Party Princess (The Princess Diaries 7)

Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo

Dear Dr. Carl Jung,

I realize that you are still dead. However, things have suddenly gotten much worse.

And now I’m not worried so much about transcending my ego and achieving self-actualization.

Instead, I’m worried about my friends.

Not that I don’t have my own problems, of course. But now I’ve learned that my boyfriend’s parents are splitting up. Dr. Jung, this could devastate a young man in his prime like Michael. Not only is it clearly breaking his heart, but it could give him abandonment issues that I fear will have a trickle-down effect into MY relationship with him. I mean, what if, from his parents’ example, Michael learns that walking away from a relationship is the way to handle conflict?

This could totally happen. I know because I saw it once on Dr. Phil.

And the fact is, there is conflict going on in our relationship RIGHT NOW, due to an ill-timed sexy dance on my part.

Could things possibly GET any worse? PLEASE SEND HELP.

Your friend,

Mia Thermopolis

Monday, March 8, midnight, the loft

You know what this reminds me of? “No More Corn!” Seriously. The part where the nameless main character is wandering the streets of Manhattan, surrounded by people and yet, ultimately, so very, very alone. So alone that he realizes he has no choice but to step in front of that F train.

Which if you think about it is a very selfish thing to do since the poor conductor driving the train will be traumatized for life because of it.

Still. It is like my life has started imitating my ART!!! Seriously!!! My fictional story is coming true—only not for J.P.

For ME.

The thing is, as soon as I got in the limo, I sent Michael a long e-mail via Lars’s Sidekick, telling him how much I loved him, and how sorry I was, both about his parents and for my being so immature and self-centered. And for the sexy dance.

I fully expected to get a long e-mail back from him by the time I got home, saying he loved me, too, and that he forgave me for being such a weirdo at his party.

But he didn’t write back.

At all.

I can’t believe this. I mean, what do I do NOW? I already sent him a “Sorry” cookie. I have no idea what to do next. I’d buy him a ride on the space shuttle if I thought it would help. But I don’t think it would.

Besides, I can’t afford a ride on the space shuttle. I can’t even afford a TOY space shuttle.

As if all that weren’t enough, Michael’s parting words to me keep echoing in my head: “Mia, I don’t want a party girl. All I want is—”

All I want is…WHAT?

I will probably never know. But I can’t help worrying

that, whatever it is Michael wants, I’m not it.

And right now, I can’t say I blame him.

Tuesday, March 9, the limo on the way to school

So Lilly was just all, “Oh my God, what happened to YOU?” when she got into the car.

And I was like, “What do you mean?”