Princess on the Brink

Tina’s so sweet. She risked her dad’s wrath to text me in my hour of need. She’s a good and true friend.

Speaking of which…how am I ever going to face Lilly in the morning? I can’t.

I just can’t.

ME, A PRINCESS???? YEAH, RIGHT.

A Screenplay by Mia Thermopolis

(first draft)

Scene 24

INT/NIGHT—A large, comfortably furnished rent-controlled apartment on New York City’s Fifth Avenue, off Union Square. A newly madeover MIA THERMOPOLIS has just entered through the front door. Her best friend, LILLY MOSCOVITZ, a slightly chubby, pug-faced girl, is staring at her incredulously.

LILLY

Oh my God, what happened to you?

MIA

(taking off her coat, trying to be casual)

Yeah, well, my grandmother made me go see this guy, Paolo, and he—

LILLY

(in state of shock)

Your hair is the same color as Lana Weinberger’s.

What’s on your FINGERS? Are those fake fingernails? Lana has those, too! Oh my God, Mia. You’re turning into Lana Weinberger!

MIA

(unable to take it anymore)

Lilly. Shut up.

MICHAEL

(appearing in the doorway with no shirt on) Whoa.

LILLY

WHAT? WHAT did you just say to me?

MIA

You know what, Lilly? I’m a PRINCESS. I’m the princess of Genovia. And I will ALWAYS be a princess, I can’t escape it, I can’t pretend like it didn’t happen. And as a princess, I will always value princesslike qualities in other people, such as honesty and self-respect and not Doing It with People You Don’t Even Love. Good-bye.

MICHAEL

Whoa.

MIA stomps from the room. LILLY and MICHAEL exchange stunned glances.

Friday, September 10, 1 a.m., the loft

Except, of course, I know now that the whole time—maybe even way back when I was first finding out I’m a princess—Michael was sleeping with Judith Gershner.

And I didn’t know it.

Because he never told me.

Friday, September 10, 1:30 a.m., the loft

HOW AM I GOING TO LIVE WITHOUT HIM?????

Friday, September 10, 2:15 a.m., the loft

I have to be strong. I HAVE to. He LIED to me. He said maybe it was a good idea for us to TAKE A BREAK.

I can’t just let him get away with that.

Maybe writing some poetry will help.

You thought I gave you up for some

Foolish feminist morals.

You whose head ought to be wreathed

In silver-plated laurels?

For were you not a man?

Was your sex not the best?

Had you not a suit and tie,

Big feet and hairy chest?

Yet you opened up the cage

For my headstrong reckless flight

You thought I’d learn my lesson quick

And return to you contrite.

My freedom found, however,

I disappeared from view.

Maybe I’d catch no one nicer

But anyone’s better than you.

Oh, our love affair was tragic!

I wept with passionate strife.

Till you let me go, and I found out

I prefer the single life.

God, I wish that were all true.

Michael! My cherished preserver!

Friday, September 10, 3 a.m., the loft

Dear Michael,

I just wanted to say—

Dear Michael,

Why did you have to—

Dear Michael,

WHY????

Friday, September 10, 4 a.m., the loft

Michael! My hope! My love! My life!

Friday, September 10, the limo on the way to school

I can’t believe Mom made me go to school today.

I told her my heart was broken. I told her I hadn’t slept A WINK ALL NIGHT LONG. I told her I can’t stop crying. I haven’t stopped crying since last night, practically. I had no idea human beings were even CAPABLE of producing so many tears.

It was like talking to a stone wall. Mom was all, “You broke up with Michael, Mia, not the other way around. No way are you going to wallow around in bed all day.”

It’s weird but…it’s almost like she’s on MICHAEL’S side, or something.

But that can’t be possible, right? I mean, she’s MY mom, not HIS.

Still. She even made ME call Lilly and tell her to find alternative transportation to school this morning. She refused to do it for me, even though I begged, because I was afraid Michael might see it was me on the caller ID, and pick up instead.

I feel bad leaving Lilly in the lurch without a ride, but NO WAY can I face Michael this morning. And I know he will TOTALLY be waiting in front of their building for me, because he left me an e-mail to that effect this morning, which said:

SKINNERBX: I still don’t understand what I did wrong. How is my having slept with someone before I even knew you liked me a crime? I don’t get it.

I guess I can see why you’re upset about the Japan thing, but I don’t know how many times I have to explain that one of the reasons I’m doing this is for US before it sinks in. Lilly said Boris said something about clarinetists at lunch the other day, so I guess that’s where that came from, but I still don’t understand it. But if you want to see other people while I’m gone, I guess I’m fine with that. Maybe it would even be a good thing.

Look, we have to talk, okay? I’ll be waiting with Lilly out front before school. Maybe we could grab a coffee?

I HAD to call Lilly (on her cell, so there was no chance of getting Michael by mistake) and was all, “Lilly? I can’t come pick you up today.”

“POG?” Lilly sounded suspicious. “Is that you?”

“Y-yes,” I said.

“Wait—are you CRYING?”

“Y-yes,” I said. Because I was.

“WHAT is going on?” Lilly wanted to know. “What did you do to my brother? I’ve never seen him like this. Did you really dump him? Because he says you did.”

“He—he—”

But it was hopeless. I couldn’t speak. I was crying too hard.

“Jesus, Mia,” Lilly said, actually seeming concerned about me for once in her life. “You sound even worse than he does. WHAT IS GOING ON?”

“I c-can’t talk right now,” I said. Because I literallycouldn’t talk , I was crying so hard.

“Fine,” Lilly said. “But, Mia…seriously, I don’t know what this is about, but you’re breaking his heart. The only reason I’m not coming over there and kicking your ass for it is because I can tell your heart isn’t doing so well, either. But seriously, youhave to talk to him. Justtalk to him. I’m sure whatever it is, you two can work it out, if you just TALK. Okay?”

I couldn’t reply, though. I was crying too hard.

If I could have said something, though, I’d have said, “It’s too late, Lilly. There’s nothing left to say.”

Because there isn’t.

I miss him so much. And he hasn’t even left yet.

Friday, September 10, Intro to Creative Writing

ME, A PRINCESS???? YEAH, RIGHT.

A Screenplay by Mia Thermopolis

(second draft)

Scene 12

INT/DAY—The Palm Court at the Plaza Hotel in New York City. A flat-chested girl with upside-down-yield-sign-shaped hair (14-year-old MIA THERMOPOLIS) is sitting at an ornately set table across from a bald man (her father, PRINCE PHILLIPE). We can tell by MIA’s expression that her father is telling her something upsetting.

PRINCE PHILLIPE

You’re not Mia Thermopolis anymore, honey.

MIA

(blinking with astonishment)

I’m not? Then who am I?

PRINCE PHILLIPE

You’re Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, Princess of Genovia.

MIA

(getting up from the table, pulling an Uzi from her backpack)

Dad, look out!

NINJAS descend from the ceiling on ropes. MIA kicks over the table, sending the tea things flying. Then she strafes the room with bullets from her Uzi. TOURISTS and WAITERS dive for cover. Her dad, terrified, ducks behind a potted plant. MIA throws down the Uzi, which has jammed, and kickboxes the NINJAS, dispatching them one by one, à la River in the movie SERENITY.

Finally, the room is still, all NINJAS unconscious. One by one, the TOURISTS and WAITERS climb to their feet. One of them begins to clap, slowly. He is joined by everyone else. Soon, MIA is receiving a standing ovation for her bravery.

MIA walks up to PHILLIPE and sticks out her right hand to help him to his feet. He hesitantly takes it. She pulls him up.

PRINCE PHILLIPE

(gratefully)

Mia—where did you learn to—

MIA

(matter-of-factly)

I’ve been working as a highly trained demon-killer for the Vatican for years, Dad. Didn’t you know?

PRINCE PHILLIPE

I didn’t know. I was wrong about you, Mia. You’re not just a princess.

MIA

No, Dad. No, I’m not.

F

Mia, while this is highly imaginative, in no way does it satisfy the assignment, which was to describe a beloved pet.

—C. Martinez

Friday, September 10, English

Are you okay?

I guess so, Tina. Thanks.

You look kind of…pale. And your eyes are red.

Yeah. Well. I didn’t get much sleep last night.

Have you spoken to him yet? Michael, I mean?

No. Not in person.

Hasn’t he called? Or texted?

Well, yes. But I haven’t written back. How can I, Tina? What is there to SAY?

True. But if he apologized, wouldn’t you forgive him?

He’s not going to apologize, Tina. He doesn’t think he did anything wrong!!!

But this can’t be IT. I mean, it can’t be OVER between you two. You love each other too much!!!!!

Michael himself said—in one of the e-mails he sent—that maybe it’s better this way. You know, that we see other people while he’s gone.

HE SAID THAT????

Well, he didn’t say HE was going to see other people, but that it was okay with him if I wanted to.

Wait—he really SAID that?

Yes. He did. Well, he said he guessed it HAD to be okay.

Oh, Mia! I don’t know how to say this but—do you think maybeYour Precious Giftis wrong? Because in my favorite romance novels—The Sheik and the Virgin SecretaryandThe Sheik and the Princess Bride—none of the sheiks were virgins, and it all turned out okay for them and THEIR girlfriends.

I didn’t want to write what I wrote next. Really. It HURT me to say it. But someone HAD to. Because Tina just can’t live in Tinaland for the rest of her life. She just can’t.

Tina. Those are BOOKS.

But Tina wasn’t backing down.

Your Precious Giftis a BOOK. How come it’s right, and not the sheik books?

Tina. None of the sheiks in those books Did It with Judith Gershner and then LIED about it, okay? None of the sheiks in those books invented a robotic surgical arm and are leaving for Japan for a year. Or more. And if they were, they’d take their virgin secretary princess bride WITH THEM.

I know. I just think maybe you should give Michael another chance.

How can I do that? Every time I think about him now, all I can picture in my head is Judith Gershner with her tongue in his mouth. And that is the LEAST disgusting thing I picture the two of them doing.

Yes. I felt that way when I found out about Lilly and Boris. But it goes away after a while, Mia. Really. In a few days you won’t see Judith Gershner in your head anymore when you think about Michael.

Thanks, Tina. I see what you’re saying. I really do. But the problem is, in a few days—no, in a few HOURS—Michael will be gone. Possibly forever!

Mia! Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry!

It’s not you, Tina. It’s me. I just—I just—

Mia, it’s okay. You don’t have to write another word. I’ll shut up now.

God. How can it have come to this—me sitting in English class, CRYING???

In a way I wish Michael WAS a sheik, and I was his virgin secretary or princess bride. I know it’s not very feminist of me to think that.

But if he whisked me off to his tent in the desert instead of moving to Japan, at least I’d know he really cared.

Friday, September 10, French

Mia! Is it true?

Yes, Perin. It’s true that Michael admitted he had sex with Judith Gershner and he’s moving to Japan and he and I are broken up. I feel really terrible about it and I don’t want to start crying in French, so can we not talk about it?

Um, no. I meant is it true that you would know what to do if a tsunami hit New York City?

Oh. Yes, that’s true, too.

I’m sorry about you and Michael. I didn’t know. So I guess you’re single now?

I never thought of it before. But, yeah, I guess I am.

Want to sleep over tonight?

Oh, thanks for the invitation, Perin, but I think I’m just going to go home and go to bed. I’m not really doing all that great, to tell you the truth.

Okay. Well, feel better!

Thanks!

Qu’est-ce que c’est que le mérite incroyable d’une femme, vous demandez? Selon la chaine douze, le mérite incroyable d’une femme est sa capacité de nourrir ses enfants. Une femme avec une carrière? Ça, c’est une femme qui n’adore pas ses enfants, ou son mari. Elle n’est pas une chrétienne! Elle est une serveuse du diable!

Mes camarades et moi nous nous sommes regardés les unes les autres. Nous avons changés le chaine. Et juste a l’heure!

117+76=only 193!!!!!! I need 7 more words!

Oh, wait…the title. AND MY NAME:

Une Emission Pleine d’Action par

Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Renaldo Thermopolis

YES!!!!

At least SOMETHING is going my way today.

Friday, September 10, between French and Lunch

My cell phone just buzzed. Michael left the following text message:

MICHAELM: At least let me come by and try to explain. Even though that won’t be easy because I’m still not clear on what, exactly, I did that was so wrong.

What is he talking about,come by and try to explain ? How can he come by and try to explain? I’m in SCHOOL.

And how can he still not know what he did wrong?????

Friday, September 10, Lunch

You know what? I don’t care. LET them stare at me. This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten in this cafeteria. If I’d known the cheeseburgers were this good, as a matter of fact, I’d have started eating them a long time ago.

And you know what? I don’t even care. I mean, I still feel bad for the animals, and stuff.

But in a way it’s like…well, tough luck for them. The world is an unfair place. Sometimes you’re the windshield. Sometimes you’re the bug.

That’s from a song my mom likes.

If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I’ll probably come back as a cow, and I’ll spend my whole life in a tiny stall I can barely move around in, and eventually someone will come around and bonk me on the head and then skin me and make my skin into a leather miniskirt and the rest of me into hamburger and a girl whose boyfriend gave his Precious Gift to Judith Gershner will eat me, and that will just be too bad for me. It’s the circle of life, baby.

Wow. I guess I’m a total nihilist now.

Lilly seems to think so. And she can’t seem to believe it.

“A burger?” She just kept staring at my tray. “You’re eating a CHEESEBURGER?”

“I don’t care anymore,” I said. Because it’s true. I don’t. About anything. Being a nihilist, and all.

“You and my brother,” she said, “get into one fight, and you break up with him and start eating meat? He’s right. You HAVE lost your mind.”

I put my burger down at that one.

“He SAID that?” I demanded. I didn’t care that we were having this discussion in front of the whole lunch crowd—J.P., Boris, Ling Su, Tina, Perin. Why should I? I don’t care about anything anymore. “Michael said I’ve lost my mind?”

“Basically,” Lilly said. “And the fact that you’re sitting there eating a cheeseburger proves it. You haven’t eaten meat since you were six years old!”

“Well, maybe it’s time I started,” I said. “Maybe if I’d been getting more protein this whole time, I wouldn’t have made so many boneheaded decisions.”

“Which one of your many are you referring to?” Lilly asked acidly.

“Hey, Lilly,” J.P. said, quietly but firmly. “Cut it out.”

Lilly looked startled. She isn’t used to J.P. butting in on her conversations with me. Because he’s never done it before.

But it was too late. Because my eyes were already filling up with tears. Again.

I guess I’m not a nihilist after all.

“If he thinks I’ve lost my mind,” I said to Lilly, barely able to contain a sob, “then he doesn’t get it AT ALL. I HAVEN’T lost my mind. I just can’t DEAL with it anymore.”

“Deal with what?” Lilly wanted to know. “Having a guy who loves you so much that while you were off in Genovia this summer, he invented this fantastic thing that could change the face of medical history as we know it, just so he could prove he was good enough to be with you, only to have you slap him in the face when he explained that in order to get the thing off the ground he has to go away for a while?”

I just glared at her, even though it was kind of hard to see her through my tears.

“That’s not it,” I said, “and you know it.”

“Oh, wait, I know. Is it because all these months he didn’t tell you about something he KNEW you wouldn’t understand and would go bananas over, because it is in your nature to go bananas over the littlest things, and he wanted to spare you?”

“What he did,” I said, a catch in my voice, “wasn’t LITTLE—”

“Oh, spare me,” Lilly spat. “Tina told me about that stupid book her aunt gave her. Are you really so ignorant that you don’t know that this whole ‘Precious Gift’ crap started off as men’s way of controlling females so that they could limit their number of sexual partners, and therefore ensure the legitimacy of their own offspring?”

“Hold on,” I said, glaring at her. Which was hard to do, considering the tears that were causing my nose to feel prickly. “There is NOTHING wrong with waiting to have sex until you can do it with someone you love.”

“Of course there’s not,” Lilly said. “You’re totally entitled to that belief. But CONDEMNING someone who doesn’t necessarily SHARE that belief? That’s no better than those fundamentalist judges in Iran who condemn women to be buried up to their necks in sand and have rocks thrown at their heads. Because any way you look at it, that’s YOU punishing someone for not sharing YOUR morals.”

The tears totally came with that one. I mean, seriously. Comparing ME to one of those evil fundamentalist judges?

But Lilly wouldn’t let up.

“Why don’t you just admit what this whole fight with Michael is REALLY about, Mia?” she snarled. “You’re mad because Michael won’t do what you want and stay in New York to be your little lapdog. Because he has a mind of his own and he wants to use it to make a LIFE of his own. THAT’s what this is all about. And DON’T try to deny it.”

That’s when J.P. got up, grabbed Lilly by the arm, and said, “Come on. We’re going for a walk,” and dragged her out of the cafeteria.

And that’s also when I started to cry in earnest. Not sobbing or anything. Just quietly weeping, over the remains of my burger.

Yes. I am a pathetic crying meat-eater now.

Boris patted me on the shoulder and said, “Don’t cry, Mia. I think you’re doing the right thing. Long-distance relationships never work. Better to make a clean break of it, like this.”

“Boris,” Tina said, sounding exasperated.

“No,” I said. “He’s right.”

Because he is.

I just wish he wasn’t.

Also that I was dead.

I just went and got some bacon to put on my cheeseburger.

Friday, September 10, G & T

I almost skipped this class. Partly because I felt really sick after the burger. I definitely shouldn’t have added the bacon.

But also partly because I didn’t want to see Lilly again. Especially without J.P. to rein her in.

But I didn’t skip because I figured I’d just get in trouble. And a trip to Principal Gupta’s office is the last thing I need.

Also, I got some Tums from the nurse, and that seemed to help.

I was glad I didn’t skip when I walked into class. Glad, because the first thing I saw when I walked in was Lilly, WEEPING.

I wasn’t glad she was crying. I was glad because she so obviously needed me. I mean, something had Happened. Something BIG.

Boris was standing there next to her, looking alarmed. I think it’s only natural that I assumed Lilly was crying because of something Boris said to her, since he flung me this totally panicky look when I walked in.

“What did you do to her?” I asked him, shocked. Because Boris can be a jerk sometimes. But he honestly doesn’t MEAN to be. And he’s gotten a lot less jerky since Tina started going out with him.

“She was like this when I came in,” Boris insisted. “It wasn’t me!”

“Lilly.” I couldn’t imagine what could be the matter with her. Surely it couldn’t have anything to do with me and Michael.That would never make Lilly cry. Hardly anything made Lilly cry. Except…I gasped. “Did Lana Weinberger decide to run for student council president after all?”

“No!” Lilly said scornfully, between sobs. “God! Do you think I’d be crying over something likethat ?”

“Well.” I stared down at her blankly. “What is it, then?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Lilly said.

But I noticed her gaze slide toward Boris. What’s more important, Boris noticed it, too.

And so—exercising a little of the tact Tina has so carefully taught him—Boris said, “I guess I’ll just go start practicing now,” and went and let himself into the supply closet.

I said, “Okay, he’s gone. Now tell me.”

Lilly took a deep, shuddering breath. Then, glancing around at everyone else in the room—all of whom immediately ducked their heads, pretending to be engrossed in their individual projects, something that NEVER happens unless Mrs. Hill is in the room, which she most decidedly was not just then—Lilly whispered, “J.P. just broke up with me.”

I stared at her in complete and utter astonishment.“What?”

“You heard me.” Lilly reached up and wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist, leaving a long black mascara stain on each side of her face. “He dumped me.”

I pulled out the chair next to Lilly’s just in time to collapse into it and not onto the floor.

“You’re joking,” I said. Because it was the only thing I could think of to say.

But it was painfully clear by the way tears continued to stream from her eyes that shewasn’t joking.

“Butwhy ?” I asked.“When?”

“Just now,” Lilly said. “Outside on the front steps, next to Joe.” Joe is the stone lion that flanks the stairs leading to the front doors of Albert Einstein High. “He said he felt really bad, but that he doesn’t feel the same way about me that I do about him. He said he values me as a friend, but that he’s never lo-loved me!”

I couldn’t stop staring at her. Somehow, this was way more horrible than what Michael had done to me. I mean, Michael had had sex with Judith Gershner and lied to me about it, and all.

But he had never said he didn’t love me.

“Oh, Lilly,” I breathed. I forgot about being a nihilist. All I could think about was how much Lilly was hurting. “Oh, Lilly. I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” Lilly said, wiping her eyes again. “Sorry I was such anidiot for not admitting to myself what I KNEW was going on sooner.”

I blinked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, the very first time I told him that I loved him, and all he said was thank you? I mean, I should have taken that as a sign that he didn’t feel the same way about me as I did about him, right?”

“But we all just thought it was because he wasn’t used to having a girl like him,” I said. “Remember, Tina said—”

“Right, that he was like the Beast fromBeauty and the Beast , unused to human love, and uncertain how to react to it. Well, guess what? Tina was wrong. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to react. He just didn’t love me back, and he didn’t want to hurt my feelings by telling me so. So he just led me on, all these months.”

I couldn’t help sucking in my breath. “Oh, Lilly,” I said. “No! I mean, he must have thought maybe—”

“That he’d grow to love me?” Lilly managed a bitter smile. “Yeah, well, apparently it didn’t work.”

“Oh, Lilly,” I said. I could have killed J.P. right then. I really could have. I couldn’t believe he was putting her through this.

And to do it at school! Of all places! I mean, why couldn’t he have waited until they were somewhere alone, like Ray’s Pizza, and broken the news to her then, so she could cry in private? What’swrong with boys?

I’ll kill him. Seriously. I’m going to kill him.

I didn’t even realize I’d said the words out loud until Lilly reached out and grabbed my wrist and said, “Mia. No. Don’t.”

I looked at her, startled. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t say anything to him about it. Really. It’s my fault. I…I sort of knew all along that he didn’t love me.”

“What?”I’ve heard about this before. When victims of rat fink boyfriends blame themselves for what the loser himself did.

But I never thought LILLY, of all people, would be one of them.

“What are youtalking about, you knew? Obviously you didn’t know, Lilly, or you wouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s true,” Lilly said, her voice hoarse with tears. “When he never said he loved me back, I suspected that there was something wrong. But I—well, like you said. I thought he might learn to love me. So I stayed with him, instead of breaking it off, like I should have. It’s not his fault. He tried, Mia. He really did. It was actually really nice of him not to let it go farther than it did. He could really have taken advantage. But he didn’t.”

I couldn’t help being all, “So, wait. Does that mean that you two never—”

Lilly’s eyes narrowed. “Nice try, POG,” she said. “I’m down, but I’m not out. We still have a presidential election to plan, you know.”

I dropped my head down to the top of the desk. “Lilly,” I said. “I can’t. I just can’t. Can’t you see I’m broken?”

“Well, I’m broken, too,” Lilly said defensively. “And I’m still able to FUNCTION. A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.”

I really hate this expression. I bet fish would totally want bicycles, if they had legs.

Then, in a gentler voice, Lilly added, “Look, POG, about you and my brother. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” I said. And all the tears I thought I had successfully fought down in the cafeteria came rushing back.

“But I don’t get it,” Lilly said.

“Of course you don’t get it,” I said miserably, to the top of the desk. “You’re his sister. You’re on his side.”

“I may be his sister,” Lilly said. “But I’m your best friend, too. And it just seems like such a stupid waste. I know you’re mad at him, but really…what did he do that was so wrong? So he slept with Judith Gershner. Big deal. It’s not like he did it WHILE you two were going out.”

“It IS a big deal,” I insisted. “I just…I never thought Michael, of all people, would do something like that. Sleep with someone he didn’t even love. And then LIE to me about it. And I KNOW you think that’s just me inflicting my beliefs onto him. But I always just assumed he and I shared the same beliefs. And now I find out he’s more…well, he’s more likeJosh Richter than he is like me!”

“Josh Richter?” Lilly rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. How is my brother REMOTELY like Josh Richter?

“Because sleeping with a girl you don’t even love…that’s something Josh Richter does.”

“It’s only a Josh Richter thing to do if the girl had a major crush on him and he used her and she got hurt.”

I lifted my head to stare at her. “You mean like you and J.P.?” I asked, trying to sound as concerned as possible.

Lilly just glared at me, though. “Nice try, Mia,” she said. “But I’m not falling for that one.”

Dang.

“Mia,” Lilly said. “You can’t get all bent out of shape over the fact that Michael has been with other girls before you. That’s just STUPID.”

NowI narrowed my eyes ather. “What do you mean, GIRLS?”

“Well, like that girl from Hebrew camp—”

“WHAT GIRL FROM HEBREW CAMP?” I screamed so loudly that Boris actually stuck his head out of the supply closet to see what was going on.

“Relax,” Lilly said disgustedly. “They just made out. And he was, like, in ninth grade, or something.”

“Was she pretty?” I wanted to know. “Who was she? What base did they get to?”

“You,” Lilly said, “need therapy. Now, can we talk about something other than our romantic travails for a moment? Because we need to work on your speech.”

I blinked at her. “My what?”

“Your speech. You think just because we’ve broken up with our boyfriends, we’re no longer capable of improving our academic environment, or leading our peers to a better tomorrow?”

“No,” I said. “But—”

“Good. Because you know you have to give your student council president speech at Assembly today, right?”

I swallowed. Hard. “Lilly,” I said. “That is not going to be possible.”

“You don’t have a choice, POG,” Lilly said. “I’ve let you off easy this week because of the whole Michael thing. But this part I can’t do for you. You’re going to have to get up there and speak. I figured you wouldn’t have prepared anything, so I took the liberty of doing so.” She slid a piece of paper—covered with Lilly’s tiniest handwriting—toward me. “It’s pretty much the answers to questions posed on the table-toppers in the caf. You know, what to do in the event of a Category Five hurricane or dirty bomb attack. Nothing new. At least, not to you. It should be a snap.”

“If I do this,” I asked, in a sort of daze—maybe I was crashing from all the bacon—“you’ll tell me, right? If you and J.P. Did It over the summer?”

“Is that your sole motivation for running?” Lilly wanted to know.

“Yes,” I said.

“God, that is so pathetic. But yes, I will. You loser.”

I didn’t take offense at this because she’s right. I AM a loser. She doesn’t even know how much.

Besides, I know that beneath Lilly’s bravado, she is clearly hurting inside. How could she not be? She adored J.P. in a way I’ve never seen her fall for any other guy.

Seriously, how could J.P. do this to her? I thought he was one of the good guys. I really did.

But now I honestly don’t know how I’m going to be able to be friends with him. Let alone lab partners.

Friday, September 10, Chemistry

J.P. is acting like nothing happened! Like he thinks I don’t know about him and Lilly! He asked, “How are you, Mia?” when he sat down next to me, looking all concerned about me. Me! Whenhe’s the one who just stomped on my best friend’s heart!

I was so shocked, I just went, “Fine,” completely forgetting what I decided in the hallway on the way to class—that I am never speaking to J.P. again.

And okay, it isn’t his fault, necessarily, that he doesn’t love Lilly. But he could have told her sooner—like way back in May when she first told him that she loved him—instead of stringing her along this whole time.

Oh…Kenny is passing me a note:

Mia—I was very sorry to hear about you and Michael breaking up. If there is anything I can do to help make you feel better, please let me know.—Kenny

Kenny is so sweet. I can’t believe he doesn’t have a girlfriend. Hey, maybe Lilly—

Well, okay. Probably not. He’s not really her type, seeing as how he weighs less than she does.

Thanks, Kenny. Helping me make sense of all this Chemistry stuff is really all I can think of at the moment. I’m really grateful for all your help.

No problem, Mia! I’m always here for you. Maybe, if you aren’t doing anything tonight, you could come over, and I could help you understand Avogadro’s number. Because I noticed you looked kind of confused by that. Plus, my mom just went to the butcher, so we have lots of bacon, which I hear you’re eating now.

Aw. See? He’s such a nice guy. He TOTALLY needs a girlfriend. Maybe he and Perin would get along???

Oh, thank you, Kenny, that’s very sweet, but I can’t tonight. I’m not really feeling up to understanding anybody’s number yet.

Well, the invitation’s open anytime! You really don’t need to be intimidated by Chemistry. It’s easy—so long as you pay attention.

Good to know! Thanks again.

Amazing.

Oh my God. J.P. just passed me a note! How COULD he? I mean, he has to know how upset I am with him right now. He knows Lilly has G&T with me after lunch. He has to know she told me what he did. How dare he pass me a note? How DARE he?

Well, I’m not writing back. I’m not. I’m keeping my eyes on the blackboard. Chemistry is important, you know. Even princesses have to know it. For some reason.

Still…what’s he talking about? What’s so amazing? What’s amazing?

I can’t believe I did that! I can’t believe I wrote back! What’s WRONG with me?

That you’ve only been single for what, less than 24 hours? And the wolves are already out.

!!!!WHAT???? What is he talking about? Oh, wait, KENNY? Is J.P. insane?

Kenny’s not a wolf! He’s just trying to be nice.

You go right on telling yourself that, if it makes you feel better. How are you doing, though, REALLY?

Ha! Well, he asked for it:

How am I doing? I’ll tell you how I’m doing. I was doing a lot better before you broke up with my best friend!!!!

Let’s see how he responds to THAT.

Oh. She told you.

Of course she told me!!!! What do you think???? Lilly and I tell each other everything. Well, ALMOST everything. J.P., how could you do that to her?

I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. I like Lilly, I really do. Just not the same way she likes me.

She didn’t just LIKE you, she LOVED you. She told you that back in May. If you knew you didn’t love her, why didn’t you tell her then? Why did you have to string her on for so long?

Honestly, I don’t know. I guess I hoped my feelings would change. But they never did. And today, when I saw how she treated you—well, I realized they never would.

Saw how she treated me? What are you TALKING about?

She was so mean to you at lunch. About what happened between you and Michael.

What???? Lilly wasn’t mean to me!!!

Mia, she equated your breaking up with Michael for lying to you with fundamentalist judges in Iran who order adulterous women to be stoned to death.

Oh, THAT. But that’s just Lilly being…LILLY. I mean, that’s just how she is.

Well, that’s not someone I want to be with. That shows a lack of compassion I frankly find unforgivable.

Wait…so you’re saying you broke up with Lilly because of ME???

Well…partly. Yes.

Oh, great. This is just GREAT. Like things aren’t going badly enough. Now I also have to shoulder the burden of responsibility for Lilly’s broken heart?

J.P., that’s just how Lilly IS. I’m USED to it. It doesn’t bother me.

But it SHOULD bother you. You deserve to be treated better. I think you let people treat you badly too often. You dismiss it as “that’s just how that person is.” But that doesn’t make their behavior right, Mia. That’s why I think your taking a stand against Michael for what he did is a real step forward for you.

What is he TALKING about?

I don’t let people treat me badly! I totally broke Lana’s cell phone that one time…well, you weren’t there. But I did.

I’m not saying you NEVER stick up for yourself. I’m just saying it seems to take a lot to finally get a rise out of you. You tend to think the best of people—like Kenny, and his blatant attempt to lure you into his clutches when you’ve been single less than 24 hours.

!

I told you! Kenny only thinks of me as a friend!

Right. You go right on telling yourself that. I’m just glad you finally stuck up for yourself where Michael is concerned. I like Michael, but it was wrong of him to lie to you about his sexual history. I think honesty is the most important thing in a relationship. And if Michael couldn’t be honest with you about something as basic as who he has been with before you, what chance did you two really have at anything long-term?

Wow! FINALLY someone who gets it! Maybe J.P. isn’t that bad after all. I mean, it’s true he dumped Lilly—and at SCHOOL, of all places.

But he seems to really have his priorities straight.

I just hope that you and I can still be friends. I wouldn’t want you to hold my breaking up with Lilly against me. I would hate for that to affect OUR friendship. Because I do consider you a close friend, Mia…one of the best I’ve ever had.

Oh my gosh! That is so sweet!

Thanks, J.P.! I think of you that way, as well. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you’re on my side in all of this, and not Michael’s. So many boys WOULD take his side, I think. They just don’t seem to understand that your virginity is the most precious gift you have to give to your one true love. If you waste it on someone you don’t even care about, then you have nothing to give the person you DO care about when the time comes.

Exactly. That’s why I’ve hung on to mine.

!!!! J.P. is a virgin!!!!!

Wow. He and I really DO have a lot in common.

Also…this means that Tina is wrong: He and Lilly never Did It!!!!!!!!!!

I’m not going to tell Lilly I know the truth, though. She’s had enough disappointments for one day. I’ll let her have the fun of stringing me along for a bit longer. It’s the least I can do, considering it’s MY fault she and J.P. broke up.

I just really hope she never realizes this.

Friday, September 10, Precalc

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. Did what just happened really happen? Or did I just imagine it?

It CAN’T have happened. Because it’s too weird to actually have taken place.

Except…except I think it really did!

I’m going to throw up. I really am.Why did I eat that bacon cheeseburger for lunch?

My fingers are trembling so much I can barely write this…but I have to get it down somehow…okay, here goes:

Now I know what Michael meant when he said he was going tocome by and try to explain. He meant he was going to come to ALBERT EINSTEIN HIGH SCHOOL.

And walk up to the door to seventh period Chemistry just as I was coming out with J.P. Only at first I didn’t notice him. Michael, I mean.

At least, not until after J.P.—who I’m sure hadn’t noticed Michael either—went, “Friends?” to me, and I said, “Of course!” and then he said, “Hug?”

And I was like, “Why not?” And gave him one.

And I was so—I don’t know. MOVED by how sad J.P. was, on account of breaking up with Lilly, and all—that the next thing I knew, I was KISSING J.P.

I only meant to kiss him on the cheek. But he moved his head. And so I ended up kissing him on the lips.

Not like French, or anything. And only for a second.

Still. I kissed him. On the lips.

It wouldn’t have been any big deal—I’m sure it wouldn’t—if it hadn’t been for the fact that when I took my arms down from around his neck and turned around—all embarrassed, because I HADN’T meant to kiss him. Or at least, not exactly—there was Michael.

Just standing there in the middle of the crowded hallway, looking stunned.

So many things went through my head when I turned around and saw Michael standing there, staring at me. Happiness, at first, because I’m always happy when I see Michael. Then pain, when I remembered what he did to me, and how we’re broken up now. Then bewilderment, over what on earth he was doing at a school he already graduated from.

Then I realized he was thereto try to explain , like he’d texted.

And then I saw his expression, and saw his gaze dart from my face to J.P.’s—poor J.P., who was standing there still as a statue, the hand he’d put around my waist when I’d stood on my tiptoes to kiss him still up in the air, like he’d forgotten how to move, or something!—and back again.

And I knew EXACTLY what he was thinking.

Then all I felt was confused. Because Michael had to think—well, that there was something going on between me and J.P.

But it wasn’t true, of course.

“Michael,” I said.

But it was too late. Because he was alreadyturning around and walking away .

Walking away, like he’d suddenly realized he’d made a huge, colossal mistake in coming to see me at all!

I couldn’t believe it! Apparently, I don’t even mean enough to him to stay to try to hash it out with me! He didn’t even stay to punch J.P. in the face for scamming on his girl!

I guess because I’m not actually his girl anymore.

Also, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised. I mean, when Michael saw me sexy dancing with J.P. at that party he had last year, he never said anything about it.

But he hadn’t completely ignored me altogether afterward, either, like he’s doing now.

Oh, God. I can’t even think about it. I thought writing about it would help, but it hasn’t. My fingers are STILL shaking as I write this. What’s happening to me? My stomach is really upset, too. It can’t be the cheeseburger; that was hours ago…plus the nurse gave me those antacids…

WHY didn’t he SAY ANYTHING? I WAS KISSING ANOTHER MAN. You’d have thought he’d at least have said SOMETHING, even if it was only, “Good-bye, forever.”

Good-bye, forever. Oh, God. He’s leaving tonight. Forever.

And he looked so GOOD standing there, so tall and strong, with his neck all freshly shaved (I think. I didn’t exactly get an opportunity to go up to it and check. Or take a sniff. Oh, God! How I miss the smell of Michael’s neck! If I smelled it right now, I bet I’d stop shaking, and my stomach would stop rolling around).

He looked so shocked—so hurt—

Oh, God. I think I really am going to be sick….

Friday, September 10, the limo on the way to the Four Seasons

I was sick in the nurse’s office. Lars got me there just in time.

I don’t know what came over me. I was just sitting there in Precalc, writing in my journal, and all of a sudden, I pictured the shocked expression on Michael’s face when I turned around from kissing J.P., and I started feeling sweaty all over, and Lars, who was sitting next to me, went, “Princess? Are you all right?” in alarm, and I said, “No,” and the next thing I knew, Lars had me by the arm and out the door and over the sink in the nurse’s office, where I threw up what looked like the entire bacon cheeseburger I scarfed down at lunch.

Nurse Lloyd took my temperature and said it was normal but that there’s a stomach flu that is going around, and that I probably have it. She said I couldn’t stay at school, or I’d infect everyone.

So she called the loft, but no one was there. I could have told her that. Fridays this semester Mr. G only has a half day, so he went home early. He and Mom probably headed out to New Jersey to catch whatever was showing at the five-dollar matinee, and then stop at Sam’s Club to stock up on diapers for Rocky, their half-day tradition.

So Lars decided to take me to Grandmère’s, since he didn’t think I should be alone in the loft in my current state.

Apparently, being ill in the company of Grandmère is preferable to being ill in my own comfy bed. I fail to see the logic in this, but I was too weak to protest.

I didn’t have the heart to tell Nurse Lloyd that what I have isn’t the flu. What I have is too-much-meat-after-a-lifetime-of-abstaining-from-it-because-my-boyfriend-gavehis-Precious-Gift-to-someone-else-and-is-moving-to-Japan-tonight syndrome.

But, just like with the flu, there’s no pill you can take to make that go away.

Especially when it’s accompanied by I-just-kissed-my-best-friend’s-ex-boyfriend-and-my-ex-boyfriend-saw-me-do-it-ism.

The saddest part of all is that the first person I wanted to call when I realized I was being booted out of school on account of being sick was…Michael. Because even just talking to Michael has always made me feel better.

But I can’t call him. I can never call him again. Because what would I even SAY to him, after what just happened?

It’s a really good thing this limo comes with its own barf bags.

Friday, September 10, 3 p.m., the Four Seasons

Grandmère is the worst person to hang around with when you aren’t feeling well. Being a cylon, she, of course, never feels sick—or at least, never remembers what it was like when she DID feel sick—and is completely lacking in compassion for anyone feeling out of sorts.

Worse, she is WAY excited that Michael and I broke up.

“I always knew That Boy was trouble,” she said, all happily, when I explained what I was doing, showing up at her suite in the midafternoon, supposedly infected with a highly contagious disease.I’m not sick, Grandmère , I’d said.I’m just sad.

Because, the problem is, I haven’t stopped loving Michael. So instead of agreeing with her that he was trouble, I was just like, “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” and went and sat on her couch, pulling Rommel onto my lap for comfort.

Yes. That’s how far gone I was. I was looking to ROMMEL, a toy poodle, for comfort.

“Oh, there’s nothing inherently WRONG with Michael,” Grandmère went on. “Except that he’s a commoner. Well, tell me. What did he do? It must have been something particularly heinous for you to have taken off That Necklace.”

My hand went to the empty spot at my throat. My necklace! I hadn’t even realized how much I’d been missing it—how strange it felt not to have it on—until just then. Michael’s necklace had been a bit of a bone of contention between Grandmère and me. She always wanted me to put on the Genovian royal jewels for balls and functions I attended, but I would never take Michael’s necklace off, and let’s just say Grandmère isn’t a fan of the layered necklace look.

Well, I guess a silver snowflake on a chain doesn’t exactly go with a diamond-and-sapphire choker.

I figured there was no point in hiding the truth from Grandmère, since she’d weasel it out of me somehow. So I went, “He slept with Judith Gershner.”

Grandmère looked delighted. Well, she WOULD.

“Cheated on you! Well, never mind. Plenty of fish in the sea. What about that nice boy who was in my play, the Reynolds-Abernathy boy? He’d make a lovely consort for you. Such a nice young man. So tall and blond and handsome!”

I just ignored that. What could I have said in reply? Sometimes I wonder if lunacy runs in the family.

Actually, I KNOW it does.

Instead, I said, “Michael didn’t cheat on me. He slept with Judith Gershner before we started going out.”

“Is she that horse fly girl?” Grandmère wanted to know. “I can see why you’d be upset about that. Those horrible black tennis shoes!”

“Grandmère.” Seriously. What is WRONG with her? “It’s not about how she LOOKS. It’s that Michael LIED to me about it. I asked him if they were going out, and he said no. Plus, he didn’t even LOVE her. What kind of person gives his Precious Gift to someone he doesn’t even LOVE?”

Grandmère just looked at me. She seemed confused. “His precious what?”

“GIFT.” God, she can be so dense. “HIS PRECIOUS GIFT. You only have ONE. And he gave his to JUDITH GERSHNER, a girl he didn’t even CARE about. He should have waited. He should have given it to ME.”

I didn’t mention the part about how he’d just caught me kissing another boy. Because it didn’t really seem to pertain to the matter at hand.

Grandmère just looked more confused. “Was this gift some kind of family heirloom? Because the rules of etiquette dictate that when a young man gives you a family heirloom, it is only yours to keep for the duration of the relationship, and must be returned in the event of the dissolution of the engagement.”

“His Precious Gift isn’t a RING, Grandmère,” I said, fighting for patience. “His Precious Gift is his VIRGINITY.”

Grandmère blinked at me. “Hisvirginity ? Virginity is no GIFT. You can’t even WEAR it!”

“Grandmère,” I said. I can’t believe she is so behind the times. Well, it’s not surprising she has no idea what I’m talking about. I was listening to “Dance, Dance” on my iPod the other day and she overheard it and said it was “catchy” and asked who sang it and when I said Fall Out Boy, she accused me of lying and said no one would name a band something that stupid. I tried to explain that the name came from Bart on the showThe Simpsons , and she was just like, “BART WHO? Do you mean WALLIS SIMPSON? She didn’t have a relative named Bart. That I know of.”

See? She’s hopeless.

“Your virginity is a Precious Gift you are supposed to give only to a person whom you love,” I explained slowly, so she’d understand. “Only Michael gave his to Judith Gershner, a girl he didn’t love and with whom, in fact, he says he was only ‘messing around.’ So now he has no gift to give me, the girl he professes to love, because he SQUANDERED his gift on someone he didn’t even care about.”

Grandmère shook her head. “That Miss Gershner did you a FAVOR, young lady. You should be kissing her feet. No woman wants an inexperienced lover. Well, except apparently all these young blond female teachers I keep seeing on the news, who are sleeping with their fourteen-year-old male students. But I must say, they all appear to be mentally unhinged to me. What on earth do they TALK to these young boys about? Because it certainly isn’t why their trousers are falling down. Tell me, Amelia, why IS that considered so fashionable? What is so appealing about a young man whose pants are halfway down to his knees?”

I could think of no reply to this. Because what can you even SAY to that?

“In any case,” Grandmère went on, not even noticing I hadn’t said anything, “isn’t That Boy moving to Japan anyway?”

“Yes,” I said. And as usual, my heart twisted at the sound of the wordJapan . Just proving that:

a) I still have a heart, and

b) I still love Michael, despite all my efforts not to. I mean, how could I not?

“Well, what does it matter, then?” Grandmère asked cheerfully. “You’ll probably never see him again.”

That’s when I burst into tears.

Grandmère was pretty alarmed at this development. I mean, I was just sitting there, wailing. Even Rommel put his ears back and started whining. I don’t know what would have happened if my dad hadn’t walked in just then.

“Mia!” he said when he saw me. “What are you doing here so early? And what’s the matter? Why on earth are you crying?”

But I just shook my head. On account of how I couldn’t stop crying.

“She broke up with That Boy,” Grandmère had to shout, in order to be heard over my sobs. “I don’t know what she’s carrying on that way for. I told her it’s all for the best. She’d be much better off with the Abernathy-Reynolds boy. Such a tall, handsome young man! And his father’s so rich!”

This just made me cry harder, remembering how I’d kissed J.P. in the hallway, right in front of Michael. I hadn’t meant to, of course—but what did that matter? The damage was done. Michael was never going to speak to me again. I just knew it.

The fact that I so desperately wanted him to, in spite of everything that had happened between us, was what was making me cry hardest of all.

“I think I know what she needs,” Grandmère went on, as I continued to wail.

“Her mother?” Dad asked hopefully.

Grandmère shook her head. “Bourbon. Does the trick every time.”

Dad frowned. “I think not. But you might have your maid ring for some hot tea. Maybe that will help.”

Grandmère didn’t look very hopeful, but she went off to get Jeanne to ring for tea, while Dad stood there, looking down at me. My dad’s not really used to seeing me cry like that. I mean, I’ve cried in front of him plenty of times—most recently over the summer when we were at a state function at the palace and I walked into a low-hanging roof beam while wearing my tiara and the combs dug into my head like tiny knives.

But he is not used to me having dramatic emotional outbursts, because for the most part over the past few years, with a few notable exceptions, things have been going fairly well, and I have been able to keep it together.

Until now.

I just kept on bawling, and reaching for tissues from the box on the end table by the couch. In between wails, it all kind of poured out, about the Precious Gift and Judith Gershner and the snowflake necklace and how Michael had come to school to see me and instead saw me kissing J.P.

I have to admit, Dad looked pretty stunned. I don’t really talk about, you know, sex with my dad, because, um, ew.

And I could tell the Precious Gift thing was freaking him out, because he sank down onto the end of the couch like he had kind of lost the ability to stand up. And he just sat there listening to me until I finally wound down and couldn’t talk anymore and was just sitting there, blowing my nose, the worst of the tears over.

Only when I’d cleaned up most of the snot from my face did Dad think of something to say. And when he did, it was NOT what I was expecting.

“Mia,” Dad said somberly. “I think you’re making a mistake.”

I couldn’t believe it! I’d basically just told him that Michael is a man-slut! You would think my own father would want me to stay far away from a man-slut! What was he TALKING about, a mistake?

“True romantic love really doesn’t come around that often,” he went on. “When it does, it’s foolish to throw it away because of some silly thing the object of your affections did before the two of you were even dating.”

I just stared at him. I don’t think it was my imagination that he looked so much like the elf king inThe Lord of the Rings.

If the elf king had been totally bald, I mean.

“It’s even more foolish to let someone you feel that strongly about go—at least, not without a fight. That’s something I did once,” Dad went on, after clearing his throat. “And I’ve always regretted it, because the truth is, I never met anyone I felt that way about ever again. I don’t want to see you make my same mistake, Mia. So think—reallythink —about what you’re doing. I wish I had.”

Then he got up to leave for his meeting at the UN.

I just sat there, completely stunned. Was that speech supposed to have HELPED me? Because it so didn’t.

Dad should have just gotten Lars to shoot me. That’s the only way I’ll ever be put out of this misery.

Friday, September 10, the Four Seasons

The tea is here. Grandmère is making me pour. She is going on about some argument she once had with Elizabeth Taylor about whether or not pantsuits are proper attire for women attending afternoon tea. Elizabeth Taylor thinks they are. Grandmère thinks not (no surprise there).

Something is bothering me. I mean something besides the fact that my boyfriend and I are broken up because he slept with Judith Gershner, and that an hour or so ago he caught me making out (well, sort of) with my best friend’s ex-boyfriend.

I can’t stop thinking about Dad’s little speech. You know, the one about how he once let someone he cared about go without a fight. He’d just looked so…sad.

And my dad is not really a sad sort of guy. I mean, would YOU be sad, if you were a prince and had Gisele Bündchen’s private cell phone number?

Which is why I interrupted Grandmère’s tirade against pantsuits to ask if she knew who Dad was talking about.

“Someone he cared about and let go without a fight?” Grandmère looked thoughtful. “Hmmm. It could have been that housewife woman….”

“Grandmère,” I said. “That thing inUs Weekly about Dad dating Eva Longoria was just a rumor.”

“Oh. Well, then I have no idea. The only woman I’ve ever known him to mention more than once is your mother. And that, of course, is because she’s your mother. If it weren’t for you, of course, he’d never have seen her again, once she turned down his proposal. Which, of course, was the stupidest mistake SHE ever made. Saying no to a prince?Pfuit! Of course, it was a good thing in the end. Your mother would never have fit in at the palace. Pass the Sweet ’n Low, please, Amelia.”

God. That is so weird. Who could it have been, then? I mean, who could my dad have cared about that he let walk away? Who—

Friday, September 10, the steps outside of the Four Seasons

I can’t believe this. How stupid I’ve been, I mean.

Dad tried to tell me. EVERYONE tried to tell me. But I was just so STUPID—

But I can fix this. I KNOW I can. I just have to get to him before he gets on the plane, and I’ll tell him—

Well, I don’t know what I’ll tell him. But I’ll figure it out when I see him. If I can just smell his neck one more time, I know—I KNOW—everything will be all right.

And that I’ll know what to tell him when I see him.

IF I can get to him before he gets on the plane. Because it’s the middle of the afternoon and my dad’s got the limo over at the UN, which means Lars and I have to take a cab, only we can’t find one because they’ve all seemed to have disappeared, which is ALWAYS what happens when you really need one, which is why shows likeSex and the City can be so bogus sometimes, because those girls ALWAYS get a cab, and the fact is, there are just way more people who need cabs than there are cabs and

WHAT AM I GOING TO SAY TO HIM????

God, I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been. How stupid and blind and dumb and ignorant and judgmental and WHAT DOES IT MATTER???? Seriously, what does any of it MATTER, when I love him, and I’ll never love anyone else, and it’s not like he cheated on me and WHY AREN’T THERE ANY CABS????

I tore out of Grandmère’s suite without even saying good-bye. I just yelled, “We’re leaving!” to Lars and bolted. He ran after me, looking confused. It wasn’t until we ran into the lobby that I finally got Lilly on her cell, and was like, “WHAT AIRLINE?”

And Lilly was like, “What are you talking about?”

“WHAT AIRLINE IS MICHAEL FLYING ON?” I screamed.

“Continental,” she said, sounding confused. “Wait—Mia, where are you? We have Assembly—you have to give your speech! Your speech for student council president!”

“I can’t,” I yelled. “This is more important. Lilly, I have to see him—”

I was crying again. But I didn’t even care. I’ve been crying so much, it’s basically my natural state now. Which means maybe I’m not a nihilist after all. Because nihilists don’t cry. “Lilly. I just want to tell him—I just want to—” Except, of course, I still don’t even KNOW what I want to tell him. “Just tell me what time his plane is leaving—please?”

Something in my voice must have convinced her I was sincere.

“Six o’clock,” Lilly said, her tone softening. “But he probably already left for the airport. You have to check in, like, three hours early for international flights. Something I realize someone who only flies by royal Genovian jet wouldn’t know.”

So he was already at the airport.

But I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I hung up and ran outside and told Lars to flag down a cab.

Then I called my dad on his emergency number.

“Mia?” he whispered when he picked up. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said. “Was it Mom?”

“Nothing’s wrong? Mia, this is my emergency line—I’m in the middle of the General Assembly—the committee for disarmament and international security is speaking right now. I know you’re going through a hard time right now dealing with the loss of your boyfriend, but unless you’re actually bleeding, I’m hanging up.”

“Dad, don’t! I need to know,” I said urgently. “The person you said you loved—the person you let go without a fight. Was it Mom?”

“What are you talking about?”

“WAS IT MOM? Was Mom the person you loved and regret letting go without a fight? It was, wasn’t it? Because she said she never wanted to get married, and you HAD to get married in order to provide an heir to the throne. You didn’t know you’d end up getting cancer and I’d be your only kid. And you didn’t know you’d never meet anyone you loved as much as her. So you let her go without a fight, didn’t you? It was her. It’salways been HER.”

There was silence for a moment on my dad’s end of the phone. Then he said, “Don’t tell her,” very quietly.

“I won’t, Dad,” I said. Because of my tears I could barely see Lars out on the curb with the Four Seasons doorman, both of them frantically waving their arms at cabs that were all currently filled with passengers. “I promise. Just tell me one more thing.”

“Mia, I really have to go—”

“Did you ever used to smell her neck?”

“What?”

“Mom’s neck. Dad, I have to know…. Did you ever used to smell it? Did it smell really good to you?”

“Like freesia,” Dad said faintly. “How did you know that? I never told anyone that.”

Mom’s neck smells nothing like freesia. Mom’s neck smells of Dove soap and turpentine. Oh, and coffee, because she drinks so much of it.

Except to Dad. Dad can’t smell any of that. Because for him, Mom was the One.

Just like Michael is my One.

“Dad,” I said. “I gotta go. Bye.”

I hung up just as Lars yelled, “Princess! Here!”

A cab! At last! I’m saved!

Friday, September 10, cab on the way to John F. Kennedy International Airport

I don’t believe this. It doesn’t seem possible. But there’s no mistake: We’re in Ephrain Kleinschmidt’s taxicab.

Yes. The same Ephrain Kleinschmidt in whose taxicab I wept so many bitter tears the other night.

Ephrain took one look at me in the rearview mirror and went, “YOU!”

Then he tried to hand me his Kleenex again.

“No Kleenex!” I yelled. “JFK!!! Take us to JFK, as fast as you can!”

“JFK?” Ephrain balked. “I’m about to go off duty!”

That’s when Lars showed him his sidearm. Well, really, he was just reaching for his wallet, saying there was an extra twenty in it if Ephrain got us to the airport in under twenty minutes.

But I’m pretty sure the Glock spoke more than the twenty.

Ephrain didn’t hesitate. He put the pedal to the metal. Well, at least until we got to the first traffic light.

This is excruciating. We’re never going to make it.

Except that we HAVE to. I can’t let Michael go—not without a fight. I can’t end up like my dad, with no one special in my life, dating supermodel after supermodel, because I allowed the person I really loved to slip through my fingers!

And sure, it’s possible that when I get to the airport, Michael will be like, “Get away.” Because, let’s face it—I screwed up. Not that I didn’t have a right to be hurt by what Michael did.

But I guess I should maybe have been a little bit more understanding and a little less judgmental.

Everyone TRIED to tell me. Mom. Tina. Lilly. Dad.

But I wouldn’t listen.

Why didn’t I listen?

And WHY did I kiss J.P.???? WHY WHY WHY?????

All I can do is try to explain. That it didn’t mean anything—that J.P.’s just a friend. That I’m a horrible, terrible person, and that I deserve to be punished.

Only not by Michael’s never speaking to me again. ANYTHING but that.

And even if Michael is like, “Get away,” at least maybe I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Because I’ll have tried. I’ll havetried to make things right.

And maybe just knowing I tried will be enough.

Lars was just like, “Princess. I don’t think we’re going to make it.”

That’s because we’re currently stuck behind a stalled tractor-trailer on the bridge.

“Don’t say that, Lars. We’re going to make it. We HAVE to make it.”

“Maybe you should call him. To let him know we’re on our way. So he doesn’t go through security right away.”

“I can’t CALL him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’ll never pick up if he sees it’s me. After what he saw me do outside Chemistry?”

Lars raised his eyebrows. “Oh,” he said. “Right. I forgot about that. But what if he’s already gone through security?” Lars wanted to know. “You won’t be able to get through without a ticket.”

“Then I’ll buy a ticket.”

“To JAPAN? Princess, I don’t think—”

“I won’t actually GO to Japan,” I assured him. “I’ll just go to the gate to find him.”

“You know I can’t let you go alone.”

“I’ll buy a ticket for you, too.” Fortunately I have my emergency-only royal Genovian black American Express card on me. I’ve never actually used it before. But this IS what my dad gave it to me for: emergencies.

And this is an emergency, all right.

“I think you should just call him,” Lars said. “He might pick up. You never know.”

I looked Lars dead in the eye. “Would you?” I asked. “If it were you?”

“Er,” he said. “Well, no. Probably not.”

“Hey.” Ephrain Kleinschmidt glared at us in the rearview mirror. Ephrain had gotten out from behind the tractor-trailer and was making serious time along the highway now. “I’m not turning around. We’re almost there.”

“I’m not calling him, Lars,” I said. “Not unless I have to. I mean, Arwen wouldn’tcall Aragorn.”

“Who?”

“Princess Arwen. She wouldn’tcall Aragorn.Something like this requires a BIG GESTURE, Lars. I’m no Arwen. I haven’t saved any hobbits from peril or outraced any Ringwraiths. I already have a lot of strikes against me—I acted like a snotty jerk, I kissed another guy, AND I haven’t made any particularly valuable contributions to society…not like Michael will, when his robotic surgical arm revolutionizes heart surgery as we know it. I’m just a princess.”

“Wasn’t this Arwen just a princess?” Lars wanted to know.

“Yes. But her hair didn’t look as stupid as mine does right now.”

Lars looked at my head. “True.”

I couldn’t even get offended. Because when you’re already at rock bottom, nothing hurts anymore.

“Plus,” I added, “Arwen never tried to keep Aragorn from completing his quest, the way I tried to keep Michael from completing his. Arwen played a crucial role in the destruction of the One Ring. What have I ever done?”

“You built houses for the homeless,” Lars pointed out.

“Yeah, so did Michael.”

“You got parking meters installed in Genovia.”

“Big whoop.”

“You saved the Genovian bay from killer algae.”

“No one cares about that but the fishermen.”

“You got recycling bins installed all over the school.”

“And bankrupted the student government in doing so. Face it, Lars: I’m no Melinda Gates—donating millions of dollars to help eradicate malaria, the biggest health crisis facing the globe, causing over a million children to die needlessly every year, just from a lack of a three-dollar mosquito net. I’m really going to have to start working on becoming something special if I’m going to hang on to Michael. I mean, if he’ll even take me back after this.”

“I think Michael likes you the way you are,” Lars said, grabbing the handle of the passenger door to keep from sliding over and crushing me as Ephrain Kleinschmidt swerved into the exit lane.

“He DID,” I said. “Before I blew it by dumping him. And kissing his sister’s ex-boyfriend right in front of him.”

“True,” Lars said.

Which is, in a way, one of the reasons I love Lars so much. You don’t have to worry about him saying anything just to make you feel better. He always tells the truth. As he sees the truth, anyway.

“What airline?” Ephrain Kleinschmidt wanted to know.

“Continental,” I said. I had to hang on to the safety strap to keep from being hurled from one side of the backseat to the other. “Departures!”

Ephrain put his foot on the accelerator.

Can’t write anymore. Fear for my life.

Friday, September 10, JFK International Airport, limo shelter

Well. That really didn’t work out the way I’d hoped it would.

I’d really hoped that what would happen was, I’d walk into the airport and see Michael standing in the security line. I would call his name and he would turn around and see me, and duck out of the security line and come over, and I would tell him how sorry I was for being such a total ass, and he would forgive me instantly and wrap me in his arms and kiss me and I would smell his neck and he would be so moved he’d decide to stay in New York.

Well, I wasn’t actually hoping for that last part. Well, I mean, of course I WAS. But I didn’t really think it would HAPPEN. I would have settled for just his forgiving me.

But it turned out none of it happened. Because Michael’s flight was taking off as we got to the ticket counter.

We were too late.

Iwas too late.

Now Michael’s gone. He’s on his way to another country—another CONTINENT—another HEMISPHERE.

And I’ll probably never see him again.

Of course, I did the only sensible thing I could, under the circumstances: I sat down on the airport floor and cried.

Lars had to half drag, half carry me to the limo stand, where we’re waiting for Hans and my dad to come pick us up. Because Lars says over his dead body is he ever getting in another taxicab.

At least there’s a bench here, so I can sit on it and cry, instead of on the ground.

I just don’t understand how any of this happened. A week ago—five days ago—I was so filled with hope and excitement. I didn’t even know what pain was. Not real pain.

And now it’s like my whole world has come collapsing down around my ears. And some of it I didn’t have anything to do with—like Michael’s decision to go to Japan.

But a lot of it is my own fault.

And for what?

How am I going to go on without him? Seriously?

Oh. The limo’s here.

I’m going to see if we can go through the McDonald’s drive-through on the way home. Because I think the only thing that might make me feel even slightly better is a Quarter Pounder.

With cheese.

Friday, September 10, 7 p.m., the loft

When I got home, Mom and Mr. G were just getting ready to order dinner. Mom took one look at me and was like, “Bedroom.Now ,” because Rocky had pulled all the pots and pans from the kitchen cupboards and was banging on them (a trait he no doubt inherited from his father, whose drum set still has a prominent place in our living room).

So I dragged myself into my bedroom and collapsed onto my bed, startling Fat Louie, who was so surprised when I landed on him, he actually hissed at me.

But I didn’t care. I think I have dysthmia, or chronic depression, since I have all the symptoms:

Emotional numbness

Perpetual, low-level melancholy

Feeling of merely going through the motions of everyday life with very little enthusiasm or interest

Negative thinking

Anhedonic (unable to savor or enjoy anything; except cheeseburgers)

“Your father tells me you were sent home from school in the middle of the afternoon,” Mom said, after shutting the door, so that the sound of at least some of the banging was lessened. “And I understand from Lars that you went to the airport to try to say good-bye to Michael.”

“Yeah,” I said. Seriously, I have zero privacy. I can’t do ANYTHING without the whole world finding out about it. I don’t know why I even try to keep anything secret. “I did.”

“I think that was the right thing to do,” Mom said. “I’m proud of you.”

I just stared at her. “I missed him. His flight had left already.”

Mom winced. “Oh. Well. You can still call him.”

“Mom,” I said. “I can’t call him.”

“Don’t be silly. Of course you can.”

“Mom. I can’t call him. I kissed J.P. And Michael saw me do it.”

Now it was Mom’s turn to stare at me. “You kissed your best friend’s boyfriend?”

“Actually,” I said, “Lilly and J.P. broke up today. So he’s her ex-boyfriend. But yes.”

“And you did this in front of Michael.”

“Yes.” I’m not sure the Quarter Pounder with cheese was actually the best idea. “I didn’t mean to, though. It just sort of…happened.”

“Oh, Mia,” Mom said with a sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know,” I said, tears tickling my nose. “I’ve completely ruined everything with him. He’ll never forgive me. He’s probably glad to be rid of me. Who wants a crazy girlfriend?”

“You’ve been crazy since Michael met you,” Mom said. “It’s not like you’ve gotten any noticeably crazier.”

The thing is, I knew she wastrying to be encouraging.

“Thanks,” I said, through my tears.

“Look,” she went on. “Frank and I are ordering from Number One Noodle Son. Do you want anything?”

I thought about it. The Quarter Pounder really wasn’t sitting all that well. Maybe what I needed was some more protein, to help keep it down.

“I guess some General Tso’s chicken,” I said. “And orange beef. And maybe some fried dumplings. And how about some spare ribs? You guys always look like you’re really enjoying those.”

But my mom, instead of looking happy that she didn’t have to order a vegetarian entrée that no one but me was going to eat, looked concerned.

“Mia,” she said. “Are you really sure you want to—”

But I guess something in my face made her change her mind about finishing that statement, since she just shrugged and said, “All right. Whatever you want. Oh, and Lilly called. She wants you to call her back. She said it’s important.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

Mom opened my bedroom door—BANG! Giggle. BANG! BANG!—and left. I stared at the ceiling for a while. On Michael’s ceiling, in his bedroom back at the Moscovitzes’ apartment, there are glow-in-the-dark constellations. I wondered if he’d put glow-in-the-dark constellations on the ceiling of his new bedroom. In Japan.

I leaned down and picked up the phone and dialed Lilly’s number. Dr. Moscovitz picked up. She said, “Oh, hello, Mia,” in a not-very-warm voice.

Yes. My boyfriend’s mother hates me now.

Well, she has a right to.

“Dr. Moscovitz,” I said. “I’m sorry about—well, everything. I’m a huge jerk. I understand if you hate me.”

Dr. Moscovitz’s voice warmed up a tiny bit.

“Oh, Mia,” she said. “I could never hate you. Look, these things happen. I—well, you and Lilly will work it out.”

“Right,” I said, feeling fractionally better. Maybe I didn’t have dysthmia after all. I mean, if I could actually feel something. Besides bad. “Thanks.”

Except…did she say “you andLilly ”? She must have meant “you and Michael.”

“Um,” I said. “Is Lilly there, Dr. Moscovitz? I’m returning her call.”

“Of course, Mia,” Dr. Moscovitz said. And she called for Lilly, who picked up the phone and said, without preamble, “YOU KISSED MY BOYFRIEND????”

I stared at the phone, totally confused. “What?”

“Kenny Showalter says he saw you kiss J.P. outside your Chemistry classroom today,” Lilly snarled.

Oh, God. Oh. My. God.

The Quarter Pounder with cheese moved up my throat a little more as complete and total panic gripped me.

“Lilly,” I said. “It wasn’t—look. It wasn’t what Kenny thinks—”

“So you’re saying you DIDN’T kiss my boyfriend outside your Chemistry classroom?” Lilly demanded.

“N-no,” I stammered. “I’m not. I did kiss him. But just as a friend. And besides, technically, J.P. is your EX-boyfriend.”

“You mean like you’retechnically my ex-best friend?”

I gasped. “Lilly! Come on! I told you! J.P. and I are just friends!”

“What kind of friends KISS each other?” Lilly demanded. “On the mouth?”

Oh my God.

“Lilly,” I said. “Look. We’ve both had a really bad day. Let’s not take it out on each other—”

“I haven’t had a particularly bad day,” Lilly snapped. “I mean, sure, my boyfriend dumped me. But I also got elected as the new student council president of Albert Einstein High School.”

I actually sat up upon hearing this. “You DID?”

“That’s right,” Lilly said, sounding very self-satisfied. “When you ducked out of school on account of your little tummyache, Principal Gupta said you disqualified yourself from the race.”

“Oh, Lilly,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Lilly said. “I asked Principal Gupta what would happen if no one ran—you know, to the student council. And she said Mrs. Hill would just have to preside over it. Well, you know how THAT would turn out: We’d be selling candles from here to Spring Break. So I asked Principal Gupta if I could run in your place, and she said, seeing as how there were no other candidates, she didn’t see why not. So I gave your speech. You know, the one about all the things people should do in the event of catastrophes? I guess I embellished a bit. Nothing TOO much. Just, you know, a few bits about supervolcanoes and asteroids…nothing major. People were too afraid NOT to vote for me. They held the vote last period. And I won. Well, over fifty percent, anyway. I KNEW this freshman class would respond to fear, and fear alone. It’s all they’ve ever known, after all.”

“Wow,” I said. “That’s great, Lilly.”

“Thanks,” Lilly said. “Although I don’t know what I’m telling YOU for, since you didn’t help in any way. You are not my vice president, by the way. Perin is. I don’t need a boyfriend stealer as my vice president, OR as a friend.”

“Lilly,” I said. “I did NOT steal your boyfriend. I told you, I only kissed him because—well, I don’t know why I kissed him. I just did. But—”

“You know what, Mia?” Lilly snapped. “I don’t want to hear it. Why don’t you save it for someone who cares? Like J.P., for instance.”

“J.P. doesn’t like me that way, Lilly,” I couldn’t help snapping back. “And you know it!”

“Do I?” Lilly asked, with an evil laugh. “Well, maybe I know something you don’t know, then.”

“What are youtalking about?” I demanded. “Come on, Lilly, this is stupid. We’ve been friends too long to let a GUY come between us—”

“Yeah?” Lilly said. “Well, maybe we’ve been friends long enough, then. Good-bye, POG.”

Then I heard a click. Lilly hung up on me.

I couldn’t believe it. Lillyhung up on me.

I sat there, not having the slightest idea what to do. The truth was, I couldn’t believe any of this was happening. I’d lost my boyfriend and my best friend all in the same week. Was such a thing even possible?

I was still sitting there, holding the phone, when it rang again. I was so sure it was Lilly calling back to apologize for hanging up on me that I answered on the first ring and said, “Look, Lilly, I am so, so sorry. What can I do to make it up to you? I’ll do ANYTHING.”

But it wasn’t Lilly. A deep, masculine voice said, “Mia?”

And my heart soared. It was Michael. MICHAEL WAS CALLING ME! I didn’t know how, since he was supposedly on a plane. But what did I care? It was MICHAEL!

“Yes,” I said, my bones turning to jelly with relief. It was MICHAEL! I practically burst into tears—but this time with happiness, not sadness.

“It’s me,” the voice said. “J.P.”

My bones went from jelly to stone. My heart crashed back down to the earth.

“Oh,” I said, desperately trying to keep my disappointment from sounding obvious. Because a princess always tries to make callers feel welcome, even if they aren’t the caller she was expecting. Or hoping for. “Hi.”

“I take it you already talked to Lilly,” J.P. said.

“Um,” I said. How could I have thought it was Michael? Michael was on a plane, flying halfway across the world from me. And why would Michael ever bother calling me again, after what I did? “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“I’m guessing it probably went about as well as when I tried to talk to her, just now,” J.P. said.

“Yeah,” I said. I felt numb. Was numbness a symptom of dysthmia? Not just emotional numbness, but actual PHYSICAL numbness? “She pretty much hates my guts. And I guess she has a right to. I don’t know what I was thinking back there outside of Chemistry, J.P. I am so, so sorry.”

J.P. laughed. “You don’t have to apologize to me,” he said. “I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

It was nice of him to be so chivalrous about it. But it somehow made it a little worse, in a way.

“I’m such an idiot,” I said miserably.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” J.P. said. “I just think you’ve had a really bad week. That’s why I’m calling. I figured you’d need cheering up, and I think I’ve got just the ticket. Literally.”

“I don’t know, J.P.,” I said dully. “I think I have dysthmia.”

“I don’t have the slightest idea what that is,” J.P. said. “But I do know that I am holding in my hand two box seat tickets to tonight’s Broadway performance ofBeauty and the Beast. Would you be interested in coming with me?”

I couldn’t help gasping. Box seats, to my favorite musical of all time?

“H-how—” I stammered. “How did you—”

“Easy,” J.P. said. “My dad’s a producer, remember? So. You up for it? Show starts in an hour.”

Was hekidding ? How had heknown ? How had he known this was EXACTLY what I needed to get my mind off what a total and complete jerk I had been to the two people I cared about most in the world (besides Fat Louie and Rocky, of course)?

“I’m up for it,” I said. “I’m totally up for it!”

“I’ll meet you outside the theater in forty-five minutes,” J.P. said. “And Mia.”

“What?”

“Just for tonight, let’s not mention either of the Moscovitzes. Deal?”

“Deal,” I said, smiling for what felt like the first time all day. “See you in a few minutes.”

I hung up the phone.

Then, before I went to change out of my school uniform and into something nice for the theater, I got up and walked over to my computer.

I clicked on my e-mail. No new messages.

But that was okay. I wasn’t expecting any. I didn’t actuallydeserve any.

I clicked on Michael’s last e-mail to me—the one I hadn’t answered. Then I clicked REPLY.

Then I thought for a while.

Then, finally, in the blank space, I wrote:

Michael. I’m sorry.

Then I clicked SEND.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many thanks to Beth Ader, Jennifer Brown, Barbara Cabot, Sarah Davies, John Henry Dreyfuss, Michele Jaffe, Laura Langlie, Amanda Maciel, Abigail McAden, and especially, Benjamin Egnatz

About the Author

MEG CABOTis the author of the best-selling, critically acclaimed Princess Diaries books, which were made into the wildly popular Disney movies of the same name. Her other books for teens include the Mediator series, the 1-800-Where-R-You books,ALL -AMERICAN GIRL,READY OR NOT ,TEEN IDOL ,HOW TO BE POPULAR , andAVALON HIGH , as well asNICOLA AND THE VISCOUNT andVICTORIA AND THE ROGUE . She also writes books for adults, includingTHE BOY NEXT DOOR ,BOY MEETS GIRL ,EVERY BOY ’S GOT ONE,SIZE 12 IS NOT FAT , andQUEEN OF BABBLE . She is still waiting for her real parents, the king and queen, to restore her to her rightful throne. She lives in Key West and New York City with her husband and a one-eyed cat named Henrietta.

Visit Meg’s website at:

www.megcabot.com

For exclusive information on your favorite authors and artists, visit www.authortracker.com.

Books by

MEG CABOT

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)

THE PRINCESS DIARIES,VOLUME IVAND A HALF :

Project Princess

THE PRINCESS DIARIES,VOLUME V:

Princess in Pink

THE PRINCESS DIARIES,VOLUME VI:

Princess in Training

The Princess Present:

A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK(VOLUME VI AND A HALF)

THE PRINCESS DIARIES,VOLUME VII:

Party Princess

Sweet Sixteen Princess:

A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK(VOLUME VII AND A HALF)

THE PRINCESS DIARIES,VOLUME VIII:

Princess on the Brink

ILLUSTRATED BY CHESLEY MCLAREN:

Princess Lessons:

A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK

Perfect Princess:

A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK

Holiday Princess:

A PRINCESS DIARIES BOOK

ALL-AMERICAN GIRL

READY OR NOT: AN ALL-AMERICAN GIRL NOVEL

TEEN IDOL

HOW TO BE POPULAR

AVALON HIGH

NICOLA AND THE VISCOUNT

VICTORIA AND THE ROGUE

THE MEDIATOR BOOKS:

THE MEDIATOR 1: SHADOWLAND

THE MEDIATOR 2: NINTH KEY

THE MEDIATOR 3: REUNION

THE MEDIATOR 4: DARKEST HOUR

THE MEDIATOR 5: HAUNTED

THE MEDIATOR 6: TWILIGHT

THE BOY NEXT DOOR

BOY MEETS GIRL

EVERY BOY’S GOT ONE

SIZE 12 IS NOT FAT

SIZE 14 IS NOT FAT EITHER

QUEEN OF BABBLE

THE 1-800-WHERE-R-YOU BOOKS:

1: WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES

2: CODE NAME CASSANDRA

3: SAFE HOUSE

4: SANCTUARY

5: MISSING YOU

Credits

Jacket art © 2007 by Howard Huang

Jacket design by Amy Ryan

Copyright

PRINCESS ON THE BRINK. Copyright © 2007 by Meg Cabot, LLC. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Microsoft Reader December 2006 ISBN 978-0-06-129060-2

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Cabot, Meg.

Princess on the brink / Meg Cabot.—1st ed.

p. cm.—(The princess diaries; v. 8)

Summary: Princess Mia’s junior year in high school begins with a difficult course load, a crazy student council race, Grandmère’s search for temporary lodging, and learning that her boyfriend is moving to Japan for a year, partly because she will not sleep with him.

ISBN-13: 978-0-06-072456-6

ISBN-10: 0-06-072456-0

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

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United States

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