Party Princess (22 page)

“Oh, God,” I said, feeling a stab of pity for Lilly. Suddenly, I sort of understood why she was being so weird about the literary magazine thing. I mean, if she knew her parents were splitting up, that would totally explain her mood swings and general weirdness.

Too bad I didn’t have any such excuse for MY weirdness.

“Michael,” I said. “I had no idea. I thought…I thought you were mad at me because I acted like such a head case the other night. I thought you were disgusted with
me. Or disappointed in me. Because I’m not a party girl.”

“Mia,” Michael said, shaking his head—almost as if HE couldn’t believe any of this was happening, either. “I
was
mad at you. I don’t
want
a party girl. All I want is—”

But before he could say anything else, the door to his dorm room opened, and Doo Pak came in, looking cheerful as ever…especially when he saw me.

“Oh, hello, Princess!” he cried. “I was thinking you are here, since I see Mr. Lars in the lounge! How are you doing tonight? Thank you for the giant ‘Sorry’ cookie. It was very delicious. Mike and I have been eating it all day.”

I was going to say “You’re welcome.” I was going to say “I’m great, Doo Pak. How are you?”

Which wasn’t what I WANTED to say. What I WANTED to say was, “Get out, Doo Pak! Get out! Michael, finish what you were saying. All you want is
what
? ALL YOU WANT IS WHAT???”

Because, you know, it had sounded like it might be slightly important—especially considering the “I
was
mad at you,” part right before it.

But then the phone rang, and Doo Pak picked it up, and said, “Oh, hello, Mrs. Moscovitz! Yes, Mike is here. You wish to speak to him? Here, Mike.”

And even though Michael was making slashing motions under his chin and mouthing, “I’m not here,” at Doo Pak, it was too late. He had to take the phone, and go, “Um, Mom? Yeah, hi. Now’s not a real good time, could I call you back later?”

But I heard his mother droning on and on.

And Michael, always the dutiful son, listened. While I
sat there going,
Dr. and Dr. Moscovitz, splitting up? It CAN’T be. It’s not possible. It’s just not NATURAL for them to split. It’s like…well, it’s like Michael and me splitting up.

Which we might actually be doing. Because, you know, he never actually did say he forgave me. For the J.P. thing. He admitted he was mad at me, but never said if he was STILL mad.

Oh my God. Are the Moscovitzes not the only couple breaking up right now?

Except there was no way I could actually find out. At least not just then, since Michael was holding the phone to his face, going, “Mom. Mom, I know. Don’t worry.”

And I knew then that what was going on with him—and with us—was more than a “Sorry” cookie could solve.

I also knew there was nothing else I could do.

Which was why I got up and left.

Because what else was I supposed to do?

Princess Amelia Mignonette
Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo

Monday, March 8, midnight, the loft

You know what this reminds me of? “No More Corn!” Seriously. The part where the nameless main character is wandering the streets of Manhattan, surrounded by people and yet, ultimately, so very, very alone. So alone that he realizes he has no choice but to step in front of that F train.

Which if you think about it is a very selfish thing to do since the poor conductor driving the train will be traumatized for life because of it.

Still. It is like my life has started imitating my ART!!! Seriously!!! My fictional story is coming true—only not for J.P.

For ME.

The thing is, as soon as I got in the limo, I sent Michael a long e-mail via Lars’s Sidekick, telling him how much I loved him, and how sorry I was, both about his parents and for my being so immature and self-centered. And for the sexy dance.

I fully expected to get a long e-mail back from him by the time I got home, saying he loved me, too, and that he forgave me for being such a weirdo at his party.

But he didn’t write back.

At all.

I can’t believe this. I mean, what do I do NOW? I already sent him a “Sorry” cookie. I have no idea what to do next. I’d buy him a ride on the space shuttle if I thought it would help. But I don’t think it would.

Besides, I can’t afford a ride on the space shuttle. I can’t even afford a TOY space shuttle.

As if all that weren’t enough, Michael’s parting words to me keep echoing in my head: “Mia, I don’t want a party girl. All I want is—”

All I want is…WHAT?

I will probably never know. But I can’t help worrying that, whatever it is Michael wants, I’m not it.

And right now, I can’t say I blame him.

Tuesday, March 9, the limo on the way to school

So Lilly was just all, “Oh my God, what happened to YOU?” when she got into the car.

And I was like, “What do you mean?”

And she was like, “You look like crap. What, did you not get any sleep last night or something? Your grandmother is going to kill you. We have dress rehearsal tonight.”

So obviously, she doesn’t know that I know about her parents. It’s possible that Michael was wrong, and Lilly herself doesn’t even know about them. Not really.

Unless she’s actually as fine an actress as she thinks she is.

Which means I can’t tell her why I look like crap. I mean, Lilly would only SLIGHTLY kill me for knowing her parents are splitting up before SHE even knows her parents are splitting up. Besides, Michael asked me to keep it to myself.

I guess I could tell her that I think Michael and I are breaking up on account of my sexy dance with J.P.

But isn’t that just a little more than she should have to deal with right now? I mean, if she DOES know about her parents? Is it really fair for me to expect her to cope with their breakup AS WELL AS mine? If that’s even what’s going on with Michael and me?

No. No, it is not.

So instead of telling her the truth, I just went, “I don’t know. I think I’m getting a cold.”

“Bummer,” Lilly said. And then she told me how she’d gotten almost twenty of her ’zines completely collated and stapled. Only nine hundred and eighty to go. Because, of
course, Lilly thinks every single person in the entire school is going to buy one.

I didn’t bother to contradict her. For one thing, I feel totally empty inside, so it’s not like I even care.

And for another, she was totally mean to me when I asked her, AGAIN, to pull “No More Corn!” She was like, “Where would we be today if Woodward and Bernstein had asked the
Post
to pull their story on Watergate? Huh? Where would we be?”

But breaking the Watergate scandal is COMPLETELY different than “No More Corn!” One thing was going to bring down a presidency. The other is going to hurt someone’s feelings. Which is more important?

Whatever. Lilly was just like, “Your piece is the COVER STORY. It’s right there, under
Fat Louie’s Pink Butthole.
‘A short story by AEHS’s own princess, Mia Thermopolis.’ I can’t PULL it, not without having to redo the COVER, not to mention the table of contents. I’d have to redesign the cover, then print it, then photocopy a thousand pages ALL OVER AGAIN. I’m NOT doing it. I’m just NOT.”

I told her I’d help her with the photocopying. But she just shook her head.

I can’t believe she’s willing to hurt a friend just because she’s too lazy to stand at the Xerox machine a little longer. And after all the things I’ve done for her, too. Like protecting her fragile mental state from the truth about her parents, and possibly Michael and me.

Sheesh.

Tuesday, March 9, Homeroom

I still can’t believe it. I mean, it’s like Wilma and Fred Flintstone splitting. Or Homer and Marge Simpson. Or Lana Weinberger and Josh Richter.

Well, except I wasn’t bummed when THEY split up.

COUPLES YOU WOULD BE
TOTALLY BUMMED TO FIND OUT
WERE BREAKING UP:

Sarah Michelle Gellar and Freddie Prinze Jr.

Kelly Ripa and Mark Consuelos

Scooby Doo and Shaggy

Melissa Etheridge and Tammy Lynn Michaels

Bruce Springsteen and Patti Scialfa

Russell and Kimora Lee Simmons

Ben Affleck and Matt Damon

Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman

Will and Jada Pinkett Smith

Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip

Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson

Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick

Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale

Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi

Hermione and Ron

Jay-Z and Beyoncé

Téa Leoni and David Duchovny

Sandy and Kirsten Cohen

Tina Hakim Baba and Boris Pelkowski

My mom and Mr. G

I can’t believe the Moscovitzes are breaking up. I mean, they’re JUNGIAN PSYCHIATRISTS. If they can’t make a relationship work, what hope do the rest of us have?

Princess Amelia Mignonette
Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo

Tuesday, March 9, U.S. Economics

 

Marginal utility = the additional satisfaction, or amount of utility, gained from each extra unit of consumption. Marginal utility decreases with each additional increase in the consumption of a good.

 

In other words, the less you have of something, the more you want it.

A phenomenon with which I am all too familiar.

Tuesday, March 9, English

Mia, are you okay? You look as if you might be coming down with something.

Oh, I’m great, Tina. Just great.

Oh?

Okay, I’m lying. Michael is upset about my sexy dance with J.P. But he’s MORE upset about something that has nothing whatsoever to do with me. Something I can’t tell you. But he’s barely speaking to me. I already sent him a “Sorry” cookie. I don’t know what else to do.

Maybe you shouldn’t do anything else. Boys aren’t like girls, you know, Mia. They don’t like to talk about their feelings. Probably the best thing you can do is just leave Michael alone. Whatever it is, he’ll come around after he’s worked through it. Like Boris and his Bartók.

Do you think so? It’s so hard to just sit here and do nothing! And who doesn’t want to TALK about their feelings????

I know. But that is just how boys are.. They are like freaks of nature.

What are you two talking about?

Nothing.

Nothing.

Oh, right. Nothing, again. Whatever. Look. Lunch. Help me collate?