My Best Friend Is a Goddess Read online

  So Phaeton went to Helios and asked him if he really was his father. The god nodded his head yes.

  Phaeton said, ‘If you are my father, you will let me drive the chariot of the sun all by myself,’ thinking this was his way to prove to everyone that he was telling the truth.

  Helios was so thrilled to have met his son that he agreed, even though he knew Phaeton was too young to be able to control the chariot.

  As Helios feared, Phaeton couldn’t manage the horses and the chariot went off course, spinning the sun’s heat too close to the earth. Zeus, king of the gods, threw one of his thunderbolts at the chariot to stop it destroying the world. Phaeton was cast from the chariot and fell to his death.

  I felt stupidly sad for Phaeton, because I knew what it was like to want something so badly you were willing to risk the whole world.

  15

  EMILY

  ‘So, this lesson we’ll be constructing the Venetian masks that will be on display at the formal,’ Mr Morrison announces at the start of our next art prac class. ‘A bit of background info — the Carnival of Venice is said to have begun as early as the year 1162. During the celebrations, everyone would be masked, meaning that the differences between the common people and nobility were blurred. Venice had one of the strictest social hierarchies in European history, so this would have been a temporary liberation for the Venetian citizens.’ He brings up some images on the projection screen. ‘The traditional masks were quite simple; however, if you were to attend the carnival today — yes, it’s still going, and it brings a million tourists every year to Venice — you’d see that the masks have become extremely elaborate.’

  ‘They’re amazing,’ Theo says in awe as Mr Morrison clicks through a range of masks from humorous to grotesque to beautiful.

  ‘If we go back to the traditional style in the Renaissance era, you’ll notice there are a few distinct types of mask. You have the bauta, which was designed to be worn over the entire face.’ The screen shows a long wooden mask with eye slits and a nose, but no opening for a mouth. ‘The bottom of the mask was beak-shaped, which allowed the wearer to eat and drink without taking it off and so maintain his anonymity.’

  I fall in love with the next picture — a half-mask in rich purple embellished with gold, and with music notes painted across the forehead.

  ‘This is the Columbina mask,’ Mr Morrison says. ‘Columbina is a character from the Commedia dell’arte, which was a type of Italian theatre that began in the 1500s. She was an attractive maidservant who was always pursued by suitors — the half-mask obviously allows more of her pretty face to be seen.’

  The next one makes everyone laugh. A half-mask that’s all nose, like a cross between Pinocchio and an ibis’s beak. It’s huge, and stretches about thirty centimetres past the length of a normal nose.

  ‘What’s with the massive honker?’ Chris Hay shouts out.

  ‘This is a zanni mask — “zanni” means servant or clown — and the nose, or naso if we use the Italian term, has a big hump on the bridge.’

  ‘Emily should go with that mask — it’s perfect for her!’ another guy yells.

  The comment knocks the wind out of me.

  There’s laughter round the room, but I don’t know who called out so I can’t say something back. Not that I have anything in my brain that resembles a comeback. Suddenly I feel like Ade — like my only option is to stare straight ahead at the screen, willing my face to cool down.

  I especially don’t want to look at Theo. He must have heard it, but I need to pretend he didn’t. Even though he’s not my crush, I don’t want to know if he’s looking at that mask and seeing the similarity that everyone else does.

  I’ve always known I have a crappy nose. It’s nothing like the cute little buttons the other girls have. It’s just that this is the first time someone besides me has made a comment about it.

  ‘Naso!’ Chris calls out.

  Shut up, shut up, shut up! I want to say, but then it’ll look like I care and I don’t want those jerks to think I do. All I want is a blasé comeback, but Naso has bombed my brain’s normal rapid-fire response system.

  ‘Enough!’ Mr Morrison switches off the projector. ‘Let’s get on with the masks. You’re going to need a partner for this activity. Push your desks against the wall, then come up to the front of the room.’

  ‘I’m claiming my partner,’ Theo says, crouching beside my desk. I know he can see my embarrassment, but he’s too much of a gentleman to say anything. ‘Making Venetian masks is definitely on the Theo-and-Emily-do-awesome-things list. So, do you think I’m a scarlet-feathered mask guy? Or is that too flamboyant for the formal?’ He flutters his eyelashes.

  I stand up. ‘Are you planning on being as equally out there with your suit? You know, spinning rainbow-coloured bow tie?’

  ‘I like where this is going.’

  Theo pushes my desk over to the wall, and we head to the front of the room.

  ‘So, you start by creating a mould of your face,’ Mr Morrison announces over the chatter. ‘We’ll be using papier-mâché to do this — you’ll see there are bowls of paper strips and bowls of paste for you to use. Procedure is: partner one lies on the floor, and partner two dips strips of paper into the paste and applies them to partner one’s face.’

  Theo’s going to have to touch my face? I feel like we’ve settled firmly into an art-buddies dynamic, but this is unnerving. The idea of me touching him or him touching me makes me feel jittery and scared and ignites this stupid flicker of excitement that I need to stamp out before it turns into a fire.

  ‘Make sure you apply petroleum jelly all over partner one’s face, especially on the lips and eyebrows. This will ensure you can lift the mask off once it’s set. Now let’s get going as we need to have both masks dry by the end of this period.’

  Theo grabs paper strips, petroleum jelly, newspaper and paste and we snag a spot at the back of room.

  ‘So, who goes first?’ he asks.

  I’m equally freaked out by either option. ‘Are you making a full mask or a half-mask?’

  Theo shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I should make a full mask so I have the option to cut it down later.’

  ‘A full one will take longer to dry, so let’s do yours first.’

  I could never have dreamed up a scenario odder than Theo lying on the floor while I make sure he’s covered every millimetre of his face with petroleum jelly.

  ‘I’ve covered my eyebrows, right?’ he asks. ‘I spent forty minutes this morning getting those arches perfect. You know, brow pencil, brow mascara —’

  I giggle. ‘I think you mean brow gel.’

  I still haven’t touched his face — I’m terrified. How often do you go around touching someone’s face unless they’re a family member, a best friend or a boyfriend? Even with a boyfriend, there are all those steps along the way — holding hands, hugging — before you get comfortable enough to start stroking his face. Stroking makes me think of something super-sensual and I shiver slightly.

  Oh, Jesus. Any minute Theo is going to pick up on the weird vibes streaming off me.

  I make my voice light. ‘Don’t go into too much detail about your beauty regime. There’s already talk round this place that you’re vain.’

  ‘Insulting a man when he’s down. You’re in trouble when it’s your turn, Em.’

  A happy feeling goes through me, because shortening names is what friends do and I feel like we’re becoming exactly that.

  ‘Face still!’ I say, and hold up a strip of dripping paper to show him I mean business.

  I take a deep breath and ever so carefully place a strip on his forehead and stroke it flat. My heart throbs in my ears like I’m underwater.

  ‘I’m feeling a little weird about this whole thing,’ Theo says.

  Oh god, he can obviously feel the tremble in my fingers.

  ‘How come?’ I try to sound casual.

  ‘It’s like you’re mummifying me.’ His eyes are closed b
ut his mouth is amused.

  I laugh. ‘I know a lot about mummification, you know. By this stage, all your organs would be in separate jars and I’d be scooping your brain out through your nose.’

  He starts shaking with laughter. ‘Jesus!’ He pinches his nostrils shut with his fingers, like he’s a kid about to jump in a pool.

  ‘Sorry, a bit too weird, right?’

  I put another soggy bit of paper down on his face. I’m dripping glue everywhere from laughing. Being his friend is way better than him being my crush. No over-thinking before I speak. No Is this funny? Am I being sexy enough? stuff that everyone seems to stress over.

  Theo’s eyes open and he looks up at me. ‘I love that I never know what you’re going to come out with.’

  I stop breathing for a second.

  He closes his eyes again. ‘So, Ms Expert-in-Mummification, did you do a project for history or something?’

  ‘We studied Ancient Egypt and I got super into it.’ Now his eyes are shut, I can study his face. It’s crazy how faultless his profile is. If he’d lived in the classical age, they would have pronounced his features perfect examples of harmony and proportion. ‘I liked the myths. Not as much as the Greek and Roman ones, but I still got pretty into them.’

  ‘You’re a fan of myths?’

  ‘I love them. Mum started reading the Greek ones to me when I was about three. They were so exciting — monsters with snakes for hair, goddesses born out of sea foam, half-humans and half-horses. Everything was an adventure.’

  ‘I got into mythology after the Paris trip. I saw so many sculptures and paintings based on Greek or Roman myths that it triggered this major curiosity.’

  ‘I hate to say this, but you’ll have to stop talking so I can cover your mouth over.’

  I’ve left this till last because touching his lips feels like the final frontier.

  ‘To be continued then.’ He obediently shuts up.

  The petroleum jelly has come off his lower lip. I’ll die if I rip up his perfect mouth pulling the mask off later, so I quickly dab my finger into the jelly and run it over his lower lip before I go into a meltdown about it. The skin is so soft under my fingertip, and the colour changes from pink to a soft red at my touch, like I’ve tinted a silk canvas.

  This is the most intimate moment of my life.

  Please don’t open your eyes. If he looks at me now, I might dissolve on the spot.

  Theo’s lower lip trembles ever so slightly under my fingertip. I quickly lift my finger away and lay down the final strips to finish his mask.

  When it’s dry and I pull it away from his face, Theo looks hugely relieved. ‘I got freaked out under there.’

  ‘You should be moving on to the second mask now,’ Mr Morrison calls out.

  ‘Okay, that settles it, I’m half-masking.’ I spread the petroleum jelly over my face and lie down.

  ‘I’m going to spread some jelly round your hairline,’ Theo says. ‘I’d hate to mess up your hair — Titian would call that a travesty. Your hair’s the same red as the women in his paintings.’

  The most any other boy has ever said about my hair was to shout ‘ranga’ at me in primary school.

  ‘I love it,’ Theo adds. ‘It makes me want to get the oil paints out.’

  His words make me as warm as the heat coming from his fingertips. I thought that keeping my eyes open would make this situation less weird, but I find I have to close them as his voice is so close to me I can feel the vibrations melding with the pressure of his fingers. It’s too much, and if I look at him, everything he’s saying becomes nonsensical, like I’m Alice falling down the rabbit hole. So I lie there, eyes closed, talking about Titian and Michelangelo, and how we both dream of seeing the Sistine chapel, and I think of Michelangelo’s The Creation of Adam painted on its ceiling — the way God creates Adam from the touch of his finger. And in this moment, I understand how the spark from one person’s touch can bring you alive like nothing else.

  Secret Thoughts of Adriana Andersson

  Most people wouldn’t believe that I started out friends with Tatiana. I can’t blame them. The contrast in our appearances, the massive gulf between popular and bottom of the pack, makes the idea of there ever being any common ground between us laughable. But once upon a time, there was.

  I was six and standing in front of the class as Mrs Bauman introduces me as the new student. I hated that everyone was watching me. When Mum had tied my shoes that morning, she’d told me to make sure I smiled and didn’t look at the floor when I met the class, so I was really trying. I was looking at the back of the room instead, at a chart about the weather.

  ‘So Adriana will need a buddy,’ Ms Bauman said. ‘Who wants to volunteer to show her around? I have special stickers for the person who helps out.’

  A girl in the front row, whose braids were as long as mine, shot her hand in the air.

  ‘Thank you, Tatiana,’ Ms Bauman said. ‘Why don’t you show Adriana the free-time area first?’

  Tatiana grabbed my hand and took me to the back of the room. ‘So this is our dress-up box — we’re only allowed to open it up at lunchtime or during a reward break. This is the Queen’s crown.’ She pulled out a crown with big crystals on it. ‘If we’re playing, then you need to give me the crown, because I’m the rightful heir, but you can wear the Princess’s tiara if you want. The Princess always does whatever the Queen says. Wanna play?’

  She held out the silver Princess tiara. I nodded and reached for it.

  ‘No, you have to say, “May I, your majesty?”’ Tatiana sounded annoyed.

  I hated it when anyone got mad at me. Suddenly I didn’t know if I wanted to play, but I couldn’t interrupt Mrs Bauman. She was writing on the board and the whole class would stare at me.

  ‘May I, your majesty?’ I said quietly.

  ‘Of course.’ Tatiana was smiling again. She put the tiara on my head. ‘Now I need help with the babies.’ She pointed to a group of dolls sitting on a chair. ‘This is Rose. Last week she fell down a cliff. This week she’s been kidnapped by an evil dragon.’

  And so we played. I hopped from cushion to cushion over the carpeted sea to rescue Rose, who was tied to a rock, ready to be the dragon’s dinner. As I was untying her, Tatiana took off her crown and put on a black cloak, pretending to be the evil sea witch.

  She snatched Rose from me and let out a cackle. ‘I’ll make her fish food, unless you hand over your magical hairclips.’

  I put my hand up to my hair. My hairclips were silver butterflies with yellow sparkles all over their wings. They were a present from Dad.

  Tatiana dangled Rose from one finger. ‘Your clips, or else!’

  She’ll give them back afterwards I reassured myself as I handed them over.

  Mrs Bauman called for us to join the class for times tables.

  ‘Can I borrow the hairclips for a while?’ Tatiana asked.

  ‘I guess,’ I said, feeling uneasy.

  She smiled and grabbed my hand to take me back to the desks.

  I didn’t know how long ‘a while’ meant, because Tatiana wore the clips all week. I wanted to say something but I didn’t want to make her mad, because though Mrs Bauman had given her the stickers she was still being my buddy. She gave me half her chips at break, and during handwriting she lent me her strawberry-scented eraser. At lunchtime we sat on the monkey bars and all the other girls wanted to sit next to her. Even though the twins, Maddy and Ally, got mad about it, I was given the spot every day.

  Three weeks after my first day, Tatiana handed me a pink envelope. ‘I want you to come to my birthday party. There’s a note in there for your mum to sign so you can get your ears pierced.’

  When I took the invitation home to Mum, she was impressed. ‘See, I told you you’d make friends at school.’

  She was so pleased that we went to the mall that very afternoon to find Tatiana’s present, and even though Dad didn’t want her to sign the form for the ear-piercing, she did anyway.

/>   When she dropped me off at Tatiana’s place for the party I was excited but scared too. I’d never stayed over at someone’s house before and tomorrow, when Mum was due to come back for me, seemed like forever away.

  But then Tatiana was running over to show me round the party, and I was having my nails done like Mum did at the mall. Each nail tip had a crystal on it.

  ‘Let’s get your ears pierced,’ Tatiana said. ‘I got mine done first.’ She lifted her hair away from her ears and I saw she had a star on each earlobe.

  She led me over to the ear-piercing lady, who was punching holes in Maddy’s ears. I could see blood. I hated blood.

  ‘I don’t think I want to get my ears pierced today,’ I said.

  ‘Don’t be a baby, Adriana.’ Tatiana put her hands on her hips. ‘I put a pair of earrings in every goody bag, and yours match mine, so it’s not fair if you back out now.’

  I sat in the chair, trying not to feel sick while the lady rubbed alcohol on my ears. When the punch went through my first ear a tear slipped out of my eye. I quickly wiped it away before Tatiana noticed. For some reason I was thinking of my hairclips.

  The rest of the party was fun. There were burgers, and a cake with a picture of Tatiana complete with sparkling earrings.

  ‘They’re real diamonds for when the studs come out!’ Tatiana shouted, scooping them from the icing.

  ‘You’re sharing my bed, Adriana!’ Tatiana said when we headed upstairs for bedtime. She hit me with one of her pillows, grazing my ear. I winced.

  The other girls were in sleeping bags on the floor.

  After everyone stopped talking, I couldn’t sleep. I wanted my own bed. I couldn’t get comfortable on the pillow because my ears hurt every time I moved.

  I woke up when it was still dark, feeling sick. My stomach was hurting so much, and when I sat up I felt sicker. I thought of the burger I’d eaten at dinner and then I was throwing up.