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The Spring Princess

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#1 dbcWinter


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Posted 14 May 2014 - 04:11 AM

Months ago I started working on the sequel to The Christmas Princess. I am currently too busy with school to continue but I decided to just post it - it is more useful being online than on my computer :P Though I will probably end up continuing in a few weeks.

Plus, this is my way of celebrating Book XI :D

Enjoy, W.



The Spring Princess

New season, new problems for the princess.

Sequel to The Christmas Princess



Thursday, March 27, Lunch


Remember how once upon a time lunch was like the best thing in school?

I know that one of the characteristics of our memory is that it makes things look way better than they actually were when they happened. Therefore, our memories are not really the copies of reality but basically our representations and they include our judgments, thoughts and feelings on the subject. Meaning, none of the things that we remember has happened exactly the way we things they have.

But I still think I am not idolizing lunches in my previous years of high school. I mean, they did not actually include constant talking about colleges, Senor Projects and bickering. These days, there is nothing I wish nothing more than a relaxing lunch talk about the latest Arrow episode or how sad we are that Psych has ended.

Ok, I’d still prefer to have my boyfriend home from Japan but since I am trying not to be a cry baby, I’ll focus on things I actually have some control over.

Maybe we are simply growing up and we are realizing that there are more important stuff to talk about than Stephen Amell’s abs.

Though sitting with Tina, Lana and Lilly during lunches makes me doubt that we are any more mature than we were 3 years ago.

“I still don’t understand why you want to buy those books? They are so expensive, plus, I mean, you can totally get them online or in the libraries!” said Lana when Tina told us she had ordered the complete collection of Brontë books from England.

Lilly, who doesn’t like Lana any more than she did when we were Freshmen, of course snapped back.

“I do not expect a Barbie-Wannabe like yourself to understand.”

“Whatever,” Lana, who feels the same about Lilly, rolled her eyes. “I am just saying, Tina, you could spend money on more important stuff, like new Betsey Johnson bags or something.”

“You are impossible to prove a point to,” said Lilly, “not everything is about clothing, you know. If people truly lived for sleeping, partying, clothing and reproducing, we would all already die of obesity side effects of cosmetic surgeries before our bodies would even be able to reproduce.  It would mean the end of human race. This is why we need stuff like art in our lives. It offers us a different perspective and enriches our existence.”

Lana just stared at Lilly with her mouth full of low fat yoghurt.

“I just can’t understand why she can’t get books from the library, like normal people,” she shrugged.

“Well, mainly because I hate waking up at 3 am, wanting to read a book I don’t have at home,” sighed Tina.

Lana just stared at her with her eyes wide open in disbelief.

“Why would anyone want…”

“Anything but sleeping, partying, clothing and reproducing, at 3 am? Well, Lana, that’s the difference between people like you and Tina,” finished Lilly.

“Yeah, I hate to interrupt this very important book discussing,” said Trisha, “but have you heard about Jersey Shore?”

 “Why would you even want to know what was happening there?” Lilly rolled her eyes. “Haven’t you realized yet that MTV shows, such as your Shore 1.0 are completely scripted and fake? You don’t seriously think people behave like that, do you? Oh, please, Trisha, you might be naïve enough to believe Coke Zero has less sugar that the regular one but are you really saying that you think MTV shows are an actual and truthful reflection of today’s life?  It is only being produced so that individuals such as yourself could start behaving stupidly, ignoring their common sense and that precious little intelligence they were born with just so that they could be ‘cool’ in the eyes of other imbeciles that enjoy the same rubbish on TV. This way the society becomes one big ‘in’ crowd, nothing but consumers of the crap TV and your Snooki advertises every time she puts some mascara on that fake eyelashes. Moreover, since such a large percentage of population’s main concern is whether their butt looks big in the new jeans, they are complete incapable of focusing on real problems. Which is why the government can do whatever they want and nobody does anything to stop it. If it is not mention on MTV, the problem basically doesn’t exist for people like you, Trisha. So thank you so much for co-creating this stupid world aspiring people like myself are forced to live in now.”

Harsh words from someone who enjoys watching Catfish on regular bases. Even though she insists it’s because the host is cute.

“I just don’t understand why you can’t be a little supporting here, that’s all,” Trisha blinked, not fully understand what Lilly has just said, “I mean, I totally stood by you when your show started broadcasting in Korea.”

Lilly already opened her mouth to shoot back when Kenny (or Kenneth as he likes to be called now) spoke up.

“I’ll never understand how you people can talk about books, clothing and reality shows when we are expecting to get letters back from colleges any day now!”

“Well, Kenny, mainly because we still haven’t go them and it is kind of pointless to worry about things that still haven’t happened,” said Lana.

“Still! This will decide our futures!”

“No, I don’t think it will make a big change for you - you will still be a nerd no matter where you go,” Lana said while finishing her yoghurt.

“I just hope they will grant my application for a single room in the dorm. There’s no way I am living with a roomie!” exclaimed Boris.

“Something tells me that even if you do get a roommate, he will be requesting a new room soon,” grinned JP and winked at me.

“No way!” repeated Boris.

And he went on and on but I didn’t listen. I heard my phone buzzing and I held my breath as I looked at the caller ID. You know, Dad only phones me when there’s an emergency and honestly, given Grandmere’s love for Sidecar and Gitanes, I wouldn’t be surprised if everything simply caught up with her.

But I needn’t have worried. When I saw his name written on my hone screen, my face became one giant smile and I didn’t care how goofy I looked. I excused myself though I doubt anyone even heard me since they were arguing about potential roommates they might get at college.

I went to the third floor stairwell and answered the phone.

”Hey, beautiful,” said Michael.

“Hey,” I said with the goofiest smile on my face, because my serotonin levels went through the roof like they do every time I hear his voice. I know, this is not healthy. “Why are you calling? Is everything ok?”

Because, you know, it was like in the middle of the night where he was.

“Everything is fine … minus the fact that I miss you. I just wanted to hear your voice. And tell you that I love you.”

My heart skips a beat every time he says those three words. I will never get tired of hearing them.


“Well, you can do that anytime you want.”

“Oh, and just to remind you, don’t forget I’m coming home Tuesday.”

Right. Like I could forget the date he was FINALLY coming home from Japan for good. I have it circled in my calendar for months now. With dozens of exclamation marks and hearts accompanying it.

“I know Tuesday evening is a school night and everything …” he went on, “but do you think your Mum will let you go out?”

”Hmmm, Tuesday night?” I repeated and tried to sound worried. Lars who was, as always, listening to my conversation (but I guess he does have a right to do so since he helped Michael and I get back together) chuckled. “I don’t think Tuesday night will be good for me. I am already spoken for.”

“Oh … oh, ok,” Michael said and I could hear disappointment in his voice.

This was just so cute.

“Yeah …” I sighed, “I’m seeing my boyfriend for the first time since January so I think I’ll spend the evening with him.”

Michael didn’t say anything for a full minute while Lars was dying of suppressed laughter.

“He’s so lucky,” Michael smirked, “you’re adorable, do you know that? I’ll call you in the evening, alright?”

Five Days Till Michael Comes Back.

I guess times really are changing. Sometimes I couldn’t wait for the weekend and now I wish nothing more than this stupid weekend passing soon.


Thursday, March 27, G & T


I seriously hate JP right now. His comment regarding Boris’ roommate qualities upset Boris so much that he is playing his Maher on the violin so loud that Mrs Hill actually came from the teachers’ lounge to tell him to keep it down.

She heard him though the CLOSET door, the CLASSROOM doors and the doors of the TEACHER LOUNGE.

He is only ONE door away from me.

And then I wonder why so many geniuses are attending Albert Einstein High School         ! Obviously they get crazy from listening to too much Maher. And since pretty much all the geniuses are crazy (just look at Lilly. And my Mum – she still doesn’t know how to prepare pizza in the microwave) I think I just found out the best parenting technique – make your kid listen to classical music and his IQ will be through the roof.

Sadly, I think I am too old to take any advantage of this find.

Though, what would be the point? I’ve been listening to Maher and Stravinsky for THE LAST FOUR YEARS EVERY SCHOOL DAY and my IQ hasn’t experienced any significant increase.

Though it is not like any of my other body parts have been subjected to any other kind of growth. 


Thursday, March 27, still G & T




Thursday, March 27, Ray’s


I feel sorry for René.

Not only is he a homeless prince (his family got kicked out of Italy years before he was even born and their palace was turned into a home of a shoe designer) – now he doesn’t even his party circle anymore. I mean, a lot has changed since Christmas and now he is pretty much alone. His buddies don’t have time for all-nighters in dance clubs.

We haven’t seen Sebastiano since Christmas. With Michael’s help he founded his own company in Los Angeles where he now lives. He is working on his first clothing line which will hopefully finally coming out sometime this summer. Because Grandmere stopped financially supporting him he was forced to get a job. Luckily, he ran into Lady Gaga on the streets of LA and she fell in love with his quirky style (especially his Mohawk) so now he is basically her personal designer (lucky girl). He will be taking care of her image for the next album.

Then in January, René and Harry attended a fashion week in Copenhagen where Harry met his former flame, Nastassja Böhler. While dancing the night away in the hottest club in Northern Europe they realized their flame hadn’t gone out completely yet. Which of course means Harry doesn’t have time to attend parties on all continents in one week anymore.

René, on the other hand, hasn’t found himself a job nor has he hooked up with any of his (numerous) former girlfriends. Since nobody is in Genovia, ready to party and everyone is too busy to be spending time with him, he did the only reasonable thing.

He has moved to the Plaza and is spending as much time as he can with me.

And since I am suffering from altruism, I am of course too kind to tell him to go away. I mean, I like René. He does annoy me half the time but he is fun to be around.

And when your boyfriend is in Japan, having a free entertainer helps.

Grandmere is of course thrilled to have him around. She might have accepted Michael as my boyfriend (ACCEPT doesn’t equal liking, though.  She would have hated him for what he had done to Sebastiano but since he is now a millionaire, hating him is inappropriate in her books. So, she tolerates him now. Which, I have to admit, while being annoying it is also a tremendous improvement.) but in her mind René is still a perfect consort for me.

Because, you know, he has a title.

And his hair isn’t blue anymore (speaking of hair, I am now back to my brownish color. Which kind of saddens me because I really liked the color. After Grandmere got over the whole Arne thing, she got her groove back and said ‘princesses do not walk around with pagan hair’ and I was dragged to Paolo before the school semester started).

Anyway, René now attends formal events here in New York with us (since Dad is usually unable to come. He is preparing for the elections in Genovia where Antonio, the former employee of the Genovian palace that got fired because of … hmmm … of his inappropriate relationship with the royal guests (ok, he sort of co-ruined Grandmere’s Christmas party two years ago with Lilly’s help) is running against him, with financial aid of Contessa Trevanni who has recovered after embarrassment of last Christmas dinner and now too has gotten her groove of bickering with Grandmere back) while trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life.

And he thinks that hanging out with me is going to help him with that. I have my doubts about that but since a princess is always kind to everyone, I didn’t say anything to him.

“So is Michael coming to Genovia in the summer?” he asked my while stuffing pizza in his mouth.

“I guess,” I shrugged.

“Good. We could do stuff together.”

“I’m sure Harry will stop by,” I suggested. I mean, I love René, as much as he can be loved anyway, but I don’t want him to be tailing Michael and me.

“He is so wrapped around Nastassja’s finger …. And I don’t think she likes me very much,” sighed René, “but summer is still months away, things might change. Let’s change the subject. How what is up with your novel thing?”

The thing with my Senior Project … officially it is a History Of Genovian Olive Pressing, Circa 1254-1650 while unofficially, it is a romance novel called Ransom My Heart.

Yeah, I wrote a book and I lie to everyone about it. Even though I have been telling everyone for years that I want to be a writer when I grow up.

But then again, I lie about everything, why would my Senior Project be any different?

Let’s just say that I don’t feel comfortable having people read my sex scenes.

That’s why only a handful of people know about it. Dr K, since it was his idea, way last year, that I start working on something to get my mind off Michael. Michael, of course, because … I mean, he is Michael. And Sebastiano, Harry and René because …

Well, just the fact that I am in some ways closer to those guys than to Tina or Lana is a clear indicator that I still need therapy.

Anyway, now that the book is finished and Miss Martinez let it count as my Senior Project and I don’t necessarily need writing as a therapy and can simply write because  I LOVE IT,  well, now certain people wonder what I’ll do with the book.

Though, I mean, René is right – I spent so much time on that book and I do want to be a published author one day - so why not try to get it published?

Well …. One of the reasons is that then people will know about it.

Ok, that’s the only reason.

And I KNOW that the whole point of being a published author is to be PUBLISHED and READ BY PEOPLE, but … I don’t know, I just don’t feel comfortable having people read Ransom My Heart.

I mean, it has sex in.

And yeah, it is just a book and complete fiction (I mean, it is not I am writing about myself. I mean, it is not like I lived in medieval times!), but it is still somewhat personal.

I don’t know. Maybe I am just afraid that no one will like it. I mean, Michael says he likes it but come on! He is my BOYFRIEND! Boyfriend’s job is to say things like this!

“I told you, René, leave it alone,” I rolled my eyes.

“I’m just saying. What do you have to lose?”

“Grandmere will freak.”

“Yeah, but she freaks out about everything, much like you,” he smirked. Then he leant closer to me. “Look, BC, I know what romance stories are all about. I know certain aspects of it might be … tricky for you. So, if you feel uncomfortable or unsure about them, I will be more than glad to help you out. I mean, to read them and try to improve them for you.”

I just stared at him and my jaw dropped.

“René, are you offering to read my sex scenes?!”

“Yeah. Don’t look at me like that! Sex in books is a big deal now, just look at Fifty Shades of Grey!  You want them to be … comparable to that.”

“I don’t want my characters whipping each other - or themselves!” I shrieked.

René raised his hands in surrender.

“I am just trying to help!”

“Well, thank you, René, but I don’t think I need your help!”

“I don’t think you needing my help would hurt you,” he sighed.

Yeah, right. Every time he tries to help I either end up drunk or with orange hair.



To Be Continued.


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#2 dbcWinter


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Posted 10 June 2014 - 11:08 AM

Thursday, March 27, Loft, 6 pm


Sine, Cosine and Tangent are the three fundamental functions used to find out angles and sides of a right-angled triangle.

I think I'll go see what Mr G (Frank. I have to start calling him Frank) is doing.


Thursday, March 27, Loft, 7 pm


Sebastiano just flooded my cell with desperate texts.






My insane cousin having a fit over polyester is way more fun than trigonometry.

Besides, I am a princess. Others' needs are way important than mine.

Mia: Sorry to break it to you, Sebastiano, but you are paid to do what she tells you to. This is called a JOB, you know.


Mia: well, there isn't one. So just do what she tells you to do. It is not like you have to use it in YOUR collection!


Mia: I doubt people will actually care. I mean, people expect these kinds of stuff from her.


Mia: well, then quit.


Mia: then use polyester.

Sebastiano: I CANNOT!

But you know what? He is a grown man. It is high time he learnt how to deal with crises without calling his under-aged cousin for help.

I mean, I am totally flunking Trigonometry.

And he is in LA.

Mia: then maybe you could try asking Grandmere to lend you some money for your line?

I am still waiting on him to reply to that.


Thursday, March 27, Loft, 8 pm





Thursday, March 27, Loft, 10 pm


I was having a very pleasant conversation with my boyfriend when I got another call. I looked at the number.

It was Grandmere.

I ignored it and thought it would go away.

Yeah, right.

About a minute later Mum poked her head into my room just as Michael was about to tell me he loved me.

She had a very annoyed look on her face, like every time someone disturbs her while watching Girls.

"Your grandmother wants to talk to you," she said with a voice that was just screaming ADAM DRIVER MIGHT BE WALKING AROUND SHIRTLESS RIGHT NOW.

"I'll call her later," I said. I mean, come on, I was talking to my boyfriend. Who is in Japan.

Nothing can be more important than that.

Especially since Grandmere was most likely just going to force me to attend some formal dinner. Or to go to Domina Rei event.

Mum's lips became very thin all of a sudden which is never a good sign.

"Just answer the phone, Mia, please."

So I just said goodbye to Michael and promised to call him tomorrow.

Then I went to pick up the phone.

Of course, I can always count on Grandmere to kill me lovely evenings.

"Amelia, thank god, why aren't you answering your cell? But never mind, you are here now - by the way, what is the matter with your mother? She sounded annoyed. I told her all that Häagen Daz is not going to do any good for her baby weight. I gave her the number to my Pilates instructor and she was the one who said no. Amelia, guess who has left me a message on my cell phone?"

"I don't know. Sebastiano?"

"Pfuit! No, why would he call me in the first place? He made it very clear he does not want my help - well, look where he is now, creating outrageous outfits for pop stars! He could be the next leading designer for Gucci, if he showed a bit more gratitude, you know."


I mean, yes, he could totally be designing for the biggest fashion brands, it was just that Grandmere loved his outfits too much to let him go.

If he hadn't gone solo (with Michael's help), Sebastiano would have been creating clothes for Genovian Royal Family forever.

Not that it would be a bad thing. His clothes are amazing.

But it is wrong to suppress one's creativity just so that can benefit from it so I am happy to see him doing his own thing.

Even though it might have just killed him.

"Grandmere, I don't think he wants to design for Gucci. He wants to make his own stuff, you know."

"I am not having this conversation. It was Arne."

I admit, I didn't make the connection at first.

"It was Arne what?"

"The one who left me a very nice message. Don't you listen to a word I say, Amelia?"

"Arne?" I said baffled.

"Please, don't say you don't know who Arne is, Amelia!"

Of course I know who Arne is. He is a guy that made Grandmere loved by feminists all over the world.

Even by Lilly.

Oh, and he totally broke her heart.

"I know who he is, I just don't understand why we're even talking about him?"

"Because he left me a message, Amelia."

"Please tell me you deleted it, Grandmere!"

"Of course I didn't. Why would I delete a very nice message of a very pleasant man?"

Pleasant? Did something heavy fall on Grandmere's head?

"Um… because he ran off with Contessa Trevanni, remember?"

"She tricked him into that, he said it himself. Anyway, he has asked me to dinner tomorrow night. What should I do?"


"He didn't break my heart. Yes, it hurt me to see him pick Elena over me, but I was not heart broken. I know what this is about. Because you are happily in love with That Boy you don't want to see me happy. Haven't you learnt anything in the past for years? Princesses are never envious, Amelia, they are happy for everyone else and happy with what they have."

"This is not true, Grandmere. I want you to be happy. But I think you can do so much better than Arne. I mean, he ran off once already, what makes you think he won't do it again?"

"Well, Amelia, what makes YOU think your dear Michael won't run off to Japan or someplace again?"

Honestly, given Grandmere's regress back into her evil, pre-heartbreak self (I am all for moving on after heart break and I know it is mean, but she is way nicer when she is upset. Everyone thinks so, even the feminists), I wouldn't be surprised if it made Michael want to invent some other Cardio-thing and move to Korea for a year.

"I thought you said you wanted my advice, Grandmere."

"I thought so too. But I changed my mind. See you tomorrow for Princess Lessons, Amelia. Good night. And please, tell your mother that keeping her baby weight won't help improve her overall mood."

Why do these things keep happening to me?

I am serious.


Friday, March 28


Four Days Till Michael Comes Home.

And sadly I know just enough of Algebra to know how LONG THAT IS!


Friday, March 28, Psychology


**Egocentrism in adolescence**


Though egocentrism is present throughout one's life, it is perhaps the most evident in adolescence.

It's a result of numerous changes teenagers must face. For one, there are body changes. There are changes on the outside and the inside. Teenagers have to get used to constant changes which contributes to their paying attention to themselves.

Changes also happen in their cognitive processes. Teenager is capable of abstract thinking that allows him to think about things such a justice, morals, ethics. He focuses on these changes as they make him feel smart.

Another aspect of teenage life that is flooded with changes is their social life. It is normal for teenagers to become more and more independent from their parents, looking for support in their friends. Therefore, they are entering many friendships, trying to figure out which one suits them the best, one again focusing on themselves.

All these reasons contribute to the egocentrism, this is focusing on themselves.

There are four basic components of teenage egocentrism, one being imaginary audience. This means that a teenager believes everyone is watching their every move – this is caused by teenager's focus on themselves. They believe everyone is just as focused on them – they do not realize pretty much every teenager is too focused on themselves to care about others.

Personal fables are teenager's wrong convictions about themselves. For example, they might feel they are more special than people around them, they feel 'unbeatable', and they are idealists, believing they can be whatever they want.

Pseudostupidity is another result of teenagers' developed cognition that allows them to focus on details. However, it often results in being focused on unimportant things, thus complicating the matter and digressing teenagers' attention from things that truly are important.




Friday, March 28, on my way to therapy


I guess I should be glad that I am still an adolescent.







AND WHAT WAS I THINKING, GRANDMERE WILL NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER GOING TO LIKE MICHAEL! It doesn't matter he is a millionaire and super famous and renown and everything!


And what is this with pseudostupidity? That is so me that my picture should be in a dictionary. Kicking a fuss about details, ignoring the bigger picture?

This totally spells as M-I-A T-H-E-R-M-O-P-O-L-I-S!

And I am dating an inventor of a device that changed cardio surgery?


Friday, March 28, waiting for therapy because Dr K is not here yet!


Harry just texted me.

Harry: HELP! I am buying flowers for Nastassja! Which one should I get?

Mia: I don't know, Harry. You better not ask me. I mean, I am a total adolescent, way too focused on myself. I am incapable of taking your perspective so I will probably just say something I like, not caring what Nastassja likes, therefore ruining your relationship with her.

Harry: Genovia … are you high?

Mia: No … I am just a teenager.


Friday, March 28, on my way to Princess Lessons


"Mia," sighed Dr K as I told him about me being an adolescent, "first of all, egocentrism is present at every age. Second of all, you ARE an adolescent so I don't understand what the big issue is here. And third of all, you are not that egocentric, trust me."

"How can you say that? I am totally pseudo-stupid!"

"Ok, you might be focusing too much on details sometimes…"

"Not sometimes! Always!"

"Mia, people are usually happy when they find something that indicates that they are younger than they actually are?"

"I know but … I am supposed to be a grown up in a bit over a month! Adults are not suffering from pseudo-stupidity!"

"Trust me, some adults do, they suffer far more than you, Mia. Though to be honest, I am not entirely sure that your focus on details is a result of pseudo-stupidity. Actually, I'd say it is a result of you being slightly neurotic."


"Well, I am a psychologist and we see each other on weekly bases," he said. "Though you are not depressed anymore."

"But I might be manically depressed! I fit the symptoms. I am totally unhappy one day and the next day, I am super happy."

"I assure, we all feel like this from time to time and nothing is wrong with us. Besides, you are a teenager. Mood swings are something that happens."

"That's a myth, I know, I read all about it in Psychology Today! Psychologists used to think that a characteristic of a teenager is having regular mood swings but now we know that their moods don't switch that much more often than those of the adults."

"You seem to know everything, Mia. Then why are you seeing me again?"

"So you are saying I am not manically depressed?"

"No, you are not. And you are as teenager-y as you are supposed to be for your age. Believe me, you grew up a lot over the last year. Actually, I'd say you are a lot more mature than many people your age."


"Well, you take care of your pet. You are a responsible older sister. You wrote a novel. You are not doing drugs. Things like these."

"So … my moods are not manic episodes?"

"No, actually, I'd say you are simply … happy."


I know his words are making sense and all, but then again, I am totally going to be 18 in a bit over a month, meaning, he will no longer be my shrink. He has to at least officially cure me before letting me go, right?

I knew it. There is totally something wrong with me.


**List Of Conditions I Could Be Possibly Suffering From**


1. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - characterized by intrusive thoughts that produce uneasiness, apprehension, fear, or worry; by repetitive behaviors aimed at reducing the associated anxiety; or by a combination of such obsessions and compulsions.

2. Bipolar disorder - characterized by episodes of an elevated mood known as mania, usually alternating with episodes of depression. During mania an individual feels abnormally happy, energetic, or excitable, but often makes poor decisions due to unrealistic ideas or poor regard of consequences.

3. Generalized anxiety disorder - an anxiety disorder that is characterized by excessive, uncontrollable and often irrational worry. For diagnosis of this disorder, symptoms must last at least six months

4. Narcissistic personality disorder is a personality disorder in which a person is excessively preoccupied with personal adequacy, power, prestige and vanity, mentally unable to see the destructive damage they are causing to themselves and to others in the process (ok, this totally sounds like Grandmere). Narcissistic personality disorder is characterized by dramatic, emotional behavior (but this is totally me! Could it be genetic?)

5. Histrionic personality disorder is defined as a personality disorder characterized by a pattern of excessive emotions and attention-seeking.

6. Hypochondriasis or hypochondria refers to excessive preoccupancy or worry about having a serious illness. This debilitating condition is the result of an inaccurate perception of the condition of body or mind despite the absence of an actual medical condition.


Friday, March 28, Princess Lessons


Grandmere hasn't mentioned her phone call.

She acts like she totally didn't offend me last night.

Since Sebastiano is not a royal designer anymore, it means we have no one to create ball gowns especially for us anymore. But apparently, every royal family HAS to have someone creating outfits for them, even though they still mostly buy dresses from Gucci or whatever. So, now she is on the hunt to find someone new.

The problem is, no one is better than Sebastiano.

Today, instead of Princess Lessons, we are being introduced to Anton, an aspiring designer from Russia.

Because, you know, if a princess wears a spectacular gown, she can be scratching her armpits but no one will notice.

"Your Highness, it is a pleasure to meet you!" exclaimed Anton when I entered Grandmere's suit. He ran towards me, knelt in front of me and started kissing my hand. I thought Grandmere's kissing habits were excessive (a kiss on left cheek, a kiss on right cheek and a kiss on left cheek again), but Anton's were even worse. Finally after kissing my hand for about a BILLIONTH time Lars pushed him away so that I could sit down.

"Ah, Amelia, you are late," Grandmere said, "you met Anton. He is a very talented designer from Novosibirsk, one of the best of his generation. He was kind enough to fly to New York to show us some of the gowns from his collection. Anton, please, go ahead."

She smiled him her best smile as René sat down next to me.

"So, have you thought about my offer?" he whispered to me.

I rolled my eyes as Anton showed us a very short yellow cocktail dress with a collar that seemed a lot like fur.

Real fur.

"I told you, René, no thank you," I said.

"Oh, Anton, this is so imaginative!" Grandmere said while sipping her Sidecar. Though I am not entirely sure what she was talking about since the low cut didn't leave much to imagination.

"You know, BC, if you put these kind of dresses into your book, it is bound to be a hit," René winked at me and of course I had to hit him in the shoulder.

"Amelia!" said Grandmere under her breath as Anton moved on to show us something that looked like Papaw's Hawaiian shirt transformed into a dress with a super tight top that would only exaggerate the absence of certain body parts of mine.

"Look at that cut!" Grandmere exclaimed.

"Grandmere, no offense," I said as Anton ran to the room where he kept his creations, "why do you insist on finding a new designer right now? I mean, Sebastiano has been gone since January and only now you have scheduled…"

Grandmere's eyebrows shot up and Rommel who she had been patting shrieked.

"Amelia," she said in that malicious voice, "did you forget?"

"What?" I exclaimed, "no, I didn't forget. Forget what?"

"About the open door day at Genovian Embassy?" she reminded me.

Dad's campaign leader (you know, I babbled to the whole world that Genovia was supposed to be a democracy so now we are having elections in May), a very ambitious woman named Gloria, has recently come up with an idea that Genovian are more likely to vote for my Dad if he received more of international support – meaning, if the whole America would be rooting for him. She said that it would create a pressure on Genovians that they were supposed to elect someone with international support – since in times of recession good international relations are beneficial (Gloria majored from both social psychology and politics at some fancy Swiss school). So she and Vigo have come up with a plan to introduce Genovia to America with an open door day, meaning, the media will be invited to Genovian Embassy in New York where the best aspects of Genovia will be presented.

And since I am the Genovian Princess AND the true reason why the elections are happening in the first place, I am obligated to attend.

And, of course, as Gloria added, I am so rarely available for interviews that certain reporters would attend the day only to speak to me or to take a picture of me.

"And you appearing on the cover if Sixteen magazine," said Gloria, "will make you popular with Genovian adolescents."

So, yeah, I am no longer only a sex object in my Grandmere's eyes, now I am a promotional tool.

Which, I gotta admit, I do like better.

"So?" I said. "Why do we have to have a designer picked by then? Are you planning on sponsoring someone's collection or something and revealing it there?"

"Of course not, Amelia. We need someone to create dresses for the two of us. We cannot just appear there wearing … overalls or something as pagan as that."

Well, that hurt. Especially because I haven't worn any overalls since my binge-eating week when I outgrew all my overalls.

And since Lana is not a big fan of overalls and we usually go shopping together, I never really had a chance to buy new ones.

"We could go to Chanel or something?" I suggested.

"Pfuit! Right! This is not just another ball, Amelia, this is of national importance! Of course we will have gowns created especially for us! Do you think Princess Grace walked into a boutique and just picked something when she attended an event that would change its country's future?"

"Well, no …"

"Exactly," she said, "Anton, we are ready for another dress."

"Of course, Your Highness!" he yelled from another room.

What he showed us next was a knee-length red coat with big, ancient-looking buttons and a grey scarf. The model had fur hat on her head.

"This coat is amazing," said Grandmere.

"Actually, it looks a lot like the coat Canadians wore at the opening ceremony in Sochi," suggested Lars.

"And that's real fur, I am not wearing that!" I shrieked.

"Well, I don't think this look would represent Genovia very well," said René, "you know, on account of our winters being so warm. Actually, BC, I have an idea. You should appear at the ball wearing swimsuit. That would make New Yorkers aware of what he greatest thing about Genovia is. Constant summer."

"That's enough, René, a princess would never wear swimsuit to an event, what are you thinking?" screamed Grandmere. "Have you been talking to Sebastiano? He must have been feeding your head with pop-star trash mentality."

"Well, I am sure he knows great butchers," grinned René

"I don't think Anton could represent us well with his creations, Grandmere," I carefully suggested.

"Well, Amelia, good designers do not grow on trees. We cannot afford to be too picky, not many quality designers would agree to our terms."

"I think if we asked Sebastiano, he would be more than happy to create something for us," I shrugged.

Talk about excessive reaction. Grandmere's eyes went all huge – a terrifying image since she has that dreadful line under her eyes – and it scared Rommel so much that he jumped out of her arms and ran under the nearest coffee table for cover.

Not before a delivery man who entered the suit almost tripped over him. Luckily he maintained enough balance not to drop the gigantic bouquet he was carrying.

The bouquet was gorgeous. It was made of yellow, white and orange lilies.

"Excuse me, Your Highness," said the delivery man, looking at Grandmere, "this came for you."

I guess I should be glad that it turned out flowers calm Grandmere as much as Sidecar. Her eyes returned to its normal size and Rommel dared to look from under the table.

"Oh!" she exclaimed and waived Anton who came armed with the next dress off, "who could this possibly be from!"

It was totally obvious who she wanted it to be from.

"Grandmere, don't buy this, it's the cheapest trick in the book!" I yelled.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, young lady."

"Arne! Don't let him fool you again!"

"Oh, Amelia, you are just jealous because I am getting flowers and you aren't."

Sometimes I wonder if there's any use in being kind to her. I mean, look at what I get in return!

"That is so not the case. I just don't want you to get hurt again."

"I am a Renaldo woman, I am capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much," Grandmere dismissed me and looked at the card that came with the bouquet.

"Cards can lie," René said after I hit him in the stomach, "I once sent chocolates to this Irish chick I was seeing and wrote that she had the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen. Well, she didn't."

At first I really thought that was what made Grandmere rethink Arne's grand gesture of sending her flowers. Because in a blink of an eye a smile disappeared off his face and clearing her throat she out the card down and screamed for a Sidecar.

"Grandmere?" I carefully said.

"Never mind," she screamed when Sidecar was not brought right away. "Let's go on with our work. Anton, we are ready for more!"


"I am not a princess," René smirked, "but if I was totally into saving stray cats, I wouldn't dare to wear anything with real fur. Anton, do you have anything without fur?"

"Fur is the symbol of the place I am from. I always incorporate a piece of my home into every single thing I design! It is my trademark!"

"Well, I wish Vigo read his resume before he sent him here. I guess there's no point in trying to convince you to wear anything of his, right, Amelia?" Grandmere sighed, "Thank you, Anton, but no thank you, I don't think you are the right choice for us. Now, where is my Sidecar? What do I have to do to get a Sidecar? Excuse me, but I am a princess – people should be thrilled to be making Sidecars for a princess!"

The staff here at Plaza might have been psyched about it the first day of her stay. When she started soaking the walls of her suite with Chanel No. 5 and making carpets into a disposable material because of the cigarette smoke, not to mention her Thai salads in the middle of the night with ingredients that are rather hard to obtain, well, then they realized she is truly a pain.

"I'm gonna teach you something, BC," sighed René, "you know how people say Mohammed has to go to the mountain because the mountain won't come to him? Well, the mountain can move, it is just too lazy most of the time. When there's smoke, it'll want to save its own butt and therefore, it will go to Mohammed."

I swear, sometimes I don't know whether he is drunk or just weird.

I mean, he might be suffering PTSD from his abandoned problems in his childhood, plus, the amount of liquor he has drunk in his life, could have easily tampered with his rationality.

"What are you talking about?"

"If she doesn't tell you what has upset her so much, then go to the source," he got up, "the card."

And he walked to the bouquet and took the card. I read it over his shoulder.

"To Clarisse, the most fascinating woman I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I have seen these and immediately thought of you – so delicate, so beautiful, so lavish! Cordialement, Frederik."

We looked at each other in confusion.

"Frederik? Is that Arne's middle name or something?" I finally said.

"No, I don't think it is," René shook his head, confused. "I have no idea who he is. But one thing is clear - your grandmother has got herself an admirer. Trust me, this thing wasn't cheap. I would really, really have to like a girl to buy something like this. Or screw something up, badly."

"An admirer?" I gasped.

"Must be a brave man, I know."

"She had one before," I said, "Dr Stevo. He was an astrologist or something."

"Yeah? How did that end?"

"He proposed to her, she ran away and hurt her foot. Plus, he said that my longest-lasting relationship would be with a Leo."

"A Leo? Isn't Michael…"

"A Capricorn, I know."

"What are you two doing?!" Grandmere demanded as she hurried to us and took the card out of Rene's hands, "why are you two snooping on me? Amelia, princesses never snoop, it is not polite. And, Amelia, this is all for today, I have to get ready for a conference call with Vigo. You don't have to come over here tomorrow, I won't have time for….."

"Hooray, a day off," said René, "who is Frederik?"

"None of your concern. Goodbye," she cut us off and walked straight into the bathroom, with her loyal maids following.

"Well, look on the bright side, Genovia," René shrugged.

"And what's that? That the mountains won't start moving by themselves for sometime?"

"No – we have a day off tomorrow. I can totally go check out that new bar that has opened in Soho last week."


Friday, March 28, Loft, 9 pm


Ok, so I decided I have to find out who this Frederik guy is.

I mean, I don't exactly LOVE my grandmother, but I care for her enough not to want to see her get hurt again.

I wish she returned this feelings, I really do.

Anyway, so I now I am sitting in front of my computer (when will I get a laptop? I am totally mature enough for one.), asking Uncle Google about this mysterious Frederik.

Let me just say it would be way easier if he had a surname.

I mean, obviously he must have a surname; it is just that I don't know it.

And there are many Frederiks important enough to be named by Google.

I was almost positive I had found him when I saw a hit pertaining to a Danish Prince. Sadly, in the next moment I remembered he was a) married and b ) way younger than Grandmere.

Apparently knowing the family trees of major royal families does come in handy once in a while.

Anyway, then I tried googling Grandmere's name in combination with Frederik. I thought that, I don't know, they might have met at some gala or something recently – god knows she has been to plenty of them. And since usually there are many cameras at events like that, I thought that they could have been photographed together or something.

Yeah …. Not so much.

Maybe I could try calling Dad? He might know.

Ooooh, René has just texted me! Maybe he discovered something!

Rene: found anything? I didn't. I tried talking to her maid, her other maid, the replacement maid and the maid on call. Her driver doesn't remember anyone by the name of Frederik either. I have a plan, though – I will try to get her event schedule from Vigo, then I'll check the guest list for every event and search for anyone by that name.

Uh-oh. I was just texting him back when Mum came to my room. She wasn't exactly happy to find me behind my computer and with a phone in my hands.

"Mia, do you really have nothing better to do than this?" she sighed.

"I am just talking to René," I shrugged.

"Haven't you spent the entire afternoon with him?"

"Yeah… but …"

She sat down on my bed. Which is never a good sign.

"I have talked to your Dad …. He has noticed that your phone bill is bigger every month."

"Um… ok?"

"Do you have to text so much?"

"Well … yeah."

"When were the good times when you kids emailed each other?"

"I mean …. With Michael in Japan, Sebastiano in LA, Harry in Europe and … you know, all the daily drama, I do use my phone a lot."


"From the start I doubted whether René and those fellas were the right company for you … but anyway, this is no what I wanted to talk to you about?"

"Oh, what is it, then?" I asked, ignoring the next text from René.

"Well, it is … I know that Michael is coming home next week. And I am not making any illusions…"

"Yeah, about that, Mum … is it ok if we go out Tuesday night? I mean, I know it is school night and all but Michael…"

I mean, Michael and I totally wouldn't be together if Mum didn't literally force to go to Japan to visit me. Besides, he reinvented cardio surgery for me, basically. How could she possibly say no to that?

"Yes, it is, but, Mia, I want to…"

"Helen, your mother is calling you," Mr G poked his head in my room, "apparently, she still wants us to fly down for Easter. I told her you are in the shower but I guess I used that excuse too many times – she said it is a wonder we still have any hot water left from all the showers you have been taking lately. Mia, I sincerely hope you are using computer for school purposes."

"Strictly," I smiled.

Mum sighed.

"Ok, I have to take this call. I do hope we will talk later, Mia."

"Sure thing, Mum," I nodded.

And then she finally got out of my room so that I was able to text René back.

Only, just as I grabbed the phone again, it rang.

And it was Michael.

"Michael!" I exclaimed into the phone, "thank god! How did you know I need to talk to you urgently? I need your help, I have no idea what to do!"

"Ok, first of all, hello to you too and secondly, calm down. Take a breath. What's happening?" he said somehow worried.

"So, René and I had Princess Lessons, like every day."

"Oh, you had that new designer presenting his work, didn't you? Was there real fur?"

"No! I mean, yes, it was, but that is not the problem! I mean, no, obviously it is a big problem because it is totally wrong for people to kill animals just so that you can use its fur, I mean, come on, we have fake fur for that reason and it isn't any worse. It is just like real one and you wouldn't know it is no real unless there was a nametag!"

"Mia, I love you but I cannot do anything about fashion industry using real fur. I can set up online petitions but…"

"No! I don't want you to do anything! I mean, yeah, I wish you did something but I know you can't save langurs or whales, Dr K and I worked it all out already. But that is not what I want to talk about. The problem is what happened after. Michael, some Frederik guy had flowers delivered to Grandmere!"

Michael didn't say anything for about a whole minute. Unfortunately, it wasn't worry that kept him quiet as I had hoped.

"Mia, I am sorry, but I do not understand why you are so upset about this."


"No, I didn't forget, Mia," he said sounding somewhat annoyed, "actually, if I am honest, the days when she was 'heartbroken', as you call it, were pretty much my favorite days I have ever spent in her company."

I know I should hate him for saying so. But … then again, this is my grandmother we're talking about.

"Yeah, I know …" I sighed, "But still! I want to know who this Frederik is! I mean, she doesn't want to talk about it and René and I are worried that he might…"

"Mia … don't you think your grandmother can take care of her love life herself? I can't really see what you can do about it other than to leave it alone."

"But don't you want to know who he is?"

"If we are going to talk about what I want, I want to talk to you about something other than your grandmother."

"Yeah, but you are a computer genius! You can help me track the guy down, right?"


"What if he wants her money? What if he is like Arne? WHAT IF HE WANTS TO KIDNAP HER AND DEMAND RANSOM?"

"If I remember correctly, Mia, your grandmother has more bodyguards than you and your dad combine. I assume they are not there just to carry her suitcases."

"I don't think they can do much when it comes to protecting her heart from breaking."

"No – that is something she will have to deal with herself. Now, why don't you tell me what you would like to do Tuesday night?"

"Well, since it is your first day back in New York, the greatest city in the whole world, I will let you choose."

"Alright. Then don't you dare complaining – I gave you a chance to pick."

No need to worry, really. Michael always has great ideas. I mean, his Valentine gifts are always the best – even though he does not believe in Valentine's Day. And he always alleviates the pain of terrible gifts I get on my birthday from Tante Jean Marie. Not to mention what he did for me last Christmas.

Besides, Michael is all I want. I could just be in her arms, for the entire evening, and it would be the greatest day.

I can't wait for him to come home. Just 4 more days, including the remainder of today's evening.



To Be Continued.


Edited by dbcWinter, 10 June 2014 - 11:11 AM.

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#3 dbcWinter


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Posted 01 July 2014 - 06:01 AM

Saturday, March 29, Loft, 9 am

Update on the Frederik situation?

Let's just say that after Michael's call last night, I kind of lost any interest in Grandmere's love life (and school work as well … just don't tell Mr. G that).

And after I failed to answer René's texts, he decided that if I dared to pay more attention to my interests, so would he. I managed to gather that a club in Soho called Plaza at 4 in the morning to send someone to get him as he lost his wallet and couldn't collect enough change for a cab back to the hotel.

Lars said it didn't look like he would be in a state to do much today.

Which is a good thing because I am planning on catching up on my school work.

I mean it. I will catch up on my school work today.

Saturday, March 29, Loft, 10 am

I mean, I WILL catch up after I go to the store and buy kitty litter for Fat Louie.

I can't believe I forgot to buy it yesterday.

Saturday, March 29, Loft, 11 am

Well, actually I can believe I forgot. I mean, I am totally overworked lately –

1. I am in my Senior Year and exams are coming up soon.

2. Everybody is pushing me to finally pick college. And since everyone has its own idea where I should go, it is no easy task. Especially because it doesn't really matter where I go because I already have a job and I will have a job forever. Whether I like it or not.

3. We learnt in school that the sooner a child starts talking in a foreign language, the better he is in that language. Because I don't want Rocky to suffer the same fate as me – spending months in a country where he too will have a somewhat-royal status (he is a brother of a princess. That makes him more of a Genovian Royalty than René is, anyway) but totally sucking in French, I decided to make sure he will be as bilingual as he possibly can be - so I talk to him in French for about an hour (or two if I feel like neglecting homework) a day. Not that I have been very successful in my task. Mum totally doesn't like what I am doing and Rocky, well, he seems to be more into trucks and drums than into language. He should be thankful.

4. I try to prevent Lilly and Lana from killing each other, trust me, it is not an easy task.

5. I am the main motivator when it comes to Lana and her studies. I mean, if it wasn't for me, she would totally focus more on getting her face all over than on getting grades that will make her a candidate for colleges.

6. I am trying to be a regular reporter for Atom.

7. Still nothing is being done to try and help save langurs. They are still critically endangered and people still don't know what they even are. Apparently, what the majority of people got out of my speech at Christmas was how beautiful my hair and dress looked. Dad was totally relieved that no one picked up on me being a rebellious princess.

8. I am having a long distance relationship. Relationships are hard when a couple is in the same city, well, try to be on two different hemispheres. Mum can complain about phone bill all she wants. It is not like she ever had a boyfriend who has spent last 18 or so months in JAPAN.

9. Besides, Michael is coming home Tuesday. Thinking of all the things we would do that are kind of hard to do over the phone would make everyone slightly balmy.

10. I am trying to make sure Sebastiano doesn't get fired in LA, or that he doesn't die of un-sensed starvation since he is an artist and artists have phases of complete incapability of taking care of themselves during their artistic outbursts (I would know, my Mum is a painter and she sometimes forgets to feed herself. Though now that Mr G is living with us, it is happening quite rarely, thank god)

11. I am constantly helping Harry with his attempts to make Nastassja as crazy about him as he is about her. Not an easy task. I probably know more about flowers than an average florist.

12. I have René following me around me 24/7 – yeah, I know I should be used to it by now, since I also have a bodyguard, but Lars is at least quiet – René keeps sticking his nose into my business.

13. I am helping JP with his play. For some reason, he likes my artistic comments. I wonder if he still appreciated my opinion so much if he knew I had written as love novel.

14. And, of course, this whole thing with Ransom My Heart. Should I have it published or not? I mean, I totally don't want people to read it and at the same time, I totally want to get published. Do all authors feel this way?

15. Grandmere and her secret admirer. I mean, I HAVE to find out who he is! Michael might think it is funny but he might have bad intentions or something!

16. Speaking of Grandmere, I am still trying to convince her to let me have orange hair again. I mean, I kind of like the color.

17. And speaking of convincing Grandmere of anything, I have still not given up on hiring Paramore or Mumford and Sons to play at my Birthday Party. I know she wants to hire Madonna and, I mean, I like Madonna and all, but … I kind of outgrew the phase when I idolized her.

I mean, I totally have so much stuff to worry about! And don't even get me started on the whole Princess Thing. I might not be complaining about it because I know I can't do anything about it, but that doesn't mean I am ok with it!

Where was I?

Oh, right, I have to go buy kitty litter.

Saturday, March 29, the mall, 2 pm

I know that I have a lot of school work to catch up on, but this is a fashion emergency!

I mean, it just occurred to me that Michael is coming home in THREE DAYS and I have no idea what to wear!

I mean, I am not saying that I should dress up or anything since this is MICHAEL and he has seen me in the most outrageous, the most every day and the most beautiful clothes known to man – worn-out pajamas, overalls, school uniform, jeans, Chanel, Sebastiano Grimaldi unique pieces – he has seen me in everything already (and as well as in nothing, but that is not my point).

But still, I mean, I can't just go to the airport wearing tracksuit. Or jeans and a sweater. I mean, you just don't do that after the love of your life comes back after 18 months!



Exactly, I can't!

Basically, I have no proper clothes for this occasion.

And Sebastiano is busy in LA.

Meaning, I need to go shopping.

While having a video chat with Sebastiano.

At first I was worried he might be angry with me or something, since, you know, I wasn't very kind to him the last time we spoke, but luckily, after I told him of my fashion emergency, he was totally ready to help me.

Mainly because he loves shopping.

And he is forever grateful to Michael for helping him set up his own company, Sebastiano Grimaldi Fashions.

To be honest, I think he likes him way better than he likes me.

Lars of course found it all incredibly funny. You know, me swirling around in about a hundred different outfits while he had to film me with my phone so that Sebastiano could see and tell me what he thought. Lars should seriously not be making fun of me like this! I mean, I totally only picked shops where he got free refreshments while I was in a changing cabins! And not to mention, the shops assistants all became totally besotted by him and his impressive 'thighs' as one of the ladies put it (ok, what is with these men trends that are apparently happening? Since when are women impressed by THIGHS? Now that I have a steady boyfriend, I am totally unfamiliar with what is hot and what is not).

Speaking even more of Lars, I don't think I have mentioned yet that he is growing out mustache, have I? Well, he is and it is the most dreadful thing ever. Not just because I am not big fan of mustache (ok, a bit of facial hair is super-hot, no matter what Grandmere thinks – I mean, we are talking of a woman here that has never seen Ryan Gosling in The Notebook. Or Chris O'Donnell in NCIS), but because he is not even trying to make the mustache look presentable. I mean, he just wants it to grow out as much as possible! I asked him why he was even doing it (I mean, why would anyone even want to have mustache as big as a rat under your nose? WHY? You can't even eat properly!) and he said he was getting a head start at Movember (you know, a campaign that urges men to grow out mustache in November to raise awareness of prostate cancer). Which is nice and all, but – it is only March! Ok, almost April, but STILL!

Though I think it is not the only reason. Wahim, Tina's bodyguard, is doing it too. At first I thought that maybe they were trying to attract Mademoiselle Klein's attention, for one last time since she is now engaged to be married to Mr Wheeton, but now I am thinking it might be because of the Olympics. You know, since both Lars and Wahim are avid sport fans and they had to watch pretty much everything that was on TV (I felt so free during the Olympics. Where was my boyfriend, I wonder, Lars totally wasn't paying attention!). Anyway, they came across this guy with massive mustache and he became their hero or something. So I am guessing now they are trying to top this mustache or something.

Whatever. The most interesting thing regarding Olympics was when that guy broke the door down when he was stuck in the bathroom.

That was HOT!

Besides, winter sports are so boring. Summer sports, like swimming, are like so much better. I mean, men are like half naked there!

Anyway, I didn't intend to write about Lars' facial hair. But it is so big I keep getting distracted.

Where was I again?

Clothes, right.

So, at first we wanted to buy this knee-length orange dress until Lars pointed out it would totally be screaming out I AM TRYING TOO HARD since I don't usually wear dresses.

Sebastiano then suggested I instead get very tight, perfectly fitting jeans, 'to emphasize what I have' (or don't have I wanted to correct him but since his fashion choices made me look good in the past, I kept my mouth shut), so I went through nine different stores to get jeans that looked somewhat good. It was so hard to find a pair that would make Sebastiano happy, I am pretty sure his next big fashion line will be jeans (or maybe this will finally be a line that will find its way into stores).

Afterwards we had to find a nice yellow top (why Sebastiano suggested it had to be yellow, I had no idea) and, of course, a push up bra, to at least imply that something is going on in my chest department.

Lars, who as I said found it all oh so funny, of course had to remind us that the temperatures are kind of too chilly to only be walking around in a top so we went hunting for a trendy jacket.

After we found it (I know I should spend money on saving langurs and whales but, come on, it's MICHAEL!) Sebastiano made me call Paolo, my makeup/hairstyle consultant and we spent the next hour looking for just the perfect shade of lipstick and eye shadow.

Now Lars and I are off to get some chocolate cake. This shopping thing made my totally exhausted.

Plus, Lars needs to put some sugar into his bloodstream. I mean, he became unbearable when I was looking for the right lipstick.

Like it is my fault there were no refreshments there. Or that he doesn't see the difference between dark maroon and light maroon.

Or that all the cute shopping assistants were on the perfume department.

Saturday, March 29, the mall, 3 pm

I just hope the credit card company didn't call Dad and told him how much I spent.

Saturday, March 29, loft, 4 pm

Louie loves the cat litter I got him.

Saturday, March 29, loft, 5 pm

I knew I forgot to buy something!

What about SHOES?


Saturday, March 29, loft, 5:30 pm

I'll just ask René to go shopping for shoes with me after he comes out of his alcohol-induced coma.

Though Lars told me that I shouldn't be too optimistic since he has still not sobered up from last night.

Sunday, March 30, loft, midnight

I guess I was even more overworked than I thought I was.

I completely forgot Lilly, Lana and Tina were going to sleep over at my place tonight.

I don't really remember us making this arrangement.

Of course, it might be that they simply made it up.

But I am not putting myself into the role of the victim. It is pathological.

Anyway, Mum came to my room to talk to me about something but just as she sat down, the doorbell rang.

I totally thought the credit card company came to inform me they thought someone stole my credit card and went on a crazy shopping spree (seriously, the designer jeans and jacket were not cheap). I thought Mum's whatever-she-meant-to-talk-to-me-about speech would turn into the you-do-not-need-designer-clothes-to-feel-good-about-yourself-that-confidence-is-fake-and-will-not-help-you-in-the-long-run speech.

The next thing, Lilly, Lana and Tina walked into my room and Mum just rolled her eyes and left. Lana put on music, the new I-wanna-shag-you mix even though the rest of us weren't so keen on idea – as it turned out, Lilly thought the meeting wouldn't be social but actually serve as an overview of the upcoming plots of Lilly Tells It Like It Is, while Tina was thinking we would have a Bridget Jones Marathon. What we got, was Lana's detailed description of a party she went to last night and her not really imaginative use of words when it came to a guy she hooked up.

At least they brought along Ben and Jerry and I ate so much of it I am seriously worried I won't be able to put on the super skinny jeans on Tuesday.

But anyway, that is not what I wanted to write about.

And me not doing any of the school work today isn't it either.

"But anyway, enough of me," Lana finally said after about half an hour, "Mia, I am here to help you."

"With what? Trigonometry?"

"It's Saturday night, I don't do any school work on Saturday evenings," she dismissed me, "so, Michael is coming home, right?"

"Tuesday," Lilly said, "why do you care? I don't remember you ever even speaking to him, with the exception of that time when you practically begged him from your knees to play at your boyfriend's prom."

"Whatever. I don't care when your geeky brother is coming home, I am interested in Mia's boyfriend's return."

"You do realize that that's the same person, right?" Lilly smirked.

"Of course I do. So, Mia, have you thought about the clothes you are going to wear when he comes home?"


No, not at all, with the exception of maxing out my credit card.

"Don't listen to her, Mia, you do not need to dress up for my brother's return. He's a guy, he won't notice what you'll be wearing anyway."

"I wouldn't be surprised if your boyfriend never notices what you are wearing, Lilly, I am sorry to tell you, but you certainly do not dress to be noticed."

"Excuse me, Lana, but I am more concerned about real problems of the world – you do realize that women are being enslaved and sold as you are standing in front of your mirror and choosing the perfect shade of lipstick to match your clothes? I much rather spend that time to raise public awareness of REAL problems and I don't even WANT a boyfriend who would care more about whether or not my butt looks big in the new jeans than about world hunger. And trust me when I tell you that Mia thinks the same way. And my brother doesn't care what she wears – though I think he would start caring if she appeared there in a Xena costume or something."

"Whatever. Don't listen to her, Mia. Your guy is coming home after a year or something - you HAVE TO dress in something special. Not too special, but special enough. And no worries, I have it all figured out – obviously we have to go with blue, since…"


But you know, this is me we are talking about. Nothing goes according to plan when it comes to me. Every bad thing that is supposed to happen turns out even worse.

So the first thing that fell out of the closet wasn't what I bought today but…

The lingerie Lana and Trish bought me as a Christmas gift.

As a gift I was supposed to 'use' when Michael came back.

Of course, clothes lost all its importance.

"Actually, on the second thought …" Lana grinned and her eyes looked like those of a madwoman. "I think there's another aspect of Michael's return that requires me helping you. This might be even more urgent than clothes since you can just dress whatever we bought the last time we went shopping. So …"

I felt my face turning all red. I guess this is what I get for not telling anything to my friends.

Maybe hiding stuff really is worse than lying. I mean, if you lie to somebody, they will feel like you don't care enough about them to tell them the truth. But if you don't tell them ANYTHING, they will think you are completely ignoring them, not caring enough about them to even LIE to them.

I mean, how I could I tell him about what happened when Michael came visit me during Christmas? Lana would want to know all the details and, I am sorry, but I don't really feel comfortable sharing them; Lilly would be … I don't really know what, but she's Michael's sister – talk about awkward. And not to even mention Tina – she will think I am ^$#@$^^! We totally made a deal to lose our virginity after prom! She would feel totally betrayed! So of course I couldn't tell anyone?

Hmmm…. I am totally over-rationalizing this, aren't i?

So, really, the only thing I could do was just to keep a straight face. I mean, I was a virgin long enough to still know how to act like one.

"First of all," Lana said, "I am here in case you need anything or want to know anything. Second of all, I know about all that romantic crap you are reading, so I need to tell you that is completely exaggerating the whole thing. Sex is just sex and…"

"That is so not true!" Tina opposed. "Sex is a very emotional experience. It is about to people uniting physically, emotionally and spiritually …"

"You are entitled to your opinion, Tina," interrupted Lana, "but you are wrong. Sex is just sex. Anyway…"

"Well, maybe sex is just sex to you because you have never slept with anyone you loved!" exclaimed Tina.

"It is kind of weird that you are a sex expert, Miss I-Am-Waiting-Till-My-Prom-Night," Lana rolled her eyes. Just a moment later, though, her eyes became really focused. I seriously thought she would explode. At least judging by how her voice became all pitchy. "Wait…"

"You can't blame me!" Tina suddenly screamed. "Have you seen him? And he looks so good without his shirt! I just couldn't resist…"

Lana started laughing really loud as Tina turned to me and looks at me all apologetically.

"I am so sorry, Mia," she said, sounding like she was on a verge of tears, "I wanted to wait, really, but …. I am so sorry!"

Hmmm … so I have been feeling guilty for so long for no reason whatsoever? It's good, though, I am relieved to see that Tina realizes how stupid the whole prom night plan was.

I guess we are really growing up.

It is totally scaring me, though.

"It is ok, I am just glad that you and Boris are happy, that's all," I shrugged, trying not to sound relieved that I was not the only one backing out of a deal.

"Well, Geek, now you have no reason to wait any longer," Lana said, calming down, "no stupid pact holding you back from enjoying LA VIE! Though … kudos to you, Mia. Michael is HOT! How you managed to spend Christmas with him and that week when you went to visit him last year and stay on your best virgin behavior, is beyond me. I mean, when you have HOT STUFF in front of you, you don't just IGNORE it. "

I could feel the tomato sauce being poured all over me again but luckily Lilly saved me before it could become too visible.

"Ok, Lana, this is sickening, can we talk about something besides my brother? Please?"

"You are in the minority and the democracy rules, isn't that the message you are always promoting on your show?" Lana dismissed her.

"Can we talk about something else? I mean, we are independent woman, we can talk about something besides boys, right?" I smiled.

"No, we can't. Losing virginity is not a big step, but it is a gigantic one for you and, as you said, we are independent, so we can talk freely about sex. Just look at Samantha from Sex and the City. By the way, Mia, why are you avoiding this topic so much? I mean, I know you are not frigid, I see the way you always look at Ryan Gosling."

Scratch what I said about growing up earlier. I actually can't wait to grow up and head to college. Maybe there I will find friends that won't out me down all the time.

"Unless," she went on and I knew my face looked abnormally red, "there is something you do not want to talk about. You and Mr Hot Stuff did it already as well, am I right?"

You know, Lana is actually very smart. She just doesn't know how to show it on school exams.

"No..." I started but what was the point, really?

"Oh my god, I so do not need to hear about this!" shouted Lilly and got up, "I so don't want to her about this!"

She ran out of my room, shutting the door behind her. Lana continued laughing.

"I guess I am a good influence on the two of you!"

"So, Tina, I don't think you are a ^$#@$^^ or anything," I said.

"I felt so bad form sleeping with Boris and breaking our promise," she said. I just smiled, making her believe I felt the same. I mean, I couldn't say what I truly meant – that I didn't feel a tiniest littlest bit bad. I mean, our deal basically contributed to my spiral fall in depression.

Lilly banged on the door.

"Can we please, keep the talk of my brother's expertise on the robotic stuff level? Please?"

"Lilly, your brother is HOT," Lana screamed. "I am sorry, but that totally overshadows the fact that he is a nerd. I am just helping you deal with the denial."

Dr K told me that I should stop keeping things from people. He said that it causes an unnecessary stress and this is especially problematic for someone like me, since I am prone to neuroticism and making a big deal out of nothing. So, he concluded, I should just be honest with people.

I guess one of the things I have been keeping from everyone is now out.

But then why am I not feeling that liberated?

Oh, right, the new clothes in the closet.

Sunday, March 30, loft, 11 am

I was recovering after last night's sleepover (meaning, planning on sleeping till noon and once again ignoring school work) when my cell rang, waking me up.

At first I just covered my head with a pillow, thinking it would go away soon.

I mean, people usually get the message that you are unavailable if you don't answer after three rings, right?

I keep forgetting my grandmother is not human.

After it continuing ringing I just knew I should pick up. I mean, if I didn't, she would only call the home phone and my mum would never forgive me for having to deal with Clarisse before noon.

So, with my eyes shut and still half asleep I dragged myself to the phone.

"What is it, Grandmere?" I mumbled.

"Amelia, finally. Please do not tell me you were still in bed. It is ten in the morning, the most productive part of the day. I am sure you have something more important to do than be in bed. If you don't feel like doing school work, you can also take care of your skin. That facial mask Paolo gave you the other day? You could try that one out. You have to leave it on for half an hour. I do realize sleep is beneficial, but oversleeping makes your skin looks baggy and we cannot afford that happening two days before the Embassy day. Amelia? Are you even listening?"

I guess this is the definition of being too self-centered. I mean, how am I supposed to say anything if she just babbles on and on?

"Of course I am. Since when are you my alarm clock, by the way?"

"I am not, I trust you are old enough to wake up on your own. I have an emergency."

"Grandmere, if this is about coming over to the Plaza to choose between super super white and super white roses, I am sorry, but no."

"Vigo has taken care of roses. Apparently the New York florists do not have my favorite kind of white roses and Gloria has said and your father agreed, for some reason uncomprehensible to me, that there is no way we are bringing them from Genovia since we do not want public to think we are spending money on flower deliveries so I will have to be happy with the quasi-white ones. But anyway, no, this is not something I want to think about right now. I have made a plan how to make Arne jealous."

Arne? Again? I can't constructively deal with this even when well rested.

"Arne? Grandmere, I told you, leave him alone, he will only hurt you again. He and Contessa Trevanni are good for each other and you deserve someone better. I mean it, Grandmere."

"Not that your opinion on the matter counts, but whatever, Mia. I am going to go out with someone else and when Arne hears about it, he will immediately discover the feelings he has for me and he will come to his senses, not wanting to lose me. What do you think?"

I swear, she sounds more high school than me - though the plan did sound quite good. I guess she learnt something from watching Gossip Girl with me.

"Why would you want to make Arne jealous in the first place? To hurt him just like he hurt you when he left with Contessa? Don't you think you are better than that, Grandmere? I mean, even if he indeed came back to you, it wouldn't be because he loved you or anything. He would be just too self-centered to see someone as amazing as you with someone else."

Yes, I know. With a grandmother like mine, I will never stop lying. Hello, therapy for life.

"Amelia, I have never poked my nose into your love life so I would appreciate if your returned me the favor."


"What is that noise?" she said after I snorted.

"What noise? There is no noise?"

"Just because I was the only one that dared to tell you that your relationship with That… Michael was rushed and thoughtless, it does not make me a bad guy, Amelia."

Dared, right. Now that he is rich the relationship is perfectly thought-through, not to mention it moves too slowly for her liking. There is no relationship in Grandmere's mind if he doesn't give you sapphire ring.

"Sure, Grandmere."

"Now … do you think that the plan was good?"

I sighed.

"Yeah, I think the plan sounds nice, even though it is for the wrong … wait – was? Grandmere? Did you go out with someone already?"

"Stop poking your nose into places where it doesn't belong, Amelia, it is terribly un-princess-like. Anyway, I gave to get ready for lunch. Talk to you later, alright?" she said and hung up.

How I managed to land in therapy while she is still medicine-free, is totally beyond me.

Sunday, March 30, loft, 1 pm

Not to mention, René is still not picking up. Just how hung over is he? I mean, I need new shoes AND I need to find out what Grandmere has done! Her going out with just some random guy cannot end well! I mean, Arne is a sociopath! Or psychopath, I am not really sure, but whatever! He will NEVER respond well to seeing Grandmere, the woman he USED, out on a date having a good time (well, she is good at faking things. I mean, the world still believes her eyebrows are real. And that she is not a serial torturer when it comes to her granddaughter) with someone else. What if he goes crazy? Like Kevin did in Safe Haven when he saw Katie making out with Josh Duhamel's character? WHAT IF HE TRIES TO DO SOMETHING TO GRANDMERE?

Yes, I do realize she has bodyguards but when people mean business, they can do whatever they want! I mean, a guy once threw a shoe at Bush! A shoe!

She is totally playing with fire here. I should know, I saw numerous Lifetime movies about this!

Sunday, March 30, loft, 2 pm

And of course she is not picking up. VERY MATURE GRANDMERE!

Sunday, March 30, loft, 3 pm

I tried to do some school work but I struggle to keep my eyes open. I feel like they will roll back and I will fall sleep right behind the trigonometry book.

God, I am so Michael deprived. Thank god he is coming home in two days. I miss his smell. I miss his voice. I haven't talk to him in forever! I guess he is busy with his return to America (me) so I don't want to disturb him, besides, he didn't really sound happy when I nagged about Grandmere the last time. I totally need to stop talking to all my problems to him. I mean, Michael is my boyfriend, not my therapist! I have Dr K for that!

Hmmm … I wonder is Dr K is available in Sundays as well?

Sunday, March 30, loft, 4 pm

I know Grandmere is an adult with a lot of personnel and a complete inability to go anywhere by herself. She is NEVER alone; there is always someone by her side. So technically, her whereabouts are never unknown.

I know her not returning to Plaza after leaving last night is nothing to worry about. I know this.



To Be Continued.


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#4 dbcWinter


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Posted 08 August 2014 - 01:34 PM

Sunday, March 30, loft, 6 pm


Grandmere needs to get her priorities straight. I mean, she keeps saying that princesses her perfect, with wrinkles-free skin naturally or artificially obtained, and that we simply look FRESH!

Well, I think she has personally shortened my lifespan for YEARS today.

I was busy with my trigonometry homework (ok, trying not to fall asleep) when Mum came to my room, with a very serious look on her face.

"What's wrong?" I screamed. "Is Rocky ok?"

Because, you know, I knew that Louie was ok, since he was peacefully sleeping at my legs. Well, he was peaceful till I jumped out and screamed.

"Rocky is fine, we have to talk to your grandmother," Mum said.

And I just knew. In that moment, I just knew something horrible had happened to her. Like, maybe Arne found out about her date and plunged a knife into her body, somehow tricking the bodyguards, because if he couldn't have her, no one else could. I know it happens, I saw the movie about Rebecca Schaeffer.

Of course, there was still a possibility that years of smoking and drinking had caught up with her, but to be honest, I got that scare so many times and dreadful Princess Lessons always followed, so I am starting to believing she is somehow immune to nicotine and liver damage.

"Really?" I said with my voice shaking. Because, I mean, if Grandmere is dead … what does this mean for ME? I mean, then I would be the only princess of Genovia left and the princess' job is to greet guests when they come to the palace, entertain them, drink tea with them and to travel all around the world to visit other royal families.







Are you kidding me? We just got back together and now I am supposed to leave AGAIN?

I am so running away. Really. I totally can do it. Renaldo women are capable of great things when it comes to fighting for their men. I can totally run away. I mean, this is MICHAEL WE ARE TALKING ABOUT!

So, as I walked to the kitchen, following mum, I already made a plan of how to avoid going to Genovia. I could totally go to Canada, to Quebec. They speak French there and, I mean, the gun culture is like so not existing there. And Canada has a way better attitude to saving the environment than America.

I would totally love Canada. Canada is great.

Dr K is right. I need to atop obsessing myself with things so much, I need to stop overreacting. I have to quit, just like I stopped biting my nails. And if I can't do it naturally, I need to find professional help – someone who would prescribe PILLS. Because, I mean, I can't go on like this. This will kill me before I'm 30.

What Mum wanted to talk to me was the cover of the newspaper. It didn't have written in bold that the Princess of Genovia was dead; no, instead it featured pictures of Grandmere and an unknown man. They were having dinner at some fancy restaurant and Grandmere was laughing and smoking (it didn't look like she was drinking Sidecar, tough) and the man's eyes were sparkling. And I even saw a Chanel bag which doubtlessly had Rommel in.

Yes. I saw Grandmere on a date.

And while I do know that I am not really intellectually gifted, I can't believe it took me a whole minute to realize what exactly was on the pictures. There is totally truth in adolescent egocentrism – I was focusing on my breathing and my not having to go to Canada and consequently completely missed the point.


She used her connections and called reporters to take lots of pictures and she paid Paolo extra money to make her skin look like it is shining from happiness.

And somewhere, she even got a guy to help her.

Maybe he is actor.

I wonder what she paid him.

Well, if this ends up hurting her, it is her own fault. Maybe if she didn't snort every time I was watching Lifetime and if she even watched it with me occassionally, she would know that jealous men are capable of horrible things.

But that again, maybe she does know. I am pretty sure I saw extra bodyguards the last time I was at Plaza.


Sunday, March 30, loft, 7 pm


Do people really want me to flunk the Senior Year? I am still doing the first task in my trigonometry homework and with this tempo, I won't be done till New Year!

Apparently René also saw the article and of course he called me ASAP.

Well, at least he has woken up from his hangover.


Me: Yes.

Rene: she is so mean. Why did she call the paparazzi, though?

Me: hello, so that Arne would see the pictures, get jealous and come crawling back to her.

Rene: so she used a guy who is obviously in love with her? She is getting more evil every year. Where are the good ol' days when she …

Me: what do you mean 'in love'? I think it is just some actor she has hired. He probably got paid a fortune.

Rene: um… didn't you read the article?

Me: I saw the pictures, that was enough. I mean, she told me she is going out with some guy to make Arne je…

Rene: oh my god, BC, so you don't know who that guy is?

Me: I don't think it really matters, you know. He is just a pu…


I need to start getting the mandatory 8 hours of sleep. I mean, I am completely incapable of functioning if I sleep less than that. And I am not talking just trigonometry-wise.

Me: Frederik? What are you talking about?

Rene: BC, are you ok, are you sick? Frederik, the guy who sent her flowers?

And it was. The article said his name is Frederik Pilkvist and he is a real estate agent from Sweden. He is actually one of the world's best known in his business, he is selling properties all over the world. He sold that Italian house to George Clooney. He is supposed to be very rich, but he doesn't care about money – apparently he lives in a farm in the south of Norway. He is also philanthropic – he has his own foundation that is trying to save glaciers from melting.

And that is not all – there was a reason why Grandmere chose him to go to a date.

Apparently, he has a long-lasting rivalry with Arne. Arne, as it turns out, was a real estate agent himself when he was younger. The two of them were working in the same city but Frederik was doing much better and it forced Arne to go bankrupt. With the help of his father, a banker, he changed profession and became a banker himself.

The article also said that Grandmere met Frederik at engagement party of a Swedish prince last month and apparently, Frederik took an instant liking in Grandmere. She is reportedly reluctant to give him a chance after Arne broke her heart so mercilessly. But, in Carol Fernandez's words, she seems to be giving a love another chance, at least judging by the smile she wore during the dinner.

This is so wrong, this is wrong on so many levels, there are no words to explain just how wrong this is.

I need to talk to Michael.


Sunday, March 30, loft, 8 pm


He's not picking up. I wonder what time it is in Japan right now. Honestly, I am too emotionally drained to add 14 hours to our time.

Maybe a long, relaxing bath would help.


Sunday, March 30, loft, 9 pm


No aromatic baths till I finish my trigonometry homework, says Mr G.

Whatever. My life sucks either way. It is not like mastering Trigonometry will make me any happier. Or help me save the langurs.


Monday, March 31, loft, 4 am


There's a fly in my room and apparently buzzing around my ear is a way better past time activity than sitting on the top of the closet in silence. At four in the morning. As if I don't have enough of my own problems already – sleep deprivation is certainly not something I would like to add to the list.

Where are my earplugs? I know I have them, I bought them after Grandmere's snoring kept me awake throughout the night. Who'd figure Grandmere would actually do something nice for me.


Monday, March 31, loft, 4:15 am


Apparently I am too dumb to use the earplugs efficiently. I have them in and I followed the instruction pictures on the package, but I can still hear it! Looks like there are worse sounds than Nicki Minaj songs.

I guess I have no choice but to kill it.

Oh, my god. I am supposed to LOVE animals. I opened a cat shelter in Genovia. And now I am off to kill one? I know it is just a fly, but still. I am such a hypocrite.


Monday, March 31, loft, 4:30 am


Why do Judith Gershners of the world CLONE these things? What is keeping them from realizing the world would actually be a better place without flies and mosquitoes and FRUIT FLIES buzzing around? I know an extinction of one animal species can destroy an ecosystem, but how can flies possibly be of any use? HOW?

Besides keeping the princesses whose boyfriends are coming home after MORE THAN A YEAR, increasing the statistical probability for them to wake up with a terrible skin, I mean?


Monday, March 31, loft, 4:40 am


Why am I even thinking about Judith Gershner?

And where is this damn fly? It disappeared the moment I got up, armed with an old issue of Sixteen magazine (what use is it now? I mean, I already have a boyfriend?) since I am not entirely sure whether we even have a flyswatter and I am certainly too tired to go look for it now.


Monday, March 31, loft, 7 am


Argh, I feel terrible. I look terrible. I was up half the night waiting for that fly to make a reappearance again, only to have it mysteriously disappear. I finally managed to go back to sleep at about six, but thirty minutes of sleep can only do so much.

On the positive note, Michael is coming home TOMORROW. AND THERE ARE NO ZITS ON MY FACE.

Take that, the fly population of New York City.


Monday, March 31, Trigonometry


Imagine my surprise when I got into the limo this morning and René was the one who passed me my morning dose of hot chocolate with whipped cream.

"What are you doing here?" I exclaimed, surprised to see him awake before noon.

"So, I take it you haven't seen it yet?" he made me wonder just what he had for breakfast, because him being conscious before eleven just couldn't be a natural product.

"Saw what?"

And he passed me the newspaper and guess who was the cover story?

The Dowager Princess of Genovia, of course.

She is totally gonna get herself killed, I am telling you. The media is CRAZY about her love affair with Frederik. They LIKE the idea of the two of them being together.

Doesn't anyone besides me realize this cannot mean anything good for Arne, who is a pathological stalker, most likely unable to deal with somebody else taking his trophy?





2. Talk to Drs. Moscovitz regarding Arne. They have experience with this kind of thing, their own daughter had a stalker a few years back.

3. Find a way to convince Grandmere to let Sebastiano create that dress for that stupid embassy thing this week (when exactly is it? Find out without Grandmere finding out you have no idea!).

4. Think of a decent birthday present for Pierre – I can't take any chances, I need him for my wedding.

5. Buy food for Louie.

6. Exfoliate!

7. Get…

Wait, what is going on?


Monday, March 31, Psychology



We had a pop quiz in Trigonometry.

And I totally flunked it. We of course haven't gotten the results back yet, but I JUST KNOW I FLUNKED IT.

I just hope the professor won't correct it by tomorrow already and hinted at Mr G about how awful my Trig knowledge is. Then I know I can kiss my evening with Michael goodbye.

Why can't this world have some compassion for me? My boyfriend is coming home tomorrow.


Monday, March 31, Princess Lessons


Waiting for Grandmere. No one knows where she is. Again. Isn't this a breach of security of some kind?

René isn't here either. I guess he is catching up on that sleep he missed in the morning.

What is with this internet connection, by the way? It is totally not working.

I am screaming here in blind rage

What's the point of technology

If it never works?


How am I supposed to maintain my intellectual levels

If bad signal keeps putting me down?

I am getting mixed signals here.


I went through so much trouble installing it

This is just another proof

Bureaucracy only exists so that hair dye hides the grey


Indeed everything is connected

Every system is parasite to another

Average Jane can never ever win.


Monday, March 31, Princess Lessons


She's finally here, an hour late. She brought a new aspiring fashion designer with her. I guess this is her way of trying to stop me from telling her about the potential dangers she is exposed to now when she is teasing Arne.

It won't work.


Monday, March 31, on my way home from Princess Lessons


I can't believe she -

I can't believe this is actually happening. AND NO, I DO NOT CARE about Theresa the aspiring designer from Chile creations! Even though she isn't using real fur and her dresses are kind of nice – who am I kidding, they are beautiful – and she actually understands the lack of proteins in my chest area and I know hew Spanish accent is totally fake. I know, I watch television!

Seriously. If Arne doesn't kill her, I will.

How could she possibly do this to me? And I know she did it on purpose. I am aware of the misluck I have been having throughout my life, but this was thoughtfully planned. I know it was and nobody will convince me otherwise.

I was determined not to let Theresa distract me from what was important.

"Grandmere, we need to talk about Frederik and Arne!" I exclaimed as Theresa was dressing the super tall, rather skinny and breast-less model that looked remarkably much like me.

"We do not need to discuss anything, but the dresses presented to us," Grandmere completely dismissed me. Because, you know, she can totally poke her nose into my love life, but I have to be quiet about hers. All she needs me for is mending her broken heart. I was there in January when she was getting over Arne – and I had to learn the family tree of Swedish Royal family. Why, I still have no idea.

"Ok, why are you stressing the dresses so much? It is not like the embassy day is tomorrow or anything – we'll deal with this the day before, so now we can focus on…"

Rommel shrieked as her gigantic ring kept hitting him as she was petting him - or maybe it was the second-hand smoke of the Gitanes she was just smoking, despite her doctors' warnings. I know my blood froze as she looked at me with her piercing, eyeliner-tattooed eyes.

"The day before the embassy thing? Amelia, what are you talking about? Of course the day at the embassy is tomorrow," she said in the most innocent voice.

"Tomorrow?" I laughed. "Of course it is not tomorrow, tomorrow Michael's coming home."

"I don't know when your paramour is coming home, but the embassy day is certainly tomorrow, April the first. I have been telling you this for a whole month now. Paolo is coming to do your hair and makeup as well."

For a moment I actually thought she was serious. Until, you know, I figured tomorrow was April Fools' Day. And so I started laughing and I laughed so hard the tears of relief flooded my eyes.

"Oh, you got me so good," I kept repeating as she was looking at me with a mixture of shock and surprise, since, you know, princesses do not laugh in a ROFL/crying fashion and she had no idea what April Fools' Day was (I know she is extraterrestrial and all, but how can a person not know what April Fools' Day is? Seriously, ok, I understand she didn't know what prom is, but come on!).

And then I realized she seriously didn't know what April Fools' Day was.

And she was serious.

"NO!" I screamed. "I can't come tomorrow!"

"Like I said, Amelia, I do not care when your paramour is coming home, tomorrow you are absolutely and without an exception attending the Embassy Event."

And she doesn't even understand what the big deal is! I know Genovia is important, I know the elections are important and I understand why this embassy event is so important. I would love to come on any other day but tomorrow! I mean, I saw the schedule! I have to be there right after school and I won't get to leave till at least midnight! AND MICHAEL'S PLANE IS LANDING AT FOUR! THERE IS NO WAY I CAN SNEAK OUT OF THE EMBASSY TO GO GREET HIM AT THE AIRPORT!

Maybe this is karma and I was Hitler in my previous life. Otherwise, I do not what I have done to deserve this. I am a good person!

I mean –




1. I donate to Greenpeace EVERY day.

2. I opened a cat shelter in Genovia.

3. Every paper I had to do in school was/is about global warming.

4. I am totally pro artificial Christmas trees.

5. I am still financially supporting Johanna.

6. I totally sold that real fur bag Tante Jean Marie got me for Christmas – ok, last two begs for last two Christmases – and gave money for cancer research.

7. I try to be kind to and support every person I meet.

8. I never told to Grandmere's face what I really think about her.

9. I am planning on giving all the money I get from Ransom My Heart to charity – if, of course, I ever gather the courage to send to publishers (hmmm … is this a sign that I should?)


Grandmere of course wasn't even a bit sympathetic. She kept going on and on about how she didn't care and how I would see Michael some other time and BLAH BLAH BLAH.

So of course I totally blew off the remaining dresses Theresa had planned on showing and just ran out of the suite, out of the Plaza and I might run straight home if Lars didn't catch me and pushed me into other limo.

What am I going to do? I am serious. What am I going to do?

Lars says I should call Michael and tell him. He says Michael will understand.

You see, my rationality is telling me the same thing, but – I mean, I wasn't there to tell him goodbye when he left for Japan because I had dumped him and accidently kissed JP in front of him. I wasn't there to greet him when he came to visit me in Genovia on account of his visit being a top secret/my running off to Spain and I wasn't even there when he went back to Japan because Grandmere's way of getting over Arne was attend royal functions and I think that while Michael's plane was taking off I was actually throwing up in the royal bathroom after trying to be a good granddaughter and eat the meat put in front of me (it was Pierre's day off). I mean, I have never been there and I have never experienced that romantic scene at the airport (of course Grandmere didn't let Michael come and kiss me goodbye when I was going to Genovia before the whole Japan thing happened)! And for a change I wanted to have that experience! Is this such a bad thing to want?

To Be Continued.


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#5 dbcWinter


    Meg Cabot Fan

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Posted 11 August 2014 - 04:53 AM

Monday, March 31, loft, 5 pm


Mum is totally on Lars' side. She says Michael won't mind and that I need to stop making such a big deal out of this.

"But then again," she added, "you always make a big deal out of everything."

Not only that my mother is completely incapable of seeing things from my perspective (I KNOW I AM A PRINCESS OF GENOVIA AND I HAVE TO ATTEND EVENTS LIKE THIS. I KNOW I SHOULD JUST GET OVER IT, BUT I CAN'T! I KNOW KIDS IN GAZA HAVE WAY BIGGER PROBLEMS THAN ME, BUT I AM STILL EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT, ALRIGHT?), she doesn't even know how to take a hint. I mean I was totally putting books out of my bag pack, like every normal person does when they are about to study, but, no, my mum just continued sitting there on the bed, petting Louie and looking at me with somewhat worried expression.

I am not saying that that is a problem. I mean, there are many things worth worrying about in my life. I mean, my grandmother is completely evil and cruel and heartless and manipulative and about to get herself murdered, because, let's face it, she isn't that popular when it comes to her bodyguards and pretty much everyone else; my dad has to take part in elections because my way of dealing with depression was revealing to the world Genovia was actually a democracy; my cousin is somewhere in LA, probably getting fired from his first proper job because he hates polyester and my other cousin … well, I don't really know what is wrong with René, but I am chronically worried about him; my baby brother seems to prefer anything to water and his parents are only encouraging his self-destructive eating habits with always letting him eat food from Number One Noodle Son; my boyfriend is coming home tomorrow and I am stuck at this embassy thing, once again forced to choose my DUTY over the love of my life; and last but not least, I am flunking Trigonometry.

Well, I guess I should be glad that for a change Harry isn't causing me any problems. Or Lilly. Or Lana. All I am saying is that I have enough problems already. I seriously didn't need to listen to Mum's sex talk again.

"There is something I wish to talk to you about," she said and I seriously wished she'd say she wanted a time machine and go back to that college party where she met my Dad and make him wear a different condom, since the one he used broke, therefore throwing me into this chaotic life that is too much for any seventeen-year-old girl to handle.


"Yes. Look, Mia, I am aware that you are seventeen now, basically an adult and I know Michael is coming home tomorrow."

I should have totally seen where this was leading, but WHEN DO I NOTICE ANYTHING? I totally missed Tina and Boris doing it, not to mention about billion other things that have gone undetected by moi in my life.

"It is not that I don't trust you - or Michael, I mean, I know he is taking good care of you and all, but I think it won't hurt if we talk about certain things."


I am like a lamb walking directly into the wolf's mouth.

"Sex, Mia," she sounded impatient, because, let's face, for someone who is dating a genius inventor of revolutionary medical equipment one might expect a more perceptive mind, "you and Michael have been through a lot as a couple and it is completely normal, right even, to deepen your relationship…"

You know, maybe I am growing up after all. Because –

a) I didn't feel like throwing up when Mum started talking to me about sex, like that time after the disaster AKA my birthday party

B) I didn't start compulsively thinking that the sex talk won't even be useful now that I am missing Michael's arrival from Japan on the account of Grandmere's complete inability to organise events without destroying my love life and sanity and her pure evil.

Or maybe this isn't a sign of my maturing, but rather just complete apathy that struck me now when I am DROWNING in problems.

So I just as there while she was going on and on about sexual transmitting diseases – yeah, as if I don't go to school, watch TV or read magazines –, offering to make an appointment with her gynaecologist, not to mention her reciting me pros and cons of every birth control available – hello, I am obsessed with Lifetime and my boyfriend is an inventor of medical device that will change the cardio surgery as we know it. The odds of at least of us remembering to use protection are pretty much in our favour.

Thank god I didn't tell her that I ran away from Princess Lessons. I wonder what kind of talk I would get then. What was I thinking? Grandmere will now of course tell DAD who has enough of his own problems already.

Maturing? ME? Yeah, right.

And now Sebastiano is texting me again, but I just CAN'T deal with him right now. I know polyester is an important issue, but I need a break. Seriously.

Only, I can't take an aromatic bath since I still haven't caught up with the Trig homework.

Somebody please tell me how could I even focus on homework when the whole world is against me?

Well, Grandmere, at least.


Monday, March 31, loft, 6 pm


JP just called, inviting me to dinner.

Honestly, after the Grandmere fiasco and Mum's complete ignorance to my raised eyebrows when she was talking about sex being a basic human need, a dinner sounds like a completely good idea.


Monday, March 31, loft, 8 pm


Argh, well this was a disaster.

We went to the Chinese place around the corner and I guess the food was the best thing about it. JP was talking about his play – the story about a young man finding himself – and the problems he had with Stacey, the main actress. And I am not kidding, that was all he wanted to talk about. Not the Japanese tourists sitting by the next table wearing funny hats. Not the guy dressed like a fox running down the street with three police officers following him. So of course I couldn't talk about my problems! It was as if I was his therapist, only that I didn't even get paid, plus he never stopped talking for long enough for me to say anything.

I swear, I wished I was having dinner with René instead. René, of all people!

And it got even worse as we were leaving. Guess who was standing around the restaurant as we exited it?

Oh, just about two dozens of reporters, no one else.

I will probably be a cover story tomorrow morning, replacing Grandmere OR EVEN SHARING THE FRONT CAGE WITH HER.

Déjà vu, I guess. I was photographed with JP the day Michael left for Japan AND a day before he arrived.

How did they find out we were having dinner - AGAIN?

Less than a day till Michael comes home and way less than a day till I rot to my death at the Genovian Embassy.


Monday, March 31, loft, 11 pm


So, I might not be on the airport to greet Michael, but the least I can do is make sure to look absolutely gorgeous when I do see him, right?

I postponed my Trig homework for another day (I just flunked the pop quiz, can you blame me?) I browsed the internet for some home-made beautifying products.

I made this mixture for whitening your teeth – I basically added some lime to the toothpaste AND IT WORKS! I CAN ACTUALLY SEE MY TEETH BEING WHITER!

Now I will put a spoon of salt into the milk and smudge it all over my face – it is supposed to make my skin super smooth. If this thing ends up working, then I guess Grandmere won't even notice I haven't been drinking those eight glasses of water necessary to keep Renaldo women young and fresh. Honestly, hot chocolate is just a better calming method for a neurotic princess than water.

Seriously, who needs Paolo when you have Google?


Monday, March 31, loft, 11:30 pm


Oh my god, what have I DONE?

Who was I kidding? Of course I need Paolo, I need all the help I can get! I mean, my hair would still be in a shape of a yield sign if it hadn't been for Paolo! The world would still think I have no breasts if Sebastiano's creations hadn't created such an optical illusion in my chest department!

Google might be a useful tool for capable people, but since I have practically no skills besides messing up pre-prepared speeches and retaking up my old habit of biting nail, it spells DISASTER for me!

I apparently liked the sensation the home made pilling gave me a bit too much. Maybe I have OCD, maybe I got it from Rommel, who knows. The thing is, I rubbed that salt into my face so much I now practically have no skin left on my nose!

Yes, my nose now has an open wound.

I am not kidding! There is this very red spot on my nose and it is basically a hole, because the salt took all the skin off! OH MY GOD!



Well, it is easy to speak when you are not DISFIGURED!

Grandmere is going to kill me.


Tuesday, April 1, loft, midnight


Paolo will fix it. Paolo can fix anything.

He fixed my hair.

Surely he will find just the right make up to cover the hole I have on my nose.

Oh my god, can it get infected? The wound, I mean? What if I get sepsis?

I can't die NOW! My boyfriend is coming home!


Tuesday, April 1, loft, 1 am


What kind of a girlfriend misses her boyfriend's return to New York and when she finally shows up she is completely disfigured?

Maybe I should warn him.


Tuesday, April 1, loft, 1:30 am


Well, at least I can comfort myself with knowledge I did try to warn him that his girlfriend has fallen under the spell of cosmetic industry and walked away with a permanently disfigured nose.

He didn't pick up.

Great. Can anything else go wrong tonight?


Tuesday, April 1, loft, 2 am


Want to listen to Damien Rice, but I can't find the album. Did René take it AGAIN? Why? It is not like he has a reason to listen to depressed music! He can listen to whatever the nigh clubs he is so fond of are always planning!


Tuesday, April 1, loft, 3 am


You got to be kidding me.

The fly is back.


Tuesday, April 1, loft, 3:20 am


*Was back. I killed it. I am such a nihilist.


Tuesday, April 1, loft, 4 am


Didn't I say I would get some sleep tonight?


Tuesday, April 1, Homeroom


I tried putting on every corrector and powder I have, but all it did was make it look worse.

Mum said it is not as bad as I think it is.

Yeah, right. She is my MOTHER for crying out loud. It is her JOB to say stuff like that.

Lilly's reaction told me everything. As she got into the limo her eyes just went huge and she was all: "What have they done to YOU?"

And I told her it was a pilling gone wrong.

"Well, whatever, POG, if you are obsessing yourself over my brothers reaction – which you do, don't try to deny - might as well just stop. He won't care if you have a hole on your nose. He will be just happy to see you this afternoon. Though he was supposed to be more looking forward to see ME or MUM or DAD since we totally didn't see him during Christmas holidays."

I didn't dare to tell her that Michael won't be happy to see me this afternoon, because I won't be there.

So I just went: "Mhm."


Tuesday, April 1, English.


It started itching. My nose, I mean. Tina – she too says I shouldn't worry about Michael's reaction since, she says, he loves me and a slight scratch (scratch? SCRATCH?) on my nose cannot change that – says it is a sign of the wound healing.

Am I pessimistic for believing it won't heal till this afternoon?


Tuesday, April 1, Trigonometry


Yup. I looked it up on my phone. JP and I are totally on the cover of pretty much every paper. Somebody working in the production of JP's play has told the reporters about the story and now the whole world waits to see 'what the son of a renowned Broadway producer and a close friend of the Princess of Genovia has in store of the theatre'.

Well, at least it is 'close friends' this time. They finally realised I am dating MICHAEL MOSCOVITZ and only MICHAEL MOSCOVITZ.

It took them long enough.

By the way, we didn't get yesterday's test back yet. YES! At least something is working out well for me!

Not that Mr G and Mum knowing how terrible my Trig skills are could make any difference about tonight. I have to attend royal events whether or not I am flunking anything in school.


Tuesday, April 1, still Trig


Sebastiano called again. Doesn't he know I am in school?


**List Of People I Admire Most In The Whole World And Who Could Potentially Serve As My Inspiration For Surviving Today**


1. Hayley Williams for moving on from the worst moment of her life, taking the high road and making the best album of all time. Oh, and not to mention, her changing the hair colour every month. Being able to reinvent yourself pretty much every month is a sign of a very confident and strong individual and I WISH I had her courage and freedom and love for life.

2. Jack Johnson. For all the love songs he has written to his wife; for his efforts and determination to keep his family out of the spotlight and living a normal life despite being super famous. For not letting the fame change him. For giving so much money to charities. And for not freaking out when he messed up the lyrics at iTunes Festival. Because I would totally freak out.

3. The Author of 'The Mediator' Books. Critics dislike her writing style that includes lots of pop-culture references and all, but she continues doing her own ting. I wish I had the courage to do so after pretty much everything I write for English and Mrs Martinez disapproves.

4. Lana del Rey. Because I can relate to so many of the songs. Because she doesn't sound like anyone in the mainstream music today. Because of her fashion style. Because she is just amazing. One of the few people that seems to understand that when you find your One True Love, you don't just get over it. And I don't care if everyone keeps saying she is a product of thoughtful music management – her music is good. That is all that matters.

5. That Guy I Met When Grandmere hired that other guy to teach me how to ski, because she was so enraged Contessa Trevanni was sponsoring a skier participating at the skiing world championships and this skier's rank was so much better than the rank of the best Genovian skier, so she decided to outshine Monaco's skiing capabilities by sending a royal to support Genovia ski team at the championships only to leaving me with a sprained ankle and gaining a lot of bad press when René ended up partying hard with some other member of American ski team. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right, well, That Guy I Met went on to winning a medal at this Olympics, much to Lars' delight since apparently guarding a princess is by far not important as knowing somebody who wins an Olympic medal (maybe it is a guy thing, I don't know). And I admire That Guy not because he is super-hot, but because he has never followed the rules and instructions everyone kept giving him throughout his career, but was always determined to do his own thing no matter how unorthodox it was. He followed his heart and in the end it landed him on the top of Olympic podium. I wish I was as brave as him and followed MY HEART and joined Greenpeace and save whales. Only, he isn't a prince, so I guess that is what allows him to do his own thing while I am stuck following the code of being royal. Sigh.

6. Damien Rice. Well, finally a person who can criticise both others and most importantly HIMSELF. And, of course, for finally diagnosing the basic problem I have in my life – I suffer from gamete disease. Which I guess explains why I am who I am and why I act the way I do.

7. Ryan Gosling. Because he is Ryan Gosling and I am still sad that there seems to be no future for McGosling.

8. Rachel McAdams. Because she is just the most beautiful woman that has ever lived and still signs for fans (I would know since Sebastiano didn't stop thanking me for months after I had gotten him The Notebook DVD cover signed by her for his birthday).

9. Britney Spears. Because she has entertained us for years and years. Because she starred in Crossroads, the movie I relate to now more than ever. Because she showed us that you can move on from hitting rock bottom. If she got through 2007, surely I can survive missing Michael's return.


Tuesday, April 1, Lunch


Lana tried puting some of her magic correctors on my skin, trying to minimalize the damage the homemade pilling mixture has done, but even that is not helping!

AND EVERYONE KEEPS SAYING I DON'T NEED TO WORRY BECAUSE MICHAEL WON'T CARE. Because, of course everyone thinks that is the top of my concerns right now.

Don't this people read news nor have Google Alerts on my name? I AM NOT EVEN GOING TO BE THERE for Michael's arrival at the airport! I have the embassy day to attend!


Tuesday, April 1, G&T


Ok, so desperate times call for desperate measures, right?

I totally called Paolo and told him of my 'little' problem. He got all 'don't worry, Princess, we will fix it the moment you come'.

The more I tried to tell him just how BIG and DEEP the hole on my nose the less he believed me, so I took a picture with my phone and send it to hm.

And I am still waiting on him to reply.

Great. I killed my hair and makeup person.


Tuesday, April 1, 1 pm, loft


Ok, so Paolo didn't get a heart attack. He called me back not soon after, telling me to come straight home. He didn't care that I still had a few classes to attend – he actually called school to tell them I had to leave due to the state emergency.

Yes. My nose with the skin peeled off is a national emergency.

But whatever.


Tuesday, April 1, 2 pm, loft


Hallelujah! God actually exists! And he is not in heaven, he is right here, with us! And he is named Paolo!


When Mum saw me, she said: "Well, this looks much better, honey."

"I knew she was lying when she said it wasn't that bad. We liars always recognize each other.


Tuesday, April 1, 2:15 pm, loft


So Paolo and Grandmere decided that Theresa – the fashion designer we met yesterday – would be the designer I'd wear at the embassy day. I totally approve, though. I have on this pretty sleeveless yellow dress that shows my best attributes – my legs, at least that is what Sebastiano always named as my attributes.

How come I have never worn a yellow dress before? It totally makes me look fresh and rested! I totally don't look like I haven't slept properly in like a whole week or something.

Michael is landing in less than two hours and I am on my way to the embassy. I need every help I can get to look fresh at this point.


Tuesday, April 1, 2:30 pm


Ok, things are slightly looking up.

Lars suggested I texted Michael to let him know I wouldn't be able to come. Which, you know, is a good idea so that he won't be looking around for me.

Anyway, just before I pressed send I got a text – from Lilly!

Apparently Michael's plane is DELAYED and isn't landing till 6!

Meaning, I have two additional hours to figure out how to go see him despite being stuck at the embassy event!

Ok, this sounds way more optimistic that I actually am.


Tuesday, April 1, 3 pm – three hours till Michael's plane lands


I have to admit, this embassy thing is kind of nice. Gloria has certainly outdone herself. Nobody is here yet, of course, so I could walk around and see the presentation of Genovia she has prepared.

There are like a hundred royal portraits of all the most important – and known - princesses and princes from the history of Genovia. There's my dad and Grandmere and Grandpere and me, of course, and there's AMELIE! And Rosagunde as well! Oh, and not to mention, some of my mum's painting are also displayed!

I kind of doubt Grandmere authorised that, to be honest.

But I guess she has bigger problems than that at the moment. She might not realise it yet, but she does.

All the best qualities of Genovia are presented, such as models and pictures of the old buildings and bridges and nature. There's free transportation and no taxes. Pierre has sent over some of his favourite assistants and the kitchen is preparing the cuisine of Genovia, though I just peeked in the kitchen and I don't think any of the legendary Pierre's desserts are included in the menu. Good. We do not need the world knowing how good he is. Minimalising the chances of somebody stealing him is the way to go.

But there's more! I mean … the exhibition for Genovia includes surprisingly a lot of … well, me.

I am totally serious! Apparently somebody was on crack since one of the best qualities are also – parking meters.

Really. And recycling bins (apparently we are the only country in the world that has recycling bins EVERYWHERE). And the cat shelter I opened during Christmas (Lulu is now the face of the shelter. There are so many pictures of her. She is growing up so fast! And she is just so adorable!). And SNAILS! SNAILS ARE HERE!

And there's more (I swear I am not the one on crack)! Now every June 21st is the Genovia's National Environmental Day! I am not even kidding! From now on, every June 21st, a day in Genovia will be dedicated solely to environmental issues! I CHANGED THE CALENDAR OF A COUNTRY (my country, but still). This must be the greatest accomplishment of my life!

Well, of course there's the other thing. I mean, I have to be in Genovia on that day. Meaning, no more leaving for Genovia on July the first. But whatever. NOW WE HAVE A DAY DEDICATED TO FIGHTING THE GLOBAL WARMING!

I totally feel like I am in Genovia.

You know, especially because I am missing on Michael time.

Oh, no, Grandmere is here. Here comes the rain on my parade.


Tuesday, April 1, 3:30 pm, two and a half hours till Michael's plan lands


Surprisingly she hasn't mentioned me running away from PL yesterday.

And she hasn't noticed the damage inflicted to my nose. I guess that's mainly because Paolo is always standing really close to me in the event I should need a quick fix of my nose make up.

And she surely hasn't mentioned mum's painting on the walls.

Of course it might be because the years of carefree Sidecar and first-hand Gitanes smoke are taking their tool, but I don't really have that kind of luck in my life. It is all because …

Well, Arne has sent her a pair of earrings that I am sure could certainly feed the entire African village for a decade.

So, in Grandmere's mind, this is a clear sign that the plan is working.

Whatever the plan even is.

Where are the reporters? I want this thing to be over by six so that I can go greet Michael at the airport.


Tuesday, April 1, 4 pm, two hours till Michael's plane lands


It is happening.

It is totally happening. The crazy stalker is here. Arne, I mean, he is here.

And guess who is also here?

Yup, Contessa Trevanni and Bella AND Kjetil are here as well, but that is not my point.

Frederik is here too.

I am off to calling FBI Swat Team. We will need them. We will so need them.

I hope Michael's flight will be delayed for like additional 295823875834 hours. Because no way this is resolving in two hours.


Tuesday, April 1, 5 pm, one hour till the love of my life returns to the best city in the world and I guess way less than 60 minutes till SOMETHING takes place at the embassy/tension day


Grandmere is giving interviews to EVERY single reporter in the house. She is carrying Rommel with her, of course, in the new Chanel bag, and the poor dog's eyes are so big I am afraid they will pop out. I think it is only a matter of time before he starts licking off what's left of his fur. I hope the jacket Grandmere had dressed him in will prevent him from licking the skin off as well. I know all too well how itching that feels.

Frederik is drinking Genovia's finest wine in the left side of the reception.

Arne is drinking the finest Genovian wine in the right side of the reception room.

They both keep glancing at each other. Ok, they were glancing at the beginning. Now they are GLARING.

Contessa Trevanni is standing in the middle of the reception room, eating Genovia's finest salad. She is looking at Arne who is downright ignoring her. Then she looks at Frederik, who ignores her just as much.

Kjetil and Bella are in the back of the reception room and they are urgently whispering to each other. She is looking down and he keeps running his hand through his hair. He seems worried and she looks on the verge of tears. And she keeps going to the bathroom, coming back more pale every time. And she is pretty much the only person in the reception room besides me that keeps drinking apple juice instead of wine. Even Lars is drinking wine and he is supposed to be on high alert at all times in case soembody decides to kidnap me.

René is on stage, located in the embassy garden, singing the current hits of Genovia's music scene out of key, but nobody really cares since no one outside of Genovia even knows any of the Genovian musicians. Or maybe it is his singing, I don't know.

And I have just stopped talking to the Sixteen magazine reporter. All she wanted to know was what I was going to wear to my prom (good question. I haven't thought of prom in forever.), how my relationship with Michael is going and what JP's play was about. Seriously, somebody needs to break the news that Michael's Cardioarm is finished so that I'll get too talk about that! Or elections! Or my future plans!

But then again, I guess she is reporting for Sixteen magazine, so I can't really blame her.


Tuesday, April 1, 5:15 pm, the embassy where the medical assistance so far was only needed when one of the chefs cut his finger instead of a carrot and I wish my hair was in the colour of the carrot because I adored that colour


Everyone is still alive. Arne and Frederik have stopped drinking wine – they moved onto hard liquor. Frederik keeps reaching in his pockets. God, I hope he doesn't have a gun. Is it possible the security has allowed him to sneak the gun in here? But then again, a middle aged woman claiming to be Anderson Cooper's personal assistant sneaked in with the sole purpose of asking Grandmere what kind of eyeliner she was using.

Arne is rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. There is a very beautiful, very big and surely a very expensive watch on his wrist.

Where is Vigo, by the way? I am still waiting on the next reporter to interview me.


Tuesday, April 1, 5:15 pm, the embassy where apparently only a reporter for Sixteen magazine wanted to talk to me, so now I am sitting in the garden, as the only listener of René's rendition of Britney Spears' Womanizer – since he figured out no one cares about Genovia's music -, drinking glasses of apple juice with a bit of white wine I managed to pour in unnoticed


Frederik too has now rolled up his sleeves. His wristwatch seems to be even more expensive. It is certainly bigger. And he is laughing. Arne looks furious.

There are no fountains around, luckily. I guess they will leave the trousers alone.

Contessa Trevanni is looking more and more annoyed as Grandmere's smile is growing bigger and bigger. I have finally located Vigo, he is whispering something to Grandmere. Poor Rommel looks scared out of his mind and I wonder why on earth would any reporter want to know Grandmere's opinion on two recent movies about the late princesses, Diana and Grace. It is not like she is THE princess of Genovia who has seen both of the movies THREE TIMES.

Paolo is signalling me the powder on my nose has to be retouched.


Tuesday, April 1, 5:30 pm, the embassy where no one besides Paolo, René and Lars has noticed I have gone to the bathroom since apparently this event is not so much about me as it is about the American reporters getting a free lunch AND dinner. Do your thing, just don't try to steal Pierre from us. Or I'll command the Royal Genovian Air Force. AND the Royal Genovian Navy.


Contessa Trevanni dropped the plate with her salad onto the table and ran off, I think leaving the party. Nobody seemed to notice or her or the broken plate and the vinegar soaking into the expensive Persian carpet (I guess we don't have a carpet manufacturer in Genovia).

Bella was in the bathroom when I walked in and I think she was throwing up - I certainly hope it wasn't the apple juice. I drank like A LOT of it. She left pretty soon after, looking ashamed when she saw me. Whatever.

I am seriously afraid that Frederik and Arne moving on from drinks to…


Oh my god, I can't believe I haven't thought of this before!

No one noticed! No one, especially Grandmere noticed when I left the scene to retouch my make up!

Surely they wouldn't notice if I disappeared for more than ten minutes, would they?


Tuesday, April 1, 5:33 pm, the embassy whose bathrooms are really nice, not too pinky, but pinky just enough to be a very pleasant place to spend time at, not to mention the view on the gardens is very pretty and we are like totally on the ground floor


I made Lars check the Google Maps and the airport is like TEN MINUTES FROM THE EMBASSY!

I can totally get there, hug Michael, go back and nobody will ever know!

Paolo says he will have my back. René - yeah, after I left he realized he needed a drink, so now he is playing rock, paper and scissors with Paolo – says he will just pretend to be drunk if Grandmere starts suspecting I have mysteriously disappeared.

Ok, so I will just climb through the window, stop a cab – I don't care if Lars starts complaining. We are not taking the limo. No time and too risky -, drive to the airport and be back in like thirty minutes.

I've done crazier things. Like sneaked out of a diplomatic dinner to paly badminton. Faked appendicitis to go on a road trip to Tuscany. Went on a train trip to attend a wedding in Spain and dye my hair orange. I am such a renegade and it is apparently in my blood – this is a piece of cake.


Tuesday, April 1, 5:45 pm, on my way to the airport

Impulsiveness, yeah, Mia, way to go. It is not like I have high heels on, a very long and tight dress and A NECKLACE MADE OF JEWELS AROUND MY NECK!

At least I didn't break my ankle climbing through the window. The dress is still intact and Lars is swearing it is not even dirty, but he is a guy, so who knows how reliable his words are?

I totally thought I was busted, though. Just as Lars and I left the embassy gardens, nearing the street, I thought I saw Grandmere going into a limo parked on the other side of the street. I almost got a heart attack until I realized it couldn't possibly be Grandmere. I mean, she was inside, charming the reporters with whatever she charms people who are not related to her with – besides, why would she be running away from her own event?

I guess this is just shows how Michael deprived I am.

Anyway, Lars stopped a cab and as I managed to get myself and my long dress in, guess who I saw sitting behind the wheel?

I don't know who was more shocked - Ephrain Kleinschmidt or me. I mean, what are the chances, really? Three times I have taken a cab since I found out I was a princess, and very single time it was driven by Ephrain Kleinschmidt. Is he stalking me or something?


Tuesday, April 1, 6:30 pm


Jsnbvkjsvgkj49048t0wgnvaflvkwsrt89235ru3nbjsldjvna04p8tw5rg !

Yeah, I don't know what it means either, but I am just sooooo happy!

So Ephrain Kleinschmidt stopped in front of the airport and Lars threw him twenty bucks, I guess meaning he got the tip of the day. I picked up the bottom of the dress and ran inside, as fast as I could in the killer heels I had on – why did Theresa make me wear them? It is not like I am not tall enough without them already. Argh, she is so much like Sebastiano! – and you know, as someone who only flies private jets, I pretty much had no idea where to go. I was standing in front of the 'arrivals' board for like two whole minutes before finding out where I had to go.

And just like the heroines in movies always do I ran to the left, slaloming around the people with bags and trolleys and whatnot, and I guess all the dance lessons in high heels I had to endure during the last years of Princess Lessons came in handy – or maybe it was those three days of skiing paying off, who knows. Lars had trouble keeping up with me since he had on his best tux and he has always been saying he feels immobile in them. Or maybe it was because he is so tall and so big he couldn't move around as flexibly as I did and he had to basically scream at people to move.

It was hilarious, really, and I guess that was the moment I finally grew up. Only mature women can run in killer heels for five minutes without falling, of course getting themselves and their bodyguards lost three times.

And then I FINALLY saw him.

He was just hugging his mom and Dr Moscovitz was of course crying, and his eyes went all big when I saw me. He looked rather surprised to see me, really, but them this big smile spread on his face. And I just stood there, looking at him and I swear I have never been happier than in that moment.

Ok, maybe with the exception of the January the first.

Trust Lilly to ruin one of the most romantic moments of my life.

"Well, POG," she snorted, looking at my dress – of course I didn't realise at the time than the necklace I had one was worth like, A LOT, and how the necklace's bodyguards hadn't started chasing me down yet was beyond me. Apparently René was really believable with his 'drunk' act. But then again, he had plenty of practice and I should know since I spend every vacation I get with him. And actually, I don't really mind -, "I know you have been obsessing yourself about this moment for the entire week, but I think you went a bit overboard with this outfit."

It was in that moment Lars finally reached me, puffing and I was surprised he hadn't torn off the tux yet.

"Oh, no, I was at this thing and…" I started and let me tell you, it was remarkably difficult to speak rationally when, Michael was standing right there, with his hair look messy, with those eyes I always get lost in, with that smile that makes my heart melt and with that neck that certainly smelt intoxicating and you know what? It looked like he didn't get a chance to shave in a few days and I TAKE IT ALL BACK! He looked SO MUCH BETTER this way than when completely shaved (and no, I am not saying this as a renegade since Grandmere hates facial hair on a man)! HE LOOKED SO HOT AND Ryan Gosling in The Notebook, move, you have nothing on MY MAN!

Hmmm … where was I? Ok, so before I'd manage to gather myself – Lars of course didn't help since he was completely flushed and looked like he wanted to wipe the sweat off his forehead with his tie, but you know, that is totally inappropriate for a bodyguard – Michael let go of his mum and stepped closer to me.

"The Embassy Day," he said instead of me, "I didn't expect you to be here. Weren't you supposed to be there? Is it over already?"

"We went to get some fresh air," said the still completely out of breath Lars.

And before I could say anything else, Michael just pulled me closer and kissed me. REALLY kissed me, right there, in front of his parents, Lilly and Lars.

I guess when you are a millionaire, you don't care about PDA that much anymore. And having long hair certainly made me more confident. Not to mention, running away from Grandmere AGAIN. Bonnie and Clyde, you really were on to something.

Or maybe it was just that we were really happy to see each other.

I know I felt like I was high when he broke the kiss and kissed my forehead instead. Well, of course I was high, high on love. I mean, it is scientifically proven that being in love is like being addicted to drugs. I know, I read Psychology Today and I take great pride in reading more than just articles about the relationships.

"Michael, don't be selfish and keep Mia all to yourself," his mum said, "I would certainly like to embrace her as well."

And Michael just grinned and moved away so that his mum could hug me. Not before he gave me a quick peck on the lips.

"How are you, Dr Moscovitz?" I said, with my voice completely shaking on the account of how HIGH I was.

"I am fine, honey. I haven't seen you in so long …. Look at you, you all grownup!"

Thank god Paolo's powder has magical powers. Hello, I peeled the skin off my nose while using homemade pilling, does that sound grown up?

And not to mention, I think this beautiful pair of shoes I had on was totally ruined. I mean, they are not meant to be used for running!

A shoe murderer, I am. I wonder if there is a coffee mug with that written on.

"I am not, but thank you anyway, Dr Moscovitz."

"Ruth. Call me Ruth," she said for like a billionth time. But I could never call her that. It is like calling Mr G Frank or something.

"Yeah, you are that too," I laughed.

And Lilly was trying to roll her eyes, but I could see she was fighting off a laugh. And Lars helped Michael's dad load the luggage on the trolley and Michael's mum was wiping away the tears as we were leaving the airport. Michael wrapped his arm around me, grinning widely and kissing my neck.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered and how I managed not to collapse right there right then is a mystery to me.

And right before the Moscovitzes went to their cab and Lars and I returned to Ephrain Kleinschmidt – who, by the way, was staring at me with his eyes wide open, I guess wondering how on earth I could actually be HAPPY for a change. Yeah, I don't know how it happened, either. – he asked me if I could sneak out of the event early and go to a dinner with him.

I would sworn off the event in a second if I didn't have the jewels around my neck. Guess it would be wise to return them before going out with my boyfriend. Not to mention, the shoes were uncomfortable. And the dress was like super tight.

And I told him I'd let him know and he smiled that angelic smile to me and kissed me again, lovingly, not passionately like before. And now Lars and I are driving back to the event and … yeah. I am so happy right now I would voluntarily pet Rommel.


Wednesday, April 2, loft, 2 am


I can't believe I am saying this, but my family is actually quite great at times.

Like tonight, for example. After I returned from greeting Michael at the airport I found the embassy to be a pretty changed place. The reporters were in the gardens, René was singing Shania Twain and the reporters were singing along. It was quite touching, really, especially after the guy from ABC news jumped on stage and started playing ukulele. My cousin might just become the next internet sensation since he was completely out of key.

I went in, looking for Grandmere. I thought she might have been hiding in one of the embassy's offices, or library, maybe, cursing the day she told me about Princess Amelie's diary, since obviously the garden's sing-a-long couldn't possibly do much for Dad's popularity in Genovia.

But she was nowhere to be found. Kjetil and Bella were the only ones on the upper floors and they just shrugged when I asked them if they had seen Grandmere. But I guess they were too busy reading the embassy's job ads to notice her if she even would be there.

Hmmm… so could it actually Grandmere be the woman I saw entering the limo while I was running away?

If so, where could she possibly go to?

And with whom?

I mean, yeah, Arne and Frederik were both gone when I returned, but surely they didn't go on a New York sightseeing trip together, did they?

Oh my god, what if she took them somewhere where they could fight till death for her?

But you know what? She was old enough and she had enough of her personnel – she certainly had enough resources to deal with her own problems.

And so I undid the jewels I had around my neck ad gave them to Paolo who promised to guard them with his life – well, he passed them to his assistants, so god knows what he meant by 'his life'. Then I called Michael.

"Do you need more of fresh air?" he laughed.

"Pick me up at my place in an hour, alright?"

"Are you done with the embassy thing already?" he asked. "Won't your Grandmere be furious if you left early?"

Yeah, the woman who ran off with two men, right, she has a right to be upset with me. NOT.

"You're rich now, she will applaud me."

Isn't this the saddest thing anyone has ever had to say about their grandmother?

Michael just mumbled something I didn't understand before confirming he'd pick me up in an hour.

And so Lars and I went back to the loft. With a limo this time, much to his delight, and mum was certainly surprised to see me home so early. She started asking me what I wanted for dinner since Mr G was about to order something from the new Italian restaurant whose ads he had seen in the morning paper, but I told her I was going to eat out with Michael. Her eyes became really small when she asked me if I was ditching a princess thing to be with my boyfriend, but I assured her I had talked to Grandmere and she complied.

It didn't look like Mum believed me, but I figured this story was still more believable than the truth – you know, the dowager Princess of Genovia running off with two men, one of which was pathologically obsessed with her and the other was a naively falling in love with her.

Mr G looked like he had something to say – oh, no, did my Trig professor call him to let him know how pathetic my Trig skills are? – but Mum shut him up with a single glare.

I ran to my room, got out of the dress and put on the clothes I had bought with Sebastiano's help. I was high on love I wouldn't even needs a jacket, but I took it with me anyway. Louie was feeling rather affectionate as well, I guess he appreciated the new cat food flavour I had bought him – I figured spending my allowance on Louie made me a better person than buying myself a new maroon lipstick – and he started rubbing his sides against my legs. And my new jeans were full of orange fur and when I was looking for a brush to get it off me I nearly tripped over all the cables my dear laptop needed to function properly (have I mentioned? I totally got a laptop! GRANDMERE, of all people bought it for me when during spring break I went to Albany with Lilly and her parents and since they didn't have internet connection there, Grandmere PAID to have it installed and even bought new laptops for me and Lilly, because she couldn't deal with not torturing me with Princess Lessons for a week. But whatever, I got a new laptop! And when dad started objecting, she shut him up with a single glance.).

I was bending down, trying to get the fur off me and prevent Louie from rubbing against me some more when the bell rang and I just KNEW it was Michael and of course I jumped up in excitement, hitting my head on the edge of the desk. The noise scared Louie so much he jumped onto my bed, eyeing me suspiciously as I started throwing things into my purse. I was already half the way to the living room when MICHAEL was talking to my parents when I remembered I forgot to put some more powder on my nose. So of course I ran back to my bathroom and of course Louie started walking around me again and not even putting his bowl in front of him distracted him, like it usually does. When I finally decided my nose was looking presentable enough for my boyfriend to see I was about to sprint into the living room to MICHAEL, but I totally managed to trip over Louie who in retaliation totally scratched my ankle (I decided to wear the stilettos I bought with Lana a few weeks back, since due to all the drama I hadn't managed to go to the store and buy new ones for Michael's return).

"I am so sorry, Louie," I exclaimed, grabbing my jacket on my way out and sprinted to the living room, of course completely ignoring the tiny voice in my head telling me maybe I should also brush my hair.

And there, in the middle of the living room somebody should really tidy since Rocky's toys were scattered everywhere stood Michael, wearing black jeans that were tight in all the right places and a shirt that so perfectly emphasised what I KNEW he had under the sleeves. And he was so tall and so handsome and …. Well, you know.

He was chatting with Mr G (I know I should call him Frank, but by now it is sort of our thing) about the newest Roiling Stone's selection of 50 Greatest Bands of All Time and Mum was just sitting in the armchair, looking at Michael with a dreamy expression on his face. Rocky was sitting on the floor, holding his drum sticks and repeating bands Michael and Mr G were talking about.

You'd think Mr G would be more into making his son a maths genius than a music geek.

And then Michael noticed me and he stopped in the middle of his sentence and smiled widely. And there was so much love in his eyes, I completely stopped obsessing myself whether the scratch on my nose was still visible and whether the jeans too made me as much of a favour as his jeans were making him.

"Get her back by ten," Mr G said when Michael stepped closer to me and kissed my forehead.

"Midnight," Mum mumbled, still looking like she was in some kind of trace. Mr G didn't look too happy, I guess knowing how much behind I was with my Trig homework. But I am a princess and my boyfriend is a genius inventor of surgical equipment, so I guess Trig can wait.

Lars emerged out of the kitchen, holding a Red Bull and I kissed Rocky goodnight and we left. Michael was holding my hand as we were walking down the street. He didn't want to tell me where we were heading since, as he put it, I had a chance to say what I wanted to do tonight, but didn't take it. He was telling me about the apartment he had bought here in Manhattan and I promised to come visit during the weekend and he said Pavlov too was looking forward to seeing me. He told me about this event at Columbia on Saturday, a presentation of his robotic arm. And he made me promise to wear something nice.

He wasn't too happy when I told him I still hadn't made up my mind whether I'd send Ransom My Heart to the publishers or not, but by that time we reached Number One Noodle Son, so he just rolled his eyes, opening the door for me and Lars. And Rosey, the hostess, recognised us in a second, embracing us and saying it was nice to see us again – well, I haven't been back to the Number One Noodle Son since that night Michael told me he was leaving. It never felt right going back here without him – and gave us a table by the window, the one we had usually sat at, and Lars went with Rosey to the bar where he was chatting with her, watching whatever was in TV and occasionally glancing at me.

And we were talking and my nose was itching, but I didn't care, and Michael kept leaning closer to me to kiss me and everything was PERFECT and it would be even better if René didn't start flooding my phone with his desperate texts.

I am not even kidding.

René : I could be a singer.

René : are you there, BC?

René : maybe I could record an album with my versions of Shania Twain songs? I can't be worse than that She Bangs guy from American Idol, right?

René : America seems to love her.

René : well, her show is Vegas is great.

René : are you there, BC?

René : Clarisse is still not back.

That almost convinced me to text him back. Luckily Michael's kiss distracted me enough to put the phone back into my purse.

After dinner we were wandering around, talking and laughing and eventually we reached the Central Park. I am not the most assertive person even in my best moments, but when Michael is holding my hand and I am leaning on him and he smells so heavenly and we are in New York, the best city in the world, and there are starts in the night sky even though it is kind of hard to see them thanks to all the artificial lights, of course I am incapable of saying no when the love of my life suggests riding in one of those carriages that drive around Central Park (you know, like in that episode of Sex and the City when Miranda went in labour and Mr Big drove Carrie to the hospital in a carriage and then Miranda's water broke, destroying Carrie's brand new shoes?). And so we climbed into the carriage – Lars was riding in front, of course – and we drove around Central Park and of course kissed for like twenty blocks or something. And my phone kept making noises because René kept sending me texts about where I was and how the whole embassy thing ended (everyone left and Grandmere hasn't been seen since, but whatever!) and how bored he was, but I didn't care. Kissing Michael is better than any chocolate in the world, better than Star Wars, even, and, ok, it might have been a bit more than kissing – luckily Lars was too involved in talking to the carriage rider who was rather cute, I have to admit, to even think of turning around. And when the carriage came to a stop, it was almost eleven already, so he walked me home. As Lars was busy adding the carriage lady as his Facebook friend, Michael started kissing me again and …. I just can't wait for the weekend, that is all I'll say.

Not only because we'd be ALONE in his apartment (oh, my god, is it possible that Cosmo was right? You know, about after you do it, that is all you want to do? Or is it that I just LOVE him so much?), but also because my nose will hopefully be completely healed by then.

I mean, the powder must have come off during out make out sessions, since I caught Michael looking at me all funny.

"What?" I asked him confused, because I was so wrapped in our kissing that I completely forgot of how disfigured I was.

"Your nose. What happened to your nose?"

Seriously. Why do I keep embarrassing myself in front of my boyfriend, who, by the way, is a genius? How can I possibly tell a genius that I destroyed my nose during pilling? What kind f a person doesn't know how to use pilling?

"Um…" I started, just as the door of our apartment opened and Mr G poked his head out. Which, by the way, was completely unnecessary since Mum had said MIDNIGHT and it wasn't even eleven thirty!

"Oh, Mia. I figured I heard some noises."

Noises? All I could hear was somebody playing drums! And it wasn't Mr G, obviously.

"Well, I'll call you," whispered Michael to my ear before kissing me goodnight. As I embraced him for one last time and Lars nodded at Mr G, he kissed my temple and when Lars said he'd pick me up in the morning, the two of them left.

Let me tell you, living with a high school teacher sucks.

"How was it honey?" Mum attacked me practically the moment I walked in. as if it was my first freaking date or something.

Well, I guess in some ways it was.

Then I said I'd go do my homework and I have been dancing around my room, listening to the happiest songs I can think of. And now it is almost three o'clock and I guess I really should get started on my homework.

I mean, teachers are heartless creatures. They just don't understand how it is like when your boyfriend finally comes back to town.

They just don't understand.


Wednesday, April 2, Homeroom


Well, take that, Mr G!

So today at breakfast Mr G OF COURSE asked to see my Trig homework fully expecting I hadn't done it on the account of being at the embassy and with my boyfriend (ok, mainly the latter). Yeah, but he totally didn't expect that I actually did my homework. At 3 am, but nevertheless.

And guess what?

It was all correct!

Like I said, take that, Mr G!

Hmmm … maybe I really don't suck at Trig as much I think I do. Maybe I even passed that pop quiz on Monday.


Wednesday, April 2, Trigonometry


Yeah, right. Me good at anything math-related?

I totally flunked.


***Top Reasons Why It Rocks To Have a Boyfriend***


1. You don't care if you flunk trigonometry – you have a boyfriend! Isn't that like way more important?

2. You never feel scared while watching horror movies because either his arms are wrapped around you or because you spend the entire movie making out.

3. You finally have a exc useto renew your subscription to Sixteen magazine and no one looks you weird when you are excited when the new issue comes in mail – I mean, everyone thinks you are looking forward to new relationship advice when really you are just looking forward to newest Ryan Gosling shirtless pics.

4. You can listen to sad songs and no one will think you are depressed – everyone will simply assume you just like the song.

5. Given the fact that my father is in Europe and my step dad is good at maths and drums, but doesn't even know how to use our old vacuum cleaner it is surely nice to have a boyfriend to take a look at what is wrong with your iPod (I don't think it is a battery this time, but I am not too certain)


Wednesday, April 2, Psychology


During lunch I called Michael to tell him I had so much fun last night and to subtlety ask him what he is during this evening.

And guess what? He didn't have time to talk on the account of being in PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA because of the Pavlov Surgical emergency (the manufacturing of his Cardioarm is happening there). That was pretty much all he said - I mean, besides telling me he loved me like three times.

He could have texted me when he got a news, really, so that I would spend the second half of Trigonometry LISTENING and not thinking about the evening with my boyfriend.

Yeah, I know I should focus on school since I am graduating in a month, but whatever.

Did you hear that, Grandmere? I just said WHATEVER.


***Top Reasons Why Having a Boyfriend Who Is a Genius/CEO/Founder and Presidentof His Own Company Is a Bad Thing***


1. He has all kinds of emergencies – though to Michael's defence, I think I am making a way bigger deal out of this that it actually is (I just miss kissing, can you blame me?). I mean, Michael always takes time for his family/me – like, he totally skipped three days of work when I went to visit him in Japan – and he told me those were the only days when he didn't go to the lab the entire time he was in Tsukuba. That must count for something, right?

2. He uses these economic /business expressions I don't really understand. Though, again to Michael's defence, he never really talks business with me. Probably because he knows I can't even tell a difference between an empty battery and broken iPod. (ok, it is kind of hard to actually THINK of the reasons why Michael being all of the above is a bad thing. God, I am a terrible feminist and I am still totally sleep deprived!)

3. He totally helps your cousin create his own fashion business, meaning from then on you keep changing designers and the risks of somebody spilling beans regarding the true size of your breasts is that much higher.

4. Your grandmother pretends to like him, meaning she only tolerates him, meaning the situation is not that much different that it was when she was open about hating him. Only, not she isn't talking about how 'unworthy' he is, but instead is going on and on about how he will have to learn French, the history of Genovia and how he has no idea how things in Europe are on the account of never having lived there (well, Grandmere, neither have I, did you forget?)

5. Now that he is rich I guess our old rule of making each other birthday/Christmas presents is in jeopardy. Or is this actually a good thing? No, it is a BAD thing – I mean, before when facing the task of thinking of a proper gift for him, I could only consider things I could MAKE. Now I will have to consider everything I can BUY, meaning the selection will be that much more difficult.


Wednesday, April 2, on my way home


Princess Lessons are cancelled for today. Vigo just texted me.

Since when is Grandmere cancelling Princess Lessons? I mean, she likes torturing me almost as much as she likes her Sidecars!

This is not good. This is so not good.

And I know she is not sick. She is never too sick for Princess Lessons. EVER. I mean, we are talking about a woman here that had a fever worth an ICU on her wedding dance and still danced till, like, morning!


Wednesday, April 2, 5 pm

Just talked to Dad. He will never admit it, but I think he likes me having a laptop. Now I can escape the room every time Mum starts nagging Dad about not telling me off for buying such expensive clothing (she found a price tag from the jacket I had bought for Michael's return, she was not happy about the number of zeroes, politely put).

Anyway, Genovia LOVED yesterday's event! It was actually partly broadcast live there and looks like almost 70% of the population watched! Well, whoever the director was, he surely knew what he was doing – apparently there was no me running away, no Grandmere running away and no Arne and Frederik almost pulling of a Darcy and Cleaver. Dad said people's favourite part was René singing the Genovian pop songs. He said the bars in Genovia have been playing his signing for the entire day.

I hope René doesn't find out about this. I would never hear the end of it!

Anyway, Dad called me from the five-star restaurant where he had invited Gloria, his campaign manager, to lunch on the account of doing such a great job. I think the lunch had turned into a dinner by the time he called and they surely looked like they had a great time.

I hope he plays it smart with her. She actually has BRAIN comparing to his previous girlfriends. Besides, it is high time he settled.


Wednesday, April 2, 6 pm, loft


Lilly came over just as I was about to start my Trig homework. She just came from the studio. But she wasn't working on the next episode Lilly Tells It Like It Is – which, by the way, is the most popular on Korean's Third Channel, which I think it is kind of a big thing since the channel broadcasts the shows from all over the world and the shows about, for instance, Scottish foods, Icelandic way of eating a shark, African dances and poisonous snakes of Australia.

She is actually preparing a surprise for Michael. She will show it to him at the Columbia Event.

I asked her if that truly sounds like a good idea, but she just smirked.

Then I asked her why she'd even told me, but she just smirked some more and asked me why I still bothered putting powder on my nose since a) she knew I had a hole there, and B) since doing a show about mutilation bodies back in our Freshmen year nothing could still shock her. In response I too just smirked.


Wednesday, April 2, 8 pm, Ray's


Soon after the last entry René showed up. He had spent the entire day answering fan mail on his Facebook account, he knows perfectly well how popular he is in Genovia and he is basking in glory. He even invited me and Lilly to dinner - and for a change I guess he will actually be paying! Well, this time here is no Harry to pay instead of him. As far as I know (and I know a lot since he texts me every morning – well, that's a middle of a night for me, since he is in Europe – a song he thinks will cheer me up before another school day. Yesterday, before Michael came home, his song choice was - Britney Spears - Ooh La La. Whatever, really) he is currently in Amsterdam when Nastassja, his girlfriend is being photographed for the newest CoverGirl Netherlands line.

But you know what? The weird thing is … René and Lilly actually get along more than fine …. They get along better than René and I!

I am totally serious! They are going on and on about the conspiracy of pharmaceutical companies – they insist they have discovered the cure of Ebola like ages ago, but they don't want to send it to Africa because they want people to fear. They say that if people are afraid, they are controlled more easily and therefore, they will be more naïve when it comes to buying drugs and the pharmaceuticals will earn that much more money.

I know. Who'd figured that René is so smart? I didn't think he could even spell pharmaceutical.

And before Ebola they were talking about missing planes and how it is all just a conspiracy against Malaysian airline company, saying definitely somebody wants to use it for its profit and the easiest way to get it is to make sure the prize of the company drops really low, so that they can buy for basically free and then make it into a blockbuster.

And of course René spilled the beans and told Lilly what my Senior Project really is. She said that she suspected it was something like a romance novel, since I hate Genovia (which I don't) and I surely wouldn't spend a whole year writing about its oil, yet alone the oil from centuries ago (it took more than a year to finish, thank you very much). And not to mention, then she went on this long rant about how unassertive I STILL was and how I would never get anywhere if I don't take a leap of faith (a leap of faith? Who said I never take a leap of faith? I totally flew to Japan last year to face my ex-boyfriend, while being completely sure he hated me – ok, in reality he still loved me too, but I didn't know that before take-off, did I? Even though pretty much everyone keeps telling me it was completely OBVIOUS to everyone. Even to Harry who had never even met Michael before Christmas. But whatever, I didn't know, did I?).

"What do you have to lose," she asked me, "if you send the novel to the publishers?"

"Um… I would feel crushed if they rejected me!" I screamed.

"Well, then remember how many times that The Mediator author was rejected. Or Harry Potter. Publishers are just people, Mia, and by now you should have realised that the majority of time, people are being stupid. Take yourself for example."

You'd think René would come to my defence, but of course not! He kept on nodding, even though I am supposed to be the mature one!

I totally wanted to pour the ketchup all over him. It is not like it would hurt his new fame status. There were no paparazzi anywhere. Which, if you think about it, is kind of weird. Yesterday, when I was out with Michael, they too were absent, but the night I went to dinner with JP, they totally knew where I was.

Actually, if I really think about it, the majority of time they appear I am with JP.

Great. So now media is like Grandmere as well? Only saying they like Michael, but in reality they still want me with someone like JP?

I hate this world sometimes.


Wednesday, April 2, 11 pm, loft


*Update on hating the world situation – like those occasions when your boyfriend phones you from California to let you know he wouldn't be coming home tomorrow either, because the emergency was taking longer than expected..

"But," he added, "I will totally make it up to you, I promise."

You know, I thought the whole point of Michael's coming home from Japan would mean us being together more.

Well, at least I have time for homework.




To Be Continued.


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#6 dbcWinter


    Meg Cabot Fan

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Posted 14 August 2014 - 09:23 AM

Thursday, April 3, loft, where are you, Lars?


Guess was what waiting for me this morning when I walked in the kitchen? I mean, besides Mum's burnt toast she made me for breakfast and the C grade maple syrup because she always gets confused by the A, B and C labels and always manages to buy the wrong one?

Oh, just an immensely big bouquet of red, pink and white roses.

And of course I melted on spot.

Maybe it sucks to have a boyfriend who has to go to California pretty much the moment he comes home, but it rocks to have a boyfriend who makes sure roses are the first thing you see in the morning – well, besides your stupid alarm clock ordering you to get up. And your cat blocking the entrance to the bathroom. And question marks where your Trig homework was supposed to be.

Besides that.


Thursday, April 3, Homeroom


On the way to school Lilly just wouldn't shut up about yesterday's dinner. She tried to make sure I'd believe it was the food that made it so unforgettable, but either she is getting sloppy or I am getting more perceptive – it was so obvious she just loved René's company.

Isn't she supposed to be with Kenny?

But then again, she did ruin one of my birthday parties when she was caught making up with a guy from Nepal in a closet while her boyfriend was sobbing outside the said closet.

Wild mustang she is, indeed. Or whatever Boris called her that time, I have apparently successfully erased any memory trace of that party.


Thursday, April 3, World History


Boris the musical genius dropped a globe on his head. I wonder what Kenny would be capable of doing if Lilly happened to, you know, do the closet thing again.

We are talking about a guy here who once almost blew up the school.

But then again, he is so worried about his college applications coming back any day now, so he might just not care about what his girlfriend is doing at the moment.


Thursday, April 3, Trigonometry


He is like god and he is my wonderwall, even though I am not exactly sure what it means. But Mr G keeps playing that song and I think it must be something good.

I need to think of something nice to give him on Saturday. If he was so sweet to plan the entire date the other night, I guess it is my turn now.

But what?


Thursday, April 3, Lunch


JP asked me if I could go to dinner with him tonight again. He said he had changed a few scenes in his play and wanted to hear my opinion.

I said yes, since it is not like I have any better plans. JP just grinned and ran back to the table where he's sitting at these days. You know, the drama club. I have been noticing he has gotten quite close to Stacey Cheeseman, the leading actress. It is nice to see, really, since he spent the entire last year waiting for me to change my mind regarding not wanting to date yet after Michael.

Lilly just rolled her eyes when he left while Lana seemed to be deep in her thoughts, something she rarely does outside of the shopping mall.

"There's something about him that I don't like," she finally said.

Which was totally weird coming from her since she thinks he is super-hot, with his athletic-like body and surfer-boy blond hair.

Which I mentioned, of course.

"Yeah, I know he looks good, it is not that," she dismissed me.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Tina spoke up, "he is the same way he has always been. Nothing has changed about him."

"Then I guess it has never been so apparent before," shrugged Lana, going back to her burrito, "never mind."

"No, I want to know," I insisted, "what are you talking about? He is a bit scatty-brain, sure, he is busy with his play."

"I am not talking about him being all over the place," Lana said with her mouth full, "it's just … you'd think he'd get the message by now, that's all."

"What message?" I asked confused.

"That you are with my brother, POG," Lilly snorted.

"He knows that I am dating Michael," I said.

"Whatever, Mia," Lilly just rolled her eyes again, though it might have been because Kenny started asking everyone if they got anything from the Universities already. Lilly had totally organised a trip for the next weekend, you know, to take a break from studying and spend some quality time together, but Kenny looks to be more into university stuff right now.

If I got a permission to go away for the weekend with the love of my life I wouldn't think twice. But that is just me. Person monitored 24/7, if not by my bodyguard, then by my step dad, the high school teacher. Oh, and I have a boyfriend who god knows where needs to be next weekend, given how the whole world wants his Cardioarm.

And that was it. Lilly refused to say any more and Lana just went to get herself another diet Cola.


Thursday, April 3, Psychology


***Top 5 Things Michael and I could do on Saturday afternoon/evening***


1. Star Wars/Buffy marathon

2. Go to a movies, followed by a romantic dinner and a walk by the Hudson River

3. ***To Be Updated***

4. ***To Be Updated***

5. Nothing, because my grandmother will think of a non-existing emergency or he will be called to Montreal or someplace for an exclusive interview or my crazy cousins will make sure I won't be available or Mr G will finally pick on my terrible Trig skills.

Speaking of Grandmere, I wonder if Princess Lessons are happening today. I mean, they have been cancelled so often lately and ironically, it didn't do any good for me, since my boyfriend and I might finally be on the same hemisphere, but still about fifty states apart from each other.


Thursday, April 3, on my way to Princess Lessons


Vigo hasn't called me to cancel the PL yet, so I guess Grandmere finally realised I have nothing better to do given how Michael is still in Palo Alto.

I bet she'll find a way to rub it in my face.


Thursday, April 3, still on my way to Princess Lessons


Michael just texted me:

Mia, I hope she won't be too much trouble today. I love you, see you soon. M.


Thursday, April 3, Princess Lessons


Grandmere is … happy.

She is so happy she actually doesn't care if Rommel keeps licking his fur off. Which I'd say is his way of dealing with her owner's ecstatic state. Because that woman is never happy. NEVER. It is totally creeping me out.

She has a necklace I have never seen before on today. To my surprise it doesn't look THAT expensive. Sure, it could buy enough food for cat shelter to take care of the cats for like a MONTH, but no rare diamonds seem to be built into it.

Yes. My grandmother doesn't have any diamonds on her.

Not to mention, she isn't wearing any purple. She has on this totally random white dress and a blue scarf.

I don't recognise her. Has an alien abduction taken place? Verl, our downstairs neighbour would certainly be thrilled.

Hey, maybe they'd make another season of Roswell as well?

René says she has been like for a whole day. She doesn't want to talk about the embassy day, despite the great reviews everybody has given it. And she surely hasn't mentioned who she ran off with that day.

She isn't teaching me how to eat avocado like a princess or how to hold an umbrella without looking like a commoner. I don't even have to recite Genovian poetry or the royal family tree of Brunei or something.

Right now she is making plans for my birthday party (she changed her mind - she won't host it at the embassy or some pricy hotel – now she is thinking of a yacht. Whatever). She is talking about the food we could serve (believe it or not, there are a few vegetarian fishes being mentioned. Yes.) And she once again said she wants to hire Madonna.

And I suggested we get Paramore instead, since you know, Paramore is totally my life.

And you want to know what she said?

"We'll see, Amelia."


Thursday, April 3, loft, 5 pm


Not only had she said she'd consider hiring Paramore DESPITE its pagan sound and Hayley's hair, she let me go home an hour earlier than usual.

Mum was shocked to see me come home before Mr G for a change, not to mention how thrilled Lars was to catch some football game or something.

Have Gitanes finally started taking its toll? Because Grandmere is never happy. The closest I have ever seen her to being happy is when Michael left for Japan.


Thursday, April 3, loft, 5:15 pm


If she had a cat I'd say she must have been playing with its toys. Michael always says I act weirdly after playing with Louie's catmint ball.

But then again, I always act weird when I am around Michael, so I think his opinion is bias.


Thursday, April 3, loft, 5:30 pm


Maybe Arne drugged her. You know, to make her more submissive and make her choose him over Frederik?

I know it can be done, I saw it in the movies.


Thursday, April 3, loft, 6 pm


Trust Trigonometry to rain on my parade. Mr G found out about that stupid pop quiz.

Aren't grades confidential or something? I mean, if teachers can totally discuss one student's grades among each other, why don't they just tweet it for the entire world to know how much I suck when it comes to Trig?

And he said I couldn't go to dinner with JP and now I am sitting in the kitchen, doing all the homework I have recently missed.

Mum was too busy convincing Mamaw that there was no need for them to come to New York for my birthday, so of course she was too upset to be on my side.

I told Mr G he is keeping the world from experiencing the greatness of JP's play, but he said he didn't care.


Thursday, April 3, loft, 6:30 pm


René couldn't stand Grandmere's company anymore, so of course he came over to my place. When Mr G told him I was busy, he just said he'd wait and he let himself in, sitting down in the living room next to my Mum. When she got tired of his opinion on the commercialisation of Mona Lisa (my mum might be a painter, but she doesn't like to mix it with money) he started encouraging Rocky to play drums for him. Who knew my cousin was such a big fan of death metal, as now Rocky is banging on the drums, I don't really think playing anything, and René is accompanying him with screaming. I am sure Verl must be thinking the mothership is finally landing in Thompson Street and Ronnie just came knocking, concerned about our well-being.

Finally my mum and my stepdad agreed that the only way for them to remain sane and not have someone calling the police, reporting somebody was being murdered in apartment 4A was for René to leave, so I got to call JP and tell him the dinner was back on.

René too seemed rather pleased with the idea of eating out again.

"I love meeting your friends, BC," he grinned.


Thursday, April 3, Nobu, 7:30 pm


I don't think JP likes René very much. I think he expected to spend the dinner talking about his play, but René of course doesn't let him talk for more than ten seconds before attempting to change the topic. René can't stand not being the star of conversation and having JP explaining how the dialogues came to him is just too much for him.

Or maybe he is just bored, like I am. You can't talk to JP about anything but his play these days. I keep thinking of different things Michael and I could do on Saturday night, because I decline letting IT be the only thing, no matter how good it is, and René who has ordered every sauce they have here keeps trying them pout, trying to find the perfect one.

No, wait, there actually is something JP is quite vocal about.

"You New York kids are really special," René went, "some of you have TV shows, others are inventing these things I don't understand and you guys are writing plays and books. What happened to you? Don't you know how to be seventeen, eighteen, whatever, and have fun?"

"Wait, Mia, you wrote a book?" JP turned to me surprised.

"You didn't tell him yet either?" René rolled his eyes.

"No, she didn't tell me," JP looked a bit offended. "What is it about?"

"A love story taking place in medieval times," René once again spilled the beans instead of me, "pretty good if you are into that kind of things."

"Love story?" JP frowned. "Seriously, Mia? A love story? Why would you write a love story? You are better than that, why are you selling yourself so cheap?"

"Why wouldn't I be writing love stories?" I asked.

"That is so … every day. Everyone can write a love story," JP laughed and looked at me like I was dumb, "come on, you could write about more important topics."

"Why would I want to write about important topics if writing love stories makes me happy?" I interrupted.

"Ok, fine, whatever you want," JP raised his hands in defeat. "I am just happy that you are happy, that's all."

And then he started talking about his play again.


Thursday, April 3, this very cute chocolatier I have never been to before, 8:45 pm


Ok, so after I came back from the bathroom in Nobu, JP paid – for René as well, and we left … and when we came out of the restaurant, yup, the paparazzi were occupying the street.

René, who is the master of hiding from the paparazzi when he feels like it, took the matters into his own hands, and he led us down the street and we entered this Chinese shop. He gave a hundred dollars – he always has money when he is really desperate for it - to the elderly shop owner who then let us out through the back door. I started laughing, reminded once again why despite his craziness I love René so much. The street was occupied by dumpsters and I am pretty sure I stepped into something that was once inside one's stomach with the heel of my stiletto, but I didn't care. It was super fun, even though JP didn't look at all amused.

"So," René looked really proud of himself and I guess for a change he had a reason, "now that we've taken care of the problem, why don't we get another dessert or something? It is on me."

And we went to this chocolatier and maybe I could bring Michael here on Saturday? The chocolate cake is to de for – well, not as good as Pierre's of course, but still. Hmmm … next time I see Grandmere I must tell her to bring Pierre over the big pond for my birthday party. I mean, she is so inexplicably happy right now she is even considering PARAMORE … surely she will let Pierre come. I know he would love New York.

Let's just hope some restaurant doesn't steal him.

Anyway, JP looks kind of down, for whatever reason, and René is going on and on about the trip to Copenhagen in January. I think he is just missing Harry.

Good news, by the way – my nose is definitely healing. Even JP said so when I bumped into him on my way to the bathroom. For whatever reason he is way more polite than René - he goes to the bathroom to make phone calls while René always just talks very, very loud at the table, not caring if everyone hears him. Last year, when we were in Tuscany, the waiter was trying to tell him to stop disturbing other guests with his VERY detailed description of the evening he had spent over at his lady of the month and when René said it was a free country and there were no rules forbidding him from making a phone call a manager came and threatened to have him removed from property – of course given how it was an Italian restaurant, he said it all in his broken English and of course I drank one Sex on the beach too many, like always when I am with the guys, and I started laughing, so in the end all of us were escorted out. Somehow Harry managed to forget his wallet in the restaurant and he is the one who usually pays, on the account of the rest of us always being broke, and he of course wasn't allowed to go back, so we were in the middle of Tuscany and we had to hitchhike to get a ride. And it took forever for this tractor driver to stop, because there was five of us and Sebastiano was wearing this very weird combination of leather pants in the colour of mandarin, with a purple shirt made of silk, a jacket with a zig-zag pattern and navy blue scarf, René was complaining out loud about, well, everything, Harry was laughing like crazy, I looked freaked out of my mind, probably, and Lars, well, you know, he is super tall and muscular and he has a gun and I think the only reason that old Italian guy was brave enough to pull over was because he had a rifle with him, heading out to hunt for wild boars. And OF COURSE then I didn't want to ride with him and it took guys like half an hour to finally get me on board and thank god Lars managed to stop the guy from driving away in the meantime with a very passionate discussion about the right ammunition to kill a wild boar.

Anyway, it all ended up with my Dad sending his limo driver to search for us and when that Italian restaurant finally found Harry's wallet and realised who it thrown out, they sent a very long apology and now the four of us - five if you count Lars – can eat there for free for the rest of our lives.

Ok, where was I? Oh, right, JP being polite enough to make his phone calls in the bathrooms. Yeah, he always does that, and then he returns to the table and finishes his meal and then we go and then …


He always makes a phone call and the paparazzi only always find me when I am with him.

There cannot be a connection … right?


Thursday, April 3, almost midnight, a police station


Oh, my god.

Oh, my god.

I am so dead.

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#7 dbcWinter


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Posted 15 August 2014 - 08:43 AM

Thursday, April 3, almost midnight, a police station

Well, things can definitely be worse than –

1. Having your boyfriend in California and still not knowing how to spend the Saturday afternoon with him.

2. Flunking Trigonometry

3. Being a high school senior

4. Having your grandmother torn between two rich men from Northern Europe

5. Your cousin revealing your secret love novel to everyone

6. Your father having to participate in elections because of you

7. Your baby brother refusing to repeat French words after you, choosing to play drums instead

And René keeps telling me to calm down, because everything will be alright and he is working on it, but given how Harry is in Europe and we are broke and Grandmere will kill him AND me if she finds out about this, not to mention Dad will forbid me from seeing René ever again, I don't really see how we'll be ok. Ever again.

And what is wrong with Lars? This can totally destroy all of our lives and yet he is laughing! What was he thinking, not doing anything? Of course I couldn't do anything, on the account of being so shocked and hurt and I AM girl, and he is a man, a grown up man and it is his job not to expose me to any potentially harmful situations!

He just shrugs and says it was all well deserved.

Well, of course he was, but wasn't there any other way than René ending up behind bars?

Even though Lars says René will be fine. This royal thing has totally gone into their heads a bit much, I am telling you.

And Michael has called me THREE TIMES since we have been here and I just can't call him back. I JUST CAN'T because if I do he will find out that –

And there will be –

Ok. Lucid. Right.

So, after the hunch that JP is the one notifying the paparazzi of our whereabouts I returned to our table. I didn't say anything, still believing it was all just a weird coincidence. But when we got out of the restaurant, yes, they were back.

And I just couldn't believe how dumb I have been for the last two years. It happened every time and yet I never picked up on it.

We hailed a cab and Lars told the driver – no, it wasn't Ephrain Kleinschmidt driving, can you believe it? – firstly JP's and then my address. But I had other ideas, so I asked to be driven to the Hudson River Park instead. Because I knew it was practically abandoned at night ad id things were the way I suspected them, then I didn't need any crowd.

René didn't really mind where we were going, since all he wanted to do was just hang with me, while JP looked rather surprised. But then I told them that since both of them paid something today already, I wanted to buy them ice cream. Since, you know, people say ice cream can only be eaten in summer, but people say many stupid things and ice cream is like pancakes – you can have it anytime.

But as the limo stopped, I just sat down on one of the nearby benches, while Lars assessed the surroundings, seeing no peril and decided to start talking with Hans instead. Apparently there is a new kind of car tires on the market and Lars read in a magazine they were an advanced technology for driving in snow conditions and since Lars grew up in wintry climate he wanted Hans' opinion.

"Aren't we gonna get ice cream?" JP asked.

"No," I replied, "JP, I need to ask you something."

"Oh, ok, is it about your play?"

"No, it is not," I said, "it is about you calling the paparazzi every time we are eating out."

"What?" René swiftly turned this head to him, with disgust in his eyes while JP didn't look at all surprised.

"I am doing what?" he just laughed, but he didn't look hurt or shocked that I said something like that. And that was the confirmation I needed. Liars are very good at spotting other liars, you know. It might take us a while to see lies, but we do, in the end.

"Are you that desperate to have people know about your play?" I asked.

"I don't really see why you're so upset," JP just shrugged. "I mean, you are always in the spotlight, what difference does me calling the reporters every once in while do?"

"Why she's upset?!" René exclaimed who seriously didn't look well. I should have known in that moment already, really. I might have finally realised some past things, but figuring future stuff is still a challenge for me. "She hates the spotlight, you jerk!"

"What difference does it make?" I repeated. "Have you got any idea what media reporting about us did to me? That time when we went to see Beauty and the Beast? Everyone thought we were dating, JP! Michael did and Lilly did and I lost my be…"

When you know you just know and in that moment so many things made so much sense.

"Lilly," I sighed, "you broke up with Lilly the moment when you heard Michael and I broke up."

"So?" was all he said.

"You broke up with her just so that you could have a shot with me. Because you knew dating me would get you the publicity needed to become a successful playwright."

"Relax, Mia, I like you, ok? As a friend, I like you as a friend. I don't like you just because of your royal title."

"It doesn't make any difference," I dismissed him, "if you really liked me, you'd know I HATE seeing myself in the papers and you'd never call reporters on me. I mean, look at Sebastiano – he is a talented designer and yet he never called the papers to be photographed with me and have people know about his clothes!"

"Well, Mia," JP's voice lost its friendliness, "maybe if you were a true friend you wouldn't be so upset with me, but be happy to help me succeed with my play."

"Take that back, you jerk," René stepped in again.

"Leave it, René , I can handle this," I tried to calm him down, but failed.

"No, I won't leave it alone," he said, "This guy here deliberately hurt your. I'm sorry, but I will not let some jerk play with you like this, Mia, and get away with it. You are my best friend and I just won't let him get away!"

And then he hit JP. For the first time. Right in the face and JP exclaimed, covering his bloody nose.

"What the hell?!" he yelled, turning to Lars, who was staring at the Hudson River with a blank expression, whistling, while Hans was pretending to be searching for something in the limo.

"This is just not something you do," René continued shouting, "not to someone as special as my cousin or Lilly. You don't treat women like this, do you understand?!"

And he hit him again and JP fell to the ground and while I don't condone violence it surely felt nice seeing him being kicked in the groin area. I guess I should do it myself, but I love my stilettos too much to inflict any permanent damage on them because of him.

And I knew I should tell René to stop, but honestly, I was either paralysed by the shock he didn't even care about the pain he caused me, Lilly, Michael, or enjoying the sight too much.

Such a princess I am.

Suddenly Lars ran towards us, pulling still very upset René off JP who was just groaning in pain. I thought Lars judged he had been hit enough, but then I realised he wasn't stopping the fight because of that a man nearing us was the true reason and when he came closer, it turned out he was a police officer. He was off duty, but he was still a police officer and he was holding his cell to his ear, calling the police.

And when they showed up five minutes later René was shouting that JP completely deserved it and that he wasn't sorry and that he didn't care if they read him the Miranda rights or not. And the ambulance took JP to the hospital – broken nose, bruised lip, possible broken rib, bruises – and now we are here, in the police station, where they are treating René like a true criminal. I mean he had to give them their finger prints and they took his pictures and if any of our relatives hear about this …

We are so dead.

And René STILL doesn't understand the consequences of his actions. And he is not even screaming he'll get out in a blink of an eyes since he is a prince – no, all he's saying is that he'll get out because he did the right thing.

Right, because the justice system works so well. What about Casey Anthony? What about George Zimmermann?

And he is on the phone now, while I am trying to calm down enough to figure out who to call because I surely cannot pay the bail by myself. I mean, Dad hears about every cent I spend with the American Express credit card and if he finds out what René did …

And I cannot call Grandmere! Not only she is so head over heels in happiness, she ADORES JP! Yes, she did adore René a few years back, but right now she is way keener on JP and she totally won't handle this well.

And Mum and Mr G, if they find out … I will be grounded for the rest of my life.

And Michael … if Michael of all people hears about what JP did not only to me, but to his little sister …

I guess I'll just call Harry.

He'll know what to do, there isn't any limit on his credit card.

"You know, BC," René just said, "somebody needed to punch that jerk."

"René …"

"I am serious," he said in the most serious tone I had ever heard him use, "he deserved it and you know it too, you are just being too princessy to admit. If I hadn't done it, then Michael would when he'd find out JP hurt you. And I think it is better if a prince who isn't planning on marrying you kicks the crap out of him than a guy who went all the way to Japan to get family's and media's approval, you know."

"So you're saying you did it for Michael."

"Well, for everything he has done for you, I guess he deserves some assistance," he just shrugged. "And don't worry, BC, I am getting out of this mess. I already called my person."

Who I am pretty sure is Harry.

"Did you really mean it, by the way?" I said. "You know, about my being your best friend?"

"Of course I meant it," René laughed.

Well, as sad as being René's best friend is, there is some good news to report. I might have been ignoring Michael's calls – he probably will stop calling me now given it is almost 1 am and he'll probably figure I went to bed since I have school tomorrow, but then again, I have been staying up all night lately so much he could just assume this night I am pulling an all-nighter as well – but I opened the text Sebastiano sent me and guess what?

Lady GaGa has just been named a Spring Style Icon of Music and who can she thank for the title?


I guess at least one of my cousins is moving forward with his life. I mean –

Oh, my god. Lilly just walked in the police station! WHAT IS SHE OF ALL PEOPLE DOING HERE?

Friday, April 4, 3 am, still at a police station

René called her. She is 'his person'.

Anyone gets a Cristina/Meredith vibe here?

Even though I think there is more than a strong feminist friendship going on here.

"Why did you call her?!" I hissed at René while Lilly was looking around looking for us.

"Because she can place bail," René just shrugged, "didn't you say you want me to get out?"

"Yes, I do!" I exclaimed. "She has a boyfriend, René!"

"Yeah, well, the last I heard they are not doing so hot. Besides, she is involved in this mess."

"Yes, I am," Lilly came over, overhearing René's words. "I talked to the officers, René. You will be out soon, but they say JP can press charges if he wants."

"Aha," René didn't look at all as alarmed as I felt.

"Yeah, but I am pretty sure he won't," Lilly said, "I called him and told him I'd tell certain things to paparazzi as well if he did so. He'll show up in school saying he fell down the stairs or something."

"Good," he smiled.

"Lilly," I started, "you have to know I had no idea what JP was up to. When he asked me to see that play with him … I honestly thought he just wanted to cheer me up after Michael left. I had no idea he left you for me or that he was using me for publicity! I had no idea till today! I am so sorry for being so dense and stupid and…"

"It's ok, POG," she just smiled to me, "yeah, I was really angry for a long time, angry at me for letting him paly me like that when I knew better. I was angry at you for not seeing him for the jerk he was and for treating my brother like crap … but then I realised you seriously had no idea whatsoever. And then I talked to Lars, found out you were still pining for my brother as much as he was pining for you and … Lars and I talked to your Mum, I gave her Michael's address in Tsukuba and since then I consider myself over the whole JP fiasco."

"This is super touching at all," René spoke up, "but I am supposed to be the hero of the day?"

"Sure you are," Lilly grinned, "by the way, René, I have this vacation planned for the next weekend and my boyfriend probably won't want to go. Do you want to go with me? It is just Vermont, but the internet says it looks pretty nice."

And my jaw just dropped. My best friend wanted to go on vacation with my cousin?

Well, but then again, I am dating her brother, so I guess I shouldn't say any more.

But before René could answer her one of the police officers came to tell us René was free to go on bail and when René heard the words he sprinted towards his stuff, especially happy to have his wrist watch back. It was the watch Grandmere had bought him a few years back when she still idolised him and I guess René cherishes it so much because on case of his bankruptcy it could still feed him for about two years.

Friday, April 4, 5 am, loft

I just got home.

After we left the station René once again offered to pay for something chocolaty and on our way to the recently-discovered chocolatier we passed a hairdresser's salon that was opened 24/7.

I don't really know what it was. Whether it was shock over JP turning out to be a downright jerk or happiness over Sebastiano's success or fear over what would happen between Lilly and René. Or maybe it was just time to reinvent myself.

Either way, I entered the salon and asked for my hair to be dyed orange. You know, the same colour I had over the Christmas.

And there seemed to be something in the air since Lars asked for highlights and Lilly decided to add yellow to the rainbow on her head and René decided to bring back the blue(s).

And then we went to a bar and we drank some Sex on the beach and then they walked me home and we sang Lana del Rey along the way, even though we weren't in Brooklyn. And when we reached my apartment building I asked Lars to make sure Lilly got home without René accompanying her and Lars promised me he would.


Oh, praise you, I do, Lord,

You give me so much pleasure!

I may be subjected to rain,

But when it is sunny

I practically get skin cancer.


Oh, rainbows and butterflies

And birds are tweeting

I hear the stream running

And I am drowning

You are the ocean of love I adore.


You are my kiss on the mountain top

You are my wonderwall

I give you all of me and you give me all of you

My heart beats for you and my heart it is yours

Neon lights are all around, can you feel my love?


I once thought you were my Justin

And I was as blond as Britney

Now I am more like Hayley, but you ain't my Chad

You are my Michael and I am your girl

And together we are the best.



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#8 dbcWinter


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Posted 10 December 2014 - 05:41 AM

Friday, April 4, 6 am, loft


It is time to get up already. Did I even go to bed in the first place?

And I am so hangover.

And René beat up JP.

Friday, April 4, 6:05 am, loft


And I have orange hair again.

Friday, April 4, loft, waiting for the limo that is like super late this morning

I sprinted to the kitchen, once again almost tripping over Louie, fully prepared to read something like 'Royal Scandal!' on the cover of the morning paper. Because there is NO WAY JP doesn't tell a reporter (or two) about how René beat him up!

I found Mr G sipping his morning coffee while reading the paper and from where I was standing the cover news was something about Iraq and missing plane.

Mr G looked up in surprise and when Mum turned round to wish me good morning, holding a plate with toast, her jaw just dropped at the mere sight of me.

"What happened last night?" she asked.

"NOTHING HAPPENED, EVERYTHING WAS PERFECTLY FINE AND THERE WAS NO BLOOD OR COPS, WHAT ELSE COULD YOU WISH FOR?" I screamed, of course believing she was speaking about René and not my new hair colour.

Mum and Mr G just exchanged looks as I was glancing at the newspaper, trying to find any clue about my true whereabouts last night.

"We didn't hear you come home," Mum went on.

"I didn't want to wake you and everything was perfectly fine," I tried to sound as calm as possible, "and, I mean, I totally had Lars with me. Lars would never let anything bad happen to me, you know. I am perfectly safe with Lars."

"And what is up with the hair?" Mr G asked.

"Frank, her hair is just fine," Mum for a change defended me, "if she wants to have orange hair, she can have orange hair."

I guess it wouldn't really be fair of Mum to criticise my hair dye since sometimes she walks around with paint residue on her hair.


And then Mum said that I should eat something before the limo came and I really tried, but it wasn't the taste of toast or hot chocolate (Mum always prepares it with too much water and then it doesn't really taste like hot chocolate anymore) that made my stomach literally shut down. I mean, I was so NERVOUS about the whole René thing I couldn't even sit still. By the way Mr G was looking at me I am sure he thought I was high or something.

Oh, limo is finally here, THANK GOD!

Friday, April 4, Homeroom

Since I am in such a running mood this morning of course I sprinted to the limo before it even came to a full stop, not caring if Lars told me off for being outside without the presence of any armed escort. I opened the limo before Lars could get out, holding the door open for me and wishing me good morning. I just jumped in.

"Lars, do you think…" I started, but then Lars started coughing really loud and I frowned, wondering what on earth was wrong with him and then I looked to the left and there was Lilly with her yellow highlights that looked really nice and I glanced back at Lars whose highlights make him look totally cosmopolitan and then I looked at Lilly again since she was doing this gesture with her hands I couldn't quite understand – it looked like she was slicing her neck. How could she expect me to understand that? – and I finally clicked on something not being completely right since we ALWAYS pick Lilly up, never the other way around and then I saw Michael sitting next to Lilly, smiling to me, but definitely looking kind of puzzled.


Seriously, it is not my fault. I try to act – and sound – mature, but weird things keep happening and I just freak out.

Michael definitely knew something was up; he glanced at Lars who just stared down at his phone, pretending nothing weird was happening. And Lilly too ignored his look, looking down at the pile of newspapers I noticed she had by her side.

"Well, Mia," Michael started and he smiled at me and looked so heavenly and as if he didn't get a chance to shave this morning, which he probably didn't since his eyes were slightly red as if he didn't get much sleep and then I figured he must have caught a red eye to see me before school started and it was so sweet and… yeah, it didn't do any good for my sanity, "I tried to tell you I was coming back today. I called you like five times last night, but you never called me back. What were you up to?"

"NOTHING!" I screamed.

"I believe she spent the whole evening talking to Sebastiano regarding his success," Lars responded instead of me. Michael didn't look too convinced, to be honest.

"Well, anyway, then I asked Lars if I could join you on your ride to school today and he said yes. And I heard about Sebastiano, I think it is great, he deserved it," Michael said, I guess being used to me freaking out.

Lars just smiled at me and I could see the whole thing was amusing him. I swear I am like a free entertainment for him.

"Now, do I get a morning kiss or not?" Michael said and for a change Lilly didn't go all 'ewww' on us. She moved closer to Lars and so I climbed to Michael who pulled me closer into a big kiss. And he definitely hadn't shave and you know what they say about man's facial hair – it grows faster if the guy anticipates sex. Oh, yeah, smart man, my man. And I am not talking about the Cardioarm.

And of course I got to smell his neck and I literally felt the stress evaporating off me. This is just the effect he has on me. I started feeling remarkably relaxed comparing to the state I was in just minutes before and then of course we had to reach school. And I kissed him goodbye one last time and then Lilly and I totally had to run to our lockers, since we were late on the account of Hans, the best limo driver, taking the longer route to school.

"Lilly, what didn't you tell me Michael was coming back today?" I asked her.

"Relax, POG, I had no idea. I got up earlier today and bought pretty much every newspaper I managed to find and then when the limo came I nearly got a heart attack seeing him there. Luckily I managed to convince him it was for Lilly Tells It Like It Is."

"So nobody wrote anything about René and JP?"

"I told you JP wouldn't dare to tell anyone about it," she just said.

"Um… Lilly, I sort of need your help," I then started, knowing I couldn't really do what I wanted to do for Michael tomorrow without help. I guess that is what I get for having my best ideas at five in the morning. Surely I am not rested to think of anything EXECUTABLE.

"Again?" she snorted, but I knew she wasn't serious.

"Yeah …"

"Sure, as long as you write a report on Michael and the Columbia thing tomorrow for Atom," she shrugged, "there's no way I am letting Gretchen Weinberger do it."

Well, at least I have tomorrow and next week's Atom report covered.

Friday, April 4, Trigonometry

Argh, I am totally too hangover for Trigonometry.

And I saw JP earlier.

He looks horrible, his eye is black, the nose is definitely broken and I think the arcade isn't totally alright either.

Tina practically started crying when she saw him, but he just dismissed her, saying he was alright and told this semi-amusing story how he tumbled off bed, crashing head first into the night stand.

Lilly didn't stop smirking for like half an hour after that.

Friday, April 4, Lunch

Harry just called to – you know, discuss René's aspiring Fight Club career, until I told him I was at school and couldn't talk about it – tell me that his girlfriend just got selected as the Spring Modelling Queen.

And not just that – THEY ARE COMING TO NEW YORK! Apparently Nastassja got this great offer to model for one of the hottest young designers, so she is flying here to sign the contract and everything. And Harry is coming with her.

I am so happy right now I literally feel like I am glowing!

Well, I think I do, thanks to my hair.

Friday, April 4, G&T

Things To Do:

1. Find out the statute of limitations for an assault

2. Find a way to convince Grandmere to hire Paramore to play on my birthday

3. Trigonometry homework

4. Go to Balducci's


6. Cancel today's therapy

7. Make sure no socks are lying around the room

8. Buy children's book in French that is about music - maybe Rocky will be more interested in those than reading about animals and food.

Friday, April 4, Princess Lessons

Update on Grandmere –

No update needed, really. She is still as high as she was yesterday. Happy, I mean, and she still doesn't wear purple. Today she had on a grey shirt with red scarf and pants that fit her perfectly – well, they were designed for her. There was no expensive jewellery on her anywhere, minus that necklace she had on yesterday already. I guess

Rommel was happy about that – her rings weren't poking him every time she touched him.

Maybe she watched some documentaries about animal cruelty, who knows. I know she started watching American TV FINALLY, after I introduced her to the Games of Thrones. And I know she started watching NCIS, the original one - she insists it is because she wants to know about the US Navy, but I know she is particularly fond of watching Mark Harmon on her screen.

She just looked at my hair and went: "Well, this dye certainly brings out the colour of your eyes out beautifully."

And then she started playing music – Adele – and then Vigo brought me all these leaflets from local restaurants and Grandmere said I should pick a menu I wanted for my birthday party.

Hello? I actually get a say I this?

And then, just as I was gathering courage to suggest Number One Noodle Son, she picked up Rommel who seemed to be in an even more miserable state than yesterday.

"Mia, I read that Michael is having a presentation of his invention tomorrow, at Columbia, if I remember correctly?"

"Um… yes."

"So I guess you won't be available for Princess Lessons tomorrow, I presume?" she asked and stopped Rommel from licking off the fur on his left front leg.

"Um… I guess not."

"Alright, then."

I am seriously worried know.

I know Michael is rich now and all, so it is not THAT surprising, but still.

Friday, April 4, loft, 11 pm

I came home fully prepared to face another Trig tutoring session from Mr G, this time sadly not interrupted by René as he was resting in his Plaza suite, as Grandmere informed me.

Imagine my surprise when I walked into the kitchen and saw Mum and Mr G chatting with Michael. All three of them looked surprised to see me home so early. I wonder how they'd look if I told them that Grandmere didn't need to get dressed for dinner, thus letting me go early, but was in reality just too happy to torture me with the proper way of putting flowers in a vase – not that I truly need to know that since people in the palace are totally doing this instead of me, but I think Grandmere is running out of ideas.

I asked them what was going on and Mr G said he asked Michael to help me with my Trigonometry homework, since I was still way behind and therefore couldn't afford to go out with my boyfriend. And then Michael looked at me sort of accusingly, since, you know, I guess I could have mentioned in our conversations that I was totally flunking Trigonometry again.

And let me tell you, as much as I love Michael it kind of sucks to have him as a tutor sometimes. Especially when I am so Michael deprived and have such terrible knowledge of triangles. You see, he was totally determined to teach me something while all I wanted was to make out, especially after we went to my room and Mum brought us cookies and actually closed the door when she left.

Yeah, I don't know what happened to that four inch rule either. I guess things just change after your boyfriend invents revolutionary medical equipment.

Or maybe it is just that I am growing up and Mum and Mr G see no point in ignoring it any longer.

Luckily Michael was similarly deprived as I was, but he had a much better control of his impulses (I think I suffered frontal lobe damage when I fell of that tree at Christmas. I mean, I totally know TBI can make less capable of controlling yourself. I read it I this psychology book once when I was over at Lilly's and couldn't sleep), so I only got a kiss when I solved an exercise correctly.

Grandmere would be so proud of me, being manipulated by man like that.

But then again, Grandmere is totally OOC lately, so I guess her opinion doesn't count as much anymore.

I asked Michael how come he even agreed to come over of he had that big presentation at Columbia tomorrow. He just looked at me funny, saying it was Friday night and he wasn't going to spend it obsessing over a speech he had to give tomorrow when he could be with me. I asked him if that meant that he had it all memorised and he nodded. Then he said he loved my new hair colour and asked me if I had any plans for tomorrow after the Columbia event, leaning very, very close to me so that I totally got to smell his neck.

I told him it was a surprise, as comprehensively and seducing as I managed given how intoxicated I was, and he wrapped his arms around me, saying he wasn't sure whether he liked the sound of that, given what had happened the last time I had a surprise for him.

I told him I learnt my lessons and he replied that surely I did. Then he closed my trigonometry book and pulled me on the bed and we made out until Mr G came knocking, reminding me the new episode of Grey's Anatomy was on.

Thank you so much, Mr G! Surely I like seeing Jackson's naked torso on my screen and I do appreciate you knowing that, but I like my boyfriend so much better!

Michael just grinned, wishing me goodnight and saying he'd see me at Columbia tomorrow. And the he kissed me god night for so long the Grey's Anatomy was almost over and I decide I'd just watch it some other time.

Which is a good thing. I mean, now I will go to bed and catch up on some sleep.

Like I have been planning on the whole week.

Ah, my boyfriend is so smart. And funny. And intelligent. And nice smelling. And immensely kissable. And handsome. And hot. And manly. And nice. And sweet. And talented. And perfect.

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#9 dbcWinter


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Posted 10 December 2014 - 05:41 AM

Saturday, April 5, loft, 7 am

The first thing I did this morning was check the news and to my relief there were no reports on René and JP.

Saturday, April 5, loft, 11 am

I really thought it was going to have a relaxing morning before heading to Columbia, I really did. I thought I'd play with Louie a bit and brush him since I completely neglected my role as a cat owner this week thanks to everything that has been going on. I mean, I was feeling well rested, which was a nice improvement.

I headed to breakfast wearing my favourite pyjamas, the one with strawberries on and guess who was in the kitchen?

René, Harry and Sebastiano! René with his blue hair, Harry with his for a change totally clean and fitting clothes, no doubt result of having one of the most popular models in the world for a girlfriend, and Sebastiano in his usual outfit made out of colourful explosion.

They were gathered around the stove and didn't hear me come in. Harry was holding a frying pan, René a bowl and Sebastiano was looking over their shoulders, talking in a mix of French and English and it was way too early to understand him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, surely happy to see them, but still kind of surprised. I mean it wasn't even eight!

They jumped up, looking similarly surprised to see me and René totally dropped the bowl, spilling the whatever the yellowishly brown mixture was all over the floor. He proceeded by complaining when Harry hit him with a pan when he attempted to hide it behind his back. It turned out they were trying to make me pancakes for breakfast, but of course my three cousins are the only people in the universe who do not know how to make them. I asked why they didn't just follow a recipe or something, but they insisted they did, yet still somehow managing to put way too much salt in.

Maybe it was because of the measurement units, I don't know.

I noticed Mum, Mr G and Rocky were nowhere to be seen and Harry explained they decided to go shopping – despite it was only eight in the morning – something they apparently planned overnight since they certainly hadn't mentioned anything shopping related to me last night. Harry said they left soon after René came knocking in the morning, soon followed by Sebastiano and Harry who caught red eye to be here so early.

Speaking of René, his hand is in a sling. I asked him what happened and he told me that after all the adrenalin from hitting JP subsided his arm started hurting, so he went to the ER where doctors performed an x-ray, discovering one of the bones in his hand was broken.

"Chick dig scars, right?" he just grinned and sat down, watching me make pancakes (of course I ended up being the one who made them) while I wondered how a broken hand has anything to do with scars. I figured he was still high on painkillers.

Then I asked Sebastiano what he was doing there and what followed was THE news of the morning!

It turned out Lady GaGa is so in love with Sebastiano's fashion style she gave him money for his first clothing line!

Yes! He is staying in New York over summer to work on his first collection that will hopefully hit the stores before Christmas!

Sebastiano is finally getting the break he was after for so long!

And wait! There is more! Guess who will be the face of his collection?

(No, not me.)

Nastassja! Harry's girlfriend! Meaning he too will be in New York for the summer! Furthermore, meaning René too will choose New York over Genovia for his favourite summer vacation spot, so I will be in Genovia all by myself – well, if you don't count Grandmere and Dad.

But it is a good thing, it is! Because then Michael can come and Lilly and Tina and Lana! And my crazy cousins won't be following us around and I will be that much saner since I always get in trouble when they are around.

Oh, and speaking of less good thing – guess what they did? Harry, Sebastiano and René, I mean?

They totally sent my book to the publishers.

I am not even kidding!

And they completely disregarded how much the news upset me!

"It is for the best, really, Mia," Harry said, "I mean, you have had that thing written for like two months now and you still didn't send it. It is not written under your real name, so I don't understand what you have to be afraid of. Either it gets published or it doesn't. And now you are one step closer to getting published."

"I totally asked Lilly before we did it and she agreed," René nodded.

"You are fabul," Sebastiano added and gave me another hug.

"I mean, you have one thing less to worry about now," Harry went on, "besides, like, school and Michael and all."

"Besides," René said, "I totally beat up a guy for you and I quit smoking. I deserved to do something like this. Give me a break, alright?"

He had a point, really. I guess sometimes you need people to give you that final push.

Then they started looking for a bottle of vodka and René discovered frozen berries in the freezer and Harry volunteered to make us cocktails. Since I have seen first-hand what happens when they start their cocktail hours before midday, I just put away vodka and told them it was time to get ready to go to Columbia anyway. Luckily the idea of seeing Michael for the first time since Christmas made them forget about the cocktails. They all love Michael, for whatever reason.

Well, there are MANY and MORE reasons to love Michael, I just don't know what theirs is. And then Sebastiano asked me if I knew what I was going to wear and I said I'd probably wear the jeans we had bought and a top or something. He responded by exclaiming something I didn't understand before picking up his phone, calling huis personal assistant, telling her to 'bring it over'. I asked what he meant by 'it', but he refused to answer.

I found out soon enough, though. Not too long after (even though it felt like an eternity as René started singing explicit Beyoncé songs, moving his hips in a similarly explicit way and Ronnie came knocking, wondering if everything was alright.).

Soon after it rang and Sebastiano yelled something that resembled 'come in'. Through the door walked his personal assistant and it turned out I already knew her.

It was that designer! Theresa, the one whose dress I wore for the embassy event!

I guess I started at her with my jaw somewhere at the floor since she just laughed at me, greeting me.

"Sebastiano couldn't take the fact you might be wearing someone else's dress," she said, "so he designed some stuff and sent me over to pretend I was the designer."

Well, I guess I should have known. I mean the dress fit me perfectly, and not to mention, it had SEBASTIANO written all over it.

I am so blind.

But whatever. We are off to Columbia now. We are just waiting for the limo.


I keep saying I remember the day we met

You came over to with a school project in your hands

Due to my vivid imagination

I have to wonder if it is even real


World is run by conspiracies

Red carpet beauty is make up and face lift

Sometimes meat products don't even include meat

But through it all you are real


We have been through so much together, baby

And we are still going strong

In fact, we keep getting stronger

Like a tropical storm we will conquer it all


You are a prince of my heart

I loved you from the start

Say you love me too

And even though we don't have to we will rule

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#10 dbcWinter


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Posted 10 December 2014 - 05:43 AM

Saturday, April 5, Columbia University Medical Center, Simon and Louise Templeman Patient Care Pavilion, ladies' room, 3 pm


I am so naïve. Seriously. I am the textbook definition of naïve. I actually thought Grandmere was letting me off the hook today, cancelling Princess Lessons.

Imagine the heart attack I suffered when I arrived at Columbia and saw a certain person sitting in the front row. I mean, OCCUPYING the front row.

Actually, when I entered the room, I didn't immediately recognize the person keeping the whole front row to herself as my royal grandmother. Mainly because I am used to seeing my grandmother wear purple and lots of diamonds and, without any exception, ever, DESIGNER CLOTHES.

The person I saw wore overalls. I am not kidding. The kind of overalls I used to wear and enraged the said grandmother to no end.

"I didn't know Clarisse had a twin," Harry said.

I neared with very slow and small steps hoping it would somehow turn out it was just an illusion. Yeah, right, because that is the kind of luck I have in life.

"So, Mia," she smiled at me when she saw me. Yes, she SMILED. And, yes, she called me MIA.

I think it is obvious that my grandmother was abducted by aliens. There are no drugs in this world that could make her this nice.


And not just that. Then she stood up and hugged me.

And she smiled at Harry, even though she hates him. AND Sebastiano practically started crying when she complimented her success with Lady GaGa. He was, after all, always craving for her approval.

"Grandmere, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"Well, I came to see Michael's great presentation, of course!" she exclaimed.

"Why?" I said before I could shut myself up.

She decided just to grin in response. Even though I felt how wide open my mouth was.

Frederik showed up next. In, wait for it, matching overalls. And two plastic cups in his hands. He handed one of them to Grandmere.

"Thank you, dear," she said in that sweet voice she uses when manipulating someone. I could not figure out what she was manipulating Frederik for.

And then she took a sip. From a plastic cup. Of, what it turned out to be, beer.

I thought I was dreaming I swear. The only thing at least remotely alike my grandmother was her maid bringing her the Chanel bag with Rommel in. I swear, that woman doesn't even take a shower without pone bodyguard in the next room. From what I could gather, Lars was the only bodyguard in the room.

My Mum and Mr G (Frank. I need to start calling him Frank.) showed up next. Mr G kept looking away while Mum somehow managed to her hide surprise. Grandmere gave Rocky so many kisses, the poor kid barely managed to still walk in a straight line afterwards. Though he seemed to be resuscitated the moment he saw René. My renegade cousin stole an umbrella from Grandmere's maid and handed it to Rocky who started banging on one of the chairs (I should know watching funny American Idol clips is not going to be a good influence on a kid.). After a vocal warm-up, René started signing something he called a country death metal remix. It ended with one of the hostesses asking them to stop or leaving the premises, and my red-from-embarrassment face. My mother and my step-father looked more horrified than ever before.

When the Moscovitz family arrived – with Lilly, Kenny AND Nana Moscovitz - arrived, Grandmere hurried to greet them, as if she was the host for the day. Which made her not commenting on the awful outfits the true hostesses wore even that much worse.

"And I thought she was scary when she's not happy," René laughed and picked a chair at the end of the row, as far from Grandmere as he could while still sitting in front. I had no chance but to join him and Mum and Mr G quickly followed. When Kenny was the one ending up sitting next to Grandmere, he sent me a very nasty look.

"He is such a prick," was René's response. The moment Kenny looked away, he winked at Lilly who giggled, even more after I hit René in the shoulder.

"Relax, Baby Cousin," he sighed, "if we are going to Cabo next weekend, don't you think we should start getting along?"

"Who is going to Cabo?" I exclaimed.

"Lilly and I," he said like I was retarded. "She said her boytoy is more into university stuff, and she wants to have fun. So she asked me along."

I know I should feel offended for not being the one invited. But all I felt was horror. I was so horrified I couldn't even respond.

And then Judith Gershner walked in. And she was looking around, as if looking for someone. I immediately ducked my head and turned to René.

Sebastiano leant closer to me.

"Nobod should wear grey sweat," he whispered to me. "Do New York really don't know how to dress?"

I didn't know if he was only being nice. I mean, I didn't think he even knew Judith. But truthfully, she looked great in her grey sweater. Her boobs looked HUGE.

"Hey, Genovia, she is looking at you," Harry shamelessly vocalized my fear. And then I really had no excuse not to look at Judith and wave at her. I mean, if I didn't, I would have to face questions. And when my cousins unite fronts, I cannot win.

It is not like I want to drink so many cocktails when I'm out with them.

(I should just tell Dr K I am still unable to live without overusing defence mechanisms)

"Hi, Mia," Judith smiled at me when she came over. I felt Lilly's eyes on me, I swear.

"Judith, how are you?" I said.

"Very well," she nodded. "Listen, Mia, I just wanted to tell you how happy I am that you and Michael got back together. You really are good for each other."

I felt myself blushing. There must be something wrong with me. I mean, it is not normal for someone to blush as much as I do, and pass every test with normal result.

Maybe what is happening with Grandmere will one day happen to me. We are genetically related. Maybe one day no too far from now I too will be drinking beer for plastic cups and have overalls on. Only a thought of a very, very pleasant evening in Michael's company was keeping me sane.

And just as I thought nothing could surprise me anymore, just before Michael got on stage, a very late couple entered the room.

My Dad and Gloria.

I didn't even know Dad was planning on coming! (How come nobody ever tells me anything?)

I think Grandmere perceived their late entrance and consequent looking for seats and waving me rather rude, as she told her maid to switch seats and put Rommel and Chanel on the floor, so that Gloria too could sit down.

There must be some truth in Harry's twins theory. Only, Grandmere was taken over by the good, not the evil twin, like it usually happens in soaps.

(Could it be that Grandmere has a fetus-in-fetu? Is it possible that the in-fetus fetus' personality eventually takes over person's life? If so, make an appointment with Dr Fung! I need to make sure that I do NOT a twin inside!)

And then Michael came on stage (let's just get it over with - I HAVE THE HOTTEST BOYFRIEND IN THE WORLD!), not looking at all nervous when he shook Dr Ward's hand. And during his speech, he was smiling, looking all audience members in the eye, something Grandmere always tells me to no. Not to mention, he had the whole speech memorised and didn't even need his card notes, also something Grandmere is planning to achieve with me in the next billion years.

You should have seen Grandmere. She actually looked proud. Proud! As if it was thanks to her that Michael was so good at speaking in public (though she might be right – Michael did rehearse with me a billion times for my speeches. Since he is the genius one in the relationship, it isn't that surprising he mastered the public speaking tricks way, way before me.).

He looked at me a couple of times and I thought I'd melt right there, in my seat.

I was fairly certain Sebastiano didn't understand much, if anything, at all. But he was looking at Michael, totally focused, as if he was one of those few scientists in the room who actually understood what he was saying. And Nastassja kept trying to get Harry to focus on her, but Harry for a change actually listened to something someone on a stage had to say. And I could see how René was struggling not to yawn, something he usually isn't ashamed to do in public, and even though they all might be strange and obnoxious at times, my cousins are actually great. And since obviously Michael's voice made me daydream about our upcoming night, I couldn't help but to reminisce a little, and I remembered how much we had had during Christmas and then I remembered how down I had been before the four of us bonded. Just as my eyes began tearing up, Michael was done with his speech, so we all got up and started clapping, and if anyone caught a glimpse of tears in my eyes, they'd figure it was because of the great speech my amazing boyfriend just had.

And then Dr Ward came back on stage and surprised Michael with honorary master's degree in science. And just as we all thought the presentation was over, Lilly jumped from her seat and ran to the stage, pushing Michael away from the microphone.

I had known Lilly since I was six, so I guess it should tell me something was up.

"So you all know my brother now," she started, without a proper opening, something that is quite her trademark, "a rich, famous, genius inventor. But he didn't quite start this way. So, I figured I'd introduce you to who my brother used to be, as I am a firm believer in our past shaping us. We never would make it to where we are now without our past, so, here is a short video I prepared especially for this occasion."

And when she turned to me and grinned, I should bolt out of the room. But a curiosity got the best of me and just like everyone else in the room, I wondered what kind of video Lilly had prepared for her brother. I naively thought we'd see a bunch of baby pictures, but I should know Lilly doesn't care about that kind of diabetes-in-the-making.

I almost rolled off my seat when I saw me on the screen on stage. I saw Michael turning to me with surprise in his eyes, and I knew I was way, way too late to run. But there was still hope I'd die of embarrassment on my seat.

A faces of his parents, some of his classmates and co-workers followed, before picture settled on Lilly.

"I decided to ask people close to Michael a few questions about him. I think their answers will tell you more about my brother than I alone could."

The first (apparently) question got written on the screen.


And then back to me. And while Lilly's footage was practically brand new, with her numerous piercings and crazy hair dyes (says the girl with orange hair), the footage of me was very, very old. It was before I got the first Paolo makeover. I looked horrible, wearing my old strawberry pyjama, with red, sleepy eyes looking like I hadn't slept for a month.

And I tiredly blinked into the camera.

"Michael?" I repeated. "Who, Jackson?"

And everyone is the room laughed and I felt like I was on a brink of dying of embarrassment.

And I had no idea how bad it would get.

"No, my brother," Lilly didn't sound too happy.

"Oh, that Michael," I nodded and I swear I looked like I was hangover. "Why are you asking me this with a camera?"

"Just answer the question, Mia."

"Okay, okay … Michael, hmmm … well, he is a jerk," the fourteen-year-old me laughed, René especially loud, and the room laughed too as I hid my face in my hands. "It's like, every time I try to reach you, Lilly, I can't, because he is always on the internet, answering his fan mail. And so it is up to me to freak out all by myself in my room. Though, on the other hand, he has Pavlov, his dog, and dogs have this super instinct as to who is a good person and who isn't. And Pavlov adores Michael, therefore, it must mean Michael is a good person."

Lilly on the film didn't look too convinced.

"But doesn't your grandmother's dog adore her too?"

"Yeah, but that's different, Rommel is afraid of her. Why do you think he had OCD? I mean, I would scratch all my hair out if I had to be with her 24/7."

And all of my cousins exploded with laughter, and all I could think of what how dead I was. I didn't even dare to look at Grandmere – or anyone else in the room, for that matter.

Other people answered the question as well, but wishing my aneurysm would burst right there, right then kind of made me too occupied to follow the film.

Until the next question appeared.


And I was first up, again.

What was Lilly doing? Why was she showing this footage I didn't even remember making? To embarrass me or something? Or did she simply think it was cute? Well, IT WAS NOT. I WAS PLANNING ON HAVING SEX WITH MY BOYFRIEND THIS EVENING. AFTER MY GENIUS ANSWERS I'D BE LUCKY TO EVEN STILL HAVE A BOYFRIEND!

"I think he is making a bomb," I nodded with a lot of conviction. "I just hope he won't blow up the school. Though, given my grades, maybe that would not be such a bad idea."

Why couldn't I say working on Crackhead or studying or doing something equally smart, what others were suggesting?


I looked like I had no idea what to say. Actually, I looked pretty clueless otherwise. If I was watching myself, not knowing it was me, I would wonder how the girl even managed to dress herself.

"He eats cereal for breakfast?" I shrugged.


"He likes Buffy. And Star Wars," the film me nodded.

"You guys are such nerds," René laughed.

Yeah, just what I needed, thank you so much, René.


"I think he will invent something really smart, something computer-related. And move to Silicon Valley, I mean, people who invented Facebook and Twitter live there, right? Though I kind of doubt he'll be the founder of the next bug social media thing, he is not really a social butterfly."

Well, there was a time when I thought Britney was the best thing that had ever happened to music industry. I guess this video was just another proof that I did – at least a bit – grow up.

When it was over, everyone got up and again and clapped. René and Harry practically had to lift me up, but even standing up, I was avoiding looking at the stage as it was contagious.

"Relax, Princess, you were cute in that," Lars whispered, but Lars is growing out moustache, so it is obvious how reliable his opinion is.

And if I wasn't humiliated enough, then I had to go on stage. Luckily my cousins – with major assistance from Lars – pushed me on stage before Grandmere could get to me, so before a sweet death I would also have to talk to my still-boyfriend.

"Why did you do that for?" I hissed at Lilly when we passed her.

It was either today or at your wedding," she said, "though given you'd probably be intoxicated there, the wedding might be a better option."

"It was amazing, my dear," René quickly took over, "very modern, with a sophisticated touch only a handful of moviemakers possess."

I sometimes consider myself to be weird. Well, given how weird my family and friends are, I think it is a great success I am not even weirder. How I manage to function relatively normally in everyday-life, well, it is beyond me.

And then I saw Michael nearing me. For a moment I actually wondered if my face was on fire. That how red it must have been! And my vision got all blirry, so I couldn't really read his face.

Not that I ever can, but still.

"I am so embarrassed," I quickly said, "I swear, I have no idea when that was filmed and while I cannot be sure, I don't think I was perfectly…"

He didn't let me finish. He wrapped his arms around me, and before I could wonder too much, I found myself in the most movie-like kiss ever.

It was more The Notebook-like than The Notebook itself.

And since Rachel McAdams is so much prettier than me, I guess that says A LOT.

"I forbid you from whining any more, do you understand?" Michael then said in a very Mr Rochester voice. "It was cute."

A warmth overwhelmed my heart, but only until I saw Grandmere walking towards us. I lost all the sensation in my lower libs, and if Michael wasn't embracing me, I would slump to the floor and turn into a pancake, seriously.

"Michael, let me congratulate you," she said and he let me go. And then she hugged him. Yes. She hugged him, as Frederik was standing a metre away, patiently holding the Chanel bag with Rommel, goofily smiling himself.

I felt my jaw losing the fight with gravity yet again. Michael looked perfectly cool, though. Not at all as shocked as I was.

A perfect character to build a bomb, to say in my defence.

"Oh, Mia," she then turned to me, still smiling, but I know she is a master of disguise. Her smiling doesn't mean she isn't angry or anything. My breaths were so meagre, my brain must be starving for oxygen. "I have to tell you something."

"Oh?" my mind was too horrified making up various scenarios to let my mouth speak.

"Yes. Do you want a good or bad news first?"

And I had to choose! With my half-dead brain!

"Um… Good?"

I needed something good in that moment. I needed air. Even if a second later I would find myself with my neck slit.

"Well, the good news is that Contessa Trevanni called me this morning."

I frowned. How could anything in any connection with Contessa Trevanni be good news?

"Arne has proposed to her last night. And she accepted. Very nice for them, don't you think?" Grandmere looked genuinely content. And it was scary. Very scary. "Of course, she only wanted to rub it in my face. Since she is getting married and all ... oh well, there's more. That awful son of Arne's Kjetil, got Bella pregnant. Such a shame, such a young lady, with so potential, all ruined now. Of course I was kind enough to give Kjetil a job as a mail sorterer at the embassy. We have to be nice to though who have less than we do. Pfuit. "

She was grinning way too widely to seriously mean her words.

And she was looking at me, as if thinking that even if I got pregnant too soon, at least it would be by a world renowned genius with millions in his bank account.

Michael's arms around me tightened, and I figured he must be thinking the same.

It didn't look like she was about to tell me the bad news.

"Um… that's all nice and all, Grandmere, but what is the bad news?" I swallowed hard.

"Oh! Yes, well, Mia, I regret to tell you that Princess Lessons are cancelled," she said, as if meaning it a bit more than the statement regarding Bella.

I sighed with relief. I had no idea I had that much oxygen in my lungs!

"Oh, Grandmere, you already told me that we don't have Princess Lessons today!" I exclaimed.


"Mia, Frederik has asked me to spend summer with him, on his farm, in Sweden. And I said yes."

Something in my head started ringing.

"And I know it is only April, but I cannot possibly wait another month! Frederik has been telling me about the great Swedish dishes, and I am looking forward to trying to make them myself!"

And then she just leant very close to me and kissed me on the right cheek. JUST on the right cheek.

"Enjoy your summer, dear!" she said, turned around, took the bag with Rommel out of Frederik's hands, and walked away, from the stage out of the room.

"Well, that was unexpected." Michael said. "Looks like you're stuck with me for the summer."

"She will change her mind. She will change her mind," I said. I mean, hello, my grandmother spending the whole summer on a FARM? YEAH, RIGHT!

I went over to René. I found him at the refreshments table, pouring down glasses of free champagne, and telling anyone who was willing to listen that Michael was a friend of his. I was quite happy to see Lilly not being too happy with his intoxicated state.

"He is a friend of…" René already started before realizing it was me. "Oh, Mia. Our friend did great, didn't he?"

"René, Grandmere is off to Sweden with Frederik. She'll be gone for the whole summer."

He dropped the glass he was holding.

"Say what?" he repeated.

"She'll be gone for the summer," I repeated and my words were barely understandable, thanks to the laughter breaking in. the whole summer, the WHOLE summer with MICHAEL!

"Whoa!" René screamed and grabbed another bottle. "Whole summer? We don't have to go to Genovia!" and then he paused. "Wait, who will pay for my summer? I cannot afford living on my own for the whole summer." But then he just shook his head. "Never mind. Let's party!"

And he opened the bottle and climbed on the table. Which was an obvious sign for me to leave him.

I went back to Michael. He was talking to Sebastiano.

Or, rather, Sebastiano was talking to him and Michael just listened.

"I am tell you, this dress is not go for you. Come over to my stud and I will make you a perf dress, free of charge!"

Sebastiano's eyes went all big when he noticed me.

"And you too, Amelie! I will make you pret dress too!"

And then Harry too began screaming and Rocky started banging on the table and René started screaming Shania Twain songs, and just as I thought they would get kicked out, everyone started singing along. Dad and Gloria even started dancing and my Mum seemed to have drunk a few too many glasses to react to her son playing 'drums' I any other way that to clap and encourage him.

And that was when I went to the ladies' room.

Michael is still out there, talking to the reporters. After the event, he is supposed to go to lunch with his family. I am invited to come along, with my family and cousins. Though given the state of pretty much everyone, I think I might just go alone.


To Be Continued.


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#11 dbcWinter


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Posted 10 September 2016 - 07:52 AM

Saturday, April 5, Michael's place; much, much later


I still can't believe I will say this, but the afternoon went exactly as planned. Which obviously I cannot say very often.

We all went to lunch, and l got to meet members of Michael's team. Midori even gave me a big hug, as if really happy to see me. Honestly, I didn't really know what to think about it, because we never really met before. She just bought medication for me when I was visiting Michael and my immune system crashed. I can't believe I thought they were dating back then. But, if I think back to my week in Japan, I was high most of the time. Whether with overhydration, fever, meds or love.

After lunch, when Mr. G had to take my drunken mom home (she should totally wait with this reckless second-time teenage behavior of hers until I graduate. And since Rocky and René amazed the whole restaurant with their dead metal / drumming skills, I think my little brother is beyond help whether or not a miracle happens and he gets a sane mother overnight), my dad had to go back to working on his campaign, Michael's parents had their weekly session with a therapist (Michael says the only reason why they are going is to have someone else qualified decide which Dr. Moscovitz has a more correct opinion regarding the whichever psychological fact they are arguing that week), Lilly went to 'see Gretchen Weinberger about an Atom report', and cousins finally stopped talking about Dating Agency Mandy (I don't even know why they brought that up. And why they found it to be so funny. Yeah, it's funny if you want to get syphilis. Matchmaking services are not sanitary, at all!) and LEFT, Michael and I finally got some alone time.

We just sat there in the restaurant, drinking sparkling water, eating chocolate cake (Pierre totally makes it better), and playing footsie under the table (footsie is actually a rather nice game when you are the one playing it. And trust me, the presence of your bodyguard doesn't spoil it. Especially if your bodyguard is hitting on the hostess.).

When Lilly texted me, I suggested to Michael that we leave.

"And where do you want to go?" he said, caressing my cheek.

"How about your place?" I said. "I haven't been there before, you know."

Which, I have to say was totally his fault. Who buys and furnishes their apartment ONLINE, from another CONTINENT?

My boyfriend, that's who.

He should wait until he came back. And then I would go apartment scouting with him. And we'd buy furniture together, find the theme of his place. Because I am totally planning on spending lots of time there. And because we obviously won't get to furnish tour home after the wedding. Because we will be living in the palace.

"And we ditch Lars, and …" he leant closer to me and kissed me.

"Mhm," I giggled as he paid the bill.

Lars wasn't too happy about it, though.

"Can't you guys just order another cake or something?" he groaned. "I really like this chick and I think she likes me back."

(Well, at least he is not picking his girls at dating services!)

"Well, Lars, then why don't you stay here and I'll take Princess back to my place?" Michael suggested.

Lars clearly liked the idea very much. He kept ruffling his hair and looking back at the hostess, who kept smiling at him with her eyes, just like Tyra always says to the girls. And the royal portraitist is telling me (maybe I would know how to pull it off if I wanted to be a model).

"I mean, Lars," I decided to use a bit of that diplomacy my Grandmere always uses. And, I mean, if she managed to get a BOYFRIEND, then I too must be capable of using her tricks to my advantage. "If you go with us to Michael's, somebody might snatch her. And, really, wouldn't that be a waste, given you'll just escort us there, and then come running back here? And, not to mention, sweat all over your forehead wouldn't look that good."

"She has a point," Michael nodded. "Don't worry, I'll take care of the princess. I'll jump in front of the bus if there is a need."

"No, don't do that," Lars said. "It can be a trick. Double danger. First the bus, then the sniper. Just pull her out of the bus' way, so that you can look around for the guns."

"Noted," Michael grinned. "What if there's a third danger?"

"Then you are hailed a hero who did everything possible, but still couldn't save the princess," Lars told him.

"And the palace turns into a cat shelter, great," I said, "Lars, good luck, Michael, let's go."

And I got up and started dragging Michael to the door. Which, you have to admit, was very feminist. Kind of like the Beyoncé album, if you really think about it.

Hand in hand we walked over to Michael's place. At first we chatted about the new Star Wars, about the new Mumford and Sons music (they're like the only band we both like to listen to. It actually worries me, as I read on Twitter that couples who like the same music last longer. I totally tried to make Michael listen to Damien Rice (even René likes him, and René listens to Nicki Minaj), but he said it was too depressing. Well, hello, that's the point of Damien Rice. And like Bob is any better. Boys.), and then we just giggled. I mean, how we could not – we had the afternoon and the consequent night all to ourselves, not to mention, the whole summer, because Grandmere will be off to a farm in Sweden (this totally reminds me of something. I just can't pinpoint what. But whatever.).

Then we finally got there. I could barely contain my excitement, I swear. I just wanted to get magic powers and transport us to his living room, where his surprise was waiting. The elevator ride, the walk to his apartment, his fumbling for the keys and opening the door just DRAGGED.

Of course Michael noticed.

"What's up with you?" he grinned.

"I have a surprise for you," I told him.

"Yeah, I know," he laughed, taking a break from looking for his keys to kiss me.

"No," I pushed him away, which, given his smell, was really hard, "something else. A surprise."

"I thought you said you weren't here yet."

"Its magic," I said and took the keys, opening the door myself (Beyoncé would be proud).

"Come on," I urged him, grabbing his arm and dragging him to where I thought the living room was. Which, obviously, was a shot in the dark, so I ended up in the kitchen. But in a true feminist fashion I kept trying until I succeed it.

There, in front of the sofa, were two little folding tables. On one a tray with veggie burgers from Balducci's, ketchup, mayo, mustard and two cans of Coke (for the sake of authenticity I didn't even get a diet one for myself), and on the other were sundaes.

And on TV – large screen that probably cost enough to feed Johanna's family for at least five years – was the title image of the first Star Wars. Lilly even lowered the shades, so that the room was completely in the dark, only illuminated by the screen.

For once, I wasn't the one speechless.

"What is this?" Michael gasped.

"Oh, come on," I laughed. "Don't tell me you don't know what this is!"

"Well, I… Did you prepare all this?"

"Stop changing the subject, otherwise I will really start thinking you don't know what this is," I told him. "And, no, I don't exactly know how to clone myself, Michael. Lilly did it for me."

"And why did you feel like the reenactment of our first date was needed?" he asked, pulling me closer.

"So you do remember?" I smiled, throwing my arms around his neck.

"Of course I do."

"Well," I said. "In a way, we are starting fresh, don't we?"

"I'd say every day with you is something completely fresh," he smiled.

"Yeah, well, with my cousins, sure," I laughed.

Michael looked at the tables again.

"You know," he said, "we just had lunch hand all those desserts. I am not really hungry right now."

"Well, I was thinking that that's for later."

"Good," he said, and lifted me up. Then he, with me in his arms, walked out of the living room, presumably to the bedroom. But, hey, I wasn't the only one completely disorientated. Which, obviously, was totally his fault for buying an apartment online. He has no idea how lucky he is that he didn't end up buying a cabin in the forests in Vermont, with mold instead of wallpaper, with plumbing as bad as in Genovian Royal Palace, and maple syrup factory standing where the garage should be.

When we were finally in the bedroom, he threw me on the bed and the way he kissed me was pretty advanced for the first date. But I still didn't apprweciate it when he suddenly stopped.

"What?" I asked.

"Just a sec," he beamed at me, getting up and running out of the room.

Well, you know, they say that all the geniuses are crazy.

I sighed and leant on my elbows. I looked around and saw a bunch of framed photographs on the night stand. There was Pavlov – who Michael was to pick up tomorrow from Lilly -, his family, me, us, another photograph of what I presumed were his team members, just a bit more multicultural looking, and then there was a picture at which I wasn't completely sure what it was. I picked it up to get a better look.

I realized it was picturing a street. It didn't look like New York, so I figured it was in Tsukuba. There were street performers, lots of stands with people lining up in front, and everything was so colorful. I always thought Sebastiano was the definition of colorful, but this was just way off the chart.

I was so mesmerized I didn't even hear Michael sitting down next to me.

"Where was this taken?" I asked him.

"Tokyo," he smiled.

"It's so lively," I said.

"Yeah, it was something really special," he said, taking the picture out of my hands, putting it back down among the others. "I have something for you, again."

And he handed me a small, flat box that looked very familiar. He opened it, smiling, and I gasped.

"Oh, my god," I said, reaching out to take the snowflake necklace.

"You gave it back to me once," Michael said, "but I think it is time you got it back. If, of course, you still want it."

"Of course I do," I said, still completely taken aback. "I didn't think I'd ever see it again. Why didn't you tell me you kept it?"

"I waited for the right opportunity," he said, taking it from my hands, and I turned around so that he could put it on me, again.

"I missed it, so much," I said, placing my fingers over it.

"If you want, I can have a diamond put in," he told me.

"No way," I shook my head and kissed him. In a true mix of French and feminist way.

And then I got some really good material for the sequel to Ransom My Heart.

And now I am in the bathroom, dressed in my new favorite Britney T-shirt (it turns out Sebastiano has been working on that collection lately again, and he gave some samples to Michael, as a, in his words, welc gif), that goes:

Sometimes a girl just needs one

To love her and to hold

And when a girl is with one

Then she's in control!

Which, if you ask me, would totally pass as feminist lyrics.

And I think now I am going to go wake Michael up, because I totally want that sundae. It will be like a cherry on top of my ecstatically happy princessy life.

Or maybe I'll just turn Ransom My Heart into a trilogy.

Or a series.

The never-ending one.

The End.


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