Meg Cabot - Forever Princess

GOD! I’m such a slut!

“Really?” Tina said. “That’s so great! So…what about MHS?”

“MHC, you mean? Oh, fine, fine. All under control.”

A slut and a LIAR!

“Well…” Tina sounded like she couldn’t believe it. “That’s great, Mia! So, you and Michael really can just be friends, then.”

“Sure,” I said. Mia Thermopolis’s Big Fat Lie Number Twelve. “No problem.”

“That’s great,” Tina said. “It’s just that…”

“What?” I said. Oh, no. What had she heard? Had Lana and Trisha finally gotten their rowing under control and followed us? I’d gotten a text from Lana that just said,)(&$#! Which I took to mean Lana had had too much sake at Nobu, a usual event on a Friday.

“Well, I was talking to Boris,” Tina said. “And did you know, he was telling me that the whole time Michael was in Japan—you’re going to laugh when you hear this, I suppose—he had Boris kind of…well, keeping an eye on you. You know, while you guys were in Gifted and Talented together? I can’t believe Boris didn’t tell me before. But he said Michael said not to say anything to me. They’re better friends than I thought, I guess. Anyway, Boris says he thinks Michael’s seriously in love with you, and always has been. That he never stopped loving you, even after you guys broke up. I guess he just thought it wasn’t fair to ask you to wait for him while he was away, trying to prove himself to your dad, or whatever, you know? God, it’s just…it’s so romantic.”

I had to move the phone away from my face, because I’d started to cry. And I was afraid Tina would hear my sniffling.

“Yeah,” I said. “Thatis romantic.”

“Not like Boris was spying on you, or anything,” Tina said. “I mean, I’ve never told him any of the stuff you and I have talked about. Anyway, Boris told me the reason Michael left your birthday party the other night when J.P. pulled out that ring was exactly why I said…because he couldn’t stand seeing you get engaged-to-be-engaged to another guy. Boris didn’t say Michael said this, but I don’t think Michael likes J.P. very much. On account of him being jealous, because J.P.’s with you now. Isn’t that just the sweetest thing you ever heard?”

Tears were totally streaming down my face. But I pretended like they weren’t.

“Uh-huh,” I said. “Sweet!”

“But he didn’t say anything about that at lunch?” Tina asked. “You guys didn’t talk about it at all?”

“Nope,” I said. “I mean, Tina…I’m with J.P. now. I would never do that to him.”

Liar!

“Gee,” Tina said. “Well, of course not. You’re not that kind of girl!”

“Nope,” I said. “I gotta go. I’m gonna hit the hay early to get my beauty sleep for the prom.”

“Oh, sure,” Tina said. “Me too! Well, see you tomorrow!”

“See you,” I said, and hung up.

Then I bawled like a baby for, like, ten whole minutes, until Mom came into my room looking all bewildered, and was like, “What’s the matter now?”

And I just went, “Hold me, Mommy.”

And even though I’m eighteen and a legal adult, I crawled into my mom’s lap and stayed there for, like, ten minutes, until Rocky came over and went, “YOU’RE not the baby! I am!”

And Mom said, “She gets to be the baby sometimes.”

So then Rocky thought about it, and finally said, “Okay,” and patted me on the cheek and said, “Good baby.”

Somehow, this made me feel better.

At least a little bit.

Saturday, May 6, midnight, the loft

I just got the following e-mail from J.P.

Mia,

I’ve tried to call you a few times, but you aren’t picking up. I know you’re probably really mad at me, but just, please, listen to what I have to say…. I know you asked me notto, but I spoke to Sean anyway about your book.Please don’t be mad. I only did it because I love you, and I want what’s best for you.

And when you hear what Sean just called and told me, I think you’re going to be pleased that I spoke to him: He’s good friends with the president of Sunburst Publishing (you know, they do all those novels that get reviewed inThe New York Times that you never read, the ones that got turned into movies starring all Sean’s friends). And they would LOVE to publish your book (providing they can do so under HRH Princess Amelia Renaldo of Genovia). Sean says they’d be willing to offer a quarter of a million dollars for it.

Isn’t that fantastic, Mia? Don’t you think you should reconsider that other offer you got? I mean, it’s a tiny percentage of that.

Anyway, I just thought I’d try to help. Sweet dreams, and…I can’t wait until tomorrow night.

I love you,

J.P.

So.

The thing is, I probablyshould take Sunburst Publishing’s offer. That quarter of a million dollars…that’s a ton more money that I could donate to Greenpeace. But…Sunburst Publishing has never evenread my book. They have no idea if it’s any good. They’re just offering to publish it because of who I am.

And that’s just not how I want to get a publishing contract. That’s like…writing a play about your girlfriend, the princess. In a way.

I know baby seals and the rain forests are going to suffer because of my selfishness, but…

I just can’t do it. I CAN’T.

I suck. I suck more than any human being on the planet.

Saturday, May 6, 10 a.m., the loft

All I could think about all night long was J.P. and the baby seals I’m not saving by not taking Sunburst Publishing’s money.

And Michael, of course.

I don’t think I slept for more than a few hours. It was terrible.

I woke with a splitting headache and still no idea what I’m going to do about the two of them, to find exit polls in Genovia showing my dad totally tied with René in today’s election for prime minister.

Almost all the news outlets I’ve seen credit Lilly’s commercial (although they don’t name her, of course) and the donation of new state-of-the-art medical equipment to the Royal Genovian Hospital as reasons for Dad’s sudden boost in the polls.

I seriously can’t believe it if it’s true. TheMoscovitzes saved the prime ministry for my dad?

And yet…

Has there ever been anything either of them hasn’t been able to accomplish if they’ve set their mind to it?

No. Not really. It’s scary, actually.

The polls close at noon our time (which is six Genovia time). So we’ve got two more hours to go. Mr. G is making waffles (regular ones this time, not heart-shaped) while we wait for the call.

I’m keeping everything I have crossed for luck.

There’s no way René can win. I mean…noway . Not even Genovians can be that stupid.

Oh, wait. Did I just write that?

Tonight is the prom. I know I have to go…I can’t get out of it.

And yet there’s never been anything I’ve less wanted to do in my entire life.

And that includes becoming a princess.

Saturday, May 6, noon, the loft

The polls are closed.

Dad just called.

It’s officially too close to tell.

I wish I hadn’t eaten so many waffles. I feel totally sick.

Saturday, May 6, 1 p.m., the loft

Grandmère is here. She brought Sebastiano and all the dresses I’m supposed to choose from for the prom as her excuse for why she showed up.

But you can tell she’s here because she just didn’t want to wait alone in her condo at the Plaza for the results.

I know how she feels.

Rocky is thrilled, of course. He’s all, “Gwandmare, Gwandmare,” and blowing her air kisses the way she taught him. She’s pretending to catch them, and clutch them to her heart.

I swear, when she’s around babies, Grandmère is a totally different person.