Princess on the Brink (The Princess Diaries 8)

And even though Michael was trying to explain—as patiently as if I were Rocky showing him my truck over and over—all I could hear inside my head was “could take up to a year. Or more. But it’s a fantastic opportunity—one I can’t turn down. Could take up to a year. Or more. But it’s a fantastic opportunity—one I can’t turn down.”

Michael is moving to Japan. For a year. Or more.

He leaves Friday.

You can see why I had to excuse myself. Because in what universe does something like this make any sense? In Bizarro Universe, maybe. But not MY universe. Not the universe Michael and I share.

Or the one I used to think we shared.

Even as the words were still batting around in my mind—could take up to a year. Or more. But it’s a fantastic opportunity—one I can’t turn down—and I was like, “Wow, Michael. That is so great. I’m so happy for you,” this voice in my head was going,

“Is it because of ME?”

And then, somehow, the voice got OUTSIDE of my head, and before I could stuff them back, the words were coming out of my mouth: “Is it because of ME?”

And Michael blinked and was like, “What?”

It was a total nightmare. Because even though, inside my head, I was like, “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up,” my mouth seemed to have a will of its own. A second later, before I could stop it, my mouth was going, “Is it because of me? Are you moving to Japan because I did something?” And then my mouth went, “Or DIDN’T do something?”

And I wanted to shove all the cold sesame noodles in the world into it, just to shut myself up.

But Michael was already shaking his head. “No, of course not. Mia, don’t you see? This is such an incredible opportunity. This company already has mechanical engineers working on drafts of my design. MY design. Something I made, which could change the course of modern surgery as we know it. Of course I have to be there.”

“But do they have to do it in Japan?” my mouth asked. “Don’t they have mechanical engineers here in Manhattan? I’m almost sure they do. I think Ling Su’s dad is one!”

“Mia,” Michael explained, “this is the most innovative and cutting-edge robotics research group in the world. They’re based in Tsukuba, which is basically the Silicon Valley of Japan. That’s where their labs are, their research facilities. All their equipment is there…everything I need to turn my prototype into a working model. I have to go there.”

“But you’ll be back,” I said. My brain was starting to take control of my mouth again. Thank God. “For, like, Thanksgiving break and Christmas and Spring Break and all of that.” Because the wheels in my mind were spinning, and I was thinking, Well, okay, this won’t be so bad. Sure, my boyfriend will be in Japan, but I’ll still see him during vacations. It won’t be THAT different than during the school year. And this way I’ll have more time to really buckle down and maybe figure out what Mr. Hipskin is talking about in Chemistry and just what the heck is going on in Precalculus and maybe even study enough to do a little better on my math SATs, and, what the heck, maybe I’ll even stick with student government after all, and I’ll be able to finish my screenplay AND maybe a novel…

And that’s when Michael reached across the table and said, “Mia, there’s sort of a time crunch with this project. If we’re going to get it out on the market as soon as we possibly can, we can’t take time off. So…no, I won’t be home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. I probably won’t be home until next summer, by which point we should have something we can demonstrate in an actual surgical setting.”

I heard the words coming out of his mouth. I knew he was speaking English. But just like with Mr. Hipskin in Chemistry class, what Michael was saying made no sense. Next summer is a year from now. Basically Michael was saying he was going to be gone—not see me—for a YEAR.

And okay, sure, I could fly to Japan to see him. In my dreams. Because NO WAY am I going to be able to talk my dad into letting me take the royal Genovian jet to Japan to see my boyfriend.

And no way would they let me fly commercial. All the air marshals in the world wouldn’t satisfy Grandmère—let alone my dad—that commercial air traffic is safe for royals.

That’s when I excused myself. That’s why I’m sitting here. Because none of this makes any sense.

I don’t care how good an opportunity it is.

I don’t care how much money he stands to make from th

is, or how many thousands of lives he might save.

Why would any guy who loves his girlfriend as much as Michael claims to love me want to be apart from her for a YEAR?

And Kevin Yang is no help on this subject. He just shrugged when I asked him this, and went, “I never understood Michael from the day he first came in here when he was ten years old. He asked for hot chili oil for my dumplings. Like they are not spicy enough!”

And Lars, who poked his head in here a minute ago to see where I disappeared to, just went, “Well, you know. Sometimes guys just have to do these things to prove themselves.”

To WHOM? Aren’t I the only one who should matter? I don’t want Michael to go to Japan for a year.

And excuse me, but it’s not like he’s going off to the Gobi Desert to do chin-ups and shoot at cardboard cutouts of terrorists like Lars did when HE decided he needed to prove himself. He’s just going to some computer lab in Japan!

And yes, I understand that his robotic arm thingie could save thousands of lives.

BUT WHAT ABOUT MY LIFE?