I wanted to gasp. Maybe having Aphrodite play around with my face wouldn’t be such a bad thing? Especially if I get invited to more parties (thinking positive thoughts here).
“I’ll admit it’s not an everyday look. It’s the sort of face that works best in front of the camera. Speaking of…” Aphrodite pulled her phone out of her handbag. “I’ll need a photo for my records.”
Usually I was shy taking photos (I never knew what to do with my face), but the vain side of me wanted this look recorded for ever.
“It’ll take moments, Helen. Then I’ll order your greasy fried food.”
Aphrodite was true to her word. After she took the photos, my chicken wings arrived and I ate them at the kitchen counter while she fiddled with her phone.
“Don’t you dare sleep in that make-up, Helen,” I heard her say as I went upstairs.
My scalp and I had survived an encounter with Aphrodite. Even weirder, she was kind of nice to me as well.
SIX
Dear Mum,
I’m sorry that this letter is later than usual, but I’ve had a bizarre few weeks.
I’ll start with the good stuff. School began, and I made new friends pretty much straight away. You’d like Daphne, Yasmin and Noor. They’ve invited me to sleepovers, and even a house party. On New Year’s Eve!
It started out small but word is spreading fast. Yasmin and her big brother Isaac (well, mainly Isaac) seem to know loads of people between them. Boys from at least three other schools near ours are coming. Most of the girls are going because of Isaac. He and his mates on the school football team must know half of North London, and it doesn’t hurt that they’re 100% boy candy. Like me, Yasmin knows what it’s like to have vastly superior older siblings.
They must think I’m a bit strange, though. I haven’t invited them over to my house once. Can you believe that Dad’s banned me from having any friends over? Must be because of the weirdo gods about. If anyone got the slightest whiff of weirdness, the family could be in serious trouble.
Sometimes my new friends ask too many questions about my family (but never about you. There’s no easy way to ask about your friend’s dead mum, I guess). I’m sorry to say it, but I’m turning into a great liar. I know you hated lies, but in this case, I think they’re allowed. Our family just can’t have anyone knowing the truth about our heritage.
Are all siblings as petty as Aphrodite? I can’t even risk asking her to hurry up in the bathroom, or she might play some awful trick on me. And I’m not talking whoopee cushions or rubber snakes, either. She would fully mess me up if I got on her wrong side.
Dad’s not interested in being a peacemaker, anyway. He’s too busy marking essays or cataloguing his Edwardian postcard collection. As long as she doesn’t use her powers on mortals, it seems like Aphrodite can do what she wants. But I have to be on perfect behaviour at all times.
At least I have Maria to confide in. It feels so good to speak to someone else who gets it. She’s like the half-mortal aunt I never had. She says Aphrodite is annoying because she’s bored. She can’t torment mortals, so she’s doing it to me instead. How can someone be around for millennia and still act like such a child?
Maybe Dad’s bored too, which is why he’s so fixated on my schooling. He’s dedicated Sunday afternoons to homework time. Honestly? He sucks at being a tutor. He tried to help with my history essay on the Tudors this afternoon. All he did was bring up useless facts (“Queen Elizabeth the First had quite the potty mouth, let me tell you!”) and insisted on trawling through his dusty books for research. Even when I told him that Wikipedia existed!
Christmas back at Gran’s can’t come soon enough. I’ll have two weeks without school, Dad confiscating my phone for no reason, or Aphrodite judging my outfits.
Grandma Thomas can’t wait to see me. She spends every phone call asking me what I want to eat over the holiday. I’ve told her that I’m well fed, but she doesn’t believe me.
I’m even looking forward to seeing Shara and Chantelle. After living in this house, a few days with my hyperactive cousins sounds like bliss.
Love for ever,
Helen xxx
SEVEN
When I finished writing my letter to Mum, I put it in the shoebox under the bed. Along with all the others. Maybe one day I’ll read them again.
It was a Sunday afternoon, and that usually meant a car boot sale somewhere off the North Circular for Dad. But for once he was home, along with Aphrodite.
Today was a special day. The best early Christmas present ever, besides a new pair of Air Max. My cousin Eros (technically my nephew as he’s Aphrodite’s son, but that sounds weird) was coming back from travelling in India!
Eros and I have always been close. Unlike most of my family, he stayed in touch with me long after Dad introduced us. During my few visits to see Dad in Edinburgh over the summer holidays, Eros always made sure to spend a couple of days with me. And he came to Mum’s funeral, too. He’s like the Beyoncé of my immortal family.
I heard the front door creak open and slam, followed by loud voices talking happily in the living room. He was here! Voices aside, I could feel he was back too. It sounds like hippy nonsense, but trust me on this. Eros has an aura of wholesome love that follows him like fragrance. When he’s near, I’m more at ease and relaxed. Maybe that’s why we get on so well.
“And where have you been, young lady?” Eros asked when he saw me walk through the door.
I skipped into the living room and gave him the biggest squeeze.
Other than the smell of patchouli that hung around him like a halo, Eros still looked the same as he did when I first met him. It’s a strange quality that all the gods seem to have. They don’t look young, but you can tell they’re not spring chickens. He has the same tight black curls framing a brown-skinned face that could be fifteen or thirty-five, and a lopsided smile framed by dimples.
Even Aphrodite was smiling, and for once it wasn’t because she caught sight of her reflection. She was pleased to have her eldest son back. It’s easy to forget that Aphrodite is a mum and Eros is her son, not a sibling. He’s certainly more mature than she is.
Maybe dealing with matters of the heart made him more emotionally mature. Being the god of love has armed him with an uncanny understanding of relationships. He’s the best agony aunt a girl could want. His bow and arrow days are long behind him (could he make someone fall in love with me if I asked? I have wondered…) but he’s awesome at giving advice.
We all sat around the kitchen table while Eros told us about his adventures in India. I ate the dinner that Maria left for me while Dad, Aphrodite and Eros had a glass of the special Greek spirit that Dad keeps under his desk. I was allowed a sniff, and the stench wafting from the bottle was enough to put me off ever trying it. I hoped this didn’t mean they’d be up half the night singing. They may be immortal, but that doesn’t stop them from getting drunk.
With Eros back, the house started to feel livelier. He’s Mr Popular in our family and everyone wanted to catch up with him. Maybe that’s because he’s one of the few gods who isn’t totally self-obsessed? Just try asking Aphrodite for relationship advice. Her eyes glaze over the second she realizes she isn’t the centre of the conversation.