by Meg Cabot
6. Get it published before I turn 20.
7. Be more understanding of Mom and what she is going through now that she is in the last trimester of her pregnancy.
8. Stop using Mr. G's face-razor on my legs. Buy my own razors.
9. Try to be more sympathetic to Dad's abandonment issues while also getting out of having to spend July and August in Genovia.
10. Figure out way to get Michael Moscovitz to take me to the prom without stooping to trickery and/or grovelling.
Once I've done all this, I should become fully self-actualized and ready to experience some well-deserved joy. And really, everything on that list is fairly doable. I mean, yes, it took Margaret Mitchell ten years to write Gone With the Wind, but I am only fifteen, so even if it takes me ten years to finish my own novel, I will still only be twenty-five by the time I get it published, which is only five years behind schedule.
The only problem is I don't really know what I'm going to write a novel about. But I'm sure I'll think of something soon.
Maybe I should start practising with some short stories or haikus or something.
The prom thing, though. THAT is going to be hard. Because I truly do not want Michael to feel pressured about this. But I
have GOT TO GO TO THE PROM!!! IT IS MY LAST CHANCE!!!!!!!
I hope Tina is right, and that Michael intends to ask me tonight at dinner.
OH PLEASE GOD LET TINA BE RIGHT!!!!!!!!!
Thursday, May I MY BIRTHDAY, Algebra
Josh asked Lana to the prom.
He asked her last night, after the varsity lacrosse game. The Lions won. According to Shameeka, who hung around after the junior varsity game, at which she'd cheered, Josh scored the winning goal. Then, as all the Albert Einstein fans poured out on
to the field, Josh whipped off his shirt and swung it around in the air a few times, a la Mia Hamm, only of course Josh wasn't wearing a sports bra underneath. Shameeka says she was astounded by the lack of hair on Josh's chest. She said he was in
no way Hugh Jackman-like in the goody trail department.
This, like the trouble my mother is currently having with her bladder, is really more than I want to know.
Anyway, Lana was on the sidelines, in her little sleeveless blue-and-gold AEHS cheerleading micro-mini. When Josh whipped his shirt off, she went running out on to the field, whooping. Then she leaped into his arms - which, considering that he was probably all sweaty, was a pretty risky endeavour, if you ask me - and they Frenched until Principal Gupta came over and whacked Josh on the back of the head with her clipboard. Then Shameeka says that Josh put Lana down and said, 'Go to
the prom with me, babe?' And Lana said yes, and then ran squealing over to all her fellow cheerleaders to tell them.
And I know that one of my resolutions now that I am fifteen is that I am going to be nicer to people, including Lana, but really,
I am having a hard time right now keeping myself from stabbing my pencil into the back of her head. Well, not really, because
I don't believe violence ever solves anything. Well, except for when it comes to getting rid of Nazis and terrorists and all. But really, Lana is practically GLOATING. Before class started, she was fully on her mobile, telling everyone. Her mother is
taking her to the Nicole Miller store in SoHo on Saturday to buy her a dress.
A black, off-one-shoulder dress, with a butterfly hem and a slit up one side. She's getting high heels that lace up the ankles,
too, at Saks.
No doubt body glitter as well.
And I know I have a lot to feel grateful for. I mean, I have:
1. A super, loving boyfriend who, when the royal limo pulled over to pick him and Lilly up on the way to school today, presented me with a box of cinnamon mini-muffins, my favourites, from the Manhattan Muffin Company, which he'd gone
all the way down to Tribeca really early in the morning to get me, in honour of my birthday.
2. An excellent best friend, who gave me a bright-pink cat collar for Fat Louie with the words I Belong to Princess Mia written on it in rhinestones that she'd hot-glue gunned on herself while watching old Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns.
3. A great mom who, even if she does talk a little too much lately about her bodily functions, nevertheless dragged herself
out of bed this morning to wish me a happy birthday.
4. A great stepdad who swore he wouldn't say anything in class about my birthday and embarrass me in front of everyone.
5. A dad who will probably give me something good for my birthday when I see him at dinner tonight, and a grandmother
who, if she won't actually give me something I like, will at least WANT me to like it, whatever heinous thing it ends up being.
I seriously don't mean to be ungrateful for all of that, because it is so much more than so many people have. I mean, like kids
in Appalachia - they are happy if they get socks for their birthday, or whatever, since their parents spend all their money on hooch.
But HELLO. IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK THAT I GET THE ONE THING FOR MY BIRTHDAY THAT I HAVE ALWAYS WANTED - and that is ONE PERFECT NIGHT AT THE PROM??????????????? I mean, Lana Weinberger
is getting that, and she is not even striving to become self-actualized. She probably doesn't even know what self-actualization means. She has never been kind to anyone in her whole entire life. So why does SHE get to go to the prom?
I am telling you, there is no justice in the world.
NONE.
Expressions with radicals can be multiplied or divided as long as the root power or value under the radical is the same.
Thursday, May 1, MY BIRTHDAY, Gifted and Talented
Today, in honour of my birthday, Michael ate lunch at my table, instead of with the Computer Club, even though it's a Thursday. It was actually quite romantic, because it turns out that not only had he paid that little visit to the Manhattan Muffin Company this morning, but he also ditched fourth period and snuck out to Wu Liang Ye to get me the cold sesame noodles
I like so much and can't get downtown, the ones that are so spicy you need to drink TWO cans of Coke before your tongue feels normal again after you eat them.
Which was totally sweet of him, and was actually even a bit of a relief, because I have been quite worried about what Michael is going to give me as a birthday present, because I know he must feel like he has a lot to live up to, seeing as how I got him moon rocks for his birthday.
I hope he realizes that, being a princess and all, I have access to moon rocks, but that I truly do not expect people to give me gifts that are of moon rock quality. I mean, I hope Michael knows that I would be happy with a simple, 'Mia, will you go to the prom with me?' And, of course, a Tiffany's charm bracelet with a charm that says Property of Michael Moscovitz on it that I could wear everywhere I go and so the next time some European prince asks me to dance at a ball I can hold up the bracelet and be all, 'Sorry, can't you read? I belong to Michael Moscovitz.'
Except Tina says even though it would be totally great if Michael got this for me, she doesn't think he will, because giving a
girl - even his girlfriend - a chain that says Property of Michael Moscovitz seems a little presumptuous and not something Michael would do. I showed Tina the collar Lilly had given me for Fat Louie, but Tina says that isn't the same thing.
Is it wrong of me to want to be my boyfriend's property? I mean, it's not like I'm willing to usurp my own identity or take his name or anything if we got married (being a princess, even if I wanted to, I couldn't, unless I abdicated). In fact, chances are, the guy I marry is going to have to take MY name.
I just, you know, wouldn't mind a LITTLE possessiveness.
Uh-oh, something is going on. Michael just got up and went to the door to make sure Mrs. Hill was firmly ensconced in the Teachers' Lounge, and Boris just came out of the supply closet, but the bell hasn't rung yet. What's up with that?
Thursday, May 1, still MY BIRTHDAY, French
I guess I needn't have worried about what Michael was going to get me for my birthday, because just now his band showed
up - yes, his band, Skinner Box, right here in the G and T room. Well, Boris was already here because he is supposed to practise his violin during G and T, but the other band members - Felix, the drummer with the goatee, tall Paul the keyboardist and Trevor the guitar-player - all cut class to set up in the G and T classroom and play me a song Michael wrote just for me.
It went:
Combat boots and veggie burgers
Just one glance gives me the shivers
There she goes Princess of my heart
Hates social injustice and nicotine
She's no ordinary beauty queen
There she goes Princess of my heart
Chorus: Princess of my heart
Oh I don't know where to start
Say I'll be your prince
Till this lifetime ends.
Princess of my heart
I loved you from the start
Say you love me too
Over my heart you so rule.
Promise you won't execute me
with those gorgeous smiles you shoot me
There she goes Princess of my heart
You don't even have to knight me
Every time you laugh you smite me
There she goes Princess of my heart
Chorus: Princess of my heart
Oh I don't know where to start
Say I'll be your prince
Till this lifetime ends.
Princess of my heart
I loved you from the start
Say you love me too
and then together we will rule.
And this time there was no question the song was about me, like there was that time Michael played me that 'Tall Drink of Water' song he wrote!
Anyway, the whole school heard Michael's song about me because Skinner Box had their amps turned up so loud. Mrs Hill and everybody else who was in the Teachers' Lounge came out of it, waited politely for Skinner Box to finish the song, then gave the whole band detention.
And, OK, on Mademoiselle Klein's birthday, Mr. Wheeton had a dozen red roses delivered to her in the middle of fifth
period. But he didn't write a song just for her and play it for the whole school to hear.
And yeah, Lana may be going to the prom, but her boyfriend - not to mention his friends - never got detention for her.
So really, except for the whole having-to-spend-July-and-August-in-Genovia thing - oh, and the prom thing - fifteen is
looking pretty good so far.
Homework
Algebra: You would think my own stepfather would be nice and not give me homework on MY BIRTHDAY, but no
English: The Iceman Cometh
Biology: Ice-worm
Health and Safety: Check with Lilly
Gifted and Talented: As if
French: Check with Tina
World Civ.: God knows
Thursday, May 1, still MY BIRTHDAY, the ladies room at les Hautes Manger
OK, this is so my best birthday ever.
I am serious. I mean, even my mom and dad are getting along with each other - or trying to, anyway. It is so sweet. I am so proud of them. You can totally tell my mom's maternity tights are driving her crazy, but she isn't complaining about them a bit, and Dad totally hasn't said anything about the anarchy symbols she's wearing as earrings. And Mr. Gianini put Grandmere right off her lecture about his goatee (Grandmere cannot abide facial hair on a man) by telling her that she looks younger and younger every time he sees her. Which you could tell pleased Grandmere no end, since she was smiling all through the appetizers (she can move her lips again now that the inflammation from her chemical peel has finally died down).
I was a little worried that Mr. G's observation would cause my mom to go off on the beauty industry and how they are ageist and are constantly trying to propagate the myth that you can't be attractive unless you have the dewy skin of someone my age (which doesn't even make sense since most people my age have zits unless they can afford a fancy dermatologist like the one Grandmere sends me to, who gives me all these prescription unguents so that I can avoid unprincesslike breakouts), but she totally refrained in my honour.
And when Michael showed up late on account of having been in detention, Grandmere didn't say anything mean about it,
which was such a relief, because Michael looked kind of flushed, as if he'd run the whole way from his apartment after he'd gone home to change. I guess even Grandmere could tell he'd really tried to be on time.
And even someone who is totally immune to normal human emotion like Grandmere would have to admit that my boyfriend was the handsomest guy in the whole restaurant. Michael's dark hair was sort of flopping over one eye, and he looked SO
cute in his non-school-uniform jacket and tie, which is part of the mandatory dress code at Les Hautes Manger (I warned
him ahead of time).
Anyway, Michael's showing up was kind of the signal I guess for everyone to start handing me the presents they'd got me.
And what presents! I am telling you, I cleaned up. Being fifteen RULES!
DAD
OK, so Dad got me a very fancy and expensive-feeling pen - to use, he said, to further my writing career (I am using it to
write this very journal entry). Of course I would have rather had a season pass to Six Flags Great Adventure theme park for the summer (and permission to stay in this country to use it) but the pen is very nice, all purple and gold, and has HRH
Princess Amelia Renaldo engraved on it.
MOM and MR G
A mobile phone!!!!!!!!!!! Yes!!!!!!!!! Of my very own!!!!!!!!!
Sadly the mobile phone was accompanied by a lecture from Mom and Mr G about how they'd only bought it for me so that they can reach me when my mom goes into labour, since she wants me to be in the room (this is so not going to happen due
to my excessive dislike of seeing anything spurt out of anything else, but you don't argue with a woman who has to pee twenty-four hours a day) while my baby brother or sister is born, and how I'm not to use the phone during school and how
it is a domestic-use-only calling policy, nothing transatlantic, so when I am in Genovia don't think I can call Michael on it.
But I didn't pay any attention, because YAY! I actually got something on my list!!!!!
GRANDMERE
OK, this is very weird because Grandmere actually gave me something else from my list. Only it wasn't bungee cords, a cat brush or new overalls. It was a letter declaring me the official sponsor of a real live African orphan named Johanna!!!!!!! Grandmere said, 'I can't help you end world hunger, but I suppose I can help you send one little girl to bed every night with
a good dinner.'
I was so surprised, I nearly blurted out, 'But, Grandmere! You hate poor people!' because it's true, she totally does. Whenever she sees those runaway teen punk rockers who sit outside Lincoln Center in their leather jackets and Doc Martens, with those signs that say Homeless and Hungry, she always snaps at them, 'If you'd stop spending all your money on tattoos and naval rings, you'd be able to afford a nice sublet in NoLita!
But I guess Johanna is a different story, seeing as how she doesn't have parents back in Westchester who are sick with worry about her.
I don't know what is going on with Grandmere. I fully expected her to give me a mink stole or something equally revolting for my birthday. But getting me something I actually wanted . . . helping me to sponsor a starving orphan . . . that is almost thoughtful of her. I must say, I am still in a bit of shock over the whole thing.
I think my mom and dad feel the same way. My dad ordered up a Martini after he saw what Grandmere had given me, and
my mom just sat there in total silence for like the first time since she got pregnant. I am not kidding, either.
Then Lars gave me his gift, even though it is not correct Genovian protocol to receive gifts from one's bodyguard (
because
