Princess on the Brink

by Meg Cabot

  “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.

  Wednesday, September 8, Intro to Creative Writing

  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

  Wednesday, September 8, English

  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.

  Wednesday, September 8, French

  The thing is, deep down, I know Tina is right.

  But I just can’t get as enthusiastic about it as she is. Maybe because Aragorn, even though he was faithful to Arwen while he was off finding himself and all, still had that thing going on with Eowyn. Whatever that was.

  What’s to keep Michael from having the same kind of thing with some brilliant Japanese geisha/robotics engineer?

  La speakerine de la chaine douze a dit, “Maintenant, vraies croyantes, un petit film—le premier film d’une serie de six. Mesdames, voici le film que vous avez attendu pour des semaines. Un film remarkable, un film qui a changé ma vie et la vie d’autres femmes tout le monde. Oui, Le Mérite Incroyable d’une Femme.”

  61+56=117

  I passed Lana in the hallway on the way to class, and she went, “Hey, Pete! How’s Neverland?” which made her new clone, as well as her evil henchwoman Trish, laugh so hard that Diet Coke came out of their noses.

  I don’t know for sure, because I’ve never been able to get all the way through The Lord of the Rings due to the fact that there are hardly any parts with girl characters in them (so I had to pretend Merry was a girl hobbit), but I’m fairly certain this never happened to Arwen.

  Wednesday, September 8, Lunch

  So I was sitting here, innocently eating my falafel with tahini, when Ling Su sat down across from me, and went, “Mia. How are you?” with her eyes all big and sympathetic.

  I went, “Um. Fine.”

  Then Perin sat down next to me and was like, “
Mia. We heard. Are you okay?”

  God. News travels fast around this school.

  “I’m fine,” I said, trying to smile bravely. Which is no joke when you’ve got a big wad of falafel in your mouth.

  “I can’t believe it,” Shameeka said. She doesn’t even normally EAT at our table, since she’s usually too busy spying for us over at the jock/cheerleader table. But all of a sudden, she’d put her tray down next to Perin’s. “Is he really moving to JAPAN?”

  “Looks like it,” I said. It’s funny, but every time I hear the word Japan now, my heart does this funny twisty thing. The way it used to when I heard the word Buffy, back when the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer was ending.

  “You should dump him,” Boris said after joining us.

  “BORIS!” Tina looked shocked. “Mia, ignore him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

  “Yes, I do,” Boris said. “I know exactly what I’m talking about. This happens in orchestras all the time. Two musicians fall in love, then one gets a better paying job at another rival orchestra in another city, or even another country. They always try to make it work—the long-distance thing—but it never does. Sooner or later one of them always falls in love with a clarinetist, and that’s it. Long-distance relationships never work. You should dump him now, so it’s a nice clean break, and move on. End of story.”

  Tina was staring at her boyfriend in shock. “Boris! That’s the most horrible thing to say! How could you say that?”

  Boris didn’t get it, though. He just shrugged and went, “What? It’s the truth. Everyone knows it.”

  “My brother isn’t going to fall in love with someone else,” Lilly said, in a bored voice, from where she sat farther down the table, across from J.P. “Okay? He’s completely besotted with Mia.”

  “Ha,” Tina said, giving Boris a poke with her straw. “See?”

  “I am only telling it the way I’ve experienced it,” Boris said. “Maybe Michael won’t fall in love with a clarinetist. But Mia will.”

  “BORIS!” Tina looked outraged. “What on EARTH would make you say that???”

  “Yeah, Boris,” Lilly said, looking at him like he was a bug she’d found in her hummus. “What’s this thing you’ve apparently got for clarinetists? I thought you considered woodwinds to be beneath you.”

  “I am merely stating a fact,” Boris said, putting down his fork with a bang to illustrate his seriousness. “Mia is only sixteen years old. And they aren’t married. Michael shouldn’t think that he can just go off to a foreign country and that she is going to wait for him. It isn’t fair to her. She should be allowed to move on with her life, date other people, and have fun, not sit in her room every Saturday night for a year until he gets back.”

  I saw Shameeka and Ling Su exchange glances. Ling Su even made an “Oops, he might actually be right” face.

  Tina didn’t think he was right, though.

  “Are you saying that if you got a job as first violin with the London Philharmonic, you wouldn’t want me to wait for you?” she asked her boyfriend.

  “Of course I would want you to wait,” Boris explained. “But I wouldn’t ASK you to. It wouldn’t be fair. But I know you WOULD wait, anyway, because that’s the kind of girl you are.”

  “Mia’s that kind of girl, too!” Tina said decidedly.

  “No,” Boris said, gravely shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “That’s okay, Boris,” I said quickly, before Tina’s head exploded. “I WANT to sit in my room every Saturday night until Michael gets back.”

  Boris looked at me like I was nuts. “You DO?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I do. Because I love Michael and if I can’t be with him, I’d rather not be with any boy.”

  Boris just shook his head sadly.

  “That’s what all the couples in my orchestra say,” he said. “And eventually, one of them gets tired of sitting in their room. Next thing you know, they’ve hooked up with a clarinetist. There’s always a clarinetist.”

  This was very disconcerting. I was sitting there, feeling the same panic rising I feel every time I think of Michael’s leaving—just three more days! Three more days until he’s gone—when I happened to notice that J.P. was looking at me.

  And then when I met his gaze, he smiled at me. And rolled his eyes. As if to say, “Listen to the crazy Russian violinist! Isn’t he silly?”

  And suddenly, the panic disappeared, and I felt all right again.

  I smiled back and, reaching for my falafel, said, “I think Michael and I will be okay, Boris.”

  “Of course they will,” Tina said. And then Boris yelped. It was clear Tina had kicked him beneath the table.

  I hope she left a bruise.

  Wednesday, September 8, G & T

  So Lilly didn’t even give me twenty-four hours to recover from the blow her brother delivered. No, she started harping on the student government campaign again during G and T.

  “Listen, POG,” she said. “I know you were the only person nominated for student council president, but you can’t win if at least fifty percent of the class doesn’t vote for you.”

  “Who else are they going to vote for?” I wanted to know. “Especially if no one else is running?”

  “Write-ins,” Lilly said. “Themselves. Who knows? You could end up being beaten by Lana anyway, even though she’s technically not running. You know her little sister just entered ninth grade, right?”

  This information was meaningless to me. I mean, on account of my head being completely full of the fact that MY BOYFRIEND IS MOVING TO JAPAN FOR A YEAR (or more).

  “Did you hear me, Mia?” Lilly was peering at me all concernedly over her student government binder. “Gretchen Weinberger is exactly like her older sis…only with a bigger chip on her shoulder. Think of that documentary we saw on MTV, True Life, on ’roid rage, and you’ll have a clear picture. Gretchen could undoubtedly rally the entire ninth grade against you if she wanted to. And, if you’ve gotten any kind of look at them, you can clearly see this freshman class is the most apathetic bunch of bottom-feeders that have ever walked the planet. I actually heard one of them insisting that global warming is all a myth because Michael Crichton said so in that pathetic excuse for a book of his.”

  I just looked at her some more. Was Gretchen Weinberger the clone—that slightly smaller version of Lana I’d seen laughing in the hallway over the elder Weinberger’s witticism concerning my haircut and Neverland? Probably. I’d just assumed at the time she was another Lana Wannabe. It makes sense she’s her sister.

  “But that idiot’s remarks about that anti-science schlock-meister Crichton gave me an idea,” Lilly went on. “This is a generation that’s pretty much been raised on fear—fear of feminists, who as we all know are out to destroy family values—ha, ha—fear of terrorists, fear of getting a bad SAT score and then not getting into Yale or Princeton and therefore being a failure and having to go to some less well-known school from which they might—gasp—have to get an entry-level job after graduation making one hundred thousand dollars a year instead of one hundred and five thousand dollars a year. I say we play on these fears, and use them to our advantage.”

  “How are we going to do that?” I asked. Not that I cared. “And also, technically, we’re the same generation as Lana’s little sister. I mean, we’re older than she is. But she’s still our generation.”

  “No, she isn’t,” Lilly said, with a gleam in her eye—a gleam I did not trust for one second. “She was born just late enough not to have been cognitively aware of Party of Five, and that makes us generationally separate. And I think I know EXACTLY where their weak spot is. I’m working on it. I should have everything ready by tomorrow. Don’t worry, POG. They’ll be BEGGING you to be their student body president by the time I’m done with them.”

  “Wow,” I said. “Well, thanks. But, see, the thing is, Lilly…I don’t think I want to run for student body president this year.”

  Lilly just blinked at me.
“What?”

  I took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be easy.

  “It’s just…well, you know what I got in math on my practice PSAT. And I have Precalculus AND Chemistry this year. I swear to God, it’s only been one day, and I don’t have the slightest idea what anybody is talking about in either of those courses. I mean, not even A LITTLE. I really think I need to concentrate on school work this year. I just don’t think I’m going to have time to run the school. Not with all that and princess stuff, too.”

  Lilly raised one eyebrow. I hate when she does this. Because she knows how and I don’t.

  “This is because of my brother, isn’t it,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “Because,” Lilly said, “I mean, if anything, now that he’s leaving, you’re going to have MORE time on your hands. Not less.”

  “Yes,” I said, with some asperity. “But also, now that he’s leaving, I’m not going to have anybody to help me with my Precalc and Chem homework. I’m going to have to get a tutor or something. And tutors, unlike Michael, aren’t totally willing to come over and help me with a worksheet at ten o’clock on a Wednesday night after I’ve been at a student council meeting and then some state dinner over at the Genovian embassy.”

  Lilly didn’t look very sympathetic. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me,” she said. “You’re more apathetic than the rest of this school. You’re worse than the ninth graders!”