Meg Cabot - Mia Goes Fourth

Grandmere looked blandly innocent. 'I don't know what you can mean,' she said, with a sniff.

'Cut it out, Grandmere. You want me to marry Prince Rene, for no other reason than that he is a royal. Well, it isn't going to happen. Even if Michael and I were to break up . . .' which was going to happen sooner than she thought '... I wouldn't get together with Rene. He's not my type. He smokes. And he likes to gamble. And he has no sympathy whatsoever for the

plight of the giant sea turtle.'

Grandmere finally began to look as if she might believe me. Tine,' she said, without much grace. 'I will stop calling Rene

your beau. But you must dance with him. At least once.'

'Grandmere.' The last thing in the world I felt like was dancing. 'Please. Not tonight. You don't know—'

'Amelia,' Grandmere said, in a different tone of voice from the one she'd used thus far. 'One dance. That is all I am asking

for. I believe you owe it to me.'

' I owe it to you?' I couldn't help bursting out laughing at that one. 'How so?'

'Oh, only because of a little something,' Grandmere said, all innocently, 'that was recently found to be missing from the

palace museum.'

All of my Renaldo fighting spirit went right out the contessa's French doors to her backyard patio when I heard this. I felt

as if someone had punched me in my snowdrop stomach. Had Grandmere really said what I thought she'd said???

Swallowing hard, I went, 'Wh-what?'

'Yes.' Grandmere looked at me meaningfully. 'A priceless object - one out of a group of several, almost identical items that

was given to me by my very dear friend, Mr. Richard Nixon, the deceased former American president - has been found to

be missing. I realize the person who took it thought it would never be missed, because it wasn't the only such item, and they

all did look much alike. Still, it held great sentimental value for me. Dick was such a dear, sweet friend to Genovia while he

was in office, for all his later troubles. But you wouldn't happen to know anything about any of this, would you, Amelia?'

She had me! She had me, and she knew it. I don't know how she knew - undoubtedly through the black arts, in which I suspect Grandmere of being highly well-versed -but clearly, she knew. I was dead. I was so, so dead. I don't know if,

being a member of the royal family, and all, I was above the law back in Genovia, but I for one did not want to find out.

I should, I realize now, merely have dissembled. I should have been all, 'Priceless object? What priceless object?'

But I couldn't, on account of my nostrils. Instead, I went, in this squeaky, high-pitched voice I barely recognized as my own, 'You know what, Grandmere? I'll be happy to dance with Rene. No problem!'

Grandmere looked extremely satisfied. She said, 'Yes, I thought you would feel that way.' Then her drawn-on eyebrows

went up. 'Oh, look, here comes Prince Rene with our drinks. Sweet of him, don't you think?'

Anyway, that's how it happened that I was forced to dance with Prince Rene - who is a good dancer, but, whatever,

he's no Michael. I mean, he's never even seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer and he thinks Bill Gates is a pretty swell guy.

While we were dancing, though, this incredible thing happened. Rene went, 'Who is this blonde girl who keeps staring at us? Do you know her?'

I looked over to see who he was talking about, and sure enough, Lana was dancing nearby with some old guy who must

have been a friend of her father's. She looked extremely pained, like the old guy was talking to her about his investment portfolio or something, and, I have to admit, the looks she was throwing in my direction were pretty envious.

Well, I guess, to a girl like Lana, I was in an enviable position. I looked like a snowdrop, and I was dancing with the handsomest guy in the room. Too bad I was in love with somebody else.

So then, I don't know what came over me, but I actually sort of started feeling sorry for Lana. I mean, she's so shallow.

She can't see past how somebody looks. She never bothers to stop and try to see the person they might be inside.

I don't know, maybe being the daughter of a plastic surgeon makes her insecure, or something. But it's like, if you don't

look or dress a certain way, Lana won't even give you the time of day.

And yeah, I knew that on Monday she was going to be going around school, telling everybody she could get to listen about how she saw me with another guy. But by that time Michael and I would be broken up anyway. So what did it matter?

So for the second time in two days, I did something because I felt sorry for someone whom I'd formerly considered pretty much an enemy. I looked up at Rene and said, 'Yeah, I know her. Her name is Lana. She goes to my school. When this

dance is over, you should ask her for the next one.'

Rene looked dubious. 'Really?'

'Trust me,' I said. 'It'll be the thrill of her life to dance with a handsome prince.'

'But not so much for you, eh,' Rene said, still wearing his cynical smile.

'Rene,' I said. 'No offence. But I already met my prince, long before I ever met you. The only problem is, if I don't get out

of here soon, I don't know how much longer he's going to be my prince, because I already missed the movie we were supposed to see together, and pretty soon it's going to be too late even for me to stop by . . .'

'Never fear, Your Highness,' Rene said, twirling me around. 'If fleeing the ball before the clock strikes twelve is your

desire, I will see to it that your wish is fulfilled.'

I looked at him kind of dubiously. I actually needed to get out of the ball by nine, not twelve, if I still wanted to make it to Michael's at a decent hour. Also, I couldn't tell whether or not Rene was joking.

'Um,' I said. 'OK.'

And that's how I ended up in this bathroom. Rene told me to hide, and that he'd get Lars to flag down a cab, and once he'd

got one, and the coast was clear, Rene would knock three times, signalling that Grandmere was too otherwise occupied to notice my defection. Then, Rene promised, he'd tell her I must have eaten a bad truffle, since I'd looked queasy, and Lars

had taken me home.

It doesn't matter, of course. Any of this, I mean. Because I am just going to end up at Michael's in time for him to dump me. Maybe he'll feel bad about it, you know, after I give him his birthday present. Then again, maybe he'll just be glad to be rid

of me. Who knows? I've given up trying to figure out men. They are a breed apart.

Oops, there's Rene's knock. Gotta go.

To meet my fate.

Friday, January 22,11 p.m.

The Moscovitzes' Bathroom

Oh, my God, I am FREAKING OUT.

Now I know how Jane Eyre must have felt when she returned to Thornfield Hall to find it all burnt to the ground and

everyone telling her everybody inside of it was killed in the fire.

Only then she finds out Mr. Rochester didn't die, he just lost his sight and his hand and his crazy wife and everything,

and Jane's like super happy, because, you know, in spite of what he tried to do to her, she loves him.

That's how I feel right now. Super happy. Because I fully don't think Michael is going to break up with me after all!!!!

I was sure he was going to when I was standing outside the Moscovitzes' apartment, you know, with my finger on the buzzer.

I was standing there going, Why am I even doing this? I am fully just walking into heartbreak. I should turn around

and have Lars flag down another cab and just go back to the loft. I hadn't even bothered changing out of my stupid

ball gown, because what was the point? I was just going to be on my way home in a few minutes anyway, and I could