Meg Cabot - Mia Goes Fourth

change there.

So I'm standing there in the hallway, and Lars is behind me going on about his stupid boar hunt in Belize, because that is all

he talks about any more, and I hear Pavlov, Michael's dog, barking because someone is at the door, and I'm going, inside

my head, OK, when he breaks up with me, I am NOT going to cry, I am going to remember Rosagunde and Agnes,

and I am going to be strong like they were strong . . .

And then Michael opened the door. He looked kind of taken aback by my apparel, I could tell. I thought maybe it was because he hadn't counted on having to break up with a snowdrop. But there was nothing I could do about that, though

I did remember at the last minute that I was still wearing my tiara, which I suppose might intimidate, you know, some boys.

So I took it off and went, 'Well, I'm here,' which is a foolish thing to say, because, well, duh, I was standing there, wasn't I?

But Michael kind of seemed to recover himself. He went, 'Oh, hey, come in, you look . . . you look really beautiful,' which

of course is exactly what a guy who is about to break up with you would say, you know, to kind of bolster your ego before

he grinds it beneath his heel.

But, whatever, I went in, and so did Lars, and Michael went, 'Lars, my mom and dad are in the living room watching

Dateline, if you want to join them,' which Lars totally did, because you could tell he didn't want to hang around and

listen to the Big Breakup.

So then Michael and I were alone in the foyer. I was twirling my tiara around in my hands, trying to think of what to say.

I'd been trying to think what to say the whole way down in the cab, but I hadn't been very successful.

Then Michael went, 'Well, did you eat yet? Because I've got some veggie burgers . . .'

I looked up from the parquet floor tiles, which I had been examining very closely, since it was easier than looking into

Michael's peat-bog eyes, which always suck me in until I feel like I can't move any more. They used to punish criminals

in ancient Celtic societies by making them walk into a peat bog. If they sank, you know, they were guilty, and if not, they

were innocent. Only you always sink when you walk into a peat bog. They uncovered a bunch of bodies from one in Ireland not too long ago, and they, like, still had all their teeth and hair and stuff. They were totally preserved. It was way gross.

That's how I feel when I look into Michael's eyes. Like I'm trapped in peat bog. Only I don't mind, because it's warm and

nice and cosy in there . . .

And now he was asking me if I wanted a veggie burger. Do guys generally ask their girlfriends if they want a veggie burger

right before they break up with them? I wasn't very well versed in these matters, so the truth was, I didn't know.

But I didn't think so.

'Um,' I said, intelligently. 'I don't know.' I thought maybe it was a trick question. 'If you're having one, I guess.'

So then Michael went, 'OK,' and gestured for me to follow him, and we went into the kitchen, where Lilly was sitting, using

the granite countertop to lay out her story-boards for the episode of Lilly Tells It Like It Is she was filming the next day.

'Jeez,' she said, when she saw me. 'What happened to you? You look like you swapped outfits with the Sugar Plum Fairy.'

'I was at a ball,' I explained.

'Oh,' Lilly said, 'of course. The ball. Well, if you ask me, the Sugar Plum Fairy got the better deal. But I'm not supposed

to be here. So don't mind me.'

'We won't,' Michael assured her.

And then he did the strangest thing. He started to cook.

Seriously. He was cooking.

Well, OK, not really cooking, more like reheating. Still, he fully got out these two veggie burgers he'd gotten from Balducci's, and put them on some buns, and then put the buns on these two plates. And then he took some fries that had been in the oven on a tray and put them on to the two plates, as well. And then he got ketchup and mayo and mustard out of the fridge, along with two cans of Coke, and he put all that stuff on a tray, and then he walked out of the kitchen, and before I could ask Lilly what in the name of all that was holy was going on, he came back, picked up the two plates, and went, to me, 'Come on.'

What could I do, but follow him?

I trailed after him into the TV room, where Lilly and I had viewed so many cinematic gems for the first time, such as

Valley Girl and Bring It On and Attack of the Fifty-Foot Woman and Crossing Delancey.

And there, in front of the Moscovitzes' black leather couch, which sat in front of their thirty-two-inch Sony TV, sat two

little folding tables. On to these tables, Michael lowered the plates of food he'd prepared. They sat there, in the glow

of the Star Wars title image, which was frozen on the TV screen, obviously paused there.

'Michael,' I said, genuinely baffled. 'What is this?'

'Well, you couldn't make it to the Screening Room,' he said, looking as if he couldn't quite believe I hadn't figured it out

on my own yet. 'So I brought the Screening Room to you. Come on, let's eat. I'm starved.'

He might have been starved, but I was stunned. I stood there looking down at the veggie burgers - which smelt divine -

going, 'Wait a minute. Wait a minute. You aren't breaking up with me?'

Michael had already sat down on the couch and stuffed a few fries in his mouth. When I said that, about breaking up,

he turned around to look at me like I was demented. 'Break up with you? Why would I do that?'

'Well,' I said, starting to wonder if maybe he was right, and I really was demented. 'When I told you I couldn't make it

tonight you . . . well, you seemed kind of distant. . .'

'I wasn't distant,' Michael said. 'I was trying to figure out what we could do instead of, you know, going to the movie.'

'But then you didn't show up for lunch . . .'

'Right,' Michael said. 'I had to call and order the veggie burgers and get Maya to go to the store and get the rest of the stuff. And my dad had loaned our Star Wars DVD to a friend of his, so I had to call him and make him get it back.'

I listened in astonishment. Everyone, it seemed - Maya, the Moscovitzes' housekeeper; Lilly; even Michael's parents - had been in on Michael's scheme to recreate the Screening Room right in his own apartment.

Only I had been in ignorance of his plan. Just as he had been in ignorance of my belief that he was about to break up with me.

'Oh,' I said, beginning to feel like the world's number one biggest dork. 'So ... you don't want to break up?'

'No, I don't want to break up,' Michael said, starting to look mad now - probably the way Mr. Rochester looked when he heard Jane had been hanging out with that St. John guy. 'Mia, I love you, remember? Why would I want to break up with

you? Now come and sit down and eat before it gets cold.'

Then I wasn't beginning to feel like the world's biggest dork: I totally felt like it.

But at the same time, I felt incredibly, blissfully happy. Because Michael had said the L word! Said it right to my face!

And in a very bossy way, just like Captain Von Trapp or the Beast or Patrick Swayze!

Then Michael hit the play button on the remote, and the first chords of John Williams's brilliant Star Wars theme filled the

room. And Michael went, 'Mia, come on. Unless you want to change out of thaat dress first. Did you bring any normal clothes?'

Still, something wasn't right. Not completely.

'Do you just love me like a friend?' I asked him, trying to sound cynically amused, you know, the way Rene would, in