This was the wrong thing to say, though, because Lilly scowled at me and said, “Well, I know you already have everything, Mia, but I think there’s somethingI can give you that no one else can.”

I got super nervous then (not that I wasn’t before), and said, “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. What I meant was—”

Lilly seemed to regret her caustic outburst, and said, “I didn’t mean it like that, either. Look, I don’t want to fight anymore.”

This was the first time in two years Lilly had referred to the fact that we even used to be friends, and that we’d been fighting. I was so surprised I didn’t know what to say at first. I mean, it had never even occurred to me that not fighting was an option. I just figured the only option was what we’d been doing…basically ignoring each other.

“I don’t want to fight anymore either,” I said, meaning it.

But if she didn’t want to fight anymore, what DID she want? Surely not to be my friend. I’m not cool enough for her. I don’t have any piercings, I’m a princess, I go on shopping sprees with Lana Weinberger, I wear pink ball gowns sometimes, I have a Prada tote, I’m a virgin, and, oh, yeah—she thinks I stole her boyfriend.

“Anyway,” Lilly said, reaching into her backpack, which was covered all over with buttons in Korean…I suppose promoting her TV show there. “My brother told me to give you this.”

And she pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. It was a white envelope with blue letterhead engraved on it where the return address was supposed to go. The letterhead said “Pavlov Surgical,” and there was a little illustration of Michael’s sheltie, Pavlov. The envelope was kind of lumpy, like there was something in it besides a letter.

“Oh,” I said. I could feel myself blushing, like I do whenever Michael’s name comes up. I knew I was turning the color of his high-tops. Great. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Lilly said.

Thank GOD the first bell rang just then. So I said, “See you later.”

And then I turned around and ran.

It was just so…WEIRD. Why is Lilly being so NICE to me? She must have something planned for tonight. She and Kenneth. Obviously they’re going to do something to ruin my party.

Although maybe not, because Michael and his parents are going to be there. Why would she do something to hurt me when it might embarrass her parents and brother? I could tell how much she loves them at the thing at Columbia on Saturday—and, of course, from having known her almost my whole life, despite us not talking the past two years.

Anyway. I looked around for Tina or Lana or Shameeka or someone to discuss what had just happened with Lilly, but I couldn’t find anyone. Which was strange, because you’d think they’d have come up to me at my locker to wish me a happy birthday, or something. But nothing.

I couldn’t help thinking—in an example of the marked paranoia I’ve been exhibiting lately—that maybe they were all avoiding me because Tina told them about my book. I know she said it was cute, but that’s just what she said to my face. Maybe behind my back she thinks it’s awful and she sent it to everyone else and they all think it’s awful too and the reason they haven’t stopped by to say happy birthday is because they’re afraid they won’t be able to stop laughing in my face long enough.

Or maybe they reallyare planning an intervention.

It’s not unlikely.

Now I’m hyperventilating because when I got to Homeroom and I was sure no one was looking, I tore open the envelope Lilly gave me and this is what I found inside. A handwritten note from Michael that said:

Dear Mia,

What can I say? I don’t know all that much about romance novels, but I think you must be the Stephen King of the genre. Your book ishot.Thanks for letting me read it. Anyone who doesn’t want to publish it is a fool.

Anyway, since I know it’s your birthday, and I also know you never remember to back anything up, here’s a little something I made for you. It would be a shame ifRansom My Heartgot lost before it ever saw the light of day because your hard drive crashed. See you tonight.

Love,

Michael

Inside the envelope with the letter was a little Princess Leia action figure USB flash drive. For me to store my novel on, since he was right—I never back up my computer’s hard drive.

The sight of it—it’s Princess Leia in her Hoth outfit, my favorite of her costumes (how had he remembered?)—brought tears to my eyes.

He said he liked my book!

He said I’m the Stephen King of my genre!

He gave me a personally designed USB flash drive to store it so it wouldn’t get lost!

Really, is there any higher compliment a boy can give a girl?

I don’t think so.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a nicer birthday gift.

Except Fat Louie, of course.

Plus…he signed his letterLove.

Love, Michael.

That doesn’t mean anything, of course. People sign thingsLove all the time. That doesn’t mean they love you in a romantic way. My mom signs all her notes to meLove, Mom . Mr. G writes notes to me and signs themLove, Frank (which, ew).

But still. The fact that he wrote the word…

Love.Love!

Oh my God. I know. I’m pathetic.

A pathetic unicorn.

 

Monday, May 1, World History

I just saw J.P. in the hallway. He gave me a great big hug and a kiss and wished me a happy birthday and told me I look beautiful. (I happen to know I don’t look beautiful. I look awful, actually. I was up half the night writing the article on Michael so there are dark circles under my eyes that I tried to hide with concealer, but really, there’s only so much concealer can do. And I was up the other half of the night freaking out over what Tina told me about her and Boris, and then worrying about what Michael’s and J.P.’s reactions to my book were going to be.)

Maybe to J.P. I look beautiful because I’m his girlfriend. J.P. just likes me too much to notice that I am, in fact, a unicorn (but not one of those beautiful ones with the long silky manes from fairy tales. I’m one of those screwed-up plastic toy unicorns that Emma, Rocky’s friend from day care, plays with, that My Little Pony unicorn with the bald patches whose head gets sucked on all the time by the little kids).

I waited for J.P. to tell me he’d read my book and liked it, the way Michael did in his letter, but he didn’t.

He didn’t mention my book at all, as a matter of fact.

I guess he still hasn’t gotten around to it. He does have his play, and all. It’s getting close to opening night, when he has to put it on for the senior project committee (Wednesday night).

But still. You’d have thought he’d have saidsomething .

All J.P. told me was not to expect my present from him just yet. He says he’s giving it to me tonight, at my party. He says it’s going to blow me away. He says he hasn’t forgotten about the prom, either.

Which is funny, because I certainly have.

Anyway, still no sign of Tina, Shameeka, Lana, or Trisha anywhere. I did see Perin and Ling Su, though, and they both wished me a happy birthday. But then they ran off, giggling madly, which is completely unlike them.

So, that about cinches it: They’ve totally read my book, and hated it. The intervention will probably be at lunch.

I can’t believe Tina would do that—send around copies of it without asking me.

I mean itis reading day in preparation for finals so there’s nothing to do in class BUT read. Obviously, it’s a perfect time for people to be reading my book.

Maybe I should try flunking all my finals (in the case of Trig, I won’t even have to try). Then I really will have no choice but to go to L’Université de Genovia next year.

But that won’t work. I don’t want to be that far from Rocky.

OH, NO! Principal Gupta just called for me to come to the office right away due to a family emergency!

 

Monday, May 1, Elizabeth Arden Red Door Spa

Yeah. I should have known.

There was no family emergency. Grandmère faked one, as usual, to have me pulled out of school so I could spend my birthday getting pampered with her at her favorite day spa before my birthday bash this evening.

The good thing is, I’m not here alone with her. And this time, she didn’t just invite people she thinks Ishould hang out with, like my cousins from the royal family of Monaco or the Windsors or whoever.

No, she actually invited my real friends. Only a few of them (Perin and Ling Su, who actually care about their grades) were conscientious enough to say no and stay in school to study for finals instead. Tina, Shameeka, Lana, and Trisha are all here getting pedicures right next to me, while Grandmère is in the next room, having a difficult ingrown toenail removed. Which, thank God isn’t happening right in front of me, because I think I’d probably throw up. It’s bad enough to have to look at Grandmère’s toenails when they’re au naturel, but an ingrown toenail operation on top of that? No, thank you.

It’s kind of touching though that after all these years Grandmère finally gets it. I mean, that I have friends who I care about, and that she can’t just force me to hang out with whoever she feels would make me a suitable companion (although the majority of the people coming to the party tonight are her friends…or Domina Rei).

Sometimes Grandmère does kind of rock.

Although I’m glad she wasn’t there at that particular moment because the conversation was definitely not one you’d want your grandmother to overhear.

“Oh, the Waldorf,” Trisha was saying in response to a question Shameeka asked her, while the lady doing her feet rubbed gigantic salt granules all over her calves. “Brad and I got a room.”

“There weren’t any rooms left by the time I called,” Shameeka was saying, all mournfully.

“Me, either.” Lana had cucumbers over her eyelids. “Well, there were rooms, but not suites. Derek and I are staying at the Four Seasons instead.”

“But that’s across town!” Trisha practically yelled.

“I don’t care,” Lana said. “I won’t stay anywhere that only has one bathroom. I’m not sharing a bathroom with some random guy.”

“But you’ll have sex with him,” Trisha pointed out.

“That’s different,” Lana said. “I want to be able to use the bathroom without having to wait for someone else to be through with it. I can’t be expected toshare .”

About which, I’d just like to ask, WHO is the princess in the room?

“Where are you and J.P. staying after the prom, Mia?” Shameeka wanted to know, gracefully changing the subject.

“He still hasn’t asked her yet,” Tina told them matter-of-factly. “So, they’ll probably be joining you at the Four Seasons, Lana.” I didn’t have the heart to correct Tina on this. “Oh, Mia…can I tell them?”

Shameeka looked excited. “Tell us about what?”

“About…youknow.” Tina raised her eyebrows excitedly at me.

I seriously panicked when Tina came up with herCan I tell them, Mia? I thought—really—that she was referring to our conversation in the penguin exhibit yesterday. About Michael, and how I’d smelled him, and all of that.

And seeing as how I’d just gotten his note about my book—Love, Michael—and was holding his Princess Leia USB flash drive in my pocket, and the whole thing had made me feel a little…I don’t know. I guesscrazy would be the appropriate word. If unicorns can get crazy.

Plus, I was already extra sensitive about the fact that they were all talking about their boyfriends, and where they were taking them after the prom, and mine hadn’t evenasked me properly, let alone ever even touched me below the neck….

Well, I guess you could say I overreacted, a little.

Because suddenly I heard myself saying, way too loudly, as the woman who was giving me a pedicure ground away at one of my heel calluses, caused from standing around in too-high heels at too many royal benefits, “Look, I’ve never had sex, all right? J.P. and I have neverdone it . So sue me! I’m eighteen, and I’m a princess, and I’m a virgin. Is thatall right with everyone? Or should I go wait in the limo until you’re all done with yoursexy talk ?”

For a second all four of them (well, nine if you count the ladies who were doing our feet) just stared at me in stunned silence. The silence was finally broken by Tina, who said, “Mia, I just meant, would it be okay if I told them how you’d written a romance novel.”

“You wrote a romance novel?” Lana wore an expression of shock. “A book? You, like…typedit?”

“Why?”Trisha looked stunned. “Why would youdo that?”