Valentine Princess

by Meg Cabot

  And so I looked at Tina and pretended to stick my finger down my throat, you know, like I was barfing. Which cracked Tina up.

  But then Lana’s voice got all high-pitched and wobbly, and she was like, “What do you mean, you pulled a groin muscle?” and it turned out Josh was calling her from the Cabrini emergency room, which is where he was taken after third period when he could no longer take the excruciating pain in his upper thigh a second longer. Apparently, he’d pulled something at basketball practice the night before, but the throbbing didn’t get really bad until Trig class the next day.

  Which just goes to show that nothing good ever comes from canceling plans with a girlfriend because suddenly you got a date, the way Lana did to Trish when Josh asked her out. Karma really is a bitch.

  “Why didn’t you apply heat to it immediately?” Lana demanded.

  But we never got to hear the answer to that, because I guess that’s when Josh broke the news that he had to stay home and ice his groin and wouldn’t be able to take Lana to One if by Land, Two if by Sea for their romantic fireside Valentine’s dinner.

  I swear they must have been able to hear Lana’s anguished scream all the way down in Battery Park City.

  As if that weren’t perfect enough, as Lana was calling Josh terrible names for wrecking his groin on their first Valentine’s Day as a couple, the Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili came by with his tray, and Lana flung out one arm a little too dramatically, and hit the Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili’s tray, and his taco salad went sailing through the air, and ended up all over Lana.

  Seriously. There was salsa in her hair.

  What could Tina and I do but high-five each other?

  But amazingly, things got even BETTER after that. Because Michael actually skipped his Computer Club meeting to sit next to me!!!!!

  I couldn’t believe it, but suddenly, there he was, saying he obviously couldn’t trust the male population of Albert Einstein High School not to scam on his girlfriend while his back was turned, so he was going to guard me with his life!!!! Because of Kenny and the Whitman’s Sampler!!!!!!

  Which I thought was so cute—even though, okay, as a feminist I should have been offended because, of course, I don’t need any man to defend me from the unwanted advances of others, since I am perfectly capable of applying a well-placed heel to the testicular area, like Lars showed me that time we were doing krav maga self-defense techniques in the event someone should try to kidnap me—I suddenly forgot all about my shyness over giving him the Valentine I’d made, and my fears over how dorky he—and everyone else at my lunch table—might think it is. Instead, I just pulled it out of my backpack, and handed it to him.

  And my mom was right!!!!! MICHAEL TOTALLY LOVED IT!!!!!

  Of course, it wasn’t just an ORDINARY Valentine: It was a little book I made, with tear-out coupons for things Michael can ask me to do, like take Pavlov for a walk, or give him a neck massage (Michael, not Pavlov), or kiss him (I put in, like, four of those!!!). All Michael has to do when he wants me to do one of these things is rip out the coupon and hand it to me. Which he did right away (one of the kiss coupons).

  So we practically made out at the lunch table until Lars and Tina’s bodyguard, Wahim, started clearing their throats, and Lilly was all, “OH, GOD. GET A ROOM!”

  Mom was right: The point of Valentine’s Day ISN’T what you get, but what you give. TOTALLY.

  Oh my God, it was so great.

  Um, well, except for the part right after that when Boris—I guess inspired by Michael’s reaction to my Valentine—suddenly took his violin out of its case and, IN FRONT OF EVERYONE, started playing “The Music of the Night” from The Phantom of the Opera, inching closer and closer to Lilly, until finally his bow was all up in her face, and we looked at the end of it, and dangling from it was the genuine simulated ruby heart pendant from Kay Jewelers.

  And Lilly, instead of being all, “Aw, thanks, Boris, how sweet,” was like, “What’s THIS?” and “How did THAT get on your bow?”

  And Boris finally had to stop playing and be like, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Lilly. It’s for you. I hope you like it.”

  And Lilly was all, “Oh my God, you actually got me that dorky necklace from Kay’s?” with this big smirk on her face.

  I couldn’t believe it! Even now it pains me to have to record that my best friend would say something so cruel. Tina went white as a sheet, and Michael looked angry, and poor Boris looked as if he’d been slapped!

  So I went, “Oh my God, Boris, it’s so beautiful!” and “That was so thoughtful of him, wasn’t it, Lilly?” while kicking her VERY HARD beneath the lunch table.

  And finally Lilly, after giving me a bunch of dirty looks and going, “What?” like ten times, went, “Oh. Yeah. Thanks, Boris. That was nice. But, you know, I don’t really approve of gemstones because of the conditions under which the people who mine them in Africa have to live.”

  “They’re simulated,” Tina explained to her, in a strangled voice.

  And Lilly just went, “Oh.”

  But by that time Boris had put his violin away and slunk off.

  “Nice job,” Michael said to his sister sarcastically.

  But Lilly just got all indignant, and went, “Oh, whatever! Like you got your girlfriend anything!”

  And Michael was like, “I tell Mia I love her every day. I don’t need some greeting card company reminding me to say it once a year. How often do you tell Boris you care about him?”

  And Lilly turned all red and excused herself.

  But I think Lilly must have apologized, and the two of them have made up already, because Lilly let herself into the supply closet a little while ago, where Boris was practicing, and I haven’t heard a sound out of there ever since.

  Still, it was hard to meet Tina’s gaze after that, because she’s been wanting one of those heart necklaces for, like, ever.

  So I said, to make her feel better, as we were heading back to class, “I’ll come to your Audrey Hepburn movie marathon tonight, Tina, if the invitation is still open.”

  And she totally cheered up. Especially when I gave her my Whitman’s Sampler. Because Lilly is right: I really don’t like the cream-filled kind.

  Friday, February 14, French

  Michael just caught me in the hall and tried to hand me one of my “Dinner with Mia” coupons.

  “Let’s go out tonight,” he said. “For a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner. I know you won’t believe it, but I got reservations at One if by Land, Two if by Sea. I guess they had a cancelation or something.”

  He was right. I couldn’t believe it.

  And the worst part was, he looked so cute—so handsome and hopeful—standing there with my coupon in his hand, and just the beginning of a five o’clock shadow on his neck.

  But I had to say, “I’m sorry, Michael. But I already made plans with Tina. She’s having a Valentine’s Day slumber party, and you never said anything about doing anything together, so I told her I’d go.”

  Because no way was I canceling on Tina the way Lana had on Trish. I don’t want any bad karma coming back at ME!

  His face fell. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Well, you kept going on about how you didn’t even believe in Valentine’s Day, so I just figured—”

  “I know!” he said, laughing. “I know, I know! I’m an idiot, all right? It’s just…I’m not used to having a girlfriend.”

  SO TINA WAS RIGHT!!!! It wasn’t that Michael had anything against Valentine’s Day. He’d just never had a reason to celebrate it before!!!

  “Listen,” he went on. “Will you go out with me tomorrow night, then?”

  “I’d be delighted to,” I said.

  “Good,” Michael said gravely, tucking the coupon into my hand. “I’m going to make this one Lupercalia dinner you’ll never forget.”

  And I remembered what he’d said about the ancient Roman feast of February 15.

  “Maybe Lupercalia w
ill be our private Valentine’s Day,” I said. “From now on.”

  “Deal,” Michael said.

  And kissed me. Right in the hallway. Where Mr. G or Principal Gupta could have seen.

  But I didn’t care, because I was so happy.

  I’m not going to end up with a Leo—or KENNY—after all!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Ha!!! Take THAT, Dr. Steve!

  Friday, February 14, the Plaza

  Well, Grandmère’s back. I knew it was too good to last.

  When I walked into her suite, I didn’t see her at first, even though I knew she was there because I called ahead this time. It turns out the reason I didn’t see her was because she was stretched out on the couch in a cream-colored peignoir, a Sidecar and ashtray within reach, and her leg in an enormous air cast.

  “Oh my God, Grandmère,” I yelled. “What happened to you? Did you get a groin injury, too?”

  “For God’s sakes, stop yelling, Amelia,” she said, looking pained. “What are you talking about, groin injury? Haven’t I ever told you princesses don’t talk about groins?”

  “Um, sorry,” I said, looking around. But there was no sign of Dr. Steve. Was it possible—were Grandmère and I alone? Well, I mean, except for Rommel, who was curled up next to Grandmère’s non-broken foot. “But what happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Grandmère said. “Pull up a chair and sit down. Today I want to go over what to do in the event that you are ever trapped in conversation by an autograph seeker. Obviously you don’t want to alienate the person, because as a royal it doesn’t pay to make enemies—even people who are only going to sell your signature on eBay. But it can become frustrating when someone, enamored of your celebrity, won’t shut up. So the excuse to leave that I’ve always found most helpful is the following: I beg your pardon, but I believe I see the Comte de Rosti over there. I simply must go say hello, I haven’t seen him since last season in Biarritz—”

  “Grandmère,” I interrupted. Even though princesses don’t interrupt. “Are you going to tell me what happened to your foot, or not?” Then I suddenly remembered something. And my blood went cold. “Oh my God, Grandmère! Dr. Steve was right! He predicted that you were going to sustain a grievous bodily injury!”

  Which meant he might be right about his OTHER predictions as well—like that I’m going to end up with a LEO after all!!!! Oh, no!

  But then Grandmère said, in a scathing tone, “Dr. Steve! Never mention that name to me again!”

  “But, Grandmère!” I actually felt kind of sick. Because if Grandmère actually HAD sustained a grievous bodily injury, then what were the chances that Dr. Steve’s prediction about me was going to come true as well????? “He said—”

  “I sustained this injury FLEEING from that man’s odious advances!” Grandmère cried. “Imagine my horror when, after inviting him up for coffee and petits fours following his performance on that nice Mr. Letterman’s television show, that so-called doctor suddenly began insisting he had feelings for me! Romantic feelings! I told him he had to be mistaken—that he was confusing his gratitude for all that I had done for him with love. But he wouldn’t believe me! He kept clinging to my hand and talking about how happy we two were going to be when we were married and living in Genovia!”

  I had to try really hard to keep a straight face.

  “Well, Grandmère,” I said. “I mean, you two have been spending an awful lot of time together this week. You can understand if the guy thought maybe there was more to it than simple friendship—”

  “Amelia!” Grandmère looked horrified. “Are you joking? I’m a princess, and he’s…he’s…a commoner! Of all the impertinence! I have never in my life heard of anything so ridiculous! Of course I told him so at once, but the impudent cuss thought I was playing hard to get! He actually tried to kiss me, Amelia!” Grandmère had to take a sip of her Sidecar to fortify herself before she could go on.

  Meanwhile, I was trying so hard not to laugh, tears were practically streaming down my face.

  “Well, of course I slapped him for his insolence,” Grandmère explained. “And what do you think he did? Seized me by the arms and told me I light a fire in him unlike any other woman he has ever known. As if I haven’t heard that line before! The horrible man couldn’t think of an original thing to say if his TROUSERS were exploding! Of course I screamed for Raoul”—Raoul is Grandmère’s bodyguard—“and he came rushing in, but not before I’d managed to break free myself. But then I accidentally tripped over poor Rommel, who was trying frantically to come to my rescue. Which is how I broke my toe. I’m going to have to speak to Gucci about this season’s kitten heels; they are simply too high….”

  “Still,” I said, struggling not to crack up. “The guy was right about two of his predictions…you did sustain grievous bodily harm, and a man did propose to you….”

  Grandmère gave me a very sour look. “I suppose you think you’re amusing. Well, you might as well make yourself useful, and go and get me some Tylenol. And fix me another Sidecar, this one’s gone warm….”

  I got up to do as Grandmère asked. I figured it was the least I could do, since she’d been through so much. True, most of it was her own fault…but there are lots of different kinds of Valentines, and I figured that mine to Grandmère would be that I would never speak of Dr. Steve to her—or anyone else—ever again.

  And to tell you the truth, this seemed to suit Grandmère even better than a heart-shaped box of chocolates or a simulated ruby heart pendant.

  Friday, February 14, 8 p.m., limo on the way to Tina’s

  !!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Tonight as I was getting my stuff together to go to Tina’s, I heard this weird tapping noise. ON MY WINDOW.

  At first I thought it was a pigeon. But then I looked out and got the scare—and delight—of my life:

  MICHAEL WAS ON MY FIRE ESCAPE!!!!

  I couldn’t believe it! I ran over to the window and flung it open and was like, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE???? WHY ARE YOU ON THE FIRE ESCAPE???? WHY DIDN’T YOU RING THE DOOR BUZZER LIKE A NORMAL PERSON?????”

  But he just smiled and said, “It’s more romantic this way.”

  “But how did you even get out there?” I demanded. Because Lars worked really hard at securing the entrance to our building’s courtyard, which is what my bedroom looks out over, so that no one could do what Michael had—crawl up to my window via the fire escape.

  Michael smiled even more and said, “Your neighbor Ronnie let me out here. Now stop talking. I know you have to go to Tina’s in a minute, but I wanted to give you your Lupercalia gift before you leave. I realize it’s a day early, but I couldn’t wait.”

  And that’s when he picked up his guitar and there, in the light from the security lamp, he serenaded me with “our song”—the one he wrote about me, “Tall Drink of Water,” which goes:

  Tall drink of water

  Can’t say how much you want her

  How long you’ve tried to stay cool

  But she doesn’t even see you

  Wait for her in the lobby

  Your knees are getting wobbly

  She glides by in her pink dress

  Towers over all the rest

  Hands starting to get sweaty

  You really think you’re ready

  To take a little walk over there

  Tell her how much you care

  What will you say now

  Will she make your day now

  She looks this way now

  Get moving, don’t delay now

  You think you’re ready for your close-up

  But she’s not China doll made-up

  Or a picture-perfect teacup

  She’s more real than any girl you’ve ever seen

  You’re not gonna make it

  But this is it, you just can’t fake it

  She’s the girl who makes your heart sing

  Means more to you than anything

  She’s a tall drink of water

  Can’t sa
y how much you want her

  How long you’ve tried to stay cool

  But she doesn’t even see you

  And it was the best Valentine I ever got.

  June 5, 9 p.m., private jet to Genovia

  ME, A PRINCESS???? YEAH, RIGHT.

  A Screenplay by Mia Thermopolis

  (first draft)

  Scene 45

  INT/NIGHT—A girl (sixteen-year-old MIA THERMOPOLIS), trembling on the verge of womanhood, sits in a sumptuous leather seat aboard a luxurious private jet. She has just finished reading the contents of a black-and-white Mead composition notebook. She closes the notebook, looks up, and sighs.

  MIA

  And Michael and I have had happy Valentine’s Days ever since….

  Oh, whatever, that isn’t even true. Michael STILL refuses to celebrate Valentine’s Day, insisting it’s all a plot by Hallmark, 1-800-Flowers, and Russell Stover to make us do their corporate bidding.

  But he doesn’t mind celebrating Lupercalia on February 15.

  Except that they don’t make Happy Lupercalia cards. Which I’m pretty sure is why he likes it so much.

  And, I have to admit—so do I!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks to Beth Ader, Jennifer Brown,

  Barbara Cabot, Michele Jaffe, Laura Langlie,

  Abigail McAden, and my Valentine,

  Benjamin Egnatz.

  Books about

  PRINCESS MIA

  The Princess Diaries

  THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME II:

  Princess in the Spotlight

  THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME III:

  Princess in Love

  THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME IV:

  Princess in Waiting

  Valentine Princess:

  A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK (VOLUME IV AND A QUARTER)