Princess Diaries Series: Princess In Love Part 4

Monday, December 8, World Civ

It's clear what I have to do.

I've always known it, of course, and if it hadn't been for, you know, the dance, I would have done it long before now.

But it is clear now that I cannot afford to wait until after the dance. I should have done it last night when he called, but you can't really do something like that over the phone. Well, I mean, a girl like Lana Weinberger probably could, but not me.

No, I don't think I can put it off another day: I have got to break up with Kenny. I simply cannot continue living this lie.

Fortunately, I do have the support of at least one person in this plan: Tina Hakim Baba.

I didn't want to tell her. I didn't plan on telling anybody. But it all sort of slipped out today in the girls' room between second and third periods while Tina was putting on her eye makeup. Her dad won't let her wear makeup, you see, so Tina has to wait until she gets to school to put it on. She has a deal with her bodyguard, Wahim. Tina won't tell her parents how much Wahim flirts with Mademoiselle Klein, our French teacher, if Wahim doesn't tell Mr. and Mrs. Hakim Baba about Tina's Maybelline addiction.

Anyway, all of a sudden I just couldn't take it anymore, and I ended up telling Tina what Kenny said last night on the phone- And a lot more than that actually.

But first the part about Kenny's phone call: Unlike Lilly, Tina believed me.

But Tina also had the totally wrong reaction. She thought it was great.

"Oh, my G.o.d, Mia, you are so lucky," she kept saying. "I wish Dave would tell me he loves me! I mean, I know he is fully committed to our relations.h.i.+p, but his idea of romance is paying to have my fries super-sized at Mickey D's."

This was so not the kind of support I was looking for.

"But, Tina," I said. I felt Tina, with her extensive reading of romances, would understand. "The thing is, I don't love him."

Tina widened her mascaraed eyes at me. "You don't?"

"No," I said, miserably. "I mean, I really like him, as a friend. But I'm not in love, or anything. Not with him."

"Oh, G.o.d," Tina said, reaching out and grabbing my wrist. "There's someone else, isn't there?"

We only had a few minutes before the bell rang. We both had to get to cla.s.s.

And yet, for some reason, I chose this moment to make my big confession. I don't know why. Maybe since I'd already spilled it to my dad, it didn't seem too hard to tell someone else, especially Tina. Also, I can't stop thinking about what my dad said. You know, about showing the guy I like how I feel. Tina, I felt, was the only person I knew who would know how to help me do that.

So I went, "Yes."

Tina nearly spilled her cosmetics bag, she was so excited.

"I knew it!" she yelled. "I knew there was a reason you wouldn't let him kiss you!"

My jaw dropped. "You know about that, too?"

"Well." Tina shrugged. "Kenny told Dave, who told me."

Jeez! What's that Oprah always complaining about, about how men aren't in touch with their emotions, and don't share enough? It sounds to me like Kenny's been doing enough sharing recently to make up for several centuries' worth of masculine reticence.

"So who is he?" Tina asked, all eager as she packed up her eyelash curler and lipliner. "The guy you like?"

I went, "It doesn't matter. Besides, the whole thing is completely futile. He sort of has a girlfriend. I think."

Tina whipped her head around to look at me, making her thick, black braid smack her in her own face, which is chubby, but in a good way.

"It's Michael, isn't it?" she demanded, grabbing my arm again. She was holding on so tight it hurt.

My instinct, of course, was to deny it. In fact, I even opened my mouth, all set to have the word No come out of it.

But then I was like, Why? Why should I deny it to Tina? Tina wouldn't tell anyone. And Tina might be able to help me.

So instead of saying No, I took a deep breath, and said, "If you tell anyone, I'll kill you, understand? KILL YOU."

Tina did a strange thing then. She let go of my arm and started jumping up and down in a circle.

"I knew it, I knew it, I knew it," she said, as she jumped. Then she stopped jumping and grabbed my arm again. "Oh, Mia, I always thought you two would make the cutest couple. I mean, I like Kenny and all, but he's, you know." She wrinkled up her nose. "Not Michael."

If I had thought it felt strange last night telling my dad the truth about my feelings for Michael, that was nothing-NOTHING-compared to how it felt to be telling someone my own age. The fact that Tina hadn't burst out laughing or gone, "Yeah, right," in a sarcastic way meant more to me than I ever would have expected.

And the fact that she seemed to understand-even applaud-my feelings for Michael made me want to fling my arms around her and give her a great big hug.

Only there was no time for that, since the bell was about to ring.

Instead, I gushed, "Really? You really don't think it's stupid?"

"Duh," Tina said. "Michael is hot. And he's a senior." Then she looked troubled. "But what about Kenny? And Judith?"

"I know," I said, my shoulders slumping in a manner that would have caused Grandmere to rap me on the back of the head, if she'd seen them. "Tina, I don't know what to do."

Tina's dark eyebrows furrowed with concentration.

"I think I read a book where this happened once," she said. "Listen to My Heart, it was called, I think. If I could just remember how they resolved everything-"

But before she could remember, the bell rang. We were both totally late to cla.s.s.

But if you ask me, it was worth it. Because now, at least, I don't have to worry alone. I have somebody else worrying with me.

Monday, December 8, G & T

Lunch was a disaster.

Considering that everybody in the entire school seems to know, in the minutest detail, exactly what I've been doing-or not doing-with my tongue lately, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. But it was even worse than I could have imagined.

That's because I ran into Michael at the salad bar. I was creating my usual chickpea-and-pinto-bean pyramid when I saw him headed for the burger grill (despite my best efforts, both Moscovitzes remain stubbornly carnivorous).

Seriously, all I did was say "Fine" when he asked how I was doing. You know, on account of how last time he saw me, I was bleeding out of the mouth (what a nice picture that must have been. I am so glad that I have been able to maintain an appearance of dignity and beauty at all times in front of the man I love).

Anyway, then I asked him, just to be polite, you know, how his dentist appointment went. What happened next was not my fault.

Which was that Michael started telling me about how he'd had to have this cavity filled, and that his lips were still numb from the novocaine. Seeing as how I have experienced a certain amount of sensation-deadening, what with my gouged tongue, I could relate to this, so I just sort of, you know, looked at Michael's lips while he was talking, which I have never really done before. I mean, I have looked at other parts of Michael's body (particularly when he comes into the kitchen in the morning with no s.h.i.+rt on, like he does every time I have a sleepover at Lilly's). But I've never really looked at his lips. You know. Up close.

Michael actually has very nice lips. Not thin lips, like mine. I don't know if you should say this about a boy's lips, but Michael's lips look like if you kissed them, they'd be very soft.

It was while I was noticing this about Michael's lips that the very bad thing happened: I was looking at them, you know, and wondering if they'd be soft to kiss, and as I looked, I sort of actually pictured us kissing, you know, in my head. And right then I got this very warm feeling-the one they talk about in all of Tina's romance novels-and RIGHT THEN was when Kenny went by on his way to get his usual lunch: c.o.ke and an ice-cream sandwich.

I know Kenny can't read my mind-if he could, he totally would have broken up with me by now-but maybe he caught some hint as to what I was thinking, and that's why he didn't say Hi back, when Michael and I said "Hi" to him.

Well, that and the whole part where I said, "Um, okay," after he said he loved me.

Kenny must have known something was up, if my face was anywhere near as red-hot as it felt. Maybe that's why he didn't say Hi back. Because I was looking so guilty. I'd certainly felt guilty. I mean, there I was, looking at another guy's lips and wondering what it would be like to kiss them, and my boyfriend goes walking by.

I am so going to bad-girl h.e.l.l when I die.

You know what I wish? I wish everyone could read my mind. Because then Kenny would never have asked me out. He'd have known I don't think of him that way. And Lilly wouldn't make fun of me for not letting Kenny kiss me. She would know the reason I don't is that I'm in love with someone else.

The bad part is, she'd know who that someone else is.

And that someone probably won't even speak to me again, because it's totally uncool for a senior to go out with a freshman. Especially one who can't go anywhere without a bodyguard.

Besides, I'm almost positive he's going out with Judith Gershner, because after he came back from the grill, he went and sat down next to her.

So that settles that.

I wish I were leaving for Genovia tomorrow instead of in two weeks.

Monday, December 8, French

In spite of that disastrous incident at lunch, I had a pretty good time in Gifted and Talented. In fact, it was almost like old times again. I mean, before we all started going out with each other and everyone became so obsessed with the inner workings of my mouth, and all that.

Mrs. Hill spent the whole cla.s.s period in the teachers' lounge across the hall, yelling at American Express on the phone, leaving us free to do what we usually do during her cla.s.s . . . whatever we wanted. For instance, those of us who, like Lilly's boyfriend Boris, wanted to work on our individual projects (Boris's is learning to play some new sonata on his violin), which is what Gifted and Talented cla.s.s is supposedly for, did so.

Those of us, however, like Lilly and me, who did not want to work on our individual projects (mine is studying for Algebra; Lilly's is working on her cable access TV show) did not.

This was especially satisfying, because Lilly had completely forgotten about the whole kissing thing between Kenny and me. The reason for this is that now she's mad at Mrs. Spears, her honors English teacher, who shot down her term paper proposal.

It really was unfair of Mrs. Spears to turn it down, because it was actually very well thought out, and quite creative. I made a copy of it: How to Survive High School by Lilly Moscovitz Having spent the past two months locked in that inst.i.tution of secondary education commonly referred to as high school, I feel that I am a qualified authority on the subject. From pep rallies to morning announcements, I have observed high-school life and all of its complexities. Sometime in the next four years, I will be granted my freedom from this festering h.e.l.lhole, and then I will publish my carefully compiled High School Survival Guide.

Little did my peers and teachers know that as they went about their daily routines, I was recording their activities for study by future generations. With my handy guide, every ninth grader's sojourn in high school can be a little more fruitful. Students of the future will learn that the way to settle their differences with their peers is not through violence, but through the sale of a really scathing screenplay-featuring characters based on those very individuals who tormented them all those years-to a major Hollywood movie studio. That, not a Molotov c.o.c.ktail, is the path to true glory.

Here, for your reading pleasure, are a few examples of the topics I will explore in How to Survive High School, by Lilly Moscovitz: 1. High-School Romance, or How I Cannot Open My Locker Because Two Overs.e.xed Adolescents are Leaning Up Against It, Making Out 2. Cafeteria Food: Can Corndogs Legally Be Listed as a Meat Product?

3. How to Communicate with the Subhumans Who Populate the Hallways 4. Guidance Counselors: Who Do They Think They're Kidding?

5. Get Ahead by Forging: The Art of the Hall Pa.s.s Does that sound good, or what? Now look what Mrs. Spears had to say about it: Lilly-Sorry as I am to hear that your experience thus far at AEHS has not been a positive one, I am afraid I am going to have to make it worse by asking you to find another topic for your term paper. A for creativity, as usual, however.

-Mrs. Spears Can you believe that? Talk about unfair! Lilly's been censored! By rights, her proposal ought to have brought the school's administration to its knees. Lilly says she is appalled by the fact that, considering how much our tuition costs, this is the kind of support we can expect from our teachers. Then I reminded her that that isn't true of Mr. Gianini, who really goes beyond the call of duty by staying after school every day to conduct help sessions for people like me, who aren't doing so well in Algebra.

Lilly says Mr. Gianini probably only started pulling that staying-after-school thing so that he could ingratiate himself to my mother, and now he can't stop, because then she'll realize it was all just a setup and divorce him.

I don't believe that, however. I think Mr. G would have stayed after school to help me whether he was dating my mom or not. He's that kind of guy.

Anyway, the upshot of it all is that now Lilly has launched another one of her famous campaigns. This is actually a good thing, as it will keep her mind off me and where I am putting (or not putting) my lips. Here's how it started: Lilly: The real problem with this school isn't the teachers. It's the apathy of the student body. For instance, let's say we wanted to stage a walkout.

Me: A walkout?

Lilly: You know. We all get up and walk out of the school at the same time.

Me: Just because Mrs. Spears turned down your term paper proposal?

Lilly: No, Mia. Because she's trying to usurp our individuality by forcing us to bend to corporate feudalism. Again.

Me: Oh. And how is she doing that?

Lilly: By censoring us when we are at our most fertile, creatively speaking.

Boris: (leaning out of the supply closet, where Lilly made him go when he started practicing his latest sonata) Fertile? Did someone say fertile?

Lilly: Get back in the closet, Boris. Michael, can you send a ma.s.s e-mail tonight to the entire student body, declaring a walkout tomorrow at eleven?

Michael: (working on the booth he and Judith Gershner and the rest of the Computer Club are going to have up at the Winter Carnival) I can, but I won't.

Lilly: WHY NOT?

Michael: Because it was your turn to empty the dishwasher last night, but you weren't home, so I had to do it.

Lilly: But I TOLD Mom I had to go down to the studio to edit the last few finis.h.i.+ng touches on this week's show!