“Believe me, you would all be the first to know if I did,” I said.
“Hey!” said Noor. “Positive vibes only. I’m sure he’s planning the perfect response. Probably composing a poem and all sorts.”
We spent lunch discussing the reasons why Marco hadn’t emailed back (did he lose his notebook with my email address? No Wi-Fi? Or maybe it’s customary to leave several days between messages where he’s from?).
“Aww, Hels,” Daphne said. “I didn’t realize you were sick on the first day back!”
Sick, me? That hadn’t happened before.
“Your nose is all red around the nostrils. Do you have a cold, hun?” Yasmin asked.
Then it clicked. Didn’t Aphrodite say that redness was a potential side effect of her wonder cream?
“Oh, yeah! You know, I was feeling a bit bunged up this morning. Let me get some tissues,” I said, before leaving the canteen to run to the loo.
This was no ordinary sore nose. By the time I made it to the girls’ toilets, the redness had intensified and spread. My nose was strawberry red! And not the sort of red you get when you have a cold. I mean the sort of red that hurts to look at, it’s so bright and intense. With this schnozz, I could give Rudolph a run for his money. I stared in horror at my reflection. How the heck was I going to fix this?!
I could tell the school nurse I felt sick and go home early. But then they would call Dad to pick me up. He’d find out I was Aphrodite’s guinea pig and she’d tell him about the party. So skiving was out.
In the end, I grabbed a handful of tissue and pretended I had a runny nose for the rest of the afternoon. I kept my hand clamped over my nose until home time, then legged it home straight after school. Not only was it incredibly embarrassing, but I needed to keep a lid on any immortal weirdness coming from my family. It seemed like I cared more about that than Aphrodite did.
I stayed in my room until she came home, getting angrier by the minute. Maria knocked on my door to check up on me, but I lied and said I had a headache.
The minute I heard Aphrodite walk up to the attic, I burst out of my room and into the corridor.
“Look what you’ve done to my face!”
Aphrodite recoiled. “Goodness, Helen. Your nose looks … jolly!”
“Yes! I have a clown nose now and it’s entirely your fault!” I was shrieking now but I didn’t care.
“This really throws a spanner in the works,” Aphrodite muttered to herself. “It’ll delay launch by at least a few days.”
I couldn’t believe it. All she cared about was her stupid cream, and not the fact she’d ruined my face.
“Forget about your launch! How are you going to fix this?”
Aphrodite pinched my nose playfully, like she was talking to a toddler. “Calm down. It’s already fixed.”
I looked in the bathroom mirror, and she was right. My nose was once again brown and freckly.
“You’re welcome, Helen,” she said sarcastically. If Aphrodite was waiting for me to thank her, she’d be waiting for a long time.
“Back to the drawing board I go,” she muttered.
SEVENTEEN
All week my body was in school, going through the motions from lesson to lesson. But my head? That was stuck in Marco Land. I’d been doing that a lot. I spent my lessons imagining, in intense detail, what Marco was up to right that moment. Maybe he was visiting an art gallery or heading to the gym (he had a great physique under that winter coat – or at least he did in my head).
Whatever he was up to, it wasn’t emailing me.
But then, five days later, when I was daydreaming in an I.T. class about our fifth date together (this would be the one where he declared his passionate love for me), I noticed it.
An email from Marco! But it had the subject line “Sorry.” Oh god. Was he about to tell me that this whole thing was a terrible mistake and he never wanted to see me again? Why else would his first email to me be so negative? How could he do this, we haven’t even—
I stopped my thoughts from racing away like a freight train. Just open the email, Helen.
Somehow I managed to hold it together while Miss Anderson droned on about databases. Noor, who was sitting next to me, must have sensed my internal panic. She sent an email to my school address:
FROM: [email protected]
Everything OK? You’ve gone bright red! N x
FROM: [email protected]
Got an email from Marco!! Should I read it? X
FROM: [email protected]
!!!!! YES !!!!
I couldn’t bring myself to open the email in the lesson. Who starts an email with “sorry” unless they have something dreadful to say? I’d burst into tears, and everyone would think I was upset about databases.
Seeing as I.T. was the last lesson of the day, I decided to wait twenty minutes and read it with Daphne and Yasmin there too. After school, we all met in the usual place by the gates, and I told them what happened.
“Let’s go to Cafe Gio’s and read it over hot chocolate with whipped cream,” said Daphne with a decisive nod.
Uh-oh. Daphne only suggested hot chocolate with whipped cream when one of us was in serious need of comforting. The pit in my stomach became a little deeper. I almost didn’t want to read the email.
“Crap! I promised Mum I’d be home to watch my little brother after school. She’s gone to visit my aunty and won’t be back until late,” Noor said. “Come to mine instead?”
“Fine, but let’s hurry up. I want to see what it says!” Yasmin said.
After what seemed like several years (and several flights of stairs), we made it to Noor’s flat. The dark skies and cold seemed like the perfect setting for disappointment, which added to my nervousness. Was I about to read a humiliating email in front of my friends?
Noor let us into her flat and hustled us to her bedroom. Her little brother sat on the living room floor, glued to his video game. “Hasan, I’ll be in my room with my mates. Stay where you are and try not to do anything dumb, yeah?” I heard Noor say.
She came back with armfuls of snacks and dumped them on the bed. “I thought we might need supplies.”
With Daphne’s arm around my shoulder and a packet of crisps on my lap, I read out the email.
Dear Helen, it started. My heart nearly beat out of its chest. I’m so sorry for only contacting you now, several days after our night under the stars. I must admit I was in two minds about emailing you. You see, you left in such a hurry that I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear from me again.
The thing is, I haven’t stopped thinking about you. I’d love nothing more than to get to know you. If you feel even slightly the same, please give me a call on the number below and we’ll take it from there. Marco x