by Meg Cabot
I really was not in the mood to discuss Ransom My Heart with Grandmère. I still had about twenty chapters of Trig to review. Oh, and my devirginization to map out. I had to figure out what I was going to buy at CVS to keep a whole Juno scenario from breaking out. The next novel I write does not need to be titled Pregnant Princess.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” I snapped. “Since no one wants to publish it anyway.”
“Well, thank the Lord for that,” Grandmère said. “The last thing this family needs is some tawdry paperback novel writer—”
“It’s not tawdry,” I interrupted her, stung. “It’s a very humorous and moving romance about a young girl’s sexual awakening in the year twelve ninety-one—”
“Oh my God.” Grandmère sounded as if she’d swallowed the wrong way. “Please tell me if you do get published, you’ll be using a pen name.”
“Of course I am,” I said. How much can one person be expected to take, anyway? “But even if I wasn’t, what’s wrong with it? Why does everyone have to be such a prude? You know, I’ve put up with doing what everybody else wants me to do for nearly four years now. It’s about time I got to do something I want to do—”
“Well, for the love of God,” Grandmère said, “why can’t you take up skiing, or something? Why does it have to be novel writing?”
“Because I like it,” I said. “And I can do it and still have time to be princess of Genovia, and not have paparazzi chase me around, and it isn’t bad for me, and why can’t you just be happy for me that I’ve found my calling?”
“Her calling!” I could tell Grandmère was rolling her eyes. “Her calling, no less. It can’t be your calling if no one will even buy the wretched thing from you, Amelia. Listen, if you want a calling, I’ll pay for you to have cliff-diving lessons. I hear it’s all the rage with the young people down in—”
“I don’t want cliff-diving lessons,” I said. “I’m going to write novels and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. And I’m going to go to college to learn to do it better. I just don’t know where yet. But I will by the prom and the election—”
“Well,” Grandmère said, sounding offended. “Someone didn’t get her beauty sleep!”
“Because I was at your party,” I said. Then I softened my tone, remembering what my dad had said about princesses being kind. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It was very nice of you to have that party for me, and it was lovely to see Dad, and you and Vigo did an awfully nice job. I just meant—”
“I suppose,” Grandmère said stiffly, “I ought to be relieved I don’t have to have an engagement party for you. No one gives promise-ring parties…do they? But I imagine you’ll expect a book party someday.”
“If I get published,” I said, “it would be nice.”
Grandmère sighed gustily and hung up. I could tell she was going to go have a Sidecar, even though her physicians have expressly ordered her to cut back on them (and I saw her with one in her hand throughout the night last evening. Either her glass was magic and never emptied, or she had several).
So, yeah. Exactly what Dad DIDN’T want: Looks like I’m a Princess with a Reputation.
On the other hand, at this point…I might as well live up to it, I guess.
Wednesday, May 3, Trig final
Okay. Barely passed that.
Moving on.
Wednesday, May 3, Lunch
OH MY GOD!
I was just sitting down at our table in the caf with my tofurkey burger and salad when my phone rang and I saw that it was my dad.
Dad never calls me during school unless it’s an emergency or massively important, so I practically dropped my tray and was all, “WHAT?” into the phone.
Of course J.P. and Tina and Boris and Lana and everyone stopped talking and turned to look at me.
The only things I could think were:
A) Grandmère finally croaked from too many Gitanes, or
B) Somehow the paparazzi got wind of the fact that I’m going to have sex on my prom night and spilled the beans to my parents, and I was busted. Could Tina be right? Had they finally tapped my phone?
Then Dad went, in a completely calm voice, “I thought you’d be interested to know that a brand-new CardioArm was just delivered to the Royal Genovian Hospital, with a card indicating it was a donation courtesy of Michael Moscovitz, President and CEO, Pavlov Surgical Industries.”
I almost dropped my phone into Lana’s fro-yo. “Hey, watch it,” she said.
“A programmer named Midori came with the CardioArm to teach our surgeons a two-week course on how to use it,” Dad went on. “She’s at the hospital now, setting it up.”
Micromini Midori!
“I don’t understand,” I said. I really was totally confused. “Why would he do that? We didn’t ask for one. Did you ask for one? I didn’t ask him for one.”
“I didn’t ask him for one,” Dad said. “And I already checked with your grandmother. She swears she didn’t ask him for one.”
I had to sit down, my legs having suddenly given out from beneath me. I hadn’t even thought of Grandmère. She had to have been behind this! She must have browbeaten Michael into giving Genovia one of his CardioArms! No wonder he’d left my party early! Poor thing.
And all this time I’d been thinking horrible thoughts about him….
“Mia,” J.P. said, looking concerned. “Are you all right? What’s going on?”
“She must have said something to him,” I said into the phone, ignoring my boyfriend. “She’s got to be lying. Why else would he have done it?”
“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea why,” Dad said, in a strange voice.
“You do?” I was flummoxed. “Well, why? Other than Grandmère having cornered him the other night at my party and demanding one? Dad, she had to have.” I lowered my voice so the lunch gang wouldn’t overhear me. “There’s a huge long waiting list for those things. They cost over a million dollars! He’s not just going to have one shipped over to Genovia for free, for no reason!”
“I think there’s a reason,” Dad said dryly. “Why don’t you call him to thank him? I imagine he’ll probably tell you what it is over dinner.”
“Dinner?” I echoed. “What are you talking about? Why would we go out to din—”
Comprehension dawned. I couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to figure out what my dad meant—that Michael had sent the CardioArm because he still liked me. More than liked me, maybe, even.
I could feel myself starting to blush. I was grateful everyone at the table couldn’t hear both sides of the conversation. That is, if they hadn’t figured it out already from my end.
“Da-ad!” I whispered. “Come on! It’s not that! I mean—” I lowered my voice even more, grateful for the din of the cafeteria. “He broke up with me, remember?”
“That was almost two years ago,” Dad said. “You’ve both done a lot of growing up since then. One of you, in particular.”
He meant me. I knew he meant me. He certainly didn’t mean Michael, who’d never been anything but calm and understanding, whereas I’d been…
Well, not.
Geek.
“Mia, what’s going on?” Tina wanted to know. She looked worried. “Is your dad all right?”
“Everything’s fine,” I said to them. “I’ll tell you in a minute—”
“Mia, I have to go,” Dad said. “The press is here. I don’t think I have to tell you that something like this…well, it’s big news in a little place like Genovia.”
No, he didn’t need to tell me that. People don’t make donations of million-dollar, state-of-the-art medical equipment to Genovia’s dinky hospital. Something like that was going to get major media coverage.
Way more, in fact, than René’s efforts to open an Applebee’s.
“Okay, Dad,” I said, in a daze. “Bye.”
I hung up, feeling totally confused. What was going on? Why had Michael done this? I mean, I knew why my dad thought M
ichael had done it.
But why had he really done it? I’d seen how he’d walked out of my birthday party like that. It didn’t make any sense.
Love, Michael.
“What’s going on, Mia?” J.P. wanted to know.
“You look like you just ate a sock,” Tina said.
“It’s nothing,” I said quickly. “It was just my dad to say that the Royal Genovian Hospital got a donation of a CardioArm from Michael’s company. That’s all.”
Tina choked on the sip of Diet Coke she was taking. Everyone else took the news calmly.
Including J.P.
“Oh, hey, Mia,” he said. “That’s great! Wow. That’s a generous gift.”
He didn’t look a bit jealous.
And why should he? It’s not as if there’s anything to be jealous about. Michael doesn’t like me like that, despite what Dad—and Tina—might think. I’m sure he just donated the CardioArm to be nice.
And Micromini Midori…the fact that he sent her to teach the surgeons how to use it? That doesn’t mean she and Michael aren’t going out. It just means they’re in such a stable relationship that they can be away from each other for weeks at a time and it doesn’t bother them a bit.
What am I blathering about? Who cares if Michael and Micromini Midori are dating? I’m wearing a promise ring from another guy! To whom I am going to lose my virginity after the prom this coming Saturday! What is wrong with me?
Really—What IS wrong with me? I shouldn’t even be thinking about any of this stuff! I have a French final in fifteen minutes!
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO ABOUT THE FACT THAT MICHAEL SENT A CARDIOARM TO THE ROYAL GENOVIAN HOSPITAL?????
And I can’t stop thinking about him for even one second, and I’m due to lose my virginity to my boyfriend after the prom in four days (three if you don’t count today)????
Wednesday, May 3, French final
Mia—Are you done with the final? T
Yes. That was horrible.
I know! What did you get for number 5?
I don’t know. Future perfect, I think. I don’t remember anymore. I’m trying to block it out.
Same here. So. I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but what are you going to do about Michael, and the fact that he did what he did? Because, no matter what you say, Mia, you can’t deny—no guy is going to send a CardioArm to the country of a girl he doesn’t like.
See, I knew this was going to happen. Tina takes everything and wraps it up in silver tissue paper and puts a big bow on it and calls it Love.
And I’m supposed to be the romance writer.
He doesn’t like me! Not like like me. He just did it to be nice. For old times’ sake. I’m sure.
Well, I don’t see how you can be sure when you haven’t even spoken to him about it. Have you spoken to him about it?
Well, no. Not yet. I’m not sure I’m going to, either. Because, in case you don’t remember, Tina, I’m promise-ringed to someone else.
That doesn’t give you the right to be rude! When someone goes to all the trouble of donating a CardioArm to your country, the least you can do is personally thank him! Although that doesn’t mean you have to sleep with him, or anything. I’m sure Michael isn’t expecting anything like that. You could kiss him though.
Oh my God.
Whose side are you on, anyway, Tina? J.P.’s, or Michael’s?
J.P.’s, of course! Because that’s who you’ve chosen, right? I mean…haven’t you? It would be pretty weird if that’s NOT who you’ve chosen, seeing as how you’re wearing his ring, and plan on spending the night with him on Saturday.
Of course I chose J.P.! Michael broke up with me, remember?
Mia, that was almost two years ago. Things are different now. You’re different now.
WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP SAYING THIS?
OH MY GOD YOU GUYS I JUST GOT OUT OF MY LAST GERMAN FINAL EVER! No more German finals ever! At least for me! I think in college I’m going to take Spanish because then I’ll be able to order more things when I go to Cabo for break instead of just tacos.
—————————————
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device
Lana, don’t you think Mia should call Michael to thank him for donating a CardioArm to the Royal Genovian Hospital?
Whatevs, she should just call him because he is HOT like a red-hot chili pepper like the kind I’ll be learning about when I start taking SPANISH instead of GERMAN!!!!
—————————————
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device
See? Mia, just text Michael. Thank him for what he did. That’s not hurting J.P. I mean, you already met with Michael and didn’t tell J.P. And okay, maybe Michael did it because Lilly told him what she overheard us saying in the bathroom. But chances are he was going to send it anyway. So just call him.
You think he sent it because Lilly told him she overheard me say I still like him? I’m going to be sick!!!!!
No! I said MAYBE that’s why he did it!
OH MY GOD that IS why he did it! I know it! Oh my God. OH MY GOD!!!!!!
Look, I’m sure that’s NOT why. But…you should call him and find out.
Wait a minute…I’m going to Genovia for break from now on. I should take French next year. What’s French for tacos?
—————————————
Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device
When I go to college the first thing I’m going to do is pick out all new friends. Because the friends I currently have are psychotic.
Wednesday, May 3, 4 p.m., limo on the way to
Grandmère’s condo at the Plaza
Sebastiano has picked out a half dozen gowns from his latest collection for me to try on to wear to the prom, and I’m meeting him at Grandmère’s to check them out.
I have a feeling they’re going to be horrible, but I guess I shouldn’t be so judgmental. I really liked the last formal gown of his that I wore (to the Nondenominational Winter Dance my freshman year. Can it really have been so long ago? It seems like yesterday). Just because Sebastiano’s selling his stuff at Wal-Mart doesn’t mean it’s going to be awful.
Anyway, I’ve been writing and deleting texts to Michael the whole way up in the car. I’ve been trying them out on Lars. (He thinks I’m nuts, clearly. But then, what else is new?) It’s really hard to capture just the right casually breezy, yet still warmly sincere tone.
Lars thinks I should go with this:
Dear Michael,
I can’t tell you how surprised yet pleased I was to hear from my dad today about a certain delivery that arrived at the Royal Genovian Hospital. You can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve done for him and for the people of Genovia. Your generosity will never be forgotten. I would so like to thank you in person on their behalf (when you have time).
Sincerely,
Mia
I do think this has just the right polite yet friendly tone. It’s the sort of thing a girl who is promise-ringed to someone else could send and not have misinterpreted. Or have intercepted by the paparazzi and get herself into trouble.
I added the stuff about meeting in person because…well, it just seems like you should thank someone in person for a gift that cost over a million dollars. Not because I want to smell him again. No matter what Lars thinks (I really wish he wouldn’t eavesdrop on all my conversations. But I guess that’s one of the hazards of guarding someone).
I’m going to hit SEND before I chicken out.
Wednesday, May 3, 4:05 p.m., limo on the way to Grandmère’s condo at the Plaza
Oh my God! Michael got the text and texted me back already! I’m freaking out. (Lars is laughing even harder at me but I don’t care.)
Mia,
Would love to see you “in person.” How about tonight?
Michael
P.S. No need to thank me on behalf of your father or Genovia. I only sent it because I thought it might help out your dad in the elections, an
d that, in turn, would make you happy. So you see my motives were completely selfish.
Now what do I do????
Lars has no answer for me. Well, he does, but it’s completely unreasonable. He’s like, “Call him. Go out with him tonight.”
But I can’t go out with him tonight! Because I’ve got A BOYFRIEND! Plus, I’ve got J.P.’s play tonight. I promised I’d be there to support him.
And I want to be there for J.P. Of course I do. It’s just that—
What can Michael mean, his motives were entirely selfishly motivated? Does he mean what Lars says he thinks he means, that he only sent the CardioArm because he likes me?
And wants to get back together?
No. That’s not possible. Lars has spent too much time in the desert sun, setting off explosives with Wahim. Why would Michael want to get back together with me, when I am so obviously a crazy person? I mean, when we were together last time, I went positively Britney on him. I can’t imagine any boy would ever sign up for a second helping of that.
Even though, of course, like Dad said, I have grown up a lot since then….
And we did have a nice time at Caffe Dante. But that was just an interview.
Oh! But he did smell nice! I don’t suppose he thought I smelled nice, too?
I’ve got to check with Tina…even though she’s nuttier than I am, if you ask me.
But never mind about that. I’m forwarding his text to her…And, dang, we’re at Grandmère’s now, I’ve got to go endure trying on clothes for hours. Who has the patience for fashion when all THIS is going on?