Why??

Why???

I can’t even believe this is happening. I can’t believe it’s happening to ME!

WHY? WHY ME? WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME these things have to happen to????

I’m trying to remember what Grandmère told me about how to act under duress. Because I am definitely under duress. I keep trying to breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth, like Grandmère said. In through my nose, out through my mouth. In through my nose, out through my—

HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME???? HOW, HOW, HOW?????!!!

I could rip his stupid face off, I really could. I mean, who does he think he is? Do you know what he did? Do you know what he did? Well, let me tell you what he did.

After polishing off NINE bottles of champagne—that’s practically one bottle per person, except I only had a couple of sips, so somebody drank my bottle as well as his—Josh and his friends finally decided it was time to go to the dance. Oh, gee, let me see, the dance had only started an HOUR earlier. It was only about TIME we left.

So we go and wait for the valet to bring the car around, and I was thinking maybe everything would be all right, since while we were waiting Josh had his arm around my shoulders, which was really nice, since my dress is sleeveless, and even though I have a wrap it’s just this shimmery see-through veil thing. So I’m appreciative of this arm, since it’s keeping me warm. It’s a nice arm, really, very muscular from all that rowing. The only problem is, Josh doesn’t smell that good, not a bit like Michael Moscovitz, who always smells like soap. No, I think Josh must have taken a bath in Drakkar Noir, which in large doses actually smells pretty vile. I could hardly breathe, but whatever. In spite of that, I’m thinking, okay, things aren’t so bad. Yes, he didn’t respect my rights as a vegetarian, but you know, everybody makes mistakes. We’ll go to the dance and he’ll look into my soul again with those electric blue eyes and everything will be all right.

Boy, was I ever wrong.

First of all, we can barely pull up to the school, there’s so much traffic. At first I couldn’t figure it out. Yes, it was Saturday night, but there shouldn’t be THAT much traffic in front of Albert Einstein’s, right? I mean, it’s just a school dance. Most kids in New York City don’t even have access to cars, right? We’re probably like the only people who go to Albert Einstein’s who drove.

And then I realize why there’s so much congestion. There are news vans parked all over the place. They’re shining these big bright lights all over the steps to Albert Einstein’s. There are reporters swarming around all over the place, smoking cigarettes, talking on cell phones, waiting.

Waiting for what?

Waiting for me, it turns out.

As soon as Lars saw the lights, he started to swear very colorfully in some language that wasn’t English or French. But you could tell they were swear words by his voice. I leaned forward and was like, "How could they have known? How could they have known? Could Grandmère have told them?"

But you know, I really don’t think Grandmère would have done this. I really don’t. Not after our talk. I laid it on the line for Grandmère. I came down on her like a New York cop on a game of three-card monte. Grandmère would not, I’m sure, EVER call the press on me again, without my permission.

But there they all were, and SOMEBODY called them, all right, and if it wasn’t Grandmère, then who was it?

Josh was totally unconcerned by all the lights and cameras and everything. He goes, "So what? You ought to be used to it by now."

Oh, right. Let me tell you how used to it I am by now. So used to it that the thought of getting out of that car, even with the arm of the cutest boy in the school around me, made me feel like I was going to barf up all of that salad and bread.

"Come on," Josh said. "You and I can make a run for it while Lars goes and parks the car."

Lars totally did not like that idea. He went, "I think not.You will park the car, and the princess andI will make a run for it."

But Josh was already opening his door. He had hold of my hand. He said, "Come on. You only live once," and started dragging me out of the car.

And like the really stupid chump that I am, I let him.

That’s right. I let him drag me out of the car. Because his hand felt so nice over mine, so big and protective, so warm and secure, I thought, Oh, what could happen? So a bunch of flashbulbs will go off. So what? We’ll just make a run for it, like he said. Everything will be fine.

So I said to Lars, "That’s okay, Lars. You park the car. Josh and I’ll go on inside."

Lars said, "No, Princess, wait—"

Which were the last words I heard out of him—for a while, anyway—since by that time Josh and I were out of the car and he had slammed the door shut behind us.

And then, instantly, the press was on us, everyone throwing down their cigarettes and pulling the lens caps off their cameras, yelling, "It’s her! It’s her!"

And then Josh was pulling me up the steps, and I was sort of laughing, since for the first time itwas sort of fun. Flashbulbs were going off everywhere, blinding me, so that all I could see were the steps underneath us as we ran up them. I was totally concentrating on holding up the hem of my dress so I didn’t trip on it, and had put all my faith in those fingers wrapped around my other hand. I was completely dependent on Josh to lead the way, since I couldn’t see a blessed thing.

So when he suddenly stopped, I thought it was because we were at the school doors. I thought we’d stopped because Josh was opening the doors for me. I know it’s stupid, but that’s what I thought. I could see the doors. We were standing right in front of them. Below us, on the stairs, the reporters were screaming questions and taking pictures. Some moron was yelling, "Kiss her! Kiss her!" which I don’t need to tell you was way embarrassing.

And so I just stood there, like a complete IDIOT, waiting for Josh to open the doors, instead of doing the smart thing, which was open the doors myself and get inside where it was safe, where there weren’t any cameras or reporters or people yelling "Kiss her, Kiss her!"

And then, I don’t know how, the next thing I knew Josh had put his arm around me again, dragged me to him, and smashed his mouth against mine.

I swear, that’s exactly what it felt like. He just smashed his mouth up against mine, and all these flashes started going off, but believe me, it wasn’t like in those books Tina is always reading, where the boy kisses the girl and she sees like fireworks and stuff behind her eyelids. I really WAS seeing lights go off, but they weren’t fireworks, they were flashes from cameras. EVERYONE was taking a picture of Princess Mia getting her first kiss.

I am not even kidding. Like it wasn’t bad enough that this was my first kiss.

It was my first kiss andTeen People was photographing it.

And another thing about those books Tina reads: In those books, when the girl gets her first kiss, she gets this warm gushy feeling inside. She feels like the guy is drawing her soul up from deep within her. I didn’t get that feeling. I didn’t get that feeling at all. All I got was embarrassed. It didn’t feel especially good, having Josh Richter kiss me. All it felt, really, was strange. It felt strange, having this guy stand there and smash his mouth against mine. And you would think that after I’d spent so much time thinking this guy was the greatest thing on earth I’d have felt SOMETHING when he kissed me.

But all I felt was embarrassed.

And like our car ride to the restaurant, I just kept wishing it would end. All I could think was, When is he going to stop doing this? Am I even doing this right? In the movies they move their heads around a lot. Should I move my head around? What am I going to do if he tries to stick his tongue in there, like I used to see him do to Lana? I can’t letTeen People take a picture of me with some guy’s tongue in my mouth; my dad will kill me.

Then, just when I thought I couldn’t stand it another minute, that I was going to DIE of embarrassment right there on the steps of Albert Einstein High School, Josh lifted up his head, waved to the reporters, opened the doors to the school, and pushed me inside.

Where, I swear to God, every single person I knew was standing, looking at us.

I am not kidding. There were Tina and her date from Trinity, Dave, looking at me in a sort of shocked way. There were Lilly and Boris, and for once Boris hadn’t tucked in anything that wasn’t supposed to be tucked. In fact, he almost looked handsome, in a geeky, musical genius kind of way. And Lilly, in a beautiful white dress with spangles all over it, and white roses in her hair. And there were Shameeka and Ling Su with their dates, and a bunch of other people I probably knew but didn’t recognize out of their school uniforms, all looking at me with the same sort of expression Tina was wearing, one of total and complete astonishment.

And there was Mr. G, standing by the ticket booth in front of the doors to the cafeteria, where the dance was being held, looking more astonished than anybody.

Except maybe me. I would have to say, out of everybody there, I was the person in the most shock. I mean, Josh Richter HAD just kissed me. JOSH RICHTER had just KISSED me. Josh Richter had just kissed ME.

Did I mention that he’d kissed me ON THE LIPS?

Oh, and that he did it in front of reporters fromTEEN PEOPLE?

So I’m standing there, and everybody is looking at me, and I could still hear the reporters yelling outside, and inside the cafeteria I could hear thethump, thump, thump of the sound system as it ground out some hip-hop, a tribute to our Latino student population, and these thoughts are moving really sluggishly through my head, these thoughts that are saying:

He set you up.

He only asked you out so he could get his picture in the paper.

He’s the one who notified the press that you’d be here tonight.

He probably only broke up with Lana just so he could tell his friends he’s dating a girl worth three hundred million dollars. He never even noticed you until your picture was on the cover of thePost. Lilly was right: That day in Bigelows, he WAS only suffering from a synaptic breakdown when he smiled at you. He probably thinks his chances of getting into Harvard or whatever are way enhanced by the fact that he’s the princess of Genovia’s boyfriend.

And like a big idiot, I fell for it.

Great. Just great.

Lilly says I’m not assertive enough. Her parents say I have a tendency to internalize everything and fear confrontation.

My mom says the same thing. That’s why she gave me this book, in the hopes that what I won’t tell her, I’ll at least get out into the open somehow.

If it hadn’t turned out that I’m a princess, maybe I might still be all that stuff. You know, unassertive, fearful of confrontation, an internalizer. I probably wouldn’t have done what I did next.