Princess on the Brink

by Meg Cabot

  “Oh, Mia,” Mom said with a sigh. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, tears tickling my nose. “I’ve completely ruined everything with him. He’ll never forgive me. He’s probably glad to be rid of me. Who wants a crazy girlfriend?”

  “You’ve been crazy since Michael met you,” Mom said. “It’s not like you’ve gotten any noticeably crazier.”

  The thing is, I knew she was trying to be encouraging.

  “Thanks,” I said, through my tears.

  “Look,” she went on. “Frank and I are ordering from Number One Noodle Son. Do you want anything?”

  I thought about it. The Quarter Pounder really wasn’t sitting all that well. Maybe what I needed was some more protein, to help keep it down.

  “I guess some General Tso’s chicken,” I said. “And orange beef. And maybe some fried dumplings. And how about some spare ribs? You guys always look like you’re really enjoying those.”

  But my mom, instead of looking happy that she didn’t have to order a vegetarian entrée that no one but me was going to eat, looked concerned.

  “Mia,” she said. “Are you really sure you want to—”

  But I guess something in my face made her change her mind about finishing that statement, since she just shrugged and said, “All right. Whatever you want. Oh, and Lilly called. She wants you to call her back. She said it’s important.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

  Mom opened my bedroom door—BANG! Giggle. BANG! BANG!—and left. I stared at the ceiling for a while. On Michael’s ceiling, in his bedroom back at the Moscovitzes’ apartment, there are glow-in-the-dark constellations. I wondered if he’d put glow-in-the-dark constellations on the ceiling of his new bedroom. In Japan.

  I leaned down and picked up the phone and dialed Lilly’s number. Dr. Moscovitz picked up. She said, “Oh, hello, Mia,” in a not-very-warm voice.

  Yes. My boyfriend’s mother hates me now.

  Well, she has a right to.

  “Dr. Moscovitz,” I said. “I’m sorry about—well, everything. I’m a huge jerk. I understand if you hate me.”

  Dr. Moscovitz’s voice warmed up a tiny bit.

  “Oh, Mia,” she said. “I could never hate you. Look, these things happen. I—well, you and Lilly will work it out.”

  “Right,” I said, feeling fractionally better. Maybe I didn’t have dysthmia after all. I mean, if I could actually feel something. Besides bad. “Thanks.”

  Except…did she say “you and Lilly”? She must have meant “you and Michael.”

  “Um,” I said. “Is Lilly there, Dr. Moscovitz? I’m returning her call.”

  “Of course, Mia,” Dr. Moscovitz said. And she called for Lilly, who picked up the phone and said, without preamble, “YOU KISSED MY BOYFRIEND????”

  I stared at the phone, totally confused. “What?”

  “Kenny Showalter says he saw you kiss J.P. outside your Chemistry classroom today,” Lilly snarled.

  Oh, God. Oh. My. God.

  The Quarter Pounder with cheese moved up my throat a little more as complete and total panic gripped me.

  “Lilly,” I said. “It wasn’t—look. It wasn’t what Kenny thinks—”

  “So you’re saying you DIDN’T kiss my boyfriend outside your Chemistry classroom?” Lilly demanded.

  “N-no,” I stammered. “I’m not. I did kiss him. But just as a friend. And besides, technically, J.P. is your EX-boyfriend.”

  “You mean like you’re technically my ex-best friend?”

  I gasped. “Lilly! Come on! I told you! J.P. and I are just friends!”

  “What kind of friends KISS each other?” Lilly demanded. “On the mouth?”

  Oh my God.

  “Lilly,” I said. “Look. We’ve both had a really bad day. Let’s not take it out on each other—”

  “I haven’t had a particularly bad day,” Lilly snapped. “I mean, sure, my boyfriend dumped me. But I also got elected as the new student council president of Albert Einstein High School.”

  I actually sat up upon hearing this. “You DID?”

  “That’s right,” Lilly said, sounding very self-satisfied. “When you ducked out of school on account of your little tummyache, Principal Gupta said you disqualified yourself from the race.”

  “Oh, Lilly,” I breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” Lilly said. “I asked Principal Gupta what would happen if no one ran—you know, to the student council. And she said Mrs. Hill would just have to preside over it. Well, you know how THAT would turn out: We’d be selling candles from here to Spring Break. So I asked Principal Gupta if I could run in your place, and she said, seeing as how there were no other candidates, she didn’t see why not. So I gave your speech. You know, the one about all the things people should do in the event of catastrophes? I guess I embellished a bit. Nothing TOO much. Just, you know, a few bits about supervolcanoes and asteroids…nothing major. People were too afraid NOT to vote for me. They held the vote last period. And I won. Well, over fifty percent, anyway. I KNEW this freshman class would respond to fear, and fear alone. It’s all they’ve ever known, after all.”

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s great, Lilly.”

  “Thanks,” Lilly said. “Although I don’t know what I’m telling YOU for, since you didn’t help in any way. You are not my vice president, by the way. Perin is. I don’t need a boyfriend stealer as my vice president, OR as a friend.”

  “Lilly,” I said. “I did NOT steal your boyfriend. I told you, I only kissed him because—well, I don’t know why I kissed him. I just did. But—”

  “You know what, Mia?” Lilly snapped. “I don’t want to hear it. Why don’t you save it for someone who cares? Like J.P., for instance.”

  “J.P. doesn’t like me that way, Lilly,” I couldn’t help snapping back. “And you know it!”

  “Do I?” Lilly asked, with an evil laugh. “Well, maybe I know something you don’t know, then.”

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded. “Come on, Lilly, this is stupid. We’ve been friends too long to let a GUY come between us—”

  “Yeah?” Lilly said. “Well, maybe we’ve been friends long enough, then. Good-bye, POG.”

  Then I heard a click. Lilly hung up on me.

  I couldn’t believe it. Lilly hung up on me.

  I sat there, not having the slightest idea what to do. The truth was, I couldn’t believe any of this was happening. I’d lost my boyfriend and my best friend all in the same week. Was such a thing even possible?

  I was still sitting there, holding the phone, when it rang again. I was so sure it was Lilly calling back to apologize for hanging up on me that I answered on the first ring and said, “Look, Lilly, I am so, so sorry. What can I do to make it up to you? I’ll do ANYTHING.”

  But it wasn’t Lilly. A deep, masculine voice said, “Mia?”

  And my heart soared. It was Michael. MICHAEL WAS CALLING ME! I didn’t know how, since he was supposedly on a plane. But what did I care? It was MICHAEL!

  “Yes,” I said, my bones turning to jelly with relief. It was MICHAEL! I practically burst into tears—but this time with happiness, not sadness.

  “It’s me,” the voice said. “J.P.”

  My bones went from jelly to stone. My heart crashed back down to the earth.

  “Oh,” I said, desperately trying to keep my disappointment from sounding obvious. Because a princess always tries to make callers feel welcome, even if they aren’t the caller she was expecting. Or hoping for. “Hi.”

  “I take it you already talked to Lilly,” J.P. said.

  “Um,” I said. How could I have thought it was Michael? Michael was on a plane, flying halfway across the world from me. And why would Michael ever bother calling me again, after what I did? “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

  “I’m guessing it probably went about as well as when I tried to talk to her, just now,” J.P. said.

  “Yeah,” I said. I felt numb. Was nu
mbness a symptom of dysthmia? Not just emotional numbness, but actual PHYSICAL numbness? “She pretty much hates my guts. And I guess she has a right to. I don’t know what I was thinking back there outside of Chemistry, J.P. I am so, so sorry.”

  J.P. laughed. “You don’t have to apologize to me,” he said. “I thoroughly enjoyed it.”

  It was nice of him to be so chivalrous about it. But it somehow made it a little worse, in a way.

  “I’m such an idiot,” I said miserably.

  “I don’t think you’re an idiot,” J.P. said. “I just think you’ve had a really bad week. That’s why I’m calling. I figured you’d need cheering up, and I think I’ve got just the ticket. Literally.”

  “I don’t know, J.P.,” I said dully. “I think I have dysthmia.”

  “I don’t have the slightest idea what that is,” J.P. said. “But I do know that I am holding in my hand two box seat tickets to tonight’s Broadway performance of Beauty and the Beast. Would you be interested in coming with me?”

  I couldn’t help gasping. Box seats, to my favorite musical of all time?

  “H-how—” I stammered. “How did you—”

  “Easy,” J.P. said. “My dad’s a producer, remember? So. You up for it? Show starts in an hour.”

  Was he kidding? How had he known? How had he known this was EXACTLY what I needed to get my mind off what a total and complete jerk I had been to the two people I cared about most in the world (besides Fat Louie and Rocky, of course)?

  “I’m up for it,” I said. “I’m totally up for it!”

  “I’ll meet you outside the theater in forty-five minutes,” J.P. said. “And Mia.”

  “What?”

  “Just for tonight, let’s not mention either of the Moscovitzes. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I said, smiling for what felt like the first time all day. “See you in a few minutes.”

  I hung up the phone.

  Then, before I went to change out of my school uniform and into something nice for the theater, I got up and walked over to my computer.

  I clicked on my e-mail. No new messages.

  But that was okay. I wasn’t expecting any. I didn’t actually deserve any.

  I clicked on Michael’s last e-mail to me—the one I hadn’t answered. Then I clicked REPLY.

  Then I thought for a while.

  Then, finally, in the blank space, I wrote:

  Michael. I’m sorry.

  Then I clicked SEND.

  Thursday, September 9, English

  Now the big question is: Do I tell Tina?

  I mean, obviously, I can’t tell Lilly. She’ll see right through my plan and know what I’m trying to do. Which is not to express my undying love and devotion for her brother, but to try to control him.

  With sex.

  I highly doubt she’d approve.

  Plus, she’ll totally accuse me of violating the feminist code by using feminine wiles instead of my brain as a means to get what I want.

  But isn’t that what Gloria Steinem did when she went undercover as a sex kitten to expose the poor wages and long hours of the Playboy Bunnies, helping to improve their working conditions in the Grotto? I’m doing the same thing, basically. I am sacrificing my virginity in order to keep a valuable asset of our community from leaving it for a far-off shore. In the long run, my sleeping with Michael tonight will only benefit the U.S. economy.

  You could almost say it’s my duty as a citizen to Do It.

  On the other hand, if Lilly and J.P. really did consummate their relationship over the summer (although I have been observing them both closely at lunch, the only period we all three share together, and beyond the Yodel exchange, I have seen no overt signs of shared intimacy. They don’t even hold hands in the hallway or kiss when they see each other in the morning. Which may just be because they save all the lovey-dovey stuff for when they’re alone together. OR it may be because they haven’t gotten as far, intimacy-wise, as rumor would have it), Lilly ought to totally understand.

  I mean, hormones are VERY POWERFUL things. It’s not easy to fight them. Surely Lilly, of all people, would understand.

  Except, of course, if you give up fighting them for the Wrong Reason.

  Mia—what are you doing? Are you taking notes? I thought you read Franny and Zooey already!

  No. I’m not taking notes. I’m writing in my journal. Tina, I have something to ask you. But I’m scared you might hate me for it.

  I could never hate you! Besides, anything is better than listening to her going on about Salinger’s fusion of Judeo-Christian and Eastern religions.

  Well, here’s the thing: I don’t think I’m going to be one of the Last Virgins at AEHS after tonight.

  WHAT??? YOU AND MICHAEL ARE GOING TO DO IT!!!! OH, MIA!!!! WHEN DID YOU TWO DECIDE THIS????

  Well, WE didn’t decide it. I decided it. Don’t hate me, okay? But Grandmère gave me the key to the suite she’s not using over at the Ritz, and I’m going to take Michael there tonight and surprise him.

  You mean you’re going to make sweet tender love to him so he’ll have a beautiful memory to carry with him as he heads halfway across the world in order to prove himself worthy of you? Mia, that is SO ROMANTIC!!!!!!

  Um, actually, I was going to make sweet tender love to him so he’d change his mind and stick around New York. Because what guy is going to move to Japan if he can get regular sex right in his own neighborhood?

  Oh. Well. That’s good, too. I guess.

  Seriously? You don’t think I’m evil for trying to manipulate him emotionally? Using my Precious Gift?

  Well, I understand why you’re doing it. I mean, you love him, and so naturally, you don’t want to lose him. And I know Boris didn’t help at lunch yesterday, when he said all that stuff about clarinetists. Although truthfully, Mia, I highly doubt Michael is going to run into any clarinetists in Japan.

  Still, I’m not sure I can risk it, Tina. I’ve got to do SOMETHING. I’ve got to TRY.

  Right. But are you REALLY ready to go All the Way? I mean, have you been practicing with the showerhead, like we learned how to do that night we saw The 40-Year-Old Virgin on pay-per-view?

  Of course! That movie was SOOOOO educational.

  Right. And I mean, according to that movie, the whole thing should only take about one minute, given that this will be Michael’s first time.

  Yes, but then according to that movie, the second time should take TWO HOURS.

  It took me that long the first time with the showerhead. But I think it was because I was thinking about the wrong person. I was thinking about Boris, but later I figured out it works much better if I think about Cole from Charmed.

  Me, too! I mean, about the two hours. But James Franco from Tristan & Isolde, not Cole.

  Do you think it’s going to work in real life? I mean, without water?

  I don’t know, Tina. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take, if it will mean keeping Michael by my side.

  I totally understand. And I am with you 100 percent. You have condoms?

  Of course. And I’m stopping by Duane Reade after school for some contraceptive sponges. Because you know condoms alone are only, like, 95 percent effective against preventing pregnancy if used correctly. I can’t risk that extra 5 percent.

  But what’s Lars going to say when he sees you buying contraceptive sponges? He’s going to know they aren’t for a class, like the condoms were. He takes all the same classes as you do—even if he doesn’t exactly pay attention in them (then again…neither do you)!

  I’m going to tell Lars they’re a joke present for you. So play along, okay?

  Ha. Ha. Ha. A joke present for me. That’s really funny.

  Well, I can’t say they’re a joke present for Lilly, because what if Lars asks her????

  You aren’t telling Lilly about this?

  Tina, how can I? You know what she’ll say.

  That if Michael doesn’t go to Japan, then his robotic surgical arm will never get made, and thousand
s of people will die who might not otherwise if you had just let him go?

  Ouch, Tina. That really hurt.

  I mean, I’m just saying that’s what LILLY would say. I don’t really BELIEVE that. At least, not very much. Michael is a very resourceful person. I’m sure he’ll find a way to make his robotic surgical arm here. It’s just that…did I mention my dad is on medication now for high blood pressure and high cholesterol, and his doctor says if he doesn’t cut back his red meat intake, he’s a prime candidate for bypass surgery?

  Well, tell your mom to stop letting him order so much orange beef from Wu Liang Ye.

  Yeah. I will. Oh, Mia! This is so exciting! You’re going to be the first one in our group to give up her Precious Gift! Except Lilly, of course, if she and J.P. really Did It over summer break.

  And you’re sure you don’t hate me for it? I mean, that I’m not waiting until the night of our senior prom, like we agreed?

  Oh, Mia, of course not. I understand that there are mitigating circumstances. I mean, if Boris was offered first chair in some orchestra in Australia and was seriously considering going, I would do the exact same thing. Except, of course, Boris playing first chair at the Sydney Philharmonic isn’t going to save anybody’s life, let alone prove himself worthy to a nation over which I might one day rule.

  Thanks, Tina. I really mean that. Your support means a lot to me.

  That’s what I’m here for!

  Really, could there BE a better friend than Tina Hakim Baba? I don’t think so.

  Okay, so:

  LIST OF THINGS TO DO BEFORE HAVING SEX: