Meg Cabot - Mia Goes Fourth

it's embarrassing, telling the person you love that you love them. It shouldn't be, but it is. Also, it didn't seem like something

Jane Eyre would do. Unless, you know, she had just discovered the man she loved had gone blind in a heroic attempt to

rescue his crazy firebug wife from an inferno she'd set herself.

Asking me out to dinner and a movie didn't really seem the same, somehow.

Then Michael wrote:

LinuxRulz: Kid, I've been from one side of this galaxy to the other...

which is one of my favourite lines from the first Star Wars. So then I wrote:

FtLouie: I happen to like nice men...

jumping ahead to The Empire Strikes Back, to which Michael replied:

LinuxRulz: I'm nice.

Which is better than saying I love you, because right after Han Solo says that, he totally kisses her. OH MY GOD!!!

It really is like Michael is Han Solo and I'm Princess Leia, because Michael is good at fixing stuff like hyper drives, and,

well, I'm a princess, and I'm very environmentally conscious like Leia, and everything.

Plus Michael's dog Pavlov sort of looks like Chewbacca, if Chewbacca were a sheltie.

I could not imagine a more perfect date if I tried. Mom will let me go, too, because the Screening Room isn't that far away,

and it's

Michael,

after all. Even Mr. Gianini likes Michael, and he doesn't like many of the boys who go to Albeit Einstein,

as he says they are mostly all walking bundles of testosterone.

I will never get to sleep now, I am too worked up. I am going to see him in eight hours and fifteen minutes.

And on Friday I am going to be sitting next to him in a darkened room. All alone. With no one else around. Except all the waitresses and the other people at the movie. The Force is so with me.

Tuesday; January 19,

First Day of School after Winter Break, Homeroom

I barely made it out of bed this morning. In fact, the only reason I was able to drag myself out from beneath the covers -

and Fat Louie, who lay on my chest purring like a lawnmower all night long - was the prospect of seeing Michael for the

first time in thirty-two days.

It is completely cruel to force a person of my tender years, when I should be getting at least nine hours of sleep a night, to

travel back and forth between two such drastically different time zones, with not even a single day of rest in-between. I am completely jet lagged, and I am sure it is going to stunt not only my physical growth (not in the height department because

I am tall enough, thank you, but in the mammary gland division, glands being very sensitive to things like disrupted sleep

cycles), but my intellectual growth as well.

And now that I am entering the second semester of my freshman year, my grades are actually going to start to matter. Not

that I intend to go to college or anything, at least not right away. I, like Prince William, want to take a year off between high school and college, hopefully volunteering for Greenpeace in one of those boats that goes out between Japanese and Russian whaling ships and the whales. I don't think Greenpeace takes volunteers who don't have at least a 3.0 average.

Anyway, it was murder getting up this morning, especially when, after I'd dragged on my school uniform, I realized my

Queen Amidala panties weren't in my underwear drawer. I have to wear my Queen Amidala underwear on the first day

of every semester, or I'll have bad luck for the rest of the year. I always have good luck when I wear my Queen Amidala panties. For instance, I was wearing them the night of the Non-Denominational Winter Dance, when Michael finally told

me he loved me.

I have to wear them on the first day of second semester, just like I'll have to send them to the laundry-by-the-pound place

and get them washed before Friday so I can wear them on my date with Michael. Because I'm going to need extra good

luck that night, since I plan on giving Michael his birthday present then. His birthday present that I'm hoping he'll like so

much, he'll fall in love with me, if he isn't already. I am still not too clear on that whole point.

So I had to go into my mom's room, the one she shares with Mr Gianini, and wake her up and be all, 'Mom, where's my

Queen Amidala underwear?' Thank God Mr. G was in the shower. I swear to God if I'd had to see them in bed together

in the condition I was in at that time, I'd have gone completely Anne Heche.

My mom, who sleeps like a log even when she isn't pregnant, just went, 'Shurnowog,' which isn't even a word.

'Mom,' I said. 'I need my Queen Amidala panties. Where are they?'

But all my mom said was, 'Kapukin.'

So then I got an idea. Not that I really thought there was any way my mom wasn't going to let me go out with Michael,

after her uplifting speech about him the night before. But just to make sure she couldn't back out of it, I went, 'Mom,

can I go with Michael for dinner and a movie at the Screening Room this Friday night?'

And she went, rolling over, 'Yeah, yeah, scuniper.'

So I got that taken care of.

But I still had to go to school in my regular underwear, which creeped me out a little because there's nothing special

about it, it is just boring and white.

But then I kind of perked up when I got in the limo, because of the prospect of seeing Michael and all.

But then I was like, Oh, my God, what was going to happen when I saw Michael? Because when you haven't seen your boyfriend in thirty-two days, you can't just be all, 'Oh, hi,' when you see him. You have to, like, give him a hug or something.

But how was I going to give him a hug in the car? With Lars watching? I mean, at least I wasn't going to have to worry

about my stepdad watching, since Mr. G fully refuses to take the limo to school with me and Lars and Lilly and Michael

every morning, even though we are all going to the same place. But Mr. Gianini says he likes the subway. He says it is the

only time he gets to listen to music he likes (Mom and I won't let him play Blood, Sweat and Tears in the loft, so he has to

listen to it on his Diskman).

But what about Lilly? I mean, Lilly was totally going to be there. How can I hug Michael in front of Lilly? And OK, it is

partly because of Lilly that Michael and I ever got together in the first place. But that does not mean that I feel perfectly comfortable participating in, you know, public displays of affection with him right in front of her.

If this were Genovia it would be all right to kiss him on either cheek, because that is the standard form of greeting there.

But this is America, where you barely even shake hands with people, unless you're like the mayor.

Plus there was the whole Jane Eyre thing. I mean, Tina and I had resolved we were not going to chase our boyfriends,

but we hadn't said anything about how to greet them again after not having seen them for thirty-two days.

I was almost going to ask Lars what he thought I ought to do when I had a brainstorm right as we were pulling up to

the Moscovitzes' building. Hans, the driver, was going to hop out and open the door for Lilly and Michael, but I went,

'I've got it,' and then I hopped out, instead.

And there was Michael, standing in the slush, looking all tall and handsome and manly, the wind tugging at his dark hair.

Just the sight of him set my heart going about a thousand beats per minute. I felt like I was going to melt. . .

. . . especially when he smiled once he saw me, a smile that went all the way up to his eyes, which were as deeply brown

as I remembered, and filled with the same intelligence and good humour that had been there the last time I had gazed into