Give Me Five pd-5

by Meg Cabot

  Grandmere started to choke for some reason. 'Wh-what?' she demanded, hacking up half a lung, practically.

  I sat back in my seat, completely at a loss for words. It had never occurred to me before, but Grandmere's solution to the problem was totally perfect. Nothing would delight Michael more than an actual, paying gig for Skinner Box. And I would get to go to the prom . . . and not just with the man of my dreams, but with an actual member of the band. Is there anything cooler in the world than being at the prom with a member of the band playing at the prom? Um, no. No, there is not.

  'Grandmere,' I breathed. 'You're a genius!'

  Grandmere was slurping up the last of the ice in her Sidecar. 'I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about, Amelia,' she said.

  But I knew that, for the first time in her life, Grandmere was just being modest.

  Then I remembered that I was supposed to be angry with her, on account of Jangbu. So I went, 'But, Grandmere, be serious

  a minute. This thing with the busboys ... the strike. You've got to do something. It's all your fault, you know.'

  Grandmere eyed me over all the blue smoke coming out of the new cigarette she'd just lit.

  'Why, you ungrateful little chit,' she said. 'I solve all of your problems, and this is the thanks you show me?'

  'I'm serious, Grandmere,' I said. 'You've got to call Les Hautes Manger and tell them about Rommel. Tell them it was your

  fault that Jangbu tripped, and that they've got to hire him back. It isn't fair, otherwise. I mean, the poor guy lost his job!'

  'He'll find another,' Grandmere said dismissively.

  'Not without references,' I pointed out.

  'So he can go back to his native land,' Grandmere said. , 'I'm sure his parents miss him.' |

  'Grandmere, he's from Tibet, a country that has been under Chinese oppression for decades. He can't go back there.

  There are no jobs. He'll starve.'

  'I no longer care to discuss this,' Grandmere said loftily. 'Tell me the ten different courses traditionally served at a royal Genovian wedding.'

  'Grandmere!'

  'Tell me!'

  So I had no choice but to rattle off the ten different courses traditionally served at a Genovian wedding - olives, antipasto, pasta, fish, meat, salad, bread, cheese, fruit, dessert (note to self: when Michael and I get married, remember not to do it in Genovia, unless the palace'll do an all-vegetarian meal).

  I don't understand how someone who has embraced the dark side as fully as Grandmere can come up with brilliant stuff like getting Michael's band to play at the prom.

  But I guess even Darth Vader had his moments. I can't think of any right now, but I'm sure he had some.

  Monday, May 5, 9 p.m., the Loft

  Bad news:

  I spent the whole evening pouring over back issues of The Atom, trying to figure out who was head of the Prom Committee,

  so I could email him/her with my request that Skinner Box be approached as a possible live entertainment alternative to the

  DJ I know they've got lined up. So you can only imagine my surprise and disappointment when I finally stumbled across the article I was looking for, and saw the horrifying answer right there in black and white:

  Lana Weinberger.

  LANA WEINBERGER is head of this year's Prom Committee.

  Well, that's it. I'm dead. There is NO WAY I'm going to get to go to the prom now. I mean, Lana would sooner go off her Atkins diet than hire my boyfriend's band. I mean, Lana hates my guts, and always has.

  And I can't say the feeling isn't mutual.

  What am I going to do NOW? I CAN'T miss the prom. I just CAN'T!!!!!!!!!

  But I guess I don't have the biggest problems in the world. I mean, there are people with worse ones. Like Boris, for instance.

  I got this email from him just now:

  JoshBell2

  Mia, I just wanted to say thanks for what you did for me today. I don't know why I behaved so stupidly. I guess I was just overcome with emotion. I love her so much! But it is clear to me now that we are not destined for one another, as I so long thought (erroneously, I realize at last). No, Lilly is like a wild mustang, born to run free. I see now that no man — least of all someone like me — can ever hope to tame her.

  Treasure what you have with Michael, Mia. It is a rare and beautiful thing, to love, and be loved in return.

  Boris Pelkowski

  PS My mother says she will get your sweater dry-cleaned so I can give it back to you at the end of this week. She says Star Cleaners think they can get the blood out without any permanent staining. B. P.

  Poor Boris! Imagine thinking of Lilly as a wild mustang. Wild mushroom, maybe. But a mustang? I don't think so.

  I figured I'd better check on how she was doing, since last time I'd seen her, Lilly'd been looking kind of green around the gills. I sent her a totally non-accusatory, completely friendly email, inquiring into her mental health after her ordeal earlier in the day.

  You can imagine my outrage when this is what I got for my efforts:

  WomynRule: Hey, P.O.G!

  (Pog is the nickname Lilly decided to give me a few weeks ago. It stands for Princess of Genovia. I have asked her repeatedly not to use it but she persists, probably because I made the mistake of letting her know it bugs me.)

  Whazzup? Missed you at tonight's SATWDOJPA press conference. Looks like we may actually get the hotel workers' union behind our cause. If we can get hotels 2 strike as well as the restaurant workers,

  We'll bring the city 2 its knees! Finally, people will start realizing that service industry personnel are not to be messed with! The common man deserves to be paid a

  living wage!

  Wasn't that wild about Boris this afternoon? I have to say, it gave me quite a scare. I had no idea he was such a psycho. Then again, he IS a musician. I should have known. That was pretty cool the way you and Michael handled the situation, tho. You two were just like Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chappell. Though you'd probably prefer it if I said you were like Dr. Kovach and Nurse Abby. Which I guess you kind of were. Well, gtg. My mom wants me to put the dishes away.

  Lil

  PS Jangbu did the sweetest thing after the press conference tonight: he bought me a silk rose from a booth on Canal Street. Soooo romantic. Boris never did stuff like that. L

  I have to admit: I was shocked. Shocked by Lilly's cavalier dismissal of poor Boris's pain. Shocked by her whazzup and her reference to the original Star Trek, which if I'd used Lilly would have rebuked me for being passe, the original Star Trek hardly being on the cutting edge of pop culture. And REALLY shocked at her implication that all musicians are psychos. I mean, hello! Her brother Michael, MY BOYFRIEND, is a musician! And yes, we certainly have our problems, but not because he is in any way a psycho. In fact, if anything, my problems with Michael have to do with the fact that he, as a Capricorn, has his

  feet planted TOO firmly on the ground, whereas I, a free-wheeling Taurus, want to bring a little more fun into our relationship.

  I wrote back to her right away. I will admit I was so angry, my hands were shaking as I typed.

  FtLouie

  Lilly, it might interest you to know that Boris had to get two stitches AND a tetanus

  shot because of what happened in G and T today. Furthermore, he might even have concussion. Perhaps you could tear yourself away from your tireless work on behalf of Jangbu, a guy YOU ONLY MET THREE DAYS AGO, and spare a little sympathy for your ex, whom you dated for EIGHT WHOLE MONTHS.

  H

  Lilly's response was almost instantaneous.

  WomynRule

  Excuse me, P.O.G., but I can't say I really appreciate your condescending tone. Kindly don't pull your Royal Highness act on me. I'm sorry if you don't happen to like Jangbu

  or the work I am doing to help him and people like him. However, that does not mean I

  need to be held hostage to my old relationship by the juvenile theatrics of a self-delusional narcissist lik
e Boris. I did not make him pick up that globe and drop

  it on his head. He made that choice all on his own. I would think you, as a faithful viewer of the Lifetime Movie Channel for Women, would recognize manipulative behaviour like Boris's as classic stalker stuff.

  But then, maybe if you stopped watching so many movies, and actually tried living life

  for a change, you might recognize this. You also might be writing something a little

  bit more challenging for the school paper than the cafeteria beat.

  I could tell she was feeling guilty over what she'd done to Boris by how thoroughly she attacked him. That I could ignore.

  But her attack on my writing could not go unnoticed. I immediately fired back with:

  FtLouie

  Yeah, well, I may watch a lot of movies, but at least I don't go around with my face glued to a camera lens, the way you do. I prefer to WATCH movies not invent drama FOR the movies. Furthermore, I will have you know that Lesley Cho asked me to cover a hard news story for the paper just the other day.

  This is what I just got in reply.

  WomynRule

  Yeah, a story I made possible. You are so weak. Go back to pining over the fact that

  you have to spend your summer in a palace in Genovia (wah-wah-wah) and that my brother doesn't want to go to the prom with you, and leave the REAL problem-solving to people

  like me, who are better equipped intellectually to handle it.

  Well, that's the last straw. Lilly Moscovitz is no longer my best friend. I have taken all the abuse I can stand. I am thinking about writing back to her to tell her that.

  But maybe that would be too childish, and not INTELLECTUAL enough.

  Maybe I'll just ask Tina if she'll be my best friend from now on.

  But no, that would be too childish, too. I mean, it's not like we're in third grade any more. We're practically women, like my mom said. Women like my mom don't go around declaring who is their best friend and who isn't. They just sort of ... know. Without saying anything about it. I don't know how, but they do. Maybe it is an oestrogen thing, or something.

  Oh, my God, I have such a headache.

  Monday, May 5, 11 p.m.

  I almost burst into tears just now when I checked my email one last time before bed. That's because this is what I found there:

  LinuxRulz

  Mia, are you sure you aren't mad at me about something? Because you hardly said three words to me all day. Except during the whole Boris thing. Did I do something wrong?

  Then another one, a second later:

  LinuxRulz

  Nevermind that last email. It was stupid. I know if I'd done something to upset you,

  you'd have told me. Because that's the kind of girl you are. That's one of the reasons we're so good together. Because we can tell each other anything.

  Then:

  LinuxRulz

  It's not that thing from your party, is it? You know, where I wouldn't beat up Jangbu for making out with my sister? Because getting involved in my sister's love life is never a good idea, as you might have noticed.

  Then:

  LinuxRulz

  Well, whatever. Goodnight. And I love you.

  Oh, Michael! My sweet protector!

  WHY WON'T YOU TAKE ME TO YOUR PROM ???????????????????????

  Tuesday, May 6, 3 am.

  I still can't believe the nerve of her. I have learned A LOT about writing from watching movies. For instance:

  Valuable tips I, Mia Thermopolis, learned about writing from the movies:

  Aspen Extreme

  T J. Burke moves to Aspen to become a ski instructor, but really he just wants to write. When he is done penning his

  touching tribute to his dead friend, Dex, he puts it in an envelope and sends it to Powder magazine. A hot-air balloon and

  two swans fly by. Then you see a mail carrier put a copy of Powder magazine in TJ.'s mailbox. On the cover is a blurb

  about TJ.'s story! It's that easy to get published!

  The Wonderboys

  Always keep a back-up disk.

  Little Women

  Ditto.

  Moulin Rouge

  When writing a play, do not fall in love with your leading lady. Especially if she has consumption. Also, don't drink anything green offered to you by a midget.

  The Bell Jar

  Don't let your mother read your book until after it's published (when there's nothing she can do about it).

  Adaptation

  Never trust a twin.

  Isn't She Great, The Jacqueline Suzann Story

  Publishers don't actually mind if you turn in a manuscript written on pink stationery. Also, sex sells.

  How DARE Lilly suggest I've wasted my time watching TV?

  And if I happen to choose a career in the medical profession, I am still golden, because I have seen practically every

  episode of ER ever made.

  Not to mention M*A*S*H.

  Tuesday, May 6, Gifted and Talented

  Horrible day so far, in every way:

  1. Mr. G gave us a pop quiz in Algebra, which I flunked because I was too worked up over the whole Boris/ Lilly/prom thing last night to study. You would think my own stepfather would be kind enough to drop me a hint or two when he's going to

  give a pop quiz. But apparently this would violate some teacher code of ethics.

  As if. What about the stepfather code of ethics? Anyone ever thought about THAT?

  2. Shameeka and I got caught passing notes again. Have to write a thousand-word essay on effects of global warming on ecosystems of South America.

  3. I had no one to be my partner on the disease projects we are doing in Health and Safety because Lilly and I aren't speaking. She is doing the full-on avoidance thing. She even took the subway to school today instead of riding with Michael and me in the limo. Not that I mind. Plus when we drew diseases, I got Asperger's syndrome. Why couldn't I have got a cool disease, like Ebola fever? It is so unfair, especially as I am now considering a career in the health field.

  At lunch I accidentally ate some sausage that was mistakenly baked into my supposedly cheese-only Individual Pizza. Also, Boris spent the whole period writing the word Lilly over and over again on his violin case. Lilly didn't even show at lunch. Hopefully she and Jangbu hopped a plane back to Tibet and won't be bothering any of us any more. Michael says he doesn't think so, though. He says he thinks she had another press conference.

  5. Michael did not change his mind about the prom. Not that I brought it up, or anything. Just that I happened to be walking with him past the table where Lana and the rest of the Prom Committee are selling tickets, and Michael went, "Sucka," under his breath when he saw the guy who hates it when they put corn in the chilli buying prom tickets for himself and his girlfriend.

  Even the guy who hates it when they put corn in the chilli is going to the prom. Everyone in the whole world is going to the prom. Except for me.

  Lilly still isn't back from wherever it is she went off to before lunch. Which is probably just as well. I don't think Boris could take it if she walked in here right now. He found some correcting fluid in the supply closet, and he is using it to make little curlicues around Lilly's name on his violin case. I want to shake him and go, 'Snap out of it! She's not worth it!'

  But I'm afraid it might loosen his stitches.

  Plus Mrs. Hill, clearly due to yesterday's events, is fully sitting at her desk, flipping through Garnet Hill catalogues and keeping an eagle eye on us. I bet she got in trouble over the whole violin-virtuoso-globe-dropping thing. Principal Gupta is really very strict about bloodshed on school grounds.

  Since I have nothing better to do, I am going to compose a poem that expresses my true feelings about everything that is going on. I intend to call Spring Fever. If it is good enough, I am going to submit it to The Atom. Anonymously, of course. If Lesley knew I wrote it, she'd never print it, since, as a cub reporter, I have not Paid My Dues.