Meg Cabot - Give Me Five

Good thing he wasn't in the same room with me. He'd have noticed my nostrils flaring like crazy.

No sooner had I hung up the phone with my dad than it rang again, and I snatched it up, thinking it might be, oh, I don't know, MY BOYFRIEND. You would have thought Michael might have called me at some point during the day, just to see how I was. You know, whether or not I was crippled with grief over the whole prom thing.

But apparently Michael is not all that concerned for my mental health, because not only has he not called, but the person on

the other end of the phone when I eagerly snatefeed it up was about as far from being Michael as you can get.

It was, in fact, Grandmere. Our conversation went like this:

Grandmere: Amelia, it is your grandmother. I need you to reserve the night of Wednesday the seventh. I've been asked to dine at Le Cirque with my old friend the Sultan of Brunei, and I want you to accompany me. And I don't want to hear any nonsense about how the Sultan needs to give up his Rolls because it is contributing to the destruction of the ozone layer. You need more culture in your life, and that's final. I'm tired of hearing about Miraculous Pets and the Lifetime Channel for Stay at Home Mothers or whatever it is you're always watching on the television. It's time you met some interesting people, and not the ones you see on TV, or those so-called artists your mother is always having over for

girls' Bingo night, or whatever it is.

Me: OK, Grandmere. Whatever you say, Grandmere.

What, I ask you, is wrong with that answer? Really? What part of OK, Grandmere. Whatever you say, Grandmere would any NORMAL grandmother find suspicious? Of course, I'm forgetting my grandmother is far from normal. Because she was

all over me, right away.

Grandmere: Amelia. What is wrong with you? Out with it, I haven't much time. I'm supposed to be dining with the Due

di Bormazo. Nothing's wrong, Grandmere. I'm just... I'm a little depressed, that's all. I didn't get such a good grade on my last Algebra quiz, and I'm a little down about it...

Grandmere: Pfuit. What is it REALLY, Mia? And make it snappy.

Me: Oh, all RIGHT. It's Michael. Remember that prom thing I told you about? Well, he doesn't want to go.

Grandmere: I knew it. He's still in love with that housefly girl, isn't he? He's taking her, is he? Well, never mind. I have Prince William's mobile phone number here someplace. I'll give him a ring, and he can take Concorde over and take you to the little dance, if you want. That will show that unappreciative—

Me: No, Grandmere. Michael doesn't want to take someone else. He doesn't want to go at all. He ... he thinks the

prom is lame.

Grandmere: Oh ... for ... the .. . love ... of ... heaven. Not one of those.

Me: Yes, Grandmere. I'm afraid so.

Grandmere: Well, never mind. Your grandfather was the same way. Do you know that if I had left it up to him,

we'd have been married in a clerk's office, and gone to a coffee shop for lunch afterwards? The man simply had no understanding of romance, let alone the public's need for PAGEANTRY.

Me: Yes. Well. That's why I'm a little down today. Now, if you don't mind, Grandmere, I really have to start on my homework. I have a story due to the paper in the morning, too . . .

I didn't mention that it was a story about HER. Well, more or less. It was the story about the incident at Les Hautes Manger. According to the Sunday Times, the restaurant's management was still refusing to take Jangbu back on. So Lilly's march had been for nothing. Well, except that it had apparently gotten her a new boyfriend.

Grandmere: Yes, yes, get to work. You have to keep your grades up, or your father will give me another one of his lectures about forcing you to concentrate too much on royal matters and not enough on trigonometry or whatever it is you seem to be having so much trouble with. And don't worry too much about the situation with that boy. He'll come around, same as your grandfather did. You just have to find the right incentive. Goodbye.

Incentive? What was Grandmere talking about? What kind of incentive would make Michael come around to the idea of

going to the prom? I couldn't think of a single thing that might make him get over this obviously deeply rooted prejudice he

had against it.

Except possibly if the prom were a combo prom/ Star Wars/Star Trek/Lord of the Rings/computer convention.

Sunday, May 4, 9 p.m., the Loft

I know why Michael never called. Because he emailed me instead. I just didn't check my messages until I turned on my computer to type up my story for The Atom.

LinuxRulz

Mia — Hope you didn't get in too much trouble over the closet thing from last night.

Mr G is a cool guy, though. I can't imagine he was too upset, after his initial blow-up.

Things have been pretty tense here, what with the whole Lilly/Boris break up. I am trying to stay out of it, and I strongly recommend, for your sanity's sake, you do the same. It's their problem, NOT OURS. I know how you are, Mia, and I really mean it when I say you're better off staying out of it. It's not worth it.

I'll be around all day if you want to give me a call. If you aren't grounded or whatever, maybe we can get together for dim sum? Or if you want, I can come over later to help with your Algebra homework. Just let me know.

Love — Michael

Well. Judging from the tone of THAT, I guess Michael isn't feeling too bad about the whole prom thing. It's almost as if he doesn't KNOW he's ripped out my heart and torn it into little pieces.

Which, considering the fact that I didn't exactly tell him how I felt, might actually be true. That he doesn't know, I mean.

But ignorance, as Grandmere is fond of saying, is no excuse.

I would also hazard a guess from the unconcerned tone of that email that the Drs. Moscovitz have not been paying visits to Michael's room, telling HIM about birth control and the richness of the human sexual experience. Oh no. That kind of thing always ends up being the girl's problem. Even if your boyfriend, like mine, is a staunch supporter of women's rights.

Well, at least he wrote. That's more than can be said for my so-called best friend. You would think that Lilly might at least have called to apologize for ruining my party. (Well, really it was Tina who ruined it, with her stupid Seven Minutes in Heaven idea. But Lilly is the one who killed it spiritually by making out with a guy who is not her boyfriend in front of said boyfriend. Well, practically.)

But I have heard nary a word from that ungrateful Boris-dumper. Far be it for me to cast stones at anyone for dating one guy while liking another ... I mean, didn't I do that just last semester? Still, I didn't MAKE OUT with Michael before formally parting ways with Kenny. I had THAT much integrity, anyway.

And of course, I can't really blame Lilly for liking Jangbu more than Boris. I mean, come on. The guy is hot. And Boris is so ... not.

Still. It wasn't very nice of her. I'm dying to know what she has to say for herself.

So is everybody else, apparently. Since I logged on, I've been bombarded with instant messages - from everybody but the guilty party concerned.

From Tina:

Iluvromance

Mia, are you all right? I was SO EMBARRASSED for you last night when Mr G caught Lilly

and Jangbu in the closet. Was he REALLY mad? I mean, I know he was mad, but was he HOMICIDAL? God, I hope you're not dead. Like that he didn't kill you. That would SUCK

if you got grounded, with the prom next week.

What did he say, anyway? Michael, I mean? When the two of you were in the closet together?

By the way, have you heard from Lilly? That was SO WEIRD last night. I mean, with her and Jangbu, right in front of poor Boris. I felt so SORRY for him. He was practically crying, did you notice? And what was with her shirt? When she came out of the closet, I mean. Did you see that? Write back. T.