Two days. I had just two days before my life changed for ever. The tears returned with full force, and I sobbed harder than ever before.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumbled between sobs.
Dad looked at me sadly. “So am I.”
THIRTY-ONE
The morning after, I got ready for school in a stupor. My head swam with all the ways that I’d messed up in the past few days. I’d betrayed my family for a boy.
Plus, I’d have to tell my mates that Marco and I were over, too. That’s if they were even still talking to me – I hadn’t heard from any of them since our bust-up.
I didn’t know how I was going to get through the day. My friends would definitely know that something was up, but what was I meant to say? Sorry I’m not myself today – turns out that my dream boy betrayed my entire family for a bit of cash from the local newspaper.
When I came downstairs for a quick breakfast and Dad was there, whistling to himself as he made his morning espresso, I thought he’d officially lost it. How could he act normal at a time like this?
“Having a day off work?” I asked. Dad was wearing jeans and a polo shirt. Hardly scruffy, but definitely not the sort of outfit he usually wore to the university.
“Helen, darling, how’s your day looking? Any important lessons or assignments due?” he asked.
I shook my head. Homework was the last thing on my mind. How could he pester me about school at a time like this? Did I imagine Hermes giving us a warning from the Council last night? We had much bigger things to worry about.
“Excellent! Then get changed into your normal clothes and meet me back down here at nine thirty a.m., please. I’ll deal with your school,” Dad said, punching buttons on his phone. “We’re going on a trip together.”
Huh? Was this my dad actively helping me to skive off school?
I sent the girls a message saying I was off sick (which was technically true – I didn’t have any physical symptoms, but my brain was mashed). I could tell them that Dad randomly decided on a surprise day trip, but then I’d have to explain why I’d been having such a tough time lately. The last thing I wanted to think about.
Gosh. Lying before I’d even left the house.
I went downstairs to find Dad waiting by the front door. We got the tube into Central London. I reminded Dad that I didn’t have the chance to finish breakfast, so needed to eat some food. We stopped by a cool-looking coffee shop with wooden benches. To eat, I ordered three custard tarts (two for now, one for the road). Dad stuck to his usual order of an espresso. Dull as ever.
Being in town on a school day was such a novelty, but there was still a Mount Olympus–sized elephant in the room. I picked at my custard tart while Dad read the newspaper. Was he looking out for mentions of Aphrodite’s video?
I went to take an Instagram photo of the cute pastries, but Dad reminded me that might not be a good idea. “Helen, please refrain from using social media for just one day. Not only would I like your full attention, but it may also well give away the fact that you aren’t in bed recovering from a tummy bug,” Dad said.
He was right. I’d have to save the Insta-brags for later. “Is that what you told the school?”
“I did. It should explain your absence for the trial over the next few days.”
The trial. This weekend. It hovered over my thoughts like a rain cloud. We’d have to talk about it eventually. But I didn’t want to ruin our first day out together since … I couldn’t remember when.
After our coffees we walked down Oxford Circus, past all of the shops. For a minute, I got all excited and thought Dad was going to take me on a wild shopping spree. But then I remembered that this was Dad. The only shopping spree he’d consider would be one in a dusty second-hand bookshop.
We carried on walking for about fifteen minutes, took a left turn and then I realized where we were headed to because the building was smack bang in front of me. The British Museum.
When I lived with Mum and had my monthly day trips with Dad, we nearly always went to this place. At the time, I thought Dad loved it so much because the entry was free and he was tight. Now, it made much more sense. The place is stuffed with ancient statues and paintings from all over the world. Including Greece. For Dad, it’s the closest thing to a time capsule. He perked up as we walked through the grand columns towards the entrance.
“You know, darling, it’s been years since I’ve been back to this place. I think the last time was with you,” Dad said.
We both remembered the time well, then. It was the last normal day out I had with Dad because Mum had the accident not long after and everything changed for ever. I just nodded in response.
“Anyway, the best thing about coming back now is that I can give you one of my special tours! You wouldn’t believe the gossip I have on some of these statues,” Dad said with a wink.
The tour turned out to be our most fun trip to the museum yet. I got to drop by the unwrapped mummy, an exhibit that terrified me as a kid, and see that it didn’t look quite as scary as I remembered. The thought of the trial didn’t go away, but it wasn’t all I was thinking about either. Anything had to be better than sitting in school and putting on a brave face.
When we reached the Parthenon exhibit, Dad seemed to get a bit emotional.
“You should have seen this temple in its heyday, Helen. Imagine a huge gold-and-ivory statue of Athena in the centre, surrounded by water pools sparkling in the sunlight,” he said. “On feast days, the scent of roasted meat would fill the air. Athena’s priestesses were the most powerful women in the city of Athens, you know.”
“Just fascinating! You sure do know your stuff,” said a woman’s voice with an American twang. We both turned to find an old couple hanging on to Dad’s every word.
Dad even went a little wild in the gift shop: pyramid-shaped erasers for me and a book on the history of London’s sewers for him. He insisted it was an intriguing subject. I said I’d just take his word for it.
Before we knew it, it was lunchtime. We walked around for a bit before deciding on a Japanese restaurant near the museum. I ordered my favourite thing to eat at Japanese restaurants: a plate of chicken katsu curry bigger than my head. Dad swapped his usual black coffee for a pot of jasmine tea.
“You’re not eating anything, Dad?” I asked after the waiter noted down our orders.
“No, darling. I only eat so that my dining companion won’t raise any eyebrows. It would look very strange indeed if, say, when I took Lisa to dinner, I sat there and ate nothing.”
“Nothing like Apollo, then,” I said smirking. Maria still complained about the size of his appetite. “Where does that food even go?”
“Food does much the same thing to you as it does to us,” Dad said. “Some foods can boost our energy, and too much of other foods can affect us too. The only difference is that food isn’t essential for our existence.”
So Aphrodite really was on to something with those organic green smoothies every morning.
“While I very much enjoy the tastes and smells of food, and the joy of sharing meals with the people I love, it feels somewhat distasteful to eat something I don’t need. Especially when so many people go without,” Dad continued. I’d never thought of it that way.