Third Time Lucky pd-3

by Meg Cabot

  Then my dad got all offended. It was like he couldn't figure out which to be, worried about my liking a senior, or angry that

  the senior didn't like me back.

  'What do you mean, he'd never want someone like you?' my father demanded. 'What's wrong with you?'

  'Duh, Dad,' I said. 'I practically flunked Algebra, remember? Michael is going to an Ivy League school in the fall, for crying

  out loud. What would he want with a girl like me?'

  Now my dad was really annoyed. 'You may take after your mother as far as your aptitude with numbers is concerned, but

  you take after me in every other respect.'

  This was surprising to hear. I stuck out my chin and tried to believe it. 'Yeah,' I said.

  'And you and I, Mia, are not unintelligent,' my dad went on. 'If you want this Michael fellow, you must let him know it.' My

  dad looked at all the lights stretched out before us before going on in a different voice, 'Do not make the mistake I have in the past, Mia, of keeping your feelings to yourself, out of shyness ... or worse, pride.'

  I looked up at my dad kind of sharply at that. Because something in his voice ... I don't know. He just sounded so ... sad.

  Was he, I couldn't help wondering, talking about Mom? Like he wished that, before she'd married Mr. Gianini, he had said something to her about how he felt about her? I mean about how he really felt about her - not about her leaving the electricity bills in the salad spinner, but about how he really felt, deep down?

  I think maybe so. Especially when he looked down at me - my dad's not super tall, you know, for a guy, but he's taller than

  me, anyway - and went, with his eyelids kind of crinkling up at the corners, 'Faint heart never won fair lady, you know, Mia.'

  I didn't know what to say to that. I mean, how is a person supposed to reply to something like that?

  Not that it ever would have worked out between them, whatever Dad might think. I mean, Mom would so never have fitted in back at the palace, given her enthusiasm for World's Scariest Police Car Chases (which I'm sure they don't have in Genovia) and her love of jalapeno nachos (ditto). She would have grown resentful and then made my dad's life a never-ending misery.

  At least this way, he still gets to date Victoria's Secret underwear models.

  So instead of saying anything like, 'Gee, Dad, sorry it didn't work out between you and Mom,' which would, of course, have been a lie, I just went, 'You think I should just go up to Michael and be like, "Hey, I like you?"

  My dad shook his head in disgust. 'No, no, no,' he said. 'Of course you must be more subtle than that. Tell him by showing how you feel.'

  'Oh,' I said. I may take after my father in every respect except my madis aptitude, but I had no idea what he was talking about. I kept seeing this picture in my head of me showing Michael how I felt about him by thrusting my tongue into his mouth in the hallway at school when I passed him between English and lunch - a kind of painful prospect, under the circumstances.

  'We'd better get back in,' my father said. 'Or your grandmother will suspect us of plotting against her.'

  So what else is new? Grandmere is always suspecting somebody of plotting against her. She thinks the launderers at the Plaza are plotting against her. She blames the soap they use on their linens for making all of Rommel's fur fall out.

  Reminded of plots, I asked my dad, 'Do you think Sebastiano's plotting to kill me so he can ascend the throne himself?'

  My dad made a strangled noise, but he managed not to burst out laughing. I guess that wouldn't have seemed very princely.

  'No, Mia,' he said. 'I do not.'

  But my dad, he really doesn't have much of an imagination. I have decided to stay on the alert about Sebastiano, just in case.

  My mom just poked her head into my room to say that Kenny is on the phone for me.

  I suppose he wants to ask me to the Non-Denominational Winter Dance. Really, it is about time.

  Sunday; December 6, 11 p.m.

  OK. I am in shock. Kenny so did NOT ask me to the Non-Denominational Winter Dance. Instead, this is how our conversation went:

  Me: Hello?

  Kenny: Hi, Mia. It's Kenny.

  Me: Oh, hi, Kenny. What's the matter?

  Kenny sounded funny, which is why I asked.

  Kenny: Well, I just wanted to see if you were OK. I mean, if your tongue was OK.

  Me: It's a little better, I guess.

  Kenny: Because I was really worried. You know. I really, really didn't mean to pull you down like that.

  Me: Kenny, I know. It was just an accident.

  This is when I started realizing I'd asked my dad the wrong question. I should have asked him what's the best way to break up with somebody, not what's the best way to let someone know you like them.

  Anyway, to get back to what Kenny said:

  Kenny: Well, I just wanted to call and wish you a good night. And say that I hope you feel better. And also to let you know . . well, Mia, that I love you.

  Me: -------------

  I didn't say anything right away, because I was completely FREAKED OUT!!!!

  It wasn't exactly as if it happened out of the blue, because we are sort of going out, after all.

  But still, what kind of guy calls a girl on the phone and says I love you??? Except for weird psycho stalkers? And Kenny's

  not a weird psycho stalker. He's just Kenny. So what's he doing calling me on the phone and telling me he loves me????

  And then, brilliant me, here's what I do. Because he was still on the phone, waiting for an answer and all. So I go:

  Me: Um, OK.

  Um, OK.

  A boy says he loves me and this is how I respond: Um, OK. Oh, yeah, good thing my future career lies in the diplomatic

  corps.

  So then, poor Kenny, he's like waiting for some response other than Um, OK, as anybody would.

  But 1 am perfectiy incapable of giving him one. Instead, I just go:

  Me: Well, see you tomorrow.

  AND I HUNG UP!!!!!

  Oh my God, I am the meanest, most ungrateful girl in the world. After Sebastiano kills me, I am going to burn in hell.

  Seriously.

  To Do Before Leaving for Genovia

  1. Detailed list for Mom and Mr. G: how to care for Fat Louie while I am away.

  2. Stock up on cat food, litter.

  3. Christmas/Hanukkah presents! For:

  Mom — electric breast pump? Check this.

  Mr. G new drum sticks.

  Dad - book on vegetarianism. He should eat better if he wants to keep his cancer in remission.

  Lilly - what she always wants, blank videotapes for her show.

  Lars - see if Prada makes a shoulder holster that would fit his Glock.

  Kenny - gloves? Something NON-romantic.

  Fat Louie - catnip ball.

  Grandmere — what do you get for the woman who has everything, including an eighty-nine carat sapphire pendant given to

  her by the Sultan of Brunei? Soap or a rope?

  4. Break up with Kenny . . . only how can I? He LOVES me.

  Only not enough to ask me to the Non-Denominational Winter Dance, I've noticed.

  Monday, December 7, Homeroom

  Lilly doesn't believe me about Kenny calling and saying he loves me. I told her in the car on the way to school this morning (thank God Michael had a dentist appointment and wasn't there. I would sooner die than discuss my love life in front of him.

  It's bad enough having to discuss it in front of my bodyguard. If I had to discuss it in front of this person I've been worshipping for half my life, I think I'd probably go completely borderline personality disorder)

  Anyway, so Lilly went, 'I categorically refuse to believe Kenny would do something like that.'

  'Lilly,' I said. I had to keep my voice down so the driver wouldn't hear, up in the front seat. 'I am dead serious. He told me he loves me. I love you. That is what he said. It was completely random and weird.'<
br />
  'He probably didn't say that. He probably said something else and you misunderstood him.'

  'Oh, what? I glove you?'

  'Well, of course not,' Lilly said. 'That doesn't even make any sense.'

  'Well, then what? What could Kenny have said that sounded like I love you, but wasn't I love you?'

  Lilly got mad then. She went, 'You know, you have been acting weird about Kenny for the past month. Since the two of you started going out, practically. I don't know what's wrong with you. All I ever heard before was "Why don't I have a boyfriend? How come everybody I know has a boyfriend but me? When am I going to get a boyfriend?" but now you've got one, you aren't the least bit appreciative of him.'

  Even though what she was saying was true, I acted offended because I have been trying really hard not to let the fact that I

  am not in love with Kenny show.

  'That is so false,' I said. 'I completely appreciate Kenny.'

  'Oh, yeah? I think the truth of the matter is, you, Mia, simply aren't ready to have a boyfriend.'

  Boy did I see red after that remark.

  'Me? Not ready to have a boyfriend? Are you kidding? I've been waiting my whole life to have a boyfriend!'

  'Well, if that's true' — Lilly was looking very superior — 'why won't you let him kiss you on the lips?'

  'Where did you hear that?' I demanded.

  'Kenny told Boris, of course, who told me.'

  'Oh, great,' I said, trying to remain calm. 'So now our boyfriends are talking about us behind our backs. And you're

  condoning this?'

  'Of course not,' Lilly said. 'But I do find it intriguing, from a psychological point of view.'

  This is the problem with being best friends with someone whose parents, are psychiatrists. Everything you do is interesting to them from a psychological point of view.

  'Where I let anybody kiss me,' I exploded, 'is my business! Not yours, and not Boris's, either.'

  'Well,' Lilly said. 'I'm just saying, if Kenny did say what you say he said - you know, the L word - then maybe he said it because he can't express the depths of his feelings any other way. You know. Other than verbally. Since you won't let him, physically.'

  So I suppose that, technically, I should be thankful that Kenny chose merely to say the words 'I love you', rather than enacting them physically, which, God knows, might have actually have involved his tongue.

  Oh, God, I don't even want to think about it any more.

  Monday, December 7, Still Homeroom

  They just passed out the Final Exam schedules. Here is mine:

  FINAL EXAM SCHEDULE

  December 14 - Reading Day

  December 15 — Periods One and Two

  For me, that means the Algebra and English finals will be on the same day. But that's OK. I'm doing pretty good in English. Well, except for that sentence diagramming thing. As if I'll ever need to do that in my future role as princess of the smallest nation in Europe.

  Algebra, unfortunately, I am told I will probably need to know. DAMN!

  December 16 - Periods Three and Four

  World Civic. easy. I mean, Grandmere has told me enough stories about post-World War Two Europe for me to pass any test. I probably know more about it than the teacher. And PE? How can you give a Final in PE? We already had the Presidential Fitness Test (I passed everything but chin-ups).

  December 17 - Periods Five, Six, and Seven

  Gifted and Talented? No exam there. They don't give finals in classes that are basically study hall. That will be a snap. I have French seventh period. I do OK in oral, not so great in written. Fortunately Tina's in the same class. Maybe we can study together.

  But I have Bio. sixth period. That won't be so easy. The only reason I'm not flunking Bio. is because of Kenny. He slips me most of the answers.

  And if I break up with him, that will be the end of that.

  December 18 - Non-Denominational Winter Carnival and Dance

  The Winter Carnival should be fun. All the different school clubs and stuff are going to have booths, with traditional winter

  fare, like hot cider. This will be followed in the evening by the dance I am supposed to go to with Kenny. If he ever asks me

  to it, I mean.

  Unless, of course, I do the right thing and break up with him.

  In which case, I won't be able to go at all, because you can't go without a date.

  I wish Sebastiano would just hurry up and kill me already.

  Monday, December 7, Algebra

  WHY???? WHY can't I ever remember my Algebra notebook?????

  FIRST - Evaluate exponents

  SECOND - Multiply and divide in order left to right

  THIRD - Perform addition and subtraction in order left to right

  EXAMPLE: 2x3-15/5=6-3=3

  Oh, God. Lana Weinberger just tossed me a note.

  What now? This can't be good. Lana's had it in for me for ever. Don't ask me why. I mean, I could kind of understand her resenting me for when Josh Richter asked me to the Cultural Diversity Dance instead of her. But he only asked me because

  of the princess thing - and they got back together right after. Besides, Lana hated me long before that.

  When I open the note, guess what it says:

  I heard what happened to you at the skating rink this weekend. Guess the BF is going to have to wait a little longer

  if he wants to see any tongue action, huh?

  Oh my God. Does everyone in the entire school know that Kenny and I have not yet French kissed?

  It is all Kenny's fault, of course.

  What next? The cover of the Post?

  I'm telling you, if our parents knew what actually goes on every day in the typical American high school, they would totally opt for home-schooling.

  Monday, December 7, World Civ.

  It is clear what I have to do.

  I've always known it, of course, and if it hadn't been for, you know, the dance, I would have done it long before now.

  But it is clear now that I cannot afford to wait until after the dance. I should have done it last night when he called, but you

  can't really do something like that over the phone. Well, I mean, a girl like Lana Weinberger probably could, but not me.

  No, I don't think I can put it off another day: I have got to break up with Kenny. I simply cannot continue living this lie.

  Fortunately, I do have the support of at least one person in this plan: Tina Hakim Baba.

  I didn't want to tell her. I didn't plan on telling anybody. But it all sort of slipped out today in the Girls' Room between third

  and fourth periods while Tina was putting on her eye make-up. Her dad won't let her wear make-up, you see, so Tina has to wait until she gets to school to put it on. She has a deal with her bodyguard, Wahim (Tina has a bodyguard too, just like me, but not because she's a princess, it's because her dad is a rich oil sheik and he is paranoid someone is going to kidnap her and hold her for ransom). The deal is that Tina won't tell her parents how much Wahim flirts with Mademoiselle Klein, our French teacher, if Wahim doesn't tell Mr. and Mrs. Hakim Baba about Tina's Maybelline addiction.

  Anyway, all of a sudden I just couldn't take it any more, and I ended up telling Tina what Kenny said last night on the phone—

  And a lot more than that actually.

  But first the part about Kenny's phone call.

  Unlike Lilly, Tina believed me.

  But Tina also had the totally wrong reaction. She thought it was great.

  'Oh my God, Mia, you are so lucky,' she kept saying. 'I wish Dave would tell me he loves me! I mean, I know he is fully committed to our relationship, but his idea of romance is paying to have my fries super-sized at Mickey D's.'