From Geek to Goddess (Zodiac Girls) Page 7

  When I got outside the kitchens, to my horror, it looked like the bins had been recently emptied. All that was in one bin was a heap of broken eggshells and a pile of potato peelings. As I was scrabbling about, head in the bin, bum in the air, I heard someone call my name. Oh no, I thought as I almost toppled in. Please don’t let Sara or Mercedes have seen me again.

  “Gemma,” the voice called again. “I know you’re in there.”

  I swung my legs back down and turned. It was Hermie, standing with a big grin on his face. He was holding my phone.

  “Looking for this?”

  I felt sheepish. “Yes. Sorry. I threw it out when I was cross with you.”

  “You’re going to have to stop rummaging about in bins, you know,” he said, “or you’ll get a reputation as a has bin.”

  “Oh, ha-ha,” I said. “Very funny.”

  “So the fact that you’re looking for the phone, does that mean you’re not cross with me anymore?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I mean no. Not cross. I wanted to thank you. We had a really good time with Nessa.”

  “I can see,” he said. “You look great. I told you Venus was well aspected. Happy now?”

  I nodded again. “Yes… but…”

  “But?”

  “But… well, it was really cool getting all the nice comments and stuff when we first got back and everyone wanted to talk to me and find out where I’d had my hair done, but…”

  “But?”

  “But then they all went off, back into their little groups of friends. And Ruth hated the attention and scuttled back upstairs and here I am on my own again. I look great, but it hasn’t really made any difference. I feel like Cinderella with no ball to go to.”

  “Friends take time,” said Hermie gently.

  “I know. I miss mine. And…”

  “And?”

  “And even though it was great to be made to look my best, I want people to like me for me, not because I’ve got a cool haircut. Your grandfather said something like that to me before we went to the salon. Told me to be myself and learn to love myself.”

  Hermie chuckled again. “Did he now? Sounds like the sort of thing he comes out with. Yeah. Be yourself. Hard lesson, but then that’s what Grandpa is all about. And he’s right, learn to love yourself – but it doesn’t mean you have to go around looking like the back end of a bus, babe. Part of loving yourself is looking after yourself. And Grandpa could definitely do with a haircut.”

  I laughed and we went to sit on a wooden bench under the copper beech tree to the right of the bins.

  “How you settling in otherwise, Gemma?”

  “Not sure. This week has been… different… for all sorts of reasons. Not sure if I want to stay.”

  “Early days,” said Hermie. “Don’t give up. You’re not a quitter. I know from your chart that it’s a hard time for you at the moment. Some heavy aspects. A real turning point but you could do something good here. It’s all in your horoscope.”

  “Yeah, I got your message. How can you know all that? Just who are you really? And one month to make my mark. But how? One week is already over. What does it really mean to be a Zodiac Girl?”

  “It means what you make it.”

  “Hermieeeeee! What does that mean?”

  “It means that life can throw all sorts of things at you, but it’s what you make of it that matters. Like the way Nessa made you look the best – she was only bringing out what was already there. It’s all about choices. Win or quit, sink or swim, gorgeous or frump, goddess or geek.”

  “You’re talking in riddles.”

  “No, I’m not. Life is what you make it. Choice. Choice. Choice. Can’t say it enough times…”

  “Er… you can actually,” I said, but I think he knew I was joshing him.

  “Some people hide away…” he continued.

  “Like Ruth.”

  “Yeah. Like Ruth. Others get out there and rise to all the challenges, ride all the difficulties. Take flight or fight. We both know what you do normally.”

  “Yeah, normally, I fight or swim or whatever. But this week has been anything but normal. I feel like I lost sight of my self lately. Although… Gemini, that’s the sign of the twins, isn’t it?”

  Hermie nodded.

  “Well, maybe that’s it,” I said. “I have one twin who has mad hair and is moody and over-sensitive and the other has nice hair and is a fighter. So I’m both, the one who fights and the one who runs away. The one who swims and the one who sinks. It’s not easy having multiple personalities, you know.”

  Hermie laughed. “Everyone has days when they feel like running away. But maybe now it’s time to let the fighter twin have a say.” He got up and went over to his bike. “Be the fighter you naturally are. Your chart is not the chart of someone who takes anything lying down. Your chart says you’re a winner, and for this one month, heavy aspects, lessons to be learnt and all, you can make things happen. It’s a real special time for you. Anyway, got to go. Got messages to deliver. Stay cool.”

  As he rode away, I stared after him. He was a strange person. Kind one minute, up and restless the next. But appearing out of the blue sometimes, like a guardian angel or fairy godmother. Most peculiar, I thought as my phone bleeped.

  It was the man himself.

  “Forgot to say. The Outreach programme,” Hermie said. “There are a lot of lonely people out there who need friends, and not just in schools.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lady of the Beasts, you’ll figure it out.”

  I raced back upstairs to find Ruth.

  “Hey Ruth, can I look at your book on the gods and goddesses?”

  “Sure,” she said and pulled a heavy book down from her shelf onto the bed.

  I sat on her bed and looked up the index at the back. I soon found the page I wanted.

  “You were right, Ruth,” I said. “Saturn, sometimes known as Cronus. Often depicted in mythology as an old man. Saturn is the taskmaster. That’s another way of saying the giver of lessons, isn’t it? Sound familiar?”

  “Sounds exactly like Dr Cronus,” said Ruth looking over my shoulder. “Look up Mercury.”

  I flicked back through the pages then read. “Mercury, also known as Hermes. Omigod. And listen to this. Grandson of Saturn.”

  We both looked at each other.

  “Mercury. The planet of communication, often portrayed as the winged messenger,” said Ruth, reading the rest of the page.

  “And Hermie is a motorbike messenger boy,” I said.

  “And Nessa is?” asked Ruth breathlessly.

  “Exactly what I was thinking. Goddess of love and beauty. Hermie said Venus was well aspected in my chart and next thing we know, we meet Nessa. Coincidence or what? She runs a beauty salon and she looks like a goddess. Venus. Nessa could be a nickname for Venus.”

  “Yeah… maybe,” said Ruth.

  “Yes, maybe,” I said. “And she cracked up when I said that she was a star. Said it was a private joke. Just who are these guys?”

  “Call Hermie and ask,” said Ruth.

  “I will. Mercury rules Gemini. Mercury is the guardian of all Geminis. This is too weird. What sign are you, Ruth?”

  “Taurus but that doesn’t mean that I’m a Zodiac Girl.”

  I went back to the book. “Taurus is ruled by Venus. You really got on with Nessa, didn’t you?”

  Ruth nodded. “I liked her. And I felt she genuinely liked me. She was kind to me. I felt safe with her.”

  “Could it be…? Do you think that maybe she’s really Venus, here on earth in bodily form?”

  Ruth looked doubtful. “Dunno. There’s got to be a rational explanation. It could be something really simple. People choose names for all sorts of reasons. All names have other meanings – like mine, Ruth, means compassion.”

  “And my name means gem or jewel. I remember my mum said she picked it because I was like a jewel in her life. Soppy, huh?”

  Ruth smiled. “Yeah, but s
weet. Maybe the fact that Hermes and Cronus are the names of planets doesn’t mean anything. They’re just names. Doesn’t mean anything. Maybe their family are into planets and stuff like other families are into football and call all the kids after famous football players. It might not mean anything.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I agreed. That explanation makes sense, I thought, but something was niggling me. There was something strange about it all. I was sure there was more to it than a coincidence over names. Ruth was clearly thinking the same.

  “Do you think they could be, like, guardian angels, or something?” she asked.

  I laughed. “I wondered that. But Hermie isn’t the guardian-angel type. He has tattoos.”

  “So?” asked Ruth. “Who says what they should look like? In my books, it says that the ancient people always used to believe that the planets and stars took human form. Like, Zeus, king of the gods, supposedly lived on a mountain in Greece. I mean, when you think about it, we don’t really know who anybody is, do we? There might be loads of people walking around who are more than just people.”

  My brain was beginning to spin. “You’ve been reading too many books.”

  “I guess,” said Ruth. “But we don’t know a lot about who we really are, do we? I remember my gran always used to say that there are old souls on this planet and young souls. She said the young souls were usually the stupid ones, like yobs who cause trouble. Whenever we’d see a fight between drunks or something on the news, she’d say, ‘Huh, it’s clearly their first time on the planet.’ So if there can be old souls and new souls, maybe there can be people who are from the planets. I mean, none of us know where we’ve come from anyway, do we?”

  I laughed. “In that case, I’d say you’re an old soul and Sara and her mates are new souls. But who knows? There are so many things I don’t understand. Like this whole Zodiac thing. I haven’t got a clue what it’s really about.”

  “Ask Hermie,” suggested Ruth. “If he is the real Hermes, then he’s supposed to be the great communicator. So get him to communicate.”

  I pressed his number and got through a moment later.

  “Hey, Hermie. I have to know, what does it mean to be a Zodiac Girl?”

  “You asked that already and I told you – what you make it.”

  “You told me that already.”

  “Okay, then. Different things to different girls,” said Hermie. “Depends on the circumstances. Depends on the individual.”

  “That’s so vague, Hermie. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Maybe not at the moment. And to tell the truth, some girls have been Zodiac Girls and not done a thing with the opportunity. Others have gone on to do great things. Like Joan of Arc. She was a Zodiac Girl. Madame Curie. What do you think got her started?”

  “What?”

  “She was a Zodiac Girl and she went for it, big time. Most of the great heroines in history. All Zodiac Girls.”

  “So why isn’t Ruth a Zodiac Girl?”

  “Not her turn. It’s not in her chart at the moment. You never know. Her time may come later.”

  “So what am I meant to do?”

  Hermie shook his head. “You’ll figure it out. I can only tell you the influences that you’re under this month.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. Why can’t you do magic or something and make it really clear?”

  Hermie chuckled. “The magic’s all around you, Gemma – just open your eyes. This planet you’re on. It’s a three-dimensional light show with a million smells, sounds, tastes and feelings. It hangs, a jewel in deep space, turning on its axis each day. What could be more magical than that? And a sun that shines down on us, the moon, the stars, a sky that goes on and on for light years? What more could you want?”

  “I don’t know. Someone to make sense of it all.”

  “Gemma, relax. This time is yours, your chance to make your mark. Be yourself. Be your best self. Go along with the Outreach programme. The way will become clearer.”

  It feels as clear as mud at the moment, I thought as he clicked off.

  Chapter Ten

  Chiron House

  On Sunday, as half the school went into rehearsals, Ruth and I got ready to go to Chiron House for our first visit on the Outreach programme. We trooped down the stairs to join the group of volunteers waiting in the hall, and I felt a stab of envy as I saw all the other girls excitedly on their way to rehearse Bugsy.

  “Now I want you all to be on your best behaviour,” said Mrs Blain as she led us down the school drive. “And be particularly nice, as one of them is one of our school’s main benefactors. We don’t want to upset her, do we?”

  “No, Miss,” we all chorused back.

  “I’m not sure I’ll know what to do,” said Ruth. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “It’ll be fine,” I said. “Like with my gran, she likes to ramble on about her youth or her operations. It’ll be no biggie. Just listen patiently, nod now and then, and you probably won’t need to say anything. You could even wear your iPod for all they know. Okay?”

  Ruth smiled and gave me the thumbs-up. But she didn’t look so sure as Chiron House loomed into sight in front of us.

  “Wow. It’s amazing in here,” whispered Ruth as we walked into the reception room and took in the heavy curtains, acres of plush cream carpets and displays of flowers that looked like they would cost most of my pocket money for a year.

  “I know,” I whispered. “It’s like a five-star hotel, only better. No expense spared. They must be very rich old ladies to be in a place like this.”

  “Well Mrs Blain did say that one of them was a big time benefactor of the school,” said Ruth. “Hope I don’t get her. I’m bound to put my foot in it.”

  Across the reception area, Mrs Blain was talking to a sour-faced woman with thinning ginger hair, who was dressed in a pristine white uniform.

  “She looks like a bundle of laughs, not,” I said nudging Ruth.

  Ruth glanced over and suppressed a giggle.

  The woman turned towards us and shot us an icy smile.

  “Welcome, girls,” she said. “I’m Matron and my ladies are expecting you, but before we go in, I want to outline the rules. One,” she flicked a bony finger and narrowed her eyes. “No raised voices, ever. Two,” and another digit was wagged in front of our noses. “No running about, ever.”

  I threw a quick glance at Ruth but she seemed to be hypnotised by the perfectly manicured red talons on the end of the two fingers wagging close to her face.

  Then a third finger stabbed the air, “And three. Stay in the sitting room. No wandering off anywhere under any circumstances. Ever. Any questions?”

  Who does she think we are? I thought. A bunch of children?

  Ice Matron gave me a laser look as if she’d read my mind.

  “Right, line up here,” she barked and proceeded to meticulously inspect our hands. “Hmm. They seem reasonably clean,” she said, sounding disappointed.

  Once we’d been given the okay, she led us down a long corridor lined with portraits of scowling women.

  “Hope we don’t meet them,” I whispered to Ruth who snorted loudly. Matron stopped in her tracks and asked her if she was unwell.

  “I’m fine, Matron. J… just a frog in my throat,” she blustered.

  “Well, make sure it stays there. I want nothing upsetting my ladies,” said Matron, arching one eyebrow.

  “I’ve heard of the ice maiden and the ice man, but now here cometh the ice matron,” I whispered, making Ruth laugh again.

  Matron opened a set of glass double-doors and we filed silently through to meet our ladies. One of them I recognised as the lady I’d met briefly in Pentangle and she gave me a smile when I waved at her. There were eight others slumped in vast chintzy armchairs around the room. They looked like a collection of wizened rag dolls. Some were reading, one in the corner was knitting, but most were just staring into space. God, they look so bored, I thought. Like zombies in a five-st
ar prison.

  Matron began to allocate each of us a lady.

  “You, off to see Mrs Hamilton,” she said to Ruth, pointing her in the direction of the lady from the hairdressers, “That’s her in the corner there.”

  Next, Rose, Imogen and Grace got their ladies, then Matron looked down her nose at me.

  “Now you,” she said, looking at me as if I was some nasty bacteria. “Name?”

  “Gemma Whiting, Miss.”

  “Don’t you ‘Miss’ me, young lady,” she snapped. “Call me Matron.”

  I had to suppress a giggle as I imagined her saying, “Call me sir.”

  “Right, Miss Whiting, you can go to Mrs Compton-Grime,” she said, nodding towards a small plump lady who was studying a knitting pattern.

  She must be well into her eighties, I thought as I studied the old lady’s wiry white hair, bullfrog eyes and thin red lips.

  “Hello,” I said with a smile as I approached her and looked around for somewhere to sit. “I’m Gemma.”

  She didn’t look up.

  “Um… is there anything I can do for you?”

  “Yes. Bugger off,” she said and clicked her needles viciously.

  “Pardon?” I asked, hardly believing what I had just heard.

  “You heard me. Bugger off. I don’t want anyone near me, especially an annoying little brat like you.”

  But I haven’t even done anything to be annoying, I thought. I didn’t know what to do or say next, so I looked around to see if anyone else had got a similar rejection. But no, everyone else seemed to be getting on fine, and Mrs Hamilton and Ruth appeared to be having a real laugh together.

  “Um…” I began again.

  “What! You’re still here?” snapped Mrs Compton-Grime, finally looking up. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Er, yes, I’ve come… I’m with…”

  “Spit it out, girl. Don’t they teach you how to speak properly at your school?” she growled.

  “Yes. I mean…”

  “What, pray, brings you here to disturb this sanctuary of peace and quiet?”

  “Part of the Outreach programme at school. We visit people. Do good, sort of thing.”