Party Princess pd-7

by Meg Cabot

  “I realize your History of Dystopic Sci-Fi in Film course is very intense, and all,” I interrupted. “And I know I acted like a fool at your party. But the least you could have done was—”

  “I haven’t been preoccupied with homework, Mia,” Michael said, interrupting me right back. “And yes, you did act like a fool at my party. But that’s not it, either. The fact is, I’ve been trying to deal with total family drama. My parents…they’re separating.”

  Um. WHAT??????

  I blinked at him. I didn’t think I could have heard him right. “Excuse me?” I said.

  “Yeah.” Michael stood up and, turning his back to me, ran a hand through his thick dark hair. “My parents are calling it quits. They told me the night of the party.” He turned to face me, and I saw that, even though he was trying not to let it show, he was upset. Really upset.

  And not because his girlfriend isn’t a party girl. Or is TOO much of one. Not because of either of those things at all.

  “I’d have told you then,” he said. “If you’d stuck around. But I came out of their room, and you were gone.”

  I stared at him in horror, realizing the true magnitude of my stupidity that night. I had fled his party, embarrassed about having gotten caught doing a sexy dance with another guy by Michael’s parents, and assuming he’d felt the same way about it…. Why else had he gone off and left me alone like that?

  But now I realized he’d had a good reason to disappear the way he had. He’d been talking to his parents. Who hadn’t been telling him to break up with his slutty, sexy-dancing girlfriend.

  Instead, they’d been telling him they were splitting up.

  “It wasn’t a conference they went to this past weekend,” Michael went on. “They lied to me. They went to a marathon session with a marriage counselor. It was a last-ditch effort to see if they could iron things out. Which failed.”

  I stared at him. I felt like someone had kicked me in the chest. I couldn’t quite catch my breath.

  “Ruth and Morty?” I heard myself whisper. “Separating?”

  “Ruth and Morty,” he confirmed. “Separating.”

  I thought back to something Lilly had said that day we bumped our heads in the limo. I think Ruth and Morty have bigger things to worry about, she’d said.

  I flung a startled look at Michael. “Does Lilly know?”

  “My parents are waiting for the right time to tell her,” Michael said. “They didn’t even want to tell me, except that—well, I could tell something was wrong. Anyway, they seem to think with this magazine Lilly’s working on, and this play you guys are in—”

  “Musical,” I said.

  “—that she seems stressed right now, so they thought they’d tell her later. I don’t necessarily agree with their decision, but they asked me to let them do it their own way. So please don’t say anything to her.”

  “I think she knows,” I said. “In the limo the other day…she said something.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Michael said. “She has to have at least suspected. I mean, she’s been home with the two of them fighting all year, while I’ve been here at the dorm, sort of removed from it.”

  “Oh, God,” I said, feeling a stab of pity for Lilly. Suddenly, I sort of understood why she was being so weird about the literary magazine thing. I mean, if she knew her parents were splitting up, that would totally explain her mood swings and general weirdness.

  Too bad I didn’t have any such excuse for MY weirdness.

  “Michael,” I said. “I had no idea. I thought…I thought you were mad at me because I acted like such a head case the other night. I thought you were disgusted with me. Or disappointed in me. Because I’m not a party girl.”

  “Mia,” Michael said, shaking his head—almost as if HE couldn’t believe any of this was happening, either. “I was mad at you. I don’t want a party girl. All I want is—”

  But before he could say anything else, the door to his dorm room opened, and Doo Pak came in, looking cheerful as ever…especially when he saw me.

  “Oh, hello, Princess!” he cried. “I was thinking you are here, since I see Mr. Lars in the lounge! How are you doing tonight? Thank you for the giant ‘Sorry’ cookie. It was very delicious. Mike and I have been eating it all day.”

  I was going to say “You’re welcome.” I was going to say “I’m great, Doo Pak. How are you?”

  Which wasn’t what I WANTED to say. What I WANTED to say was, “Get out, Doo Pak! Get out! Michael, finish what you were saying. All you want is what? ALL YOU WANT IS WHAT???”

  Because, you know, it had sounded like it might be slightly important—especially considering the “I was mad at you,” part right before it.

  But then the phone rang, and Doo Pak picked it up, and said, “Oh, hello, Mrs. Moscovitz! Yes, Mike is here. You wish to speak to him? Here, Mike.”

  And even though Michael was making slashing motions under his chin and mouthing, “I’m not here,” at Doo Pak, it was too late. He had to take the phone, and go, “Um, Mom? Yeah, hi. Now’s not a real good time, could I call you back later?”

  But I heard his mother droning on and on.

  And Michael, always the dutiful son, listened. While I sat there going, Dr. and Dr. Moscovitz, splitting up? It CAN’T be. It’s not possible. It’s just not NATURAL for them to split. It’s like…well, it’s like Michael and me splitting up.

  Which we might actually be doing. Because, you know, he never actually did say he forgave me. For the J.P. thing. He admitted he was mad at me, but never said if he was STILL mad.

  Oh my God. Are the Moscovitzes not the only couple breaking up right now?

  Except there was no way I could actually find out. At least not just then, since Michael was holding the phone to his face, going, “Mom. Mom, I know. Don’t worry.”

  And I knew then that what was going on with him—and with us—was more than a “Sorry” cookie could solve.

  I also knew there was nothing else I could do.

  Which was why I got up and left.

  Because what else was I supposed to do?

  From the desk of

  Her Royal Highness

  Princess Amelia Mignonette

  Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo

  Dear Dr. Carl Jung,

  I realize that you are still dead. However, things have suddenly gotten much worse.

  And now I’m not worried so much about transcending my ego and achieving self-actualization.

  Instead, I’m worried about my friends.

  Not that I don’t have my own problems, of course. But now I’ve learned that my boyfriend’s parents are splitting up. Dr. Jung, this could devastate a young man in his prime like Michael. Not only is it clearly breaking his heart, but it could give him abandonment issues that I fear will have a trickle-down effect into MY relationship with him. I mean, what if, from his parents’ example, Michael learns that walking away from a relationship is the way to handle conflict?

  This could totally happen. I know because I saw it once on Dr. Phil.

  And the fact is, there is conflict going on in our relationship RIGHT NOW, due to an ill-timed sexy dance on my part.

  Could things possibly GET any worse? PLEASE SEND HELP.

  Your friend,

  Mia Thermopolis

  Monday, March 8, midnight, the loft

  You know what this reminds me of? “No More Corn!” Seriously. The part where the nameless main character is wandering the streets of Manhattan, surrounded by people and yet, ultimately, so very, very alone. So alone that he realizes he has no choice but to step in front of that F train.

  Which if you think about it is a very selfish thing to do since the poor conductor driving the train will be traumatized for life because of it.

  Still. It is like my life has started imitating my ART!!! Seriously!!! My fictional story is coming true—only not for J.P.

  For ME.

  The thing is, as soon as I got in the limo, I sent Michael a long e-mail v
ia Lars’s Sidekick, telling him how much I loved him, and how sorry I was, both about his parents and for my being so immature and self-centered. And for the sexy dance.

  I fully expected to get a long e-mail back from him by the time I got home, saying he loved me, too, and that he forgave me for being such a weirdo at his party.

  But he didn’t write back.

  At all.

  I can’t believe this. I mean, what do I do NOW? I already sent him a “Sorry” cookie. I have no idea what to do next. I’d buy him a ride on the space shuttle if I thought it would help. But I don’t think it would.

  Besides, I can’t afford a ride on the space shuttle. I can’t even afford a TOY space shuttle.

  As if all that weren’t enough, Michael’s parting words to me keep echoing in my head: “Mia, I don’t want a party girl. All I want is—”

  All I want is…WHAT?

  I will probably never know. But I can’t help worrying that, whatever it is Michael wants, I’m not it.

  And right now, I can’t say I blame him.

  Tuesday, March 9, the limo on the way to school

  So Lilly was just all, “Oh my God, what happened to YOU?” when she got into the car.

  And I was like, “What do you mean?”

  And she was like, “You look like crap. What, did you not get any sleep last night or something? Your grandmother is going to kill you. We have dress rehearsal tonight.”

  So obviously, she doesn’t know that I know about her parents. It’s possible that Michael was wrong, and Lilly herself doesn’t even know about them. Not really.

  Unless she’s actually as fine an actress as she thinks she is.

  Which means I can’t tell her why I look like crap. I mean, Lilly would only SLIGHTLY kill me for knowing her parents are splitting up before SHE even knows her parents are splitting up. Besides, Michael asked me to keep it to myself.

  I guess I could tell her that I think Michael and I are breaking up on account of my sexy dance with J.P.

  But isn’t that just a little more than she should have to deal with right now? I mean, if she DOES know about her parents? Is it really fair for me to expect her to cope with their breakup AS WELL AS mine? If that’s even what’s going on with Michael and me?

  No. No, it is not.

  So instead of telling her the truth, I just went, “I don’t know. I think I’m getting a cold.”

  “Bummer,” Lilly said. And then she told me how she’d gotten almost twenty of her ’zines completely collated and stapled. Only nine hundred and eighty to go. Because, of course, Lilly thinks every single person in the entire school is going to buy one.

  I didn’t bother to contradict her. For one thing, I feel totally empty inside, so it’s not like I even care.

  And for another, she was totally mean to me when I asked her, AGAIN, to pull “No More Corn!” She was like, “Where would we be today if Woodward and Bernstein had asked the Post to pull their story on Watergate? Huh? Where would we be?”

  But breaking the Watergate scandal is COMPLETELY different than “No More Corn!” One thing was going to bring down a presidency. The other is going to hurt someone’s feelings. Which is more important?

  Whatever. Lilly was just like, “Your piece is the COVER STORY. It’s right there, under Fat Louie’s Pink Butthole. ‘A short story by AEHS’s own princess, Mia Thermopolis.’ I can’t PULL it, not without having to redo the COVER, not to mention the table of contents. I’d have to redesign the cover, then print it, then photocopy a thousand pages ALL OVER AGAIN. I’m NOT doing it. I’m just NOT.”

  I told her I’d help her with the photocopying. But she just shook her head.

  I can’t believe she’s willing to hurt a friend just because she’s too lazy to stand at the Xerox machine a little longer. And after all the things I’ve done for her, too. Like protecting her fragile mental state from the truth about her parents, and possibly Michael and me.

  Sheesh.

  Tuesday, March 9, Homeroom

  I still can’t believe it. I mean, it’s like Wilma and Fred Flintstone splitting. Or Homer and Marge Simpson. Or Lana Weinberger and Josh Richter.

  Well, except I wasn’t bummed when THEY split up.

  COUPLES YOU WOULD BE

  TOTALLY BUMMED TO FIND OUT

  WERE BREAKING UP:

  Sarah Michelle Gellar and Freddie Prinze Jr.

  Kelly Ripa and Mark Consuelos

  Scooby Doo and Shaggy

  Melissa Etheridge and Tammy Lynn Michaels

  Bruce Springsteen and Patti Scialfa

  Russell and Kimora Lee Simmons

  Ben Affleck and Matt Damon

  Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman

  Will and Jada Pinkett Smith

  Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip

  Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson

  Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick

  Gwen Stefani and Gavin Rossdale

  Ellen DeGeneres and Portia de Rossi

  Hermione and Ron

  Jay-Z and Beyoncé

  Téa Leoni and David Duchovny

  Sandy and Kirsten Cohen

  Tina Hakim Baba and Boris Pelkowski

  My mom and Mr. G

  I can’t believe the Moscovitzes are breaking up. I mean, they’re JUNGIAN PSYCHIATRISTS. If they can’t make a relationship work, what hope do the rest of us have?

  From the desk of

  Her Royal Highness

  Princess Amelia Mignonette

  Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo

  Dear Dr. Carl Jung,

  Well, I get it now. I totally get it.

  It took me a while. I’ll admit it. But the truth has finally sunk in.

  It’s funny how all this time, I thought transcendence would make me happy. You know, that through finally knowing my true self, I’d gain total happiness at last. Boy, did you have me fooled. You must be laughing your butt off up there in heaven or wherever you are. Because you knew, all along, didn’t you? You knew the truth.

  And that’s that there is no Jungian tree of self-actualization. There is no transcendence of the ego. The Drs. Moscovitz splitting up just proves this.

  The truth is, you’re all alone.

  And then you die.

  Don’t worry. I get it now.

  This is the last letter I’ll be writing to you. Good-bye forever.

  Your former friend,

  Mia Thermopolis

  Tuesday, March 9, U.S. Economics

  Marginal utility = the additional satisfaction, or amount of utility, gained from each extra unit of consumption. Marginal utility decreases with each additional increase in the consumption of a good.

  In other words, the less you have of something, the more you want it.

  A phenomenon with which I am all too familiar.

  Tuesday, March 9, English

  Mia, are you okay? You look as if you might be coming down with something.

  Oh, I’m great, Tina. Just great.

  Oh?

  Okay, I’m lying. Michael is upset about my sexy dance with J.P. But he’s MORE upset about something that has nothing whatsoever to do with me. Something I can’t tell you. But he’s barely speaking to me. I already sent him a “Sorry” cookie. I don’t know what else to do.

  Maybe you shouldn’t do anything else. Boys aren’t like girls, you know, Mia. They don’t like to talk about their feelings. Probably the best thing you can do is just leave Michael alone. Whatever it is, he’ll come around after he’s worked through it. Like Boris and his Bartók.

  Do you think so? It’s so hard to just sit here and do nothing! And who doesn’t want to TALK about their feelings????

  I know. But that is just how boys are.. They are like freaks of nature.

  What are you two talking about?

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  Oh, right. Nothing, again. Whatever. Look. Lunch. Help me collate?

  Of course.

  NO!!!! J.P. WILL SEE THE STORY ABOUT HIM!!!! He sits with us at lunch now
!

  Yeah, what is up with that, anyway? Is this, like, a permanent thing, or just until-the-show-is-over thing?

  I think it’s a someone-has-a-crush-on-Mia thing.

  WHAT????

  You think?

  HE DOES NOT!!!!

  I don’t know, Mia. The ere is the sexy-dance thing. And I see him staring at you a lot when you’re not looking.

  Um, how do you know it’s not ME he’s staring at, Tina?

  Um…we ell, it COULD be you he’s staring at, Lilly. But I really thought—

  Do you WANT him to be staring at you, Lilly?

  I DIDN’T SAY THAT. I just asked how Tina can be so sure it’s NOT me. I mean, you and I sit together a lot. It could be ME, not Mia, he has a crush on.

  Oh my God. You like J.P.

  I DO NOT!!!!!!

  Yes, you do. You totally do.

  OH MY GOD, COULD YOU BE MORE IMMATURE??? I AM NOT TAKING PART IN THIS CONVERSATION ANYMORE.

  Oh my God. She totally likes him.

  I know! Could she be more obvious about it?

  It’s so surprising. J.P. doesn’t seem like her type.

  Because he’s good-looking, English-speaking, and comes from a wealthy family?

  Right. But he IS the creative type. And tall. And a very good dancer.

  Wow. So I don’t get it. If she likes him,

  why is she running that story of mine, that’s only going to hurt his feelings?

  I don’t know. I love Lilly, but I can’t really say I understand her.

  Yeah. You could say that about ALL of the Moscovitzes.

  Oh, Mia. What are you going to do about Michael?

  Do? Nothing. I mean, what CAN I do?

  Wow. You’re taking this current estrangement so well. I mean, apart from the fact that you look like you’re about to throw up.

  I AM throwing up, Tina. On the inside.

  Tuesday, March 9, Lunch

  Today at lunch J.P. was like, “Are you all right, Mia?”

  And I was like, “Yeah. Why?”

  And he was like, “Because your color’s off.”

  And I was like, “My COLOR? What are you talking about?”

  And he was like, “I don’t know. You just don’t look right.”