Bye-Bye, Evil Eye Page 3

  When Thalia bursts out laughing, Kat leans over and whispers in my ear. “You’re in Greece now. It’s okay to have a sip at a private party.”

  I stare at her in surprise for a few seconds. Then my eyes swing around the table to find my chaperone. “Really? Is that true, Mrs. Papadakis?”

  She nods and reaches for her own glass. “Go ahead, Daniella. But be careful. It’s a bit strong if you aren’t used to it.”

  I pick up my ouzo and give it a sniff; the powerful smell of black licorice fills my nose. Before I can take a taste, Sophia stands up and raises her glass in the air.

  “Stin ygia mas — to our health. Opa!”

  “Opa!” the rest of us echo.

  I raise the glass to my lips and take a gulp. The ouzo explodes in my mouth like a ball of fire on my tongue. For a crazy moment, I actually think Costa might have put one of those sticks of dynamite in my glass. I spit it out onto the table, scream, and reach for some water to douse the burning in my throat. That’s the moment we finally hear from John, who hasn’t said a single word all night. A big, booming chuckle flies out from under that bushy moustache, rattling his huge stomach until he begins to shake like a jolly Mediterranean Santa Claus. A moment later, Mrs. P joins in. She shrieks and cackles so hard, she actually drowns out John’s mighty laugh. I stare at her in shock. Wow, maybe she’s not such a sourpuss after all. Temporarily forgetting the awful taste of the ouzo, I begin to laugh too. But I stop when I see Costa watching me from across the table. His eyes stick to me like sand to a wet bathing suit.

  When he winks, the burn in my throat goes cold.

  Chapter 4

  Dear Mom, yesterday I learned all about traditional Greek food and beverages and fishing techniques. Today, Kat and I plan on studying local beach life in its natural habitat …

  Okay, so Greece is totally, incredibly epic. Like teenage nirvana. Our island has to be the nicest place I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s made up of a ring of craggy mountains, the tallest of which spring up from the centre of the island like a giant, sticking-out nose. If you look beyond the parking lot, the window in our room has a great view of that mountain and the monastery that sits on the top. But I’m never in our room long enough to look at the view. Kat and I are spending every moment possible at the beach. Even though I’ve been told that the resort has a pool, the whole week we’ve been here I haven’t even seen it. Guess I’m just not a pool kind of gal. I much prefer the feel of soft sand between my toes to concrete, the taste of salt water to chlorine, and a view of the ocean to a diving board. Thankfully, Kat feels the same way as me.

  There’s a perfect spot right by the water that we reserve with our towels every morning before breakfast. We spend all day swimming, suntanning, napping in the shade, and snacking on pita and tzatziki beside the ocean. Every day I bring my journal and my iPod to keep me busy and Kat brings her contraband romance novels and reads them when her mom’s not looking.

  Another one of our favourite pastimes is watching the cute boys strutting around the beach. Because hotel guests are coming and going all the time, there’s always a fresh selection — kind of like the fish in the seafood locker at the waterside café. I’m crossing my fingers that Kat will start talking with one of them soon. With a mother like Mrs. P, she definitely needs a bit of fun in her life. And believe me, I’m doing my best to help her find the right guy. But choosing a boy for Kat’s first kiss isn’t as easy as you might think. Anyone too good-looking or confident immediately gets my veto. A boy like that will probably scare her away faster than Mrs. P can chase them off. No, someone cute and nice and young would be perfect. Maybe even a bit shy, like her. Every day, I scan the beach for potential candidates for my friend. I’m on a mission. More than anything, I want Kat to get her nose out of those books so she can find some romance in real life.

  “How ’bout that one?” I hear myself saying at least fifteen times every day.

  Or: “He looks nice …”

  Or: “What do you think of that guy over there?”

  But Kat’s either incredibly picky or incredibly petrified because she keeps finding reason after reason not to go up and talk to any of them. Too muscled … too skinny … too short … too tall … too much swagger. Sometimes, when they’re out of sight, she’ll jump to her feet and do a silly, exaggerated impersonation of them that always gets us giggling. But so far, I’m striking out big time. Still, I’m not ready to give up on Kat yet. We have over two weeks left of our trip — plenty of time to find her someone great.

  On those rare occasions when we feel like getting off the beach, there’re bikes for us to use to explore the area. And Sophia and John are fantastic at making sure we have everything we want.

  Feel like going snorkelling? Great, we’ll charter a boat for the day.

  In the mood to go shopping? We’ll rent you a couple of scooters.

  Want to see more of the island? We’ll arrange for donkey rides up to the top of the mountain.

  That last one turns out to be the best. On our eighth day, Kat and I wake up early to go for a donkey ride up to the ancient monastery at the very top. Of course, Mrs. Papadakis comes along too. The ride up is a bit scary because the route’s steep and the donkeys are sweaty and probably not too happy to be lugging us up that big mountain. But the long, hot climb is definitely worth it. At the top we’re greeted with beautiful gardens, smiling priests, and a breathtaking view of the island and the surrounding sea. The sky above us is like a work of art — so clear and blue I feel like I could reach out and touch it. And the sunlight shimmers over everything like a halo. It’s all so beautiful, I can’t stop taking pictures.

  “I never see any clouds in the sky here. Where are they all?” I ask Mrs. P as I click away on my camera.

  “Clouds? They usually only come in winter.”

  I realize right then and there why those holy men put their home at the highest point — it probably makes them feel like they’re living in heaven up there in the infinite blue sky. Even for an atheist like me, it’s pretty inspiring. I wave at Kat to come take my picture so I have something to show my parents when I get back to Toronto. I make her take a photo of me in front of the monastery, so my parents will think I was behaving myself. And then another photo in front of some important-looking old building, so my parents will think I cared about Greek history. I take the camera back so I can take some shots of her. “Smile, Kat,” I say, because out of nowhere that sad look of hers is back again. “Come on, Kat. For me?” I beg. She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

  Before we leave the monastery, Kat and Mrs. P insist on kissing the priest’s hand. They try to convince me to do it also. “Come on, he’ll give you a blessing,” Kat whispers, pulling my arm as we approach the black-robed priest. Smiling broadly through his flowing ash-coloured beard, he extends his hand towards us.

  “No, thanks,” I mumble. Although he seems friendly enough, my whole body itches with discomfort just looking at him. While the others kneel to kiss his hand, I turn and hurry away. It feels too much like another one of those superstitions.

  On the way down the mountain, my mood darkens when I ask Kat if she wants to check out the local discos later that night. The path is now wide enough for us to ride side by side, with Mrs. P trailing behind.

  “There was a boy at the beach talking about one club in particular yesterday. It sounds like a blast.”

  “I don’t know …”

  “Come on. I’ll put some makeup on you. And we can go on the scooters. Maybe find a cute boy for you there?”

  She fiddles with the shaggy strands on her donkey’s mane. “Um, I don’t think my mom would like it.”

  I roll my eyes. Mrs. P could probably suck the fun out of a circus clown. “Do we have to tell her? Come on, Kat, it’s time to stop reading books about romance and start living it. Your mother doesn’t have to know everything we do.”


  Kat lowers her voice to a whisper. “You mean sneak out? How on earth would we pull that off?”

  My heart drops into my stomach. Kat kind of has a point. Because the three of us share a room, it’ll probably be hard. I glance back and see Mrs. Papadakis watching me from on top of her donkey. Out of nowhere, I begin to feel nauseous. I can’t figure out if it’s because of the musky smell from the overheated donkey or the slow, rocking gait of the ride or my chaperone’s eyes boring into me. When I turn forward again, I can still feel her eyes on my back.

  How does Kat manage? Mrs. P is such a downer. It’s like she wants Kat to live like one of these priests in their sheltered monastery. What if Kat meets a cute boy? There’ll be zero chance for any privacy.

  Beside me, her donkey lets out a loud, trumpeting fart. She starts to laugh, and normally I would too if I weren’t so pissed off and queasy. As soon as we get back from the donkey ride, I pull the hotel phone into the closet and call my mom. It only takes her a second to detect the pout in my voice.

  “What’s wrong, Dani? Is Mrs. Papadakis taking good care of you?”

  I snort. “Too good. She’s always watching us!”

  From an ocean away, Mom’s laugh brushes my ear. “Isn’t that what a chaperone is for?” she asks.

  “Seriously, Mom. It’s suffocating.”

  I hear a long sigh on the other end of the line. “Honey, listen. You’re thirteen years old and a long way from home. Your sisters were both much older before Dad and I allowed them to go away without us. The only reason we agreed to this trip is because we knew that Mrs. Papadakis would keep an eye on you. I guess if you really don’t like it, you can always come back early.”

  “Fine, maybe I will.”

  “Should I call the travel agent, then?” she asks. But I can tell from the smile in her voice that she’s not taking my threat very seriously. And that turns out to be a good thing. Because the very next day, I meet Nick.

  Yeah.

  Chapter 5

  When I see him striding up the beach towards our towels, I actually stop breathing. He’s tall and thin, but muscular, not skinny. And the way he wears his bathing suit makes my breath flutter in my throat.

  The way a boy looks in a bathing suit is of supreme importance. It can’t be too tight or too loose, too long or too short. And obviously, a Speedo is a complete deal-breaker. The way a boy walks in his bathing suit is really important too.

  Does he saunter casually? Then he’s probably an easygoing jock.

  Does he cover himself with tanning oil and strut? Jerk alert!

  Does he stick his hands in his pockets, shuffle, and search the shore for seashells? Cringe-worthy! Run the other way!

  If a boy can’t wear a bathing suit decently, chances are he probably won’t kiss well either. I know because I overheard my two older sisters talking about it last summer. For reasons that I don’t really understand, it seems there’s a mysterious but undeniable connection between these two things.

  But at the moment, the boy who’s heading towards us is wearing his bathing suit perfectly. He’s smiling as he saunters through the sand; as he gets closer I can see that he’s a little bow-legged. Adorable! He’s easily the cutest boy I’ve seen all summer.

  “What about this one, Kat?” I whisper. But as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to pull them back in. All my good intentions for Kat fly away in an uncontrollable burst of selfishness. With my heart drumming painfully against my ribs, I realize that this is one boy I want for myself. Ignoring the protest of my guilty conscience, I push my hair back behind my ears, take my sunglasses off, and wait for him to notice me. Imagine my shock when he walks right past me straight to Kat and sweeps her up into a big hug.

  She shrieks with happiness. I sit there trying to figure out what the heck is going on. These two know each other? Oh please, please, PLEASE let them be cousins or step-siblings or something related like that.

  “What are you doing here?” Kat squeals, twirling around in his arms. “I didn’t know you were coming to Greece this summer!”

  Mr. Perfect Bathing Suit grins and deposits her gently back down on the sand.

  “My parents decided to send me at the last minute. I guess being a camp counsellor wasn’t my thing because I only survived one week in that place before I had to get out of there. I hitched a ride home last Friday.” He cocks his head to the side. “Hey, did you get contact lenses? You look great.”

  “Forget about that — what do you mean, you hitchhiked?” Kat gasps while I stand back and admire this guy’s looks. His skin is smooth and olive-toned, like Kat’s. His lips are full and turned up at the corners — even as he complains about camp, he seems to be smiling. His nose makes a perfectly straight line from top to bottom while his hair is a mop of thick, unruly chestnut curls. My fingers itch to run through them and sort them out curl by curl.

  “Hitchhiking’s really dangerous,” Kat says. “You could have been kidnapped.”

  Wow, that’s so something Mrs. P would say, I think. I adjust the straps on my bathing suit and smooth back my hair, waiting for my introduction.

  “I don’t care. I had to get out of there,” he replies. “Trust me, you’d have done the same. The camp was lame — swarms of mosquitoes, bratty kids, damp mouldy cabins, bug-infested mattresses. So Mom called Sophia and John and asked if I could come to Greece. She put me on a plane the next day. I’m supposed to go back home to Toronto with you and your mom at the end of the month.”

  See, he’s talking like he’s part of the family. They must be cousins, right? Yeah, I’m totally in the clear.

  “Anyway,” he continues, “I thought I could hang out with you for the next few weeks. But I didn’t know you were here with a friend …”

  Finally, Mr. Perfect Bathing Suit looks my way. He has long eyelashes and these incredible green eyes with tiny flecks of gold that reflect the light of the sun. I smile my signature smile. He blushes and quickly looks down at his feet.

  Shy and cute? Sweet! I could die right then and there. It’s time for me to interrupt this conversation. I step forward and hold out my hand. “Hi, I’m Dani.”

  Kat slaps the side of her head. “Oops. I’m sorry. Nick Barbas, this is my friend Dani Price from Toronto. She’s vacationing with me and Mummy.”

  Nick takes my hand and gives it a gentle shake. The skin on his palm is rough and a bit calloused. I take another small step closer. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a cousin, Kat?”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “We’re not cousins. But our families are so close, it’s kind of like we’re related. Nick’s parents and mine are friends from the old days when they all lived here in Greece. We’ve known each other since we were babies.”

  Not wanting to break our connection so soon, I let my fingers linger in Nick’s a moment longer. My skin feels electric against his, like there’s a current of energy running between us. With my free hand, I point to the spot beside my towel. “Sorry to hear your summer plans got squashed. Come and join us, if you want. There’s loads of room. And no mosquitoes.”

  He smiles at my joke, and I feel like I’m going to melt into a puddle at his feet. The three of us spend the rest of the afternoon together. He’s the one, I think, waving goodbye as he saunters back to his room. The instant he’s out of sight, I turn to Kat and grab onto her twiggy arm.

  “I need deets. How old is he?”

  “He just turned fourteen.”

  “And you said you guys are ‘like family,’ right?”

  She nods. Her brown eyes search my blue ones, trying to read the thoughts behind them. “Yeah, why?” The question marks in her voice stretch out long and slow over the sand.

  “Well, I was just thinking that if you and Nick are like family, then you won’t mind if I go for him?”

  “Go for Nick?” she echoes, twisting uncomfortably on her towel. It loo
ks like she’s trying to dislodge a shell from her butt. “No, um, I guess I don’t mind.”

  She isn’t doing a great job of convincing me. “Really?” I press, giving her arm a shake. “Are you positive? I won’t if you tell me you like him. Because this summer is supposed to be about finding a boy for you, right?”

  She twists some more. “No, go ahead … I … I guess it’s just strange for me to think of him that way. You know?”

  “So, you’re sure? You don’t mind?” Leaning a bit closer, I peer at her face, trying to decipher that strange knot in the middle of her forehead. Is she telling the truth? Is she really okay with this? “I’ll still help you find someone. I promise. And when that happens, we can even double date. How much fun would that be, right? Trust me, your first kiss is totally happening this summer.”

  She stops twisting and nods, and then she gives me a weak smile. When the knot in her forehead vanishes, my heart gives a leap of joy. I throw my arms around her bony shoulders and hug her tight. “Thanks, Kat!”

  But just between you and me, there’s a tiny hole leaking air out of my happiness balloon. I’m worried I’m not being a good enough friend for Kat.

  I told you so, didn’t I?

  Why, you want to know.

  Because deep down I’m worried that I’m not going to be able to make good on my promise — the one about finding her a boy to kiss. Because after meeting Nick I’m going to have a hard time looking at anyone else. Like, ever again.

  Chapter 6

  The very next night is Thalia’s birthday, and to celebrate, Sophia and John hired a local Greek band to play at the waterside café. All of the guests at the hotel are invited. Of course there’s a ton of food and bottles of ouzo flowing. My mouth burns just at the smell of it. This time, I decide to keep my distance.