Whatever Shangri-la is.
How dare they try to keep me from it? AEHS, I mean. HOW DARE THEY??????????
Oh, someone is at the door. Please let it be Michael with the rest of my homework. Not because I’m desperate to do the rest of my homework, but because if I have ever needed to be comforted with the smell of Michael’s neck, it’s now….
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
Thursday, May 8, later, the loft
Well, it wasn’t Michael. But it was close. It was a Moscovitz.
Just the wrong one.
I really think Lilly has some nerve coming around here after what she put me through. I mean, Asperger’s or not. She has made my life a perfect hell these past few days, and then she shows up at my door, crying, and begging to be forgiven?
But what could I do? I couldn’t exactly slam the door in her face. Well, I could have, of course, but it would have been terribly unprincesslike.
Instead, I invited her in—but coldly. Very coldly. Who’s the wea
k one NOW, I’d like to know????
We went into my room. I shut the door (I’m allowed to shut my bedroom door so long as anybody but Michael is inside there with me).
And Lilly let loose.
Not, as I was expecting, with the heartfelt apology I deserved for her dreadful treatment of me, dragging my good name and royal lineage across the airwaves in the manner she had.
Oh, no. Nothing like that. Instead, Lilly is crying because she heard about Tina and Boris.
That’s right. Lilly’s crying because she wants her boyfriend back.
Seriously! And after the way she’d treated him!
I’m just sitting here in stunned silence, staring at Lilly as she rants. She’s stomping around my room in her Mao jacket and Birkenstocks, shaking her glossy curls, her eyes, behind the lenses of her glasses (I guess revolutionaries working to empower the people don’t wear their contacts), filled with bitter tears.
“How could he?” she keeps wailing. “I turn my back for five minutes—five minutes!—and he runs off with another girl? What can he be thinking?”
I can’t help but point out that perhaps Boris was thinking about seeing her, Lilly, his girlfriend, with another boy’s tongue down her throat. In MY hallway closet, no less.
“Boris and I never vowed to see each other exclusively,” she insists. “I told him that I am like a restless bird… I can’t be tied down.”
“Well.” I shrug. “Maybe he’s more into the roosting type.”
“Like Tina, you mean?” Lilly rubs her eyes. “I can’t believe she could do this to me. I mean, doesn’t she realize that she’ll never make Boris happy? He’s a genius, after all. It takes a genius to know how to handle a fellow genius.”
I remind Lilly, somewhat stiffly, that I am no genius, but I seem to be handling her brother, whose IQ is 179, quite well.
I don’t mention the whole part about him still refusing to go to the prom and the fact that we haven’t gotten to second base yet.
“Oh, please,” Lilly scoffs. “Michael’s gaga for you. Besides, at least you’re in Gifted and Talented. You get to observe geniuses in action on a daily basis. What does Tina know about them? Why, I don’t think she’s even seen A Beautiful Mind! Because Russell doesn’t take his shirt off enough in it, no doubt.”
“Hey,” I say harshly. I’d noticed this about A Beautiful Mind, too, and I think it’s a valid criticism. “Tina is my friend. A way better friend to me than you’ve been, lately.”
Lilly has the grace to look guilty.
“I’m sorry about all that, Mia,” she says. “I swear I don’t know what came over me. I just saw Jangbu and I… well, I guess I became a slave to my own lust.”
I must say, I am very surprised to hear this. Because while Jangbu is, of course, quite a hottie, I never knew physical attraction was important to Lilly. I mean, after all, she’s been going out with Boris for, like, ever.