Meg Cabot: Mia Goes Fourth

try to calm down a little. I am so happy, I can barely write. I—

Saturday, January 23,

the Loft

Oops. I had to break off there last night, because Lilly started banging on the bathroom door, wanting to know whether

I'd suddenly become bulimic or something. When I opened it (the door, I mean) and she saw me in there with my journal

and my pen, and she went, all crabby (Lilly is more of a morning person than a night person), 'Do you mean to say you've

been in here for the past half-hour writing in your journal?'

Which I'll admit is a little weird, but I couldn't help it. I was so happy, I HAD to write it down, so I would never forget

how it felt.

'And you still haven't figured out what you're good at?' she asked.

When I shook my head, she just stomped away, all mad.

But I couldn't be annoyed with her, because . . . well, because I'm so in love with her brother.

The same way I can't really be mad at Grandmere, even though she did, in essence, try to foist me on to this homeless prince last night. But I can't blame her for trying. She's only trying to keep the Renaldo bloodline clean. Grandmere has obviously never studied inbreeding, like we did in Bio. last semester.

Besides, she called here a little while ago, wanting to know if I was feeling all right after the bad truffle I'd ingested. My mom, playing along, assured her that I was fine. So then Grandmere wanted to know if I could come over and have tea with her

and the contessa . . . who was just dying to get to know me better. I said I was busy with homework. Which ought to impress the contessa. You know, with my diligent work ethic.

And I can't be mad at Rene, either, after the way he fully came to my aid last night. I wonder how he and Lana got along.

It would be pretty funny if she broke up with Josh on Monday, on account of finally having found her own handsome prince.

And I can't even be mad at Thompson Street Cleaners for losing my Queen Amidala underwear, because this morning there was a knock on the door to the loft, and when I opened it, our neighbour Ronnie was there with a big bag of our laundry, including Mr. G's brown cords and my mom's Free Winona T-shirt. Ronnie says she must have accidentally picked up the wrong bag from the vestibule, and then she'd gone to Barbados with her boss for the holidays, and only just now noticed

that she had a bag of clothing not her own.

Although I am not as happy about getting my Queen Amidala underwear back as you might think. Because, clearly, I can

get along without them. I was thinking about asking for more of them for my birthday, but now I don't have to, because Michael, even though he doesn't know it, has already given me the greatest gift I've ever gotten.

And no, it's not his love - although that is probably the second greatest thing he could have given me. No, it's something

that he said after Lilly went stomping away from the bathroom.

'What was that all about?' he wanted to know. 'Oh,' I said, putting away my journal, 'she's just mad because I haven't

figured out what my secret talent is.'

'Your what?' Michael said.

'My secret talent.' And then, because he'd been so honest with me, about the whole being in love thing, I decided to be

honest with him, too. So I explained, 'It's just that you and Lilly, you're both so talented. You guys are good at so many

things, and I'm not good at anything, and sometimes I feel like . . . well, like I don't belong. At least not in Gifted and

Talented class, anyway.'

'Mia,' Michael said. 'You're totally gifted.'

'Yeah,' I said, fingering my dress. At looking like a snowdrop.'

'No,' Michael said. Although now that you mention it, you're pretty good at that, too. But I meant writing.'

I have to admit, I kind of stared at him, and went, in a pretty unprincesslike manner, 'Huh?'

'Well, everyone knows,' he said, 'that you like to write. I mean, your head is always buried in that journal. And you always

get A's on your papers in English. I think it's pretty obvious, Mia, that you're a writer.'

And even though I had never really thought about it before, I realized Michael was right. I mean, I am always writing in this journal. And I do compose a lot of poetry, and write a lot of notes and emails and stuff. I mean, I feel like I am always

writing. I do it so much, I never even thought about it as being a talent. It's just something I do all the time, like breathing.

But now that I know what my talent is, you can bet I am going to start working on honing it. And the first thing I'm going to write is a bill to submit before the Genovian Parliament to get some rights for those sea turtles . . .

Right after I get home from going bowling with Michael and Lilly and Boris. Because even a princess has to have fun sometimes.