From Geek to Goddess (Zodiac Girls) Read online

  Zodiac Girls –

  Geek to Goddess

  Cathy Hopkins

  Copyright © 2009, Cathy Hopkins

  ISBN number: 9781908426918

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One: Blub… blub… blub…

  Chapter Two: Posh school

  Chapter Three: School mouse

  Chapter Four: Party time

  Chapter Five: Zodiac Girl

  Chapter Six: Inner goddesses

  Chapter Seven: Showtime

  Chapter Eight: Makeover madness

  Chapter Nine: Clear as mud

  Chapter Ten: Chiron House

  Chapter Eleven: Planet Deli

  Chapter Twelve: Lady of the Beasts

  Chapter Thirteen: Darned dog

  Chapter Fourteen: Oops!

  Chapter Fifteen: Suspension?

  Chapter Sixteen: Hell and Horlicks

  Chapter Seventeen: Surprise visitor

  Chapter Eighteen: Awards

  Chapter One

  Blub… blub… blub…

  “Goodbye, life,” I sighed as I looked down from my bedroom window towards the bus stop at the end of the road.

  Everyone was there. All my mates. Lucy. Chloe. Ellie. Jess. Charlotte. They were messing about, laughing and shoving each other as usual. There’s been some almighty humongous mistake. This so isn’t right. I should have been with them. I should have been going with them. A new start for all of us, into Year Eight.

  I stared down at Jess, willing her to look up. She was my best friend but she’d probably be Charlotte’s from now on. I bet she would. She’d soon forget me. It was bound to happen if we went to different schools. She’d said she’d wave to me from the bus stop and she hadn’t even looked up. Not once. She’d been too busy having a laugh with Charlotte. Instead of me. Not going to cry, not going to cry, I told myself as the bus came rattling down the road and Jess stuck her hand out to wave it down. It was too late, tears stung the back of my eyes and I knew I was going to blub. Again.

  I watched my mates get on the bus and disappear off round the corner. And now the road was empty. I was alone.

  Well, almost. Bertie, who had been standing, watching with me, paws up on the windowsill, looked up at me sympathetically and let out a soft whine.

  I ruffled his black silky head. “And soon I’ll have to say goodbye to you too,” I sighed as I turned away from the window.

  My suitcase was ready on the bed. Mum had packed it for me over the weekend. New clothes. New uniform. Everything I’d need for my new school. I shoved it off the bed and onto the floor, where it landed with a loud thud.

  “Well, that’s what I think of you,” I said as I stuck my tongue out at the offending case.

  I took a quick glance at myself in the mirror. A ginormous spot stared back.

  “Go away,” I said to it, but it took no notice and glared back at me defiantly. I’d been lucky so far as I never usually got spots but this one appeared over the weekend to make up for all the months without. Right in the middle of my forehead. If there was a prize for spots, I’d win it hands down. You couldn’t miss it, no matter how much concealer I plastered on. And it was one of those that you couldn’t pop as it was an under-the-skin, lumpy one that just glistened red and shouted, wahey, LOOK AT ME! Just what you needed on the first day of term when you want to look your best. Not.

  “Yuck,” I said as I made a face at myself and pulled my hair back into a ponytail. Big mistake. It only showed my Award-Winning Spot off more. Maybe I should cut a fringe? I wondered as I pulled my hair loose again. Even my hair was misbehaving today. I so wished I had straight blonde fine hair like Jess’s and Lucy’s, but no, I had a mass of boring brown kinky hair. I’d tried straightening it with my hair irons but it had still managed to go curly again. Great impression I’m going to make. I look like a muppet. A spotty muppet.

  “Gemma, GemMA,” Mum called up the stairs. “Almost time.”

  I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. This was almost it. Goodbye to my friends. My dog. My cosy bedroom. My life.

  I took off my dressing gown and put on the uniform that was hanging ready on the back of the door. Prison outfit more like. Black skirt, cream blouse, yellow and black tie. I had another look in the mirror, hoping that by some miracle in the last five minutes I had turned into Britney Spears and looked like a hot babe, like she did when she dressed in a school uniform for that old video of hers. No such luck.

  “Don’t call us,” I said to my reflection. “We’ll call you.”

  Mum bought the uniform too big so that I could grow into it, only by the look of it, that’s not going to happen until around Year Eleven. I looked ridiculous. Anyone could see that the sleeves were too long and the shoulders hung off me. I might be going to a posh school with posh girls, but my parents had to scrimp and save so that I could attend. A new uniform for me every year wasn’t an option. I bet none of the other girls have had to get kit that they can grow into, I thought. I bet all their parents are so stinking rich that they can have a new uniform every week if they want. It’s so not fair. I don’t want to be going to a knobby school with knobby pupils. I want to be going to the local school with my mates, where you don’t have to wear a uniform at all.

  The trouble started last summer when some ancient great aunt, (who I’d never met as she lived in America), left some money to my parents in her will. With one condition – that the money was to be used for “a private education” for me. Mum and Dad were over the moon, even though there was one small problem. She hadn’t left quite enough to cover all the fees. Only two-thirds of what was needed. That didn’t put them off. They decided that “fate” had given me a chance and they were going to do all they could to make it happen. Mum got an evening job teaching English as a foreign language on top of her normal job at the library and Dad started putting in extra hours at his garage. All so I could go to private school.

  “What a lucky girl you are,” everyone said.

  “Opportunity of a lifetime,” I heard over and over again.

  No one asked me what I wanted. What I wanted was to kill that aunt. Only she was already dead. No. No one asked me what I wanted at all, and on the rare occasions that I dared to object to being separated from my friends, Mum and Dad laughed and said I’d soon make new ones. They really don’t understand what changing schools can be like.

  I’d tried getting Dad on his own, but he said I had to remember the sacrifices Mum was making for me.

  I tried getting Mum alone, but she said I had to remember the sacrifices Dad was making for me.

  I tried my grandparents and Grandma said I was in danger of becoming an “ungrateful little madam”.

  Only Bertie understood.

  And so I was off to Avebury, a new school where I knew I wouldn’t belong. I hoped that when Mum and Dad saw me cast out as an outsider and failing all my exams they would remember the sacrifices I made by giving up my friends and going along with it, just to keep them happy. I had no choice in the end. What with them working all hours and wearing themselves out to give me what they thought was the “opportunity of a lifetime”, I couldn’t say too much. I didn’t want to be seen as an “ungrateful little madam”.

  By now I was feeling quite sorry for myself so I opened the wardrobe, got in, sat on the floor and closed the door. Perhaps if I stay here long enough, I thought, the back will fall through like it did in those C. S. Lewis storybooks and I’ll find myself in a magical land like Narnia. I knocked on the wood behind the clothes. No such luck. There was no secret door there. Only the back of the wardrobe, then the wall adjacent to the bathroom. I knew it was a silly thought.

  Outside there was a scrabbl
ing and a soft growl. I opened the door and Bertie leapt in to sit on my knee. I think he knew something was up. He’d sat in my suitcase last night as Mum packed the last things and he refused to move until she shoved him out. He hated it when the cases came out. He knew from when we’d been on holiday that clothes being packed meant that someone was going away.

  This time, it was no holiday.

  “It’s so not fair,” I said to Bertie as he licked my face in the dark. “Why did that stupid aunt have to die and leave me money anyway? She’d never even met me. Maybe she was miserable all her life and wanted to make sure that someone carried on suffering after she’d gone. Why couldn’t she have left me the money and said, spend it all at Topshop? Now that would have been worth having.”

  “Woof,” said Bertie and he began to make himself comfortable in my lap. As he’s a border collie, he’s not a huge dog, so it wasn’t too bad, but I did feel a bit squashed all the same. Not that I minded. His warmth and familiar doggie smell were reassuring.

  “Gemma, GEMMA,” Mum called again and I heard her footsteps coming up the stairs.

  “Shhh,” I said to Bertie as we heard my bedroom door open.

  “Gemma?” asked Mum’s voice.

  Unfortunately Bertie woofed in response and a moment later, Mum opened the wardrobe door.

  “What on earth are you doing in there?” she asked as I looked up at her from behind the hems of hanging skirts and trousers.

  “Nothing,” I replied. “Looking for Narnia.”

  Mum looked at me quizzically. “Narnia? Well, if it was on our list, I’d have packed it. Come on, come out. It’s almost time for us to go.”

  I decided to make one last bid for freedom. I fell on my knees in front of her. “Mum, please, save me from this terrible fate…”

  Mum started laughing.

  Why does everyone always think it’s so hysterical when I’m being deadly serious?

  “I know it’s a new start,” said Mum as she sat on the end of my bed, “but you’ll love it when you’ve settled in.”

  “Won’t,” I said as I sat up.

  “Course you will. You’ll make new friends in no time.”

  “Won’t. Don’t want new friends. I want to be with Lucy, Chloe, Ellie, Jess and Charlotte. They’re my friends.”

  “You can still see them when you’re home at half-term. Come on, Gemma, this isn’t like you. You’re a very lucky girl. Avebury is one of the best schools in the country. Loads of girls would love to have your chance.”

  “Don’t care. Don’t want to go.”

  Mum laughed again. “See if you can stick your bottom lip out just a bit more…”

  “Hmpf,” I replied. “No one ever takes me seriously.”

  Suddenly Mum sighed. “Look, Gemma. I’m not having this conversation again. We’ve been through it a million times.”

  “Yeah, but no one asked me what I wanted. I wanted to go with my mates back to the school down the road. That’s a good school too. I was happy there.”

  “We only want what’s best for you. This is…”

  “I know,” I said, “the opportunity of a lifetime. Only my life is over. Please Mum, please. Let me go with my friends. I’ll work really hard. We should all be starting Year Eight together today and instead…” I felt tears welling up again, “instead… I’m going to be all on my own. I won’t know anyone.”

  “You’ll know Sara Jenkins. She goes there.”

  I snorted. Mum didn’t really know Sara. She lived in a posh house in the next road and thought she was God’s gift. Okay, so she had long blonde hair and was really pretty, but she was mean. In the Christmas holidays, Jess and I saw her and her mates at the skating rink outside the town hall. It was our first time and when we fell over, she thought it was hilarious. She pointed at us and laughed. She, of course, had been skating for years and probably had had a private tutor.

  “Sara Jenkins will already have a load of mates,” I said. “She won’t even give me a second glance.”

  “Well, there’ll be plenty of other girls in your position, Gem. You’re probably not the only person who will be starting today. Everyone’s bound to be nervous, but you’ll pal up with people in no time.”

  “Huh,” I said and folded my arms. “People make friends in Year Seven when everyone is starting. By Year Eight, everyone’s got their friends. The groups are fixed. The populars. The geeks. The computer whizzes. The nerds. The sporties. You don’t understand how it works.”

  Mum stood up. “Now don’t be childish, Gemma. You’re twelve years old and about to start at one of the best secondary schools in the country. You should count your blessings. So enough. It’s time for you to start behaving like a young lady. Now finish getting dressed and start acting your age.”

  I lay on my back. “Huh,” I said again. “You really don’t understand.”

  “Five minutes,” said Mum. “And get up off that floor. Your uniform will be covered in dust.”

  “Good,” I said. “That’s how I like it.”

  Mum rolled her eyes and got a card out of her pocket. “By the way, your dad left this for you before he went to work this morning.”

  When she’d gone, I ripped open the envelope. Inside was a card with a black-and-white photo of an athlete holding a huge silver cup. Inside, it said, “Winners never quit and quitters never win. So get out there, walk tall and show them what you can do. Love, Dad.”

  My eyes filled with tears again. I quickly wiped them away. What is the matter with me this morning? I asked myself. I’m turning into a pathetic wet drip and I’m going to have a frog face with bloodshot swollen eyes and a big red nose from snivelling.

  Outside the window, I could see Mum beginning to load up the car. Her normally glossy chestnut (tinted) hair was scraped back into a ponytail and she had the teeniest bit of grey coming through at her temples. Oh, hell and Horlicks, I thought. My fault. Giving up her regular hairdressing appointments had been one of the sacrifices she’d made to pay for the school. At least Dad didn’t have to worry about hair. He’d lost most of it in his thirties. I’d said goodbye to him last night as he started work so early in the morning. He’d looked tired, as he often did on a Sunday evening. I was going to miss him and Mum.

  “Ungrateful little madam,” I told myself. “Start acting your age. Opportunity of a lifetime. Blah-de-blah-de-blah.”

  I knew there was no getting out of the situation. I’d tried appealing to their better natures. I’d tried begging. I’d tried rolling on the floor and moaning like a mad girl, and clearly none of it was going to work. I knew how hard Mum and Dad had worked for me, even if I hadn’t asked them to. Maybe I could go for a term and then they’d realize what a mistake it was and let me come back home. Yes, there’s light at the end of the tunnel, I decided. Darkest hour is before dawn and all that. With those thoughts in mind, I put on my oversized blazer, applied a bit more spot-concealer and brushed my hair.

  Bertie was looking up at me with great sad eyes. I felt my own eyes fill up again. This is ridiculous, I thought. All I’ve done today is blub, blub, blub.

  I bent over and put my hand out to him. He put his paw in it the way I’d taught him when he was a puppy.

  “Bye, boy,” I said as I shook his paw and stroked his head.

  “Woof,” he said back.

  I straightened myself up. “Right, winners never quit and quitters never win,” I said to myself. “It’s time to show the world I’m not a quitter. It’s walk-tall time. And I’m going to show the world that I can do it.”

  I took a deep breath, opened the bedroom door, tripped on the carpet and fell flat on my face.

  So much for my positive start. I hoped it wasn’t an omen.

  Chapter Two

  Posh school

  “Are we almost there?” I asked as we passed through a small village and the road opened up into countryside, with fields and trees on either side.

  Mum and Dad had already been out to Avebury to have a look around and meet
the headmaster, but so far I’d only seen the brochure and didn’t really know what to expect.

  Mum nodded. “That’s it down there,” she said as we saw a huge wrought-iron gate between two brick pillars about a hundred yards down the road on our left.

  I could see a grand old house with gables to the left of the gate with an immaculate garden out front. Chiron House said a brass plate by the front door. I peered in the windows as we passed and could see a room of old ladies sitting in chairs. Some were staring out of the window, others appeared to be watching television.

  “But that looks like an old people’s home, Mum,” I said as panic rose inside me and I wondered what sort of place she was going to leave me in. If that was the staff room, the teachers were way past it.

  “It is an old people’s home,” said Mum as she turned left through the gates and past the house. “The school is further along up here. I think in the past, Chiron House might have been a lodge to the main house.”

  “Maybe it’s the sixth-form dorm and they’ve prematurely aged because of being left without their friends and parents. I think we ought to turn around and go home right now.”

  Mum laughed. As usual, she didn’t realize I was serious.

  “Or maybe it’s the teachers’ quarters,” she said as if we were sharing some joke. “It’s more likely that the teachers will have prematurely aged, not the pupils. Not surprising, really, it can’t be easy.”

  “You said it!”

  “I meant it can’t be easy to be a teacher,” said Mum as we made our way up the long driveway through eucalyptus trees.

  “Oooo, collywobbles,” I said as we turned a corner and an enormous old red-brick building surrounded by acres of parkland came into view.

  “Exactly,” said Mum, looking for somewhere to park amongst the fleets of Range Rovers, Mercedes and BMWs fighting for parking spaces in the courtyard at the front of the main building. “You nervous?”

  “Um. Yes. No. Don’t know,” I replied as I gazed out of the window. I didn’t know what I felt. Anticipation. Excitement. Terror.