Princess on the Brink (5 page)

My mom just tapped on my door and was all, “Mia? Are you in there?”

I said I was, and she opened the door.

“I didn’t even hear you come in,” she said. “Did you have a nice time with—”

Then her voice trailed off, because she’d seen the empty Häagen-Dazs container. And my face.

“Honey,” she said, sinking down onto the bed beside me. “What happened?”

And all of a sudden, I started crying all over again, like I hadn’t just been crying an hour before.

“He’s moving to Japan,” was all I could say. And I flung myself into her arms.

I wanted to tell her a lot more. I wanted to tell her about how it was all my fault, for not sleeping with him (even though I know, deep down inside, that’s not really true). It’s more my fault because I’m a princess—a freaking PRINCESS—and what guy could live up to that, EVER? Except a prince.

The worst part is, being a princess isn’t even something I DID. I mean, it’s not like I saved the president from being shot like Samantha Madison, or found all these missing kids with my psychic powers like Jessica Mastriani, or kept hundreds of tourists from drowning like ten-year-old Tilly Smith did when she was on that beach in Thailand and realized a tsunami was coming because she’d just been studying tsunamis in school, and told all those people to “RUN!”

All I did was get born.

And EVERYONE has done that.

But I couldn’t tell Mom any of that stuff. Because we’ve been through the princess thing before. It’s like Michael said: I’m a princess. I’m going to be one forever. No use complaining about it. It just IS.

So instead I just cried.

It made me feel a little better, I guess. I mean, it’s always nice to get hugged by your mom, no matter how old you get. Moms don’t give off pheromones—at least, I don’t think they do—but they still smell really nice. At least mine does. Like Dove soap and turpentine and coffee. Which mixed together is the second-best smell in the world.

The first being Michael’s neck, of course.

My mom said all the usual mom things, like, “Oh, honey, it will be okay,” and, “A year will go by before you know it,” and, “If Phillipe gets you the new PowerBook with the camera built in, you and Michael can videophone, and it will be like he’s right in the room with you.”

Except that it won’t. Because I won’t be able to smell him.

But when Mr. G came in to see what all the noise was about, I finally pulled myself together, and said I felt better, and not to worry about me. I tried to smile all bravely, and Mom patted me on the head and said that if I’d survived spending so much time with Grandmère, I’d survive this, easy.

But she’s wrong. Spending time with Grandmère is like eating an entire container of macadamia brittle compared to being without Michael for an entire year.

Or more.

ME, A PRINCESS???? YEAH, RIGHT.

A Screenplay by Mia Thermopolis

(first draft)

Scene 14

INT/NIGHT—The penguin tank at the Central Park Zoo. In the blue glow from the water of the illuminated penguin tank, a young girl (MIA) sits alone, frantically writing in her journal.

MIA

 

(voiceover)

I don’t know where to go or to whom to turn. I can’t go to Lilly’s. She is vehemently opposed to any form of government that is not for the people, by the people. She’s always said that when sovereignty is vested in a single person whose right to rule is hereditary, the principles of social equality and respect for the rights of the individual within a community are irrevocably lost. This is why today, real power has passed from reigning monarchs to constitutional assemblies, making royals such as Queen Elizabeth mere symbols of national unity.

 

 

Except in Genovia, apparently.

 

Michael told Lilly. I know he told her because when we stopped by the Moscovitzes’ apartment building to pick her up for school this morning, he was standing outside with her, holding a large hot chocolate (with whipped cream) from Starbucks for me. When the limo pulled up and Hans opened the door, Michael leaned in and said, “Good morning. This is for you. Tell me you didn’t change your mind overnight and hate me now.”

Except, of course, I could never hate Michael. Especially when the sun is just coming up all shiny and new and its rays hit his freshly shaved neck and when I lean over to take the hot chocolate and give him a good morning kiss, I smell his Michaely scent, which always seems to make everything seem like it’s going to be okay.

Until he’s out of range for me to smell him anymore, anyway.

Which is definitely what he’s going to be when he’s in Japan.

“I don’t hate you,” I said.

“Good,” he said. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Um,” I said. “Something with you?”

“Good answer. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Then he kissed me and got out of the way so that Lilly could get in the car. Which she did with a crabby, “God,
move
, you
ass
,” to her brother, since she’s not exactly a morning person.

Then Michael said, “Play nice with the other kids, girls,”
and shut the door. And Lilly turned to me and said, “He’s such an
ass
.”

“He totally moved when you asked him to,” I pointed out.

“Not because of
that
,” Lilly said fiercely. “Because of this stupid Japan thing.”

“If his model works, he’ll end up saving thousands of lives and making millions of dollars,” I said. My hot chocolate was too hot to sip so I blew on it. Only the whipped cream was in the way.

Lilly looked at me, her eyes all big. “Oh my God,” she said. “Are you going to be
reasonable
about this?”

“I don’t have a choice,” I said. “Do I?”

“I bet if you threw a big enough fit,” Lilly said, “he wouldn’t go.”

“I already did,” I assured her. “There was crying and snot and everything. It didn’t change his mind.”

Lilly just grunted upon hearing this.

“The thing is,” I said. Because I had given this a lot of thought. Like all night long. “He has to go. I don’t want him to, but it’s, like, a thing with him. He feels like he has to prove himself so
Us Weekly
stops saying I should be dating James Franco instead. Which is stupid, but what can I do about it?”

“James Franco!” Lilly burst out. “Well. Whatever. James Franco
is
pretty cute.”

“Not as cute as Michael,” I said.

“Ew,” Lilly said, but only because she routinely says
ew
to any reference to her brother being cute.

Then, since she was feeling so bad for me and all, I figured I might as well take advantage of the situation. So I went, “Did you and J.P. sleep together this summer, or what?”

But Lilly just laughed.

“Nice try, POG,” she said. “But I don’t feel THAT sorry for you.”

Dang.

Describe a scene outside your window:

The young girl sits on the swing, her heart heavy, her eyes swollen with tears. The world as she’s known it has ceased to exist. She will never again know what it is to laugh with childish abandon, because her childhood is behind her. Crushed hopes and disappointed dreams will be her constant companions now that the love of her life has flown. She raises her eyes to watch a plane as it soars across the brilliantly lit sky, the sun sinking in the west. Is that the plane carrying away her love? Probably. It disappears into the crimson sunset.

F–

Mia, when I said describe a scene outside your window, I meant for you to describe something you
actually see outside your window
, such as a Dumpster or bodega. I did not want you to make up some scene. And I know you made up the scene above because there is no way you could have known what the girl on the swing (if you can even see swings from your window, which I doubt, since I happen to know you live in NoHo and there are no swings there that I am aware of ) was thinking unless that girl happened to be you, in which case you could not have seen her because you cannot see yourself, except in mirrors. Please redo this,
actually following the assignment this time. I make these assignments for a reason, and I expect you to complete them AS WRITTEN.

—C. Martinez

Mia!!! I heard. Are you all right????

Honestly, T. I just don’t know.

But you realize it’s a GOOD thing. I mean, for Michael.

I know.

And you can always go visit him! I mean, you have your own jet!!!

Oh, right. That’ll happen.

Wait—are you being sarcastic?

Yes, I’m being sarcastic. My dad is never going to let me go to Japan, Tina. Not to see Michael.

Well, then get him to let you go to visit the princess of Japan—you’re friends with her, right? I mean, you really like her kid. And then while you’re there, you can see Michael.

Thanks, Tina. It doesn’t actually work that way, but it doesn’t matter anyway. Because whenever I get time off from school, I have to go to Genovia. Remember? Besides, the truth is, even if I went to Japan, I’m not so
sure Michael would want to see me.

What? Of course he would! What are you talking about?

He’s not JUST going for his robotic arm thingie. He’s also going to get away from me.

What? That’s crazy! What makes you think THAT?

Because he SAID so. He said it’s really hard to be around me so much and not…you know.

Oh. My. God. That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard in my life!!!!!!!!!!

TINA!!! It is not romantic!!!!

He LOOOOOOVES you! You should be GLAD!!!

Glad that my boyfriend is moving to another country because he’s tired of taking so many cold showers? Yeah. Right.

You’re being sarcastic again, aren’t you?

Yes.

Mia, don’t you see? The whole thing is SOOOO romantic: Michael is just like Aragorn from
The Lord of
the Rings
.
Remember when Aragorn was all in love with Arwen, but he didn’t feel worthy of her, because she was an elfin princess, and her dad wouldn’t let him marry her until he’d reclaimed his throne and proved he was more than just some mortal guy?

Um. Yeah.

MICHAEL IS RECLAIMING HIS THRONE SO HE CAN PROVE HE IS WORTHY OF YOU!!!!! JUST LIKE ARAGORN. And, okay, he’s doing it by inventing something none of us understand except him. But that doesn’t matter. He’s DOING IT FOR YOU.

And the thousands of people whose lives might be saved by it. And the millions of dollars he could potentially make if it works.

But don’t you see? All of that is part of what he’s doing FOR YOU.

But I don’t
care
about any of that stuff, Tina. I mean, I want him to be happy, and all. But I would be happier if he’d just stay here so I could smell his neck every day!!!!

Well, you might have to sacrifice neck-smellage for a while in order for Michael to find self-actualization. I mean, in the long run, what he’s doing now will guarantee you constant neck-smellage in the future. If he becomes a millionaire, or whatever, there’s NO WAY your
grandma or anyone else could stand in the way of the two of you being together, because you could just run off with him, even if you get cut off from your Genovian fortune or your dad makes you abdicate the throne, or whatever. See?

I guess. I just don’t see why he can’t achieve self-actualization here in AMERICA.

I don’t know either. But I do know that Michael loves you, and that’s all that matters!!!!!!!

Everything is so simple in Tinaland. I so wish I lived there instead of here, in the cruel, cold real world.