Meg Cabot - Princess on the Brink

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?