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
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!
WHAT WILL I DO NOW?
AND I THOUGHT MISSING MICHAEL'S HOME COMING BECAUSE OF THE STUPID EMBASSY EVENT WAS A PROBLEM?
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.
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!
MY NOSE LOOKS PERFECTLY FINE THANKS TO THE MIXTURE OF MAGIC POWDERS HE PUT ON MY NOSE!
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
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 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.