Home > Oh My Gods(5)

Oh My Gods(5)
Author: Alexandra Sheppard

“Oh crap. You don’t think Jayden heard that, do you?” asked Yasmin.

“Why do you care, Yasmin?” I asked.

She pursed her lips, ignoring the question, and we all burst out laughing again. The answer was obvious.

“By the way,” said Noor. “He’s the only guy in this school who looks like that. So don’t get your hopes up.”

“Anyway, back to the question,” said Yasmin. “What do you want to do when you grow up? You must have given it some thought, Daphne.”

“Yas, chill,” said Noor. “Not everyone has planned out their career on a whiteboard in their room. Anyway, Daphs, you know what Miss Bloom is like. Knock out a page about wanting to save the dolphins or start an organic lavender farm. She’ll lap it up.”

It was hard to believe just how nervous I’d been that morning. Now, I was chatting with my new mates about boys and homework. Joking around with them felt so … normal. And a single god didn’t interfere all day.

After my weekend, it was exactly what I needed.

 

 

FOUR

My first week at school had gone far better than I expected. Even though I had nightmares of eating lunch alone or having to introduce myself at assembly, I managed to avoid both. To top it off, I even got a sleepover invite from Daphne. Success!

Dad may be immortal, but he has one thing in common with every other father in history: he hates to part with cash. Especially if it’s for something fun. I had to fight tooth and nail with him to get some money for Friday night’s sleepover.

I think Dad is making up for lost parenting time by being stricter than ever. From what I’ve read, I don’t recall him caring this much about his offspring two thousand years ago. Just my luck.

I mean, did Hercules have to ask permission to hang out with his friends after completing his quests? Doubt it.

I caught Dad before he went to spend the evening pottering around in the shed with his antiques. Immortals don’t have to sleep, and this helped him fill the time overnight. Last time I made the mistake of visiting him there, he subjected me to a twenty-five-minute lecture on Edwardian silverware.

He can be soooo dull, even by dad standards. That, and the fact that he wears Crocs outside of the house, makes it hard for me to see Dad as the head of the gods.

So I was on red alert. Get in and get out before he bored me to death – that was the mission.

“Come in, Helen,” said Dad as I was about to knock on his office door. That always creeped me out. I know he has incredible hearing and could tell it was me from a mile off, but I wish he’d at least pretend to be normal.

“Hey, Dad.” I climbed over a couple of unpacked cardboard boxes to sit in the worn leather chair opposite his desk.

He was marking essays with his reading glasses perched on his nose. I know for a fact these are a prop, as all the gods have perfect vision. It’s one of the little things Dad does to prove to the world that he’s normal.

“Yes?” he asked. Dad looked up at me impatiently, like I was one of his students dropping by to ask for a deadline extension.

“My first week at school went well. I even made some new friends,” I said. Thanks for asking.

Dad raised one eyebrow. “Glad to hear it. I hope the curriculum isn’t too different from your previous school?”

“Um, yep. All good on the old curriculum front.” And honestly, who cared? “Anyway, Dad. Daphne, one of my new friends, is having a sleepover tomorrow night.”

He stared blankly at me. “Remind me, Helen. What happens at a sleepover exactly?”

“You know. A sleepover?” I said. The clue was in the name. Wasn’t he meant to be a professor? “We’re going to stay the night at Daphne’s, watch a few films, and order a pizza. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“I see.” He didn’t look or sound convinced. “But surely you can do all of that here, Helen? Minus the hassle of taking your overnight things, disrupting your bedtime routine…”

“Yes, Dad. But it’s more fun with friends.” It was like talking to a Martian.

“I suppose it’s one of those teenage pastimes I’ll never understand, like theme parks and discotheques,” he muttered.

“And I’ll need some spending money,” I said.

“Why on earth do you need spending money? Is your friend charging admission?” Dad asked, chuckling at his pointless joke.

“The takeaway pizza won’t pay for itself!”

“Doesn’t your friend have any food at home? In my time, Helen, hosts provided meals for their guests.”

“In your time, they threw people to the lions and called it a wholesome day out. Times have changed!”

Dad reached for his wallet. “This is all I have. And by the way, that was Ancient Rome, not Greece.”

He gave me a measly fiver – a quid for every minute listening to Dad bang on. So not worth it.

“Thanks, I guess. I’d better get on with my homework,” I said, getting up to leave.

“That reminds me, Helen, please keep Sunday afternoon free,” he said.

“Cool. I don’t have any plans this Sunday.”

“And all Sunday afternoons, going forward. I want us to use that time to make sure you’re on top of your studies. A little extra tutoring won’t do you any harm.”

I groaned. “Is that really absolutely completely necessary, Dad?”

“Why, yes. Your exams are over a year away, and I know that seems a long time, but…”

I tuned out as Dad twittered on about coursework and my last school reports being “less than satisfactory”.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “Sunday afternoons. Got it.”

I bounced out of the room, and Dad turned back to marking his essays.


I spent Friday afternoon counting down the minutes until biology ended. Time seemed to stand still. I was too nervous and excited to concentrate on the life cycle of a plant cell.

Tonight was more than a sleepover. It had to go well with the girls. If I was going to settle into this new home, I needed to have friends. I didn’t want to spend my weekends dodging Aphrodite’s sharp tongue or getting roped into Dad’s latest torture regime (aka Sunday afternoon tutoring).

As soon as biology ended (I swear the clock was going backwards at one point), I met everyone at the school gates and we walked to Daphne’s house.

“Mum, we’re here!” Daphne yelled as she unlocked her front door, but the house was cold and dark. “She must still be at work.”

We padded up the stairs and dumped our bags in Daphne’s room.

“Daphs, I’m gonna get changed in your bathroom,” said Noor before leaving the room with her bag. Were we getting into our pyjamas already?

Daphne pulled out a powder-blue dress with a white collar from her wardrobe. It was seriously cute – Aphrodite would have approved.

“Is that for tonight?” I asked.

“Yeah, Mum found it for me at a second-hand shop near her office,” she said, holding it up against her curvy figure. “Isn’t it adorbs? I’m obsessed with everything vintage. What are you changing into?”

I pictured the contents of my rucksack: toiletries, hairbrush and pyjamas. And that was it. No top or jeans. What idiot goes to a sleepover and doesn’t pack a spare pair of clothes? I had no choice but to stay in my uniform until bedtime. Now the girls would think that I’d never been to a sleepover before, and never ask me over again. I saw rain-sodden car boot sales in my future.

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