by Meg Cabot
. . . such as that the Contessa Trevanni was, in essence, Grandmere's Lana Weinberger.
Because that's what it sounded like. Like Elena Trevanni had tortured and teased Grandmere as mercilessly as I had been tortured and teased by Lana through the years.
I wondered if Elena, like Lana, had ever suggested to Grandmere that she wear Band-Aids on her boobs instead of a bra.
If she had, she was a far, far braver soul than I.
And now,' Grandmere said, very sadly, 'I have to tell her that my granddaughter doesn't love me enough to put aside her
new boyfriend for one single night.'
I realized, with a sinking heart, what I had to do. I mean, I knew how Grandmere felt. If there had been some way, any way
at all, that I could have shown up Lana - you know, besides going out with her boyfriend, which I had already done, but that had ended up humiliating me way more than it had Lana — I'd have done it. Anything.
Because when someone is as mean and cruel and just downright nasty as Lana is - not just to me, either, but to all the girls at Albert Einstein High who aren't blessed with good looks and school spirit - she fully deserves to have her nose rubbed in it.
It was so weird to think about someone like Grandmere, who seemed so incredibly sure of herself, having a Lana
Weinberger in her life. I mean, I had always pictured Grandmere being the type of person who, if Lana flipped her long
blonde on to her desk, would go all Crouching Tiger on her and deliver a kick to the face.
But maybe there was someone even Grandmere was a little bit afraid of. And maybe that person was Contessa Trevanni.
And while it is not true that I love Grandmere more than I love Michael - I do not love anyone more than I love Michael, except of course for Fat Louie — I did feel sorrier for Grandmere at that moment than I did for myself. You know, if
Michael ended up dumping me because I cancelled our date. It sounds incredible, but it's true.
So I went, even as I said them, not quite believing the words were coming out of my mouth, 'All right, Grandmere,
I'll put in an appearance at your ball.'
A miraculous change overcame Grandmere. She seemed to brighten right up.
'Really, Amelia?' she asked, reaching out to grasp one of my hands. 'Will you really do this for me?'
I was, I knew, going to lose Michael forever. But like my mother had said, if he didn't understand then he probably
hadn't been right for me in the first place.
Yeah, right!!! Michael is the most perfect guy in the universe!! Our astrological charts even prove it!!! And I was throwing
it all away for Grandmere, whom I am pretty sure I don't even like!!!
God, I am such a pushover. But she just looked so happy. She flung off the cashmere throw, and Rommel, and rang for her maid to bring her a Sidecar and her cigarettes, and then we moved on to the day's lesson - how to cheat at canasta without being found out, a necessity during games with the highly volatile Bengazi royal family, who, if they aren't allowed to win,
tend to go out the next day and raze entire villages.
All I want to know is: What?
Not about the Bengazis.
I mean what - WHAT???? - am I going to tell Michael? I mean, seriously. If he doesn't dump me now then there's
something wrong with him. And since I know there is nothing wrong with him, I know that I am about to be dumped.
About which all I can say is THERE IS NO JUSTICE IN THE WORLD. NONE.
Since Lilly has her breakfast meeting with the producers of the made-for-TV movie of my life tomorrow morning, I guess
I will break the news to Michael then. That way he can dump me in time for Homeroom. Maybe then I will have stopped
crying before Lana sees me in Algebra second period. I don't think I'll be able to take her mockery, after already having
my heart ripped from my body and flung across the floor.
I hate myself.
Thursday; January 21,
The Loft
I saw the movie of my life. My mom taped it for me while I was in Genovia. She thought Mr. G recorded
Temptation Island over it, but it turned out he didn't.
The girl who played me was way prettier than I am in real life. My mom says that's not true, but I know it is.
I guess I can see why Lilly is so mad, though. I mean, her character wasn't exactly supportive of mine for a good
two-thirds of the movie.
The guy who played Michael was a total babe. In the movie, he and I end up together.
Too bad in real life he is going to dump me tomorrow ... even though Tina doesn't think so.
This is very nice of her, and everything, but the fact is, he is totally going to. I mean, it really is a matter of pride. If a girl
with whom you have been going out for a full thirty-four days cancels your very first date, you really have no choice but to break up with her. I mean, I totally understand. I would break up with me. It is clear now that royal teens can't be like
normal ones. I mean, for people like me and Prince William, duty will always have to come first. Who is going to be able to understand that, let alone put up with it?
Tina says Michael can, and will. Tina says Michael won't break up with me because he loves me. I said yes he will,
because he only loves me as a friend.
'Clearly Michael loves you as more than just a friend,' Tina keeps saying into the phone. 'I mean, you guys kissed!'
'Yes,' I say. 'But Kenny and I kissed, and I did not like him as more than just a friend.'
'This is a completely different situation,' Tina says. 'Because you and Michael are meant to be together!' Tina sounds exasperated. 'Your star chart says so! You and Kenny were never meant for one another, he is a Cancer.'
Tina's astrological predictions notwithstanding, there is no evidence that Michael feels more strongly for me than he does
for, say, Judith Gershner. Yes, he wrote me that poem that mentioned the L word. But that was an entire month ago, during which period I was in another country. He has not renewed any such protestations since my return. I think it highly likely that tomorrow will be the straw that breaks the hot guy's back. I mean, why would Michael waste his time on a girl like me, who can't even stand up to her own grandmother? I'm sure if Michael's grandmother had been all, 'Michael, you've got to go to bingo with me Friday night, because Olga Krakowski, my childhood rival, will be there, and I want to show you off,' he'd
have been all, 'Sorry, Gran, no can do.'
No, I'm the spineless one. I'm the one completely lacking in backbone.
And I'm die one who now must suffer for it.
I wonder if it is too late in the school year to transfer. Because I really don't think I can take going to the same school as Michael after we are broken up. Seeing him in the hallway between classes, at lunch, and in G and T, knowing he was once mine but that I'd lost him, might just kill me.
But is there another school in Manhattan that might take a talentless, backbone-lacking reject like myself? Doubtful.
For Michael
Oh, Michael, my one true love
We had all new pleasures yet to prove
But I lost you due to my own retardation
before our love had yet found frutation
And now through the years, for you I will pine
and mourn for the days when you were once mine.
Friday, January 22,
Homeroom
Well. That's it. It's over. He dumped me.
All right, not in so many words. But I could see it in his face.
He tried to be nice about it. I mean, he didn't come right out and say, 'Get back, Jack.'
But I could see it in his eyes.
'No, really, Mia,' was what he said. 'I understand. You're a princess. Duty comes first.'
That is what he said. What he meant was:
'Hmmm, I wonder if Judith Gershner has broken up
with that guy from Trinity yet? Maybe she's available, since this loser
Mia sure isn't.'
I told him that I would try to get out of the ball early if I could. He said that if I did, I should stop by. The Moscovitzes' apartment, I mean.
I know what this means, of course:
That he is going to dump me there.
Because he can't dump me in my own limo, in front of my bodyguard and driver. I mean, for all Michael knows, Lars might
be trained to beat up boys who try to dump me in front of him. Surely Michael, having a normal sense of self-preservation,
will choose to break off our relationship in the privacy of his own home, where he will be safe from rubber bullets and ninja throwing stars.
I cannot blame him. I would do the same thing.
Now I know how Jane Eyre must have felt when she discovered, on her wedding day, that Mr Rochester had a wife yet
living. No, Michael doesn't have a wife that I know of. But my relationship with him, like Jane's with Mr Rochester, has
come to an end. And I can think of no earthly way it can ever be repaired. I mean, it's possible that tonight, when I go by
the Moscovitzes' place, it wall be in flames, and I will be able to prove myself worthy of Michael's love by selflessly saving
his mother, or perhaps his dog, Pavlov, from the fire.
But other than that, I don't see us getting back together. I will, of course, give him his birthday present, because I went to
all the trouble of stealing it.
But I know it won't do any good. It's over. Like my life.
They just announced the name of the newest member of the Albert Einstein High junior varsity cheerleading squad. It is Shameeka Taylor.
Who even cares?
Friday, January 22,
Algebra
Michael did not stop by here between classes. It is the first day all week that he hasn't slipped in to say hi on his way to
Senior English, three classrooms away from this one.
It is obvious why. I mean, we are broken up. He hates me now. I don't blame him. I hate myself.
To make matters worse — as if I can even care about something so trivial - Lana just turned around to hiss, 'Don't think
just because your little friend made the squad that anything is going to change between us, Mia. She's as much of a pathetic geekette as you are. They only let her on the squad to fulfil our freak quota.'
Then she whipped her head around again — but not as fast as she should have. Because a lot of her hair was still draped across my desk.
And when I slammed my Algebra I—II text closed as hard as I could - which is what I did next - a lot of her silky, awa-puhi-scented locks got trapped between page 212 and 213.
Lana shrieked in pain. Mr G, up at the chalkboard, turned around, saw where the screaming was coming from, and sighed.
'Mia,' he said, tiredly, 'Lana. What now?'
Lana stabbed an index finger in my direction. 'She slammed her book on my hair!'
I shrugged innocently. 'I didn't know her hair was in my book. Why can't she keep her hair to herself, anyway?'
Mr. Gianini looked bored. 'Lana,' he said, 'if you can't keep your hair under control, I recommend braids. Mia, don't
slam your book. It should be open to page two-twelve, where I want you to read from Section Two. Out loud.'
I read out loud from Section Two, but not without a certain primness. For once, vengeance on Lana had been mine, and
I had NOT been sent to the principal's office. Oh, it was sweet. Sweet, sweet vindication.
Although I don't even know why I have to learn this stuff; it isn't as if the Palais de Genovia isn't full of dweeby staffers
who are just dying to multiply fractions for me.
Polynomials
term: variable(s) multiplied by a coefficient
monomial: Polynomial w/ one term
binomial: Polynomial w/ two terms
trinomial: Polynomial w/ three terms
Degree of polynomial = the degree of the term with the highest degree
In my delight over the pain I had brought upon my enemy, I almost forgot about the fact that my heart is broken.
Must keep in mind that Michael is dumping me after the black-and-white ball tonight. Why can't I FOCUS????
Must be love. I am sick with it.
Fiday, January 22,
Health and Safety
Why do you look like you just ate ANOTHER sock?
I don't. How was your breakfast meeting? You do, too. The meeting went GREAT.
Really? Did they agree to print a full-page letter of apology in the Times?
No, better. Did something happen between you and my brother? Because I saw him looking all furtive in the hallway just now.
FURTIVE? Furtive like how? Like he was looking for Judith Gershner to ask her out tonight????
No, more like he was looking for a pay phone. Why would he ask out Judith Gershner? How many times
do I have to tell you, he likes you, not J.G.
He used to like me, you mean. Before I was forced to cancel our date tonight due to Grandmere forcing me to
go to a ball.
A ball? Really. Ugh. But excuse me. Michael isn't going to ask some other girl to go out with him tonight
just because you can't make it. I mean, he was really looking forward to going with you. Not just for concupiscent reasons, either.
REALLY????
Yes, you loser. What did you think? I mean, you guys are going out.
But that's just it We haven't gone out
yet I mean.
So? You'll go out sometime when you don't hove a ball to go to instead.
You don't think he's going to dump me?
Uh, not unless something heavy fell on his head between now and the last time I saw him. Guys with
cranial damage can't generally be held responsible for their actions.
Why would something heavy fall on his head? I'm being facetious. Do you want to hear about my meeting, or not?
Yes. What happened? They told me they want to option my show.
What does that mean?
It means that they will take Lilly Tells It Like It Is around to the networks to see if anybody wants to buy it.
To be a real show. On a real channel. Not like public access. Like ABC or Lifetime or VH1 or something.
Lilly! THAT IS SO GREAT!!!! Yes, I know. Oops, gotta go, Wheeton's looking this way.
Note to self: Look up words concupiscent and facetious.
Friday, January 22,
Gifted and Talented
Lunch was just one big celebration today. Everyone had something to be happy about:
• Shameeka, for making the cheerleading squad and striking a blow for tall geeky girls everywhere (even though, of course, Shameeka looks like a supermodel and can wrap both her ankles around her head, but, whatever).
• Lilly, for getting her TV show optioned.
• Tina, for finally deciding to give up on Dave, but not on romance in general, and get on with her life.
• Ling Su for getting her drawing of Joe, the stone lion, into the school art fair.
• And Boris for just, well, being Boris. Boris is always happy.
You will notice that I did not mention Michael. That is because I do not know what Michael's mental state at lunch was, whether or not he was happy or sad or concupiscent or whatever. That is because Michael didn't show up to lunch. He
said, when he breezed by my locker just before fourth period, 'Hey, I've got some things to do, I'll see you in G and T, OK?'
Some things to do. Like, for instance, find another girl to take to the movie tonight.
I should, of course, just ask him. I should just be like, Look, are we broken up, or what? Because I would really like to know, one way or the other, so I can begin planning either my wedding or my funeral.
