FTLOUIE: Like with my boyfriend of almost two years whom I love to distraction, you mean?

ILUVROMANCE: Okay, I see what you’re saying, and you guys have been going out for a long time. But what if you’re making a mistake? What if J.P. isn’t the One?

FTLOUIE: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Of course J.P. is the One. BECAUSE HE HASN’T BROKEN UP WITH ME. LIKE MICHAEL DID. REMEMBER?

ILUVROMANCE: Yes, but that was a long time ago. And now Michael’s back. And I was just thinking…maybe you shouldn’t make any hasty decisions. Because what if Lilly tells Michael what she heard in the bathroom today?

I knew Tina was lying today.

FTLOUIE: YOU SAID SHE WOULDN’T.

ILUVROMANCE: Well, she probably won’t. But…what if she does?

FTLOUIE: Because Michael doesn’tcare , Tina. I mean,he broke up withme. Heleft the party last night. What would he care if I’m going around saying I’m still a virgin but I’m going to sleep with my boyfriend after the prom and that I only just got over still liking him? If he cared, he’d do something about it, right? I mean, Michael has my phone number, right?

ILUVROMANCE: Right.

FTLOUIE: And the phone’s not ringing, is it? ILUVROMANCE: I guess not.

FTLOUIE: No. It isn’t. So. No offense, Tina. I love romance, too, but in this particular case, it’s OVER. MICHAEL DOESN’T CARE ABOUT ME ANYMORE. As his behavior at my party clearly illustrates.

ILUVROMANCE: Well. Okay. If you say so.

FTLOUIE: I do. I do say so. Case closed.

That’s when I told both Tina and J.P. that I really had to go. I had to log off, or I thought my head was going to spin out into the courtyard of our building and go whizzing off into space to be with all the space satellites that keep hurtling down to rain upon us.

That’s not what I told them, of course. I said if I don’t study, I won’t pass Trig. Truthfully, if I don’t pass Trig, then maybe one of these colleges that let me in based on my actual grades and essays and extracurriculars and all really won’t let me in.

J.P. IMed me a million good-bye kisses. I sent them back in return. Tina just IMed “Bye.” But I could tell there were ten thousand more things she wanted to say. Like about how J.P. wasn’t my One, undoubtedly.

Nice of her to mention that NOW. Not that there’s anything I can do about it.

I suppose she thinks my One is Michael. Why does my best friend have to think my One is a guy who is categorically uninterested in me?

 

Tuesday, May 2, 8 p.m., the loft

Crud. There is stuff all over the gossip websites about my “engagement” to J.P. Reynolds-Abernathy IV.

It’s all tied in with how Dad is still losing in the Genovian election polls…and how maybe flying to the U.S. for a day for his daughter’s eighteenth birthday party wasn’t the best idea, seeing as how he really can’t afford to be spending the time away from the campaign.

On the other hand, a lot of the articles say maybe if he did spend more time with his daughter, she wouldn’t be getting herself engaged at such a young age.

I’m like the Jamie Lynn Spears of the Renaldo family! Minus the pregnancy!

I’m going to crawl under the covers and never come out.

It’s a PROMISE RING! Who told them it was an engagement ring anyway?

Seriously, when is it all just going to go away?

Oh, that’s right: Never.

 

Tuesday, May 2, 9 p.m., the loft

Grandmère just called. She wanted to know if I had a dress for the prom yet.

“Um,” I said, suddenly remembering that, in fact, I didn’t. “No?”

“I figured as much,” Grandmère said, with a sigh. “I’ll put Sebastiano on it, since he’s here in town.”

Then she said if I’d just given J.P. the speech she’d made me memorize so long ago, none of the gossip stuff would be happening. I guess they’d said something about it onEntertainment Tonight. Grandmère never misses an episode, since she’s obsessed with Mary Hart’s posture, which she says is perfect, and I should emulate. (I would, but I’d have to jam a broomstick up my butt.)

“On the other hand,” she went on, “if you had to get yourself engaged to anyone, Amelia, at least you picked someone with breeding and his own fortune. It could be worse. I suppose,” she added, with a cackle, “it could have been That Boy.”

ByThat Boy , Grandmère meant Michael. And I don’t frankly see what’s so funny about that.

“I’m not engaged,” I told her. “It’s a promise ring.”

“What in God’s name,” Grandmère wanted to know, “is a promise ring? And what is this your father tells me about you having written a romance novel?”

I really was not in the mood to discussRansom 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 wholeJuno scenario from breaking out. The next novel I write does not need to be titledPregnant 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 somethingI 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 benovel 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. “Hercalling , no less. It can’t be your calling if no one will evenbuy 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’twant 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 atyour 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 givespromise -ring parties…do they? But I imagine you’ll expect abook 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 notthat ! 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 mydad thought Michael had done it.

But why had hereally done it? I’d seen how he’d walked out of my birthday party like that. It didn’t make any sense.

Love, Michael.