didn’t work anyway, except to phone him or the beauty salon. I tried putting all my mates in the address book but when I went to call them, the line was dead. What sort of rubbish phone is that where you can only call two people?

  And the stupid site he sent me to. Said I have a chance for one month because of some planetary alignments or something and could make my mark. My mark as what? Class geek?

  And things are getting worse. Now I have three spots. One on my forehead, one on my chin and one on the side of my nose.

  And my hair has got a life of its own.

  And even worse than that, I was in English today and Mrs Johnson asked me to read out loud and when I couldn’t because the page was blurry, she said I needed glasses and I had to go and get my eyes checked by Matron in her clinic and she said I needed glasses too. So that’s it. I’ll be spotty, with glasses. And mad hair. There is no hope for me.

  I’ve tried to get Ruth talking but all she does is read and is the most boring roommate in the history of time. She loved the goddess class and has since got loads of books out of the library about them which have given her more excuses to have her nose permanently in a book. Which is fitting because she is the Lady of Books. Whereas I am the Lady of Beasts. Clearly because that is what I look like. A beast. With glasses. And spots.

  I WANT friends. I want to be beautiful. And cool. And be Tallulah in the school show. And I want to be a Lady of Flowers. Not Beasts.

  So there. The end. Amen. Ya boo everything sucks. I miss Lucy and Chloe and Jess and Charlotte and Ellie and have now used up a whole month’s phone cards talking to them. And they all sound so happy and busy like they have a life. I knew this would happen. I’m all alone in the world. With no one but my spots to keep me company. I wish, I wish, I wish I could play Tallulah. Auditions are this afternoon.

  “Hey, Gemma,” said Ruth looking up from her book.

  “What?”

  “What you doing?”

  “Writing my diary. Why?”

  “Says here in my book that Caipora is a nice goddess. She’s the protector of animals.”

  “So?”

  “So I don’t think that you should mind that she’s your inner goddess. I think you should be flattered. And I’ve seen that picture by your bed of your dog. Maybe you being the Lady of Beasts means that you’re a kind person who likes animals.”

  You’re a kind person, I thought. Trying to make me feel better but it isn’t working. I knew that I was the Lady of the Beasts because I looked like a beast.

  “Have you checked your website today?” asked Ruth. “There might be another message on it.”

  “No way. I think that Hermie was having a laugh at my expense.”

  “I thought the class was really good. And I liked Nessa. I don’t think she was laughing at you. Or any of us. Take a look.”

  “Well, I was just going to check my emails, so I guess I could have a peek before the auditions start,” I said as I switched my laptop on. “Are you going to try for a part?”

  Ruth shook her head. “I’m going to the Outreach programme. Apparently there are hardly any volunteers as everyone wants to be in the show. Sure you won’t come?”

  “Nah,” I said. “Not my thing. What do you have to do?”

  “Not much. Visit the old people’s home at the bottom of the drive and sit and read to them.”

  Well that will suit Ruth and her books, I thought, but I can’t think of anything more boring. I looked to see if there were any emails from Jess or the girls, but there was nothing. Might have known. They’re starting to forget me already.

  I was just about to close down when a pop-up message flashed on from the astrology website.

  “Not talking to you,” I said as I stuck my tongue out at the screen and stood up from my desk.

  Ruth got up from her bed and slid into my place.

  “It says ‘Lady of Beasts,’” she read, “‘protector of animals. Make your mark and find your calling, you have just over three weeks left.’”

  “You’re making it up,” I said.

  Ruth looked indignant. “Am not!”

  I leant over her and sure enough there were the words she had read out. This is getting freaky, I thought as I quickly turned the laptop off. What is going on? Now even my computer is making fun of me. Either that or Nessa told Hermie about the class and me being Lady of Beasts and they both had a jolly good giggle.

  I was late for the auditions as Matron had been in touch with my mum and arranged for me to see the school’s optician early afternoon. He confirmed that I needed glasses, and after testing my eyes, he let me pick a set of frames. Then he said he’d make up a pair to my prescription and have them sent to the school. In the meantime, he gave me a temporary pair.

  “You have got to be joking,” I said when I looked at myself in the mirror. They looked like the bottom of milk bottles with enormous frames. “These are mad. I look like a clown.”

  “It’s only temporary,” he said. “You make sure you wear them, young lady,
or you’ll be straining your eyes and damaging your eyesight. I don’t want to hear that you’ve had them off, except at night when you’re asleep.”

  Yeah, yeah, I thought. I’ve managed so far. I’ll stick them in my bag as soon as I get out of here and wait until the half-decent ones arrive, because no way am I going to be seen dead or alive in these.

  “Don’t worry,” said Matron. “I’ll make sure everyone on staff knows that she has to have them on.”

  Is everyone at this school in league against me? I asked myself as I stumbled out of the room and headed for the drama department. Don’t they know my destiny awaits and I have to get a part in a show?

  The auditions were already well under way by the time I got there and the girls were in the middle of a dance routine. Mrs Woods, the drama teacher, looked up and waved me towards her.

  “Auditions for the part of Fat Sam are later,” she said as she pointed me towards the benches at the back of the hall where a group of girls were waiting for their auditions.

  I was aghast. “Fat Sam? No. I’m up for the part of Tallulah,” I said. “I know all her songs off by heart.”

  “Tallulah? But we need a tall blonde for Tallulah and anyway, we auditioned for that part earlier. We’re on to Blousey’s part now.”

  Behind her, I could see Sara Jenkins and her mates wafting about on their toes. I also noticed that Sara had been dancing nearby when Mrs Woods had suggested I play Fat Sam, and had laughed, then passed it on to Mercedes.

  “… yes,” Mrs Woods continued, “We’d have to pad you out a bit but those glasses are a great idea. Inspired. I think you’d make a great Fat Sam in them. Where did you get them from? The props department?”

  “No,” I wailed. “The optician said I have to wear them but not for long. With a blonde wig, I could do Tallulah. Oh please. Let me try.”

  “We haven’t got time to go through it all again,” said Mrs Woods who was beginning to look harassed. “We’ve got a whole host of parts to cast.”

  “Then can I try for Blousey? I did put my name down. Please. Please.”

  Mrs Woods sighed. “Very well, Gemma, but we’ve already been through the dance routine once, so just join in where you can. I’ll soon see if it’s right for you.”