Princess on the Brink pd-8

by Meg Cabot

  “I c-can’t talk right now,” I said. Because I literallycouldn’t talk , I was crying so hard.

  “Fine,” Lilly said. “But, Mia…seriously, I don’t know what this is about, but you’re breaking his heart. The only reason I’m not coming over there and kicking your ass for it is because I can tell your heart isn’t doing so well, either. But seriously, youhave to talk to him. Justtalk to him. I’m sure whatever it is, you two can work it out, if you just TALK. Okay?”

  I couldn’t reply, though. I was crying too hard.

  If I could have said something, though, I’d have said, “It’s too late, Lilly. There’s nothing left to say.”

  Because there isn’t.

  I miss him so much. And he hasn’t even left yet.

  Friday, September 10, Intro to Creative Writing

  ME, A PRINCESS???? YEAH, RIGHT.

  A Screenplay by Mia Thermopolis

  (second draft)

  Scene 12

  INT/DAY—The Palm Court at the Plaza Hotel in New York City. A flat-chested girl with upside-down-yield-sign-shaped hair (14-year-old MIA THERMOPOLIS) is sitting at an ornately set table across from a bald man (her father, PRINCE PHILLIPE). We can tell by MIA’s expression that her father is telling her something upsetting.

  PRINCE PHILLIPE

  You’re not Mia Thermopolis anymore, honey.

  MIA

  (blinking with astonishment)

  I’m not? Then who am I?

  PRINCE PHILLIPE

  You’re Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, Princess of Genovia.

  MIA

  (getting up from the table, pulling an Uzi from her backpack)

  Dad, look out!

  NINJAS descend from the ceiling on ropes. MIA kicks over the table, sending the tea things flying. Then she strafes the room with bullets from her Uzi. TOURISTS and WAITERS dive for cover. Her dad, terrified, ducks behind a potted plant. MIA throws down the Uzi, which has jammed, and kickboxes the NINJAS, dispatching them one by one, à la River in the movie SERENITY.

  Finally, the room is still, all NINJAS unconscious. One by one, the TOURISTS and WAITERS climb to their feet. One of them begins to clap, slowly. He is joined by everyone else. Soon, MIA is receiving a standing ovation for her bravery.

  MIA walks up to PHILLIPE and sticks out her right hand to help him to his feet. He hesitantly takes it. She pulls him up.

  PRINCE PHILLIPE

  (gratefully)

  Mia—where did you learn to—

  MIA

  (matter-of-factly)

  I’ve been working as a highly trained demon-killer for the Vatican for years, Dad. Didn’t you know?

  PRINCE PHILLIPE

  I didn’t know. I was wrong about you, Mia. You’re not just a princess.

  MIA

  No, Dad. No, I’m not.

  F

  Mia, while this is highly imaginative, in no way does it satisfy the assignment, which was to describe a beloved pet.

  —C. Martinez

  Friday, September 10, English

  Are you okay?

  I guess so, Tina. Thanks.

  You look kind of…pale. And your eyes are red.

  Yeah. Well. I didn’t get much sleep last night.

  Have you spoken to him yet? Michael, I mean?

  No. Not in person.

  Hasn’t he called? Or texted?

  Well, yes. But I haven’t written back. How can I, Tina? What is there to SAY?

  True. But if he apologized, wouldn’t you forgive him?

  He’s not going to apologize, Tina. He doesn’t think he did anything wrong!!!

  But this can’t be IT. I mean, it can’t be OVER between you two. You love each other too much!!!!!

  Michael himself said—in one of the e-mails he sent—that maybe it’s better this way. You know, that we see other people while he’s gone.

  HE SAID THAT????

  Well, he didn’t say HE was going to see other people, but that it was okay with him if I wanted to.

  Wait—he really SAID that?

  Yes. He did. Well, he said he guessed it HAD to be okay.

  Oh, Mia! I don’t know how to say this but—do you think maybeYour Precious Giftis wrong? Because in my favorite romance novels—The Sheik and the Virgin SecretaryandThe Sheik and the Princess Bride—none of the sheiks were virgins, and it all turned out okay for them and THEIR girlfriends.

  I didn’t want to write what I wrote next. Really. It HURT me to say it. But someone HAD to. Because Tina just can’t live in Tinaland for the rest of her life. She just can’t.

  Tina. Those are BOOKS.

  But Tina wasn’t backing down.

  Your Precious Giftis a BOOK. How come it’s right, and not the sheik books?

  Tina. None of the sheiks in those books Did It with Judith Gershner and then LIED about it, okay? None of the sheiks in those books invented a robotic surgical arm and are leaving for Japan for a year. Or more. And if they were, they’d take their virgin secretary princess bride WITH THEM.

  I know. I just think maybe you should give Michael another chance.

  How can I do that? Every time I think about him now, all I can picture in my head is Judith Gershner with her tongue in his mouth. And that is the LEAST disgusting thing I picture the two of them doing.

  Yes. I felt that way when I found out about Lilly and Boris. But it goes away after a while, Mia. Really. In a few days you won’t see Judith Gershner in your head anymore when you think about Michael.

  Thanks, Tina. I see what you’re saying. I really do. But the problem is, in a few days—no, in a few HOURS—Michael will be gone. Possibly forever!

  Mia! Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry!

  It’s not you, Tina. It’s me. I just—I just—

  Mia, it’s okay. You don’t have to write another word. I’ll shut up now.

  God. How can it have come to this—me sitting in English class, CRYING???

  In a way I wish Michael WAS a sheik, and I was his virgin secretary or princess bride. I know it’s not very feminist of me to think that.

  But if he whisked me off to his tent in the desert instead of moving to Japan, at least I’d know he really cared.

  Friday, September 10, French

  Mia! Is it true?

  Yes, Perin. It’s true that Michael admitted he had sex with Judith Gershner and he’s moving to Japan and he and I are broken up. I feel really terrible about it and I don’t want to start crying in French, so can we not talk about it?

  Um, no. I meant is it true that you would know what to do if a tsunami hit New York City?

  Oh. Yes, that’s true, too.

  I’m sorry about you and Michael. I didn’t know. So I guess you’re single now?

  I never thought of it before. But, yeah, I guess I am.

  Want to sleep over tonight?

  Oh, thanks for the invitation, Perin, but I think I’m just going to go home and go to bed. I’m not really doing all that great, to tell you the truth.

  Okay. Well, feel better!

  Thanks!

  Qu’est-ce que c’est que le mérite incroyable d’une femme, vous demandez? Selon la chaine douze, le mérite incroyable d’une femme est sa capacité de nourrir ses enfants. Une femme avec une carrière? Ça, c’est une femme qui n’adore pas ses enfants, ou son mari. Elle n’est pas une chrétienne! Elle est une serveuse du diable!

  Mes camarades et moi nous nous sommes regardés les unes les autres. Nous avons changés le chaine. Et juste a l’heure!

  117+76=only 193!!!!!! I need 7 more words!

  Oh, wait…the title. AND MY NAME:

  Une Emission Pleine d’Action par

  Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Renaldo Thermopolis

  YES!!!!

  At least SOMETHING is going my way today.

  Friday, September 10, between French and Lunch

  My cell phone just buzzed. Michael left the following text message:

  MICHAELM: At least let me come by and t
ry to explain. Even though that won’t be easy because I’m still not clear on what, exactly, I did that was so wrong.

  What is he talking about,come by and try to explain ? How can he come by and try to explain? I’m in SCHOOL.

  And how can he still not know what he did wrong?????

  Friday, September 10, Lunch

  You know what? I don’t care. LET them stare at me. This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten in this cafeteria. If I’d known the cheeseburgers were this good, as a matter of fact, I’d have started eating them a long time ago.

  And you know what? I don’t even care. I mean, I still feel bad for the animals, and stuff.

  But in a way it’s like…well, tough luck for them. The world is an unfair place. Sometimes you’re the windshield. Sometimes you’re the bug.

  That’s from a song my mom likes.

  If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I’ll probably come back as a cow, and I’ll spend my whole life in a tiny stall I can barely move around in, and eventually someone will come around and bonk me on the head and then skin me and make my skin into a leather miniskirt and the rest of me into hamburger and a girl whose boyfriend gave his Precious Gift to Judith Gershner will eat me, and that will just be too bad for me. It’s the circle of life, baby.

  Wow. I guess I’m a total nihilist now.

  Lilly seems to think so. And she can’t seem to believe it.

  “A burger?” She just kept staring at my tray. “You’re eating a CHEESEBURGER?”

  “I don’t care anymore,” I said. Because it’s true. I don’t. About anything. Being a nihilist, and all.

  “You and my brother,” she said, “get into one fight, and you break up with him and start eating meat? He’s right. You HAVE lost your mind.”

  I put my burger down at that one.

  “He SAID that?” I demanded. I didn’t care that we were having this discussion in front of the whole lunch crowd—J.P., Boris, Ling Su, Tina, Perin. Why should I? I don’t care about anything anymore. “Michael said I’ve lost my mind?”

  “Basically,” Lilly said. “And the fact that you’re sitting there eating a cheeseburger proves it. You haven’t eaten meat since you were six years old!”

  “Well, maybe it’s time I started,” I said. “Maybe if I’d been getting more protein this whole time, I wouldn’t have made so many boneheaded decisions.”

  “Which one of your many are you referring to?” Lilly asked acidly.

  “Hey, Lilly,” J.P. said, quietly but firmly. “Cut it out.”

  Lilly looked startled. She isn’t used to J.P. butting in on her conversations with me. Because he’s never done it before.

  But it was too late. Because my eyes were already filling up with tears. Again.

  I guess I’m not a nihilist after all.

  “If he thinks I’ve lost my mind,” I said to Lilly, barely able to contain a sob, “then he doesn’t get it AT ALL. I HAVEN’T lost my mind. I just can’t DEAL with it anymore.”

  “Deal with what?” Lilly wanted to know. “Having a guy who loves you so much that while you were off in Genovia this summer, he invented this fantastic thing that could change the face of medical history as we know it, just so he could prove he was good enough to be with you, only to have you slap him in the face when he explained that in order to get the thing off the ground he has to go away for a while?”

  I just glared at her, even though it was kind of hard to see her through my tears.

  “That’s not it,” I said, “and you know it.”

  “Oh, wait, I know. Is it because all these months he didn’t tell you about something he KNEW you wouldn’t understand and would go bananas over, because it is in your nature to go bananas over the littlest things, and he wanted to spare you?”

  “What he did,” I said, a catch in my voice, “wasn’t LITTLE—”

  “Oh, spare me,” Lilly spat. “Tina told me about that stupid book her aunt gave her. Are you really so ignorant that you don’t know that this whole ‘Precious Gift’ crap started off as men’s way of controlling females so that they could limit their number of sexual partners, and therefore ensure the legitimacy of their own offspring?”

  “Hold on,” I said, glaring at her. Which was hard to do, considering the tears that were causing my nose to feel prickly. “There is NOTHING wrong with waiting to have sex until you can do it with someone you love.”

  “Of course there’s not,” Lilly said. “You’re totally entitled to that belief. But CONDEMNING someone who doesn’t necessarily SHARE that belief? That’s no better than those fundamentalist judges in Iran who condemn women to be buried up to their necks in sand and have rocks thrown at their heads. Because any way you look at it, that’s YOU punishing someone for not sharing YOUR morals.”

  The tears totally came with that one. I mean, seriously. Comparing ME to one of those evil fundamentalist judges?

  But Lilly wouldn’t let up.

  “Why don’t you just admit what this whole fight with Michael is REALLY about, Mia?” she snarled. “You’re mad because Michael won’t do what you want and stay in New York to be your little lapdog. Because he has a mind of his own and he wants to use it to make a LIFE of his own. THAT’s what this is all about. And DON’T try to deny it.”

  That’s when J.P. got up, grabbed Lilly by the arm, and said, “Come on. We’re going for a walk,” and dragged her out of the cafeteria.

  And that’s also when I started to cry in earnest. Not sobbing or anything. Just quietly weeping, over the remains of my burger.

  Yes. I am a pathetic crying meat-eater now.

  Boris patted me on the shoulder and said, “Don’t cry, Mia. I think you’re doing the right thing. Long-distance relationships never work. Better to make a clean break of it, like this.”

  “Boris,” Tina said, sounding exasperated.

  “No,” I said. “He’s right.”

  Because he is.

  I just wish he wasn’t.

  Also that I was dead.

  I just went and got some bacon to put on my cheeseburger.

  Friday, September 10, G & T

  I almost skipped this class. Partly because I felt really sick after the burger. I definitely shouldn’t have added the bacon.

  But also partly because I didn’t want to see Lilly again. Especially without J.P. to rein her in.

  But I didn’t skip because I figured I’d just get in trouble. And a trip to Principal Gupta’s office is the last thing I need.

  Also, I got some Tums from the nurse, and that seemed to help.

  I was glad I didn’t skip when I walked into class. Glad, because the first thing I saw when I walked in was Lilly, WEEPING.

  I wasn’t glad she was crying. I was glad because she so obviously needed me. I mean, something had Happened. Something BIG.

  Boris was standing there next to her, looking alarmed. I think it’s only natural that I assumed Lilly was crying because of something Boris said to her, since he flung me this totally panicky look when I walked in.

  “What did you do to her?” I asked him, shocked. Because Boris can be a jerk sometimes. But he honestly doesn’t MEAN to be. And he’s gotten a lot less jerky since Tina started going out with him.

  “She was like this when I came in,” Boris insisted. “It wasn’t me!”

  “Lilly.” I couldn’t imagine what could be the matter with her. Surely it couldn’t have anything to do with me and Michael.That would never make Lilly cry. Hardly anything made Lilly cry. Except…I gasped. “Did Lana Weinberger decide to run for student council president after all?”

  “No!” Lilly said scornfully, between sobs. “God! Do you think I’d be crying over something likethat ?”

  “Well.” I stared down at her blankly. “What is it, then?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Lilly said.

  But I noticed her gaze slide toward Boris. What’s more important, Boris noticed it, too.

  And so—exercising a little of the tact Tin
a has so carefully taught him—Boris said, “I guess I’ll just go start practicing now,” and went and let himself into the supply closet.

  I said, “Okay, he’s gone. Now tell me.”

  Lilly took a deep, shuddering breath. Then, glancing around at everyone else in the room—all of whom immediately ducked their heads, pretending to be engrossed in their individual projects, something that NEVER happens unless Mrs. Hill is in the room, which she most decidedly was not just then—Lilly whispered, “J.P. just broke up with me.”

  I stared at her in complete and utter astonishment.“What?”

  “You heard me.” Lilly reached up and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist, leaving a long black mascara stain on each side of her face. “He dumped me.”

  I pulled out the chair next to Lilly’s just in time to collapse into it and not onto the floor.

  “You’re joking,” I said. Because it was the only thing I could think of to say.

  But it was painfully clear by the way tears continued to stream from her eyes that shewasn’t joking.

  “Butwhy ?” I asked.“When?”

  “Just now,” Lilly said. “Outside on the front steps, next to Joe.” Joe is the stone lion that flanks the stairs leading to the front doors of Albert Einstein High. “He said he felt really bad, but that he doesn’t feel the same way about me that I do about him. He said he values me as a friend, but that he’s never lo-loved me!”

  I couldn’t stop staring at her. Somehow, this was way more horrible than what Michael had done to me. I mean, Michael had had sex with Judith Gershner and lied to me about it, and all.

  But he had never said he didn’t love me.

  “Oh, Lilly,” I breathed. I forgot about being a nihilist. All I could think about was how much Lilly was hurting. “Oh, Lilly. I’m so sorry.”