Home > Oh My Gods(6)

Oh My Gods(6)
Author: Alexandra Sheppard

“Oh gosh. I remembered everything but my clothes,” I said.

“You have your pyjamas though, right?” asked Yasmin, clutching the jeans and top she was about to change into.

“Yeah, I have those.” I’d spent ages deciding which pair to pack.

“Then you have clothes! Put them on. It’s not like anyone but Daphne’s mum will see us,” Yasmin said. “I’m going to wear mine too.”

“Yeah! It’ll be like a real pyjama party,” said Daphne. She hung her dress back inside the wardrobe.

Soon we were all wearing pyjamas and debating which movie to watch while we waited for our takeaway to arrive. Already, Daphne’s house was a million times more fun than mine. Dad would never abandon his shed for a movie night. Because, apparently, nothing beats the thrill of adding to one’s antique spoon collection.

“Helen, you need me to save your eyebrows,” said Noor, unpacking her make-up bag. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

I didn’t like the idea of Noor fiddling with my face. But she looked so excited! If it was going to make me friends, I’d be willing to sacrifice a few eyebrow hairs.

Plus, she had the thick, perfectly arched brows of an Instagram model. If there was anyone I could trust with the two furry caterpillars on my face, it was Noor. She pulled her long black hair away from her face and into a high bun, and selected her tweezers. This girl meant business.

“You’re so like my half-sister,” I said, while Noor examined my eyebrows between her thumbs.

“Oh yeah? Is she also buff, with the best brow game this side of the river?”

“Very funny,” I said, trying to keep still under her grip. “She’s desperate to sort out my face. Always giving me make-up and telling me what to wear, just because she’s a make-up artist. It’s so annoying.”

Noor pulled back. “Shut the front door. Your big sis is a make-up artist. For real?”

Uh-oh. Here came the questions. I had to deflect big time.

“Half-sister. And she works on some breakfast TV show with Z-list celebs. It’s nothing special.”

“Babe, it doesn’t matter if she’s your third cousin twice removed. Getting paid to do make-up is, like, my life’s ambition. And now I finally know a real make-up artist!”

Just. My. Luck. I should have known that Noor, who has more lip gloss than stationery in her pencil case, would be all over Aphrodite’s job.

“Do you think she’d give me some advice?” she asked.

I thought about Aphrodite’s mood swings. If she was this terrible to me, her half-sister, imagine how rude she could be to my friends? “Um, maybe, but I’m not so sure that—”

“I know! The next sleepover should totally be at your house.”

My heart sank. There’s no way Dad would let me have a sleepover. Noor was welcoming me into their gang, and I was forced to lie my way out of it.

“I’d love to, but my dad’s not too keen on me having friends over. He works late in his office and doesn’t like the house to be too noisy,” I said, hoping they’d buy it.

Noor’s smile dropped. “Oh. No worries.” Now I’d upset Noor, who had been kind to me from day one. Great.

“What’s the point of putting on a film if no one’s watching it?” interrupted Yasmin. “You two are chatting, and Daphne’s taken about a million selfies since the movie started.”

“OK, Daphne, who are you texting that’s more important than pizza?” I asked. She had barely touched her slice of pepperoni.

“Huh? It’s Adam from Spanish. He was asking me for … homework help,” said Daphne, her pale cheeks flushing pink.

Yasmin paused the film and side-eyed Daphne. “Homework help? On a Friday night? I don’t buy it.”

“What did he say?” Yasmin asked, now peering over Daphne’s shoulder. “Spill!”

“He said ‘What you up to now, señorita?’” said Daphne.

“That’s not all! He left two kisses and a red heart emoji,” said Yasmin. “That almost makes up for the fact that he spelt ‘señorita’ with the letter ‘y’.”

“The red heart emoji is no jokes, babe,” said Noor. “He must be into you.”

Daphne broke into a shy smile and the tips of her ears went pink.

“Not gonna lie, I’m kind of jealous. It’s been ages since I messaged a guy. And even longer since I last kissed someone,” said Yasmin, fiddling with her box braids.

“I know the feeling,” sighed Noor. “Can you forget how to kiss? Because it’s been months.”

Luckily they didn’t ask me when my last kiss was. Because the answer would be “never”. Unless you count the time some boy ran up to me in the playground, gave me a peck on the lips and ran away. I was five, and Mum always joked it was my first ever kiss.

All of the girls seem to have kissed someone before, and I’ve only ever kissed a five-year-old in a playground. With my mum watching. Was I stamped “LOSER” at birth? Was there an invisible force field around my gob only detectable by cute boys?

I was probably the only girl in my year dealing with No First Snog Syndrome. The average age of first kisses is fourteen, and I don’t turn fifteen until the summer, so there’s still time. But it’ll take even longer if I insist on holding out for true love. Or at the least, a boy that doesn’t overdo it with eye-watering amounts of Lynx body spray.

At least I wasn’t the only one without a boyfriend. Maybe they were all as fussy as me?

“It’s not just you, Noor. The ratio of eligible guys to girls in our school is seriously off,” Yasmin said. “I’ve done the maths.”

“That’s hella depressing,” Noor said. “You did maths out of choice?” Yasmin playfully smacked her with the nearest pillow.

“You know what we need to do, gang?” I asked. “Make a list!”

They were all quiet for a second.

“Um, do you need to go to the shops or something, Helen?” Daphne asked.

“Let me explain. My mum always said that saying things out loud is the first step to making it happen,” I said. “You know: speaking it into existence. We could do the same for our future boyfriends?”

After a few minutes, we each read out our Ideal Guy lists:

Daphne: mustn’t be embarrassed by nipping to the shops for tampons and chocolate once a month. Or at any other time, for that matter.

Yasmin: must not be intimidated by a girl who is smarter and more ambitious than him.

Noor: must think of romantic dates. I’m not spending hours on these eyebrows for a Friday night at the cinema.

Me: must be able to handle an eccentric family.

“Eccentric family, eh,” said Noor “will he be dating you or your dad?”

“He can be a bit overprotective sometimes, that’s all,” I said.

“Ugh, story of my life,” Yasmin said. “The only reason I’m not being forced to tag along on my parents’ trip to Ghana this Christmas is because my big bro is seventeen now. Apparently he can finally ‘babysit’.”

“Isaac can babysit me any time,” Noor said, raising one perfectly groomed eyebrow.

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