Meg Cabot - Princess on the Brink

“We were!” Michael had stood up. So had I. We were standing across the room from each other, yelling. At least, I was yelling. Michael was just talking. “But we were friends who mess around a little.”

“You told me you weren’t going out with her! You told me she had a boyfriend!”

“I wasn’t,” he insisted. “And she did! But…”

“But WHAT?”

“But.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. We were just messing around. I TOLD YOU.”

“Oh, REALLY?” I couldn’t believe this. I could not believe that Michael and Judith Gershner had—had—I mean, I’ve HUNG OUT with Judith Gershner. Well, not HUNG OUT with her, necessarily. But TALKED to her.

And the whole time, I’d never had the slightest idea that SHE had had carnal knowledge of my boyfriend. SHE had been the recipient of his Precious Gift. Not me. NEVER ME.

Because once you’ve given your gift away, you can’t take it back and give it to someone else you might happen to like better, or even love. No. It says so right in Tina’s book. It is GONE.

GONE.

“Did JUDITH feel that way?” I heard myself yelling. “Did JUDITH think the two of you were just messing around? Or was she in love with you? Did she know she was giving you her Precious Gift just so you could turn around and start dating me?”

“First of all,” Michael said, “if you don’t stop sayingPrecious Gift , I’m going to hurl. Second of all, I told you, we were just messing around. Judith wasn’t in love with me and I wasn’t in love with her. I wasn’t even her first, for crying out loud!”

I felt myself blanch. “OH MY GOD. Did you use protection? What if she GAVE YOU SOMETHING?”

“She didn’t give me anything! Of course I used protection! I don’t understand what the big deal is. It’s not like I cheated on you. This was before you even sent me those anonymous love poems. I didn’t have the slightest idea you liked me. If I’d known—”

“If you’d known WHAT?” I demanded. “You wouldn’t have given your Precious Gift to Judith?”

“I told you not to call it that. But, yes, basically.”

“So it’s MY fault?” I shrieked. “It’s my fault you lost your virginity to someone other than me, because I was SHY????”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You could have told me you liked me, you know, instead of sleeping with JUDITH GERSHNER!”

“What would have been the point?” Michael demanded. “You were going out with Kenny Showalter at the time, if I recall.”

I gasped. “BUT I DIDN’T LIKE HIM!”

“How was I supposed to know that? You claim you didn’t like Josh Richter, either, but you certainly acted like you did.”

I gasped even louder. JOSH RICHTER? He had the nerve to bring up JOSH RICHTER? TO MY FACE?

“You certainly hung out with Kenny enough,” Michael went on. “I mean, for a guy you claim not to have liked. Which is fine—I don’t care, because you came to your senses in the end. But don’t get mad at me because you took your sweet time about admitting you liked me, and I didn’t wait around for you.”

“The way you’re expecting me to wait around for you while you go off to Japan and find yourself?” I yelled.

Michael looked totally confused. “This doesn’t have anything to do with my going to Japan. What are you eventalking about?”

“CLARINETISTS!” I heard myself yell. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t WANT to. I was just so emotionally overwrought by everything I’d just heard, I couldn’t stop myself. Once again, my mouth was going off without my brain to back up what it was saying. “You’re going off to Japan and you just expect me to wait around alone every Saturday until you get back. Well, what if I don’t WANT to wait around alone for you? Did you ever think of THAT?”

“Mia.” Michael got very quiet suddenly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m only sixteen years old,” I burst out before I could stop myself. “And you’re going away for a year. OR MORE. And it’s not fair of you to expect me just to sit home like a freaking nun while you’re off with some Japanese CLARINETIST!”

“Mia.” Michael shook his head. “You’ve totally lost me with the clarinetist thing. I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. But so far as me expecting you to sit home like a freaking nun—I never asked you to do that. I didn’t exactly think you’d WANT to date other people while I’m gone—I certainly don’t have the slightest intention of going out with other people while I’m gone—but if you want to, I guess it wouldn’t exactly be fair of me to hold it against you. Except that I thought…” Whatever he was about to say, he seemed to think better of it. He shook his head. “Never mind. Look, if that’s what you want…”

Except that that WASN’T what I wanted!!!! That was the LAST THING I wanted.

But it didn’t look as if I was going to get ANYTHING that I wanted. What I’d WANTED was for Michael and me to give each other our Precious Gifts—sorry, make love—tonight, and for him to say afterward that he’d changed his mind and wasn’t going to Japan tomorrow after all.

But it turned out he HAD no Precious Gift to give, and he also had no intention of staying in America, whether I slept with him or not.

I HAD COMPROMISED MY FEMINIST PRINCIPLES BY OFFERING TO SLEEP WITH HIM NOW, TONIGHT, INSTEAD OF AFTER MY SENIOR PROM LIKE I HAD ALWAYS INSISTED, AND HE HAD BASICALLY SAID, “NO, THANK YOU.”

Well, more or less.

Did he really think I was just going to FORGIVE him for that?

Which has to be why I just looked at him and went, “Yes, Michael. That’s EXACTLY what I want. Because the truth is, if you’ve kept something like this from me through our whole relationship, it just makes me wonder what kind of relationship we really even have. I mean, you haven’t been HONEST with me—”

“YOU FREAKING NEVER ASKED!” NOW he was yelling. “I didn’t even know it was important to you! I don’t even know where the hell thisPrecious Gift crap came from!”

But it was too late. Much too late.

“And the fact that you’re so willing to move to ANOTHER COUNTRY,” I went on, “pretty much signals to me that this relationship has never meant all that much to you, anyway.”

“Mia.” Michael shook his head. Just once. He wasn’t yelling anymore. “Don’t do this.”

But what else was I supposed to do? WHAT ELSE???

I reached up and undid the snowflake necklace from around my neck. The snowflake necklace he’d given me on my fifteenth birthday. I held it out to him, the way Arwen gave her necklace—the Evenstar—to Aragorn, as a parting gift to remember her by as he attempted to regain his throne in an effort to win her father’s approval.

Only I was giving Michael his necklace back—not because I wanted him to keep it to remember me by.

But because I didn’t want it anymore.

Because suddenly that snowflake was just a reminder of who ELSE had been at that dance—Judith Gershner.

And, okay, she’d been there with another guy. That girl really seemed to get around. But still.

The thing is, it was totally different for Aragorn and Arwen. Because Aragorn never Did It with a girl who knew how to clone fruit flies. And then lied about it.

And okay, only by omission. But still.

He NEVER TOLD ME. What ELSE hasn’t he told me???? HOW CAN I TRUST HIM WHEN HE GOES TO JAPAN????

“Mia,” Michael said, this time in a totally different voice. Not like he was choked up, like Aragorn had been. But like he wanted to punch me in the face. Which I knew he’d never do. But still. He looked pretty angry. “Do. Not. Do. This.”

“Good-bye, Michael,” I said with a sob. Because WHAT ELSE WAS THERE TO SAY?