That was my reasoning, anyway. That’s why I went up to her just now in the cafeteria.

I swear that’s all I did. I just walked over to her. That’s it. All I did was go over to where she was sitting—ALONE, by the way, because Kenny is suspended, and Perin was off at an orthodontist’s appointment, and Ling Su had chosen to stay in the art room to finish a collage of herself she’s calling,Portrait of the Artist in Ramen Noodles and Olives —and go, “Lilly? Can I talk to you a second?”

And okay, maybe it was a bad idea to approach her in public. I probably should have waited in the girls’ room, since she always goes in there to wash her hands when she’s done eating. Then I could have talked to her in private, and if she reacted badly, no one would have seen or heard it but me and maybe a few freshmen.

But like an IDIOT I went up to her in front of everyone and slid into the seat across from hers and went, “Lilly, I know you’re not speaking to me, but I really need your help. Something terrible has happened: I found out that nearly four hundred years ago one of my ancestresses signed a bill making Genovia a constitutional monarchy, but no one found the bill until the other day, and when I showed it to my dad he basically dismissed it because it was written by a teenage girl who only ruled for twelve days before succumbing to the Black Death, and besides which, he doesn’t want a merely ceremonial role in the Genovian government, even though Itold him he should run for prime minister. You know everyone would vote for him. And I just feel like this enormous injustice is being done, but I don’t know what I can do about it, and you’re so smart, I figured you could help me—”

Lilly looked up from her salad and went, coldly, “Why are you even speaking to me?”

Which, I will admit, kind of threw me. I probably should have gotten up and walked away right then and there.

But like the idiot that I am, I kept going. Because…I don’t know. We’ve been through so much together, I just figured maybe she hadn’t heard me right, or something.

“I told you,” I said. “I need your help. Lilly, this whole cold-shoulder thing, it’s so stupid.”

She just stared at me some more. So I went, “Well, okay, if you feel like you have to go on hating me, that’s fine. What about the people of Genovia, though? They never did anything to you—although neither did I, but that’s not the point. Don’t you think the people of Genovia deserve to be free to choose their own leader? Lilly, they need you—Ineed you to help me figure out how to—”

“Oh. My. God.”

Lilly stood up on the word “Oh.” She raised her fist on the word “My.” And she brought it down hard on the table-top on the word “God.”

So hard that every single head in the caf swiveled toward us to see what was going on.

“I cannot believe this!” Lilly yelled. Literally, yelled at me, even though I was sitting right across from her, barely two feet away. “You are completely unbelievable. First, you break my brother’s heart. Then you steal my boyfriend. Then you think you can ask me for advice about your completely dysfunctional family?”

By the time she got to the word “family,” she was screaming.

I just blinked up at her, completely shocked. Also, not able to see very well, thanks to the tears in my eyes.

But probably that was good. Because I couldn’t see all the stricken faces that were turned in our direction.

Although I could hear the total silence that was roaring across the caf. You couldn’t even hear a fork scrape. That’s how eager everyone was to take in every second of the verbal tongue-lashing I was getting from my former best friend.

“Lilly,” I whispered. “You know I didn’t break Michael’s heart. He broke mine. And I didnot steal your boyfriend—”

“Oh, save it for theNew York Post ,” Lilly shouted. “Nothing is EVER your fault, is it, Mia? But then why should you ever admit you were in the wrong, when the victim thing is working so well for you, right? I mean, look at you. You’ve got LANA WEINBERGER as your best friend now. Isn’t that SPECIAL? Don’t you realize that she’s just USING you, you idiot? They’re all justusing you, Mia. I was your only real friend and look how you treated me!”

All I could see of Lilly was a big blur after that, because the tears were coming so fast. But I could hear the contempt in her voice. Also, the complete and utter silence of everyone around us.

“And you know what?” Lilly went on acidly—and still loudly enough to wake the dead. “You’re right. Youdidn’t break Michael’s heart. He was so sick of your constant whining and complete inability to solve your own problems, he couldn’t wait to get away from you. I just wish I were as lucky as he is! I’d give anything to be thousands of miles away from you, too. But in the meantime, at least I have the new website I’ve designed to comfort me. Perhaps you’ve seen it? If not let me give you the URL—it’s IHATEMIATHERMOPOLISDOTCOM!”

And with that, she whirled around and left the cafeteria.

Or at least I suppose so. It was kind of hard to tell since I couldn’t actually see what was happening, because by that time I was crying so hard, it looked like Niagara Falls was coming down my face.

Which was why I didn’t notice that Tina and Boris and J.P. and Shameeka and Lana and Trisha had hurried over to where I was sitting until they were patting me on the back and saying things like, “Don’t listen to her, Mia, she didn’t mean it,” and “She’s just jealous. She always has been,” and “Nobody’s using you, Mia. Because to be honest, you don’t really have anything I want.” (This last came from Lana. Who meant it kindly, I know.)

I knew they were just trying to be nice. I knew they just wanted to make me feel better.

But it was too late. Lilly’s total annihilation of me—in such a public manner—was the straw that broke the camel’s entire spinal column. And the fact that Lilly—Lilly, of all people!—was behind that stupid website?

I guess I always knew it.

But to hear her admit it like that—so proudly, like shewanted me to know…

I had to get out of there. I knew by doing so, I was just being what Lilly had accused me of—a whiny victim.

But I really needed to just be alone.

Which is what I’m doing here in the third-floor stairwell, which leads to the locked roof door, and where no one ever goes…

No one but Lilly and me, that is, when we’ve been upset about something in the past.

Lars is standing guard at the bottom of the stairs to keep anyone from coming up. He seems genuinely concerned about me. He went, “Princess, should I call your mother?”

I was like, “No, thanks, Lars.”

And then he was all, “Well, then, your father, maybe?”

And I was like, “NO!”

He looked kind of taken aback by my vehemence. But I was afraid he was going to ask if he should call Dr. Knutz next.

Thankfully, though, he just nodded and said, “All right, then. If you’re sure…”

Am I ever sure. I told him I just needed to be by myself for a little while. I said I’d be right back down…

But it’s been fifteen minutes, and I don’t feel like the tears are going to stop anytime soon. I just—how could shesay those things? After everything we’ve been through together? How could she WRITE those things on her site? How can she think I would ever do anything like what she accused me of? How could she ever be so…socruel ?

Oh, no. I hear footsteps. Lars is letting someone up! WHY, LARS, WHY???? I told you—

Friday, September 24, G & T

Oh, God. That was so…

Random.

Really. That’s the only word I can think of to describe it.

Which makes it no wonder Ms. Martinez despairs of my ever being a successful freelance writer or journalist.

But, seriously! How else can I put it? It was just…RANDOM.

And what was Lars THINKING? I told him to let NO ONE up. Except for Principal Gupta or a teacher, OBVIOUSLY.

So how did BORIS become exempt from that?

But sure enough, I heard footsteps on the stairs, and the next thing I knew, BORIS was there, all out of breath, like he’d been running.

At first I was worried he was going to tell me HE loves me, too (well, whatever, it’s amazing the things that start happening when you finally grow into a 36C).

But he just went, “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all over. I’m not supposed to tell you this, but it’s not true.”

“What’snot true, Boris?” I asked him, totally confused.

“What Lilly just said,” he said. “About Michael being sick of you. I can’t tell you how I know. But I do.”

I smiled at him. Even though I was still in total despair and everything, I couldn’t help it. Really, Tina is so lucky. She has the most fantastic boyfriend in the entire world.

Fortunately, she knows it.

“Thanks, Boris,” I said, trying to wipe away my tears with my sleeve so I didn’t look like quite as much of a lunatic as I was pretty sure I did. “That’s really sweet of you to say.”

“I’m not being sweet,” Boris insisted earnestly, still panting from all the running around he’d been doing, looking for me. “I’m telling the truth. And you should write him back.”

I blinked at him, more confused than ever. “W-what? Write who back?”

“Michael,” Boris said. “He’s been e-mailing you, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, stunned. “But how did you—”

“You should write him back,” Boris said. “I mean, just because you’re broken up doesn’t mean you can’t be friends anymore. Isn’t that what you both agreed? That you’d still be friends?”

“Yes,” I said, bewildered. “But, Boris, how do you know he’s been e-mailing me? Did…did Tina tell you?”

Boris hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. That’s right, Tina told me.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, I can’t e-mail him back, Boris. I’m just…I’m not ready to be friends with him yet. It still hurts too much not to bemore than friends.”

“Well,” Boris said. “I can understand that, I guess. But…you should e-mail him back as soon as you feel ready. So he doesn’t think—you know. That you hate him. Or that you’ve forgotten about him. Or whatever.”

As if THAT’S ever going to happen.

I assured Boris I’d e-mail Michael when I felt emotionally capable of doing so without falling apart and begging him in eighteen-point type to take me back.

Then Boris did the nicest thing. He volunteered to walk me to class (once I’d pulled myself together and gotten rid of the evidence of my tears…smeared mascara, snot down my nose, etc.).

So the three of us—Boris, Lars, and I—all got to G and T at the same time (late).

But it didn’t matter, since neither Mrs. Hill nor Lilly is here.

I suppose Lilly’s skipping to meet Kenny somewhere. They’re like a regular Courtney Love and Kurt Cobain. Minus the heroin. All Lilly needs is to start smoking, though, and maybe get a tattoo or two, she’ll have completely perfected her tough girl image.

Boris asked me one last time if I was all right, and when I said I thought I was, he slipped into the supply closet and started practicing my favorite Chopin piece of his.

Which has to have been on purpose. He’s so thoughtful.

Tina really is a lucky girl.

I just hope someday I can be as lucky as she is.

Or maybe I’ve alreadyhad my luck where boys are concerned, and I completely squandered it.

God, I hope that’s not the case. Although if it is, all I can say is, it was good while it lasted.

Friday, September 24, Dr. Knutz’s waiting room

Lana and Trisha insisted on taking me out for what they like to call a Mani-Pedi Time-Out. They said I deserved it, after what Lilly did to me in the caf.

So instead of playing softball during sixth period, I got my toenails and what was left of my fingernails (I haven’t had new acrylic tips put on since I got back from Genovia this summer, and I’ve been biting what remains of my natural nails) painted I’m-Not-Really-a-Waitress red, a color Grandmère insists is totally inappropriate for young girls.

Which is precisely why I picked it.

But I have to admit, after we were done with our forty-five-minute manicure/pedicures, I didn’t feel much better. I know Lana and Trisha were trying.

But there’s just too much drama in my life right now for a simple hand and foot massage (and nail color application) to cure.

Oh. Dr. Knutz is ready to see me now.

I don’t think anyone, even Dr. Knutz, could EVER be ready for me and the disaster that is my life.

Friday, September 24, limo on the way to the Four Seasons

So I poured my heart out to Dr. Knutz, the cowboy therapist, and here is what he said: