Princess on the Brink (The Princess Diaries 8)

I reached up and undid the snowflake necklace from around my neck. The snowflake necklace he’d given me on my fifteenth birthday. I held it out to him, the way Arwen gave her necklace—the Evenstar—to Aragorn, as a parting gift to remember her by as he attempted to regain his throne in an effort to win her father’s approval.

Only I was giving Michael his necklace back—not because I wanted him to keep it to remember me by.

But because I didn’t want it anymore.

Because suddenly that snowflake was just a reminder of who ELSE had been at that dance—Judith Gershner.

And, okay, she’d been there with another guy. That girl really seemed to get around. But still.

The thing is, it was totally different for Aragorn and Arwen. Because Aragorn never Did It with a girl who knew how to clone fruit flies. And then lied about it.

And okay, only by omission. But still.

He NEVER TOLD ME. What ELSE hasn’t he told me???? HOW CAN I TRUST HIM WHEN HE GOES TO JAPAN????

“Mia,” Michael said, this time in a totally different voice. Not like he was choked up, like Aragorn had been. But like he wanted to punch me in the face. Which I knew he’d never do. But still. He looked pretty angry. “Do. Not. Do. This.”

“Good-bye, Michael,” I said with a sob. Because WHAT ELSE WAS THERE TO SAY?

And I dropped the necklace on the floor—because he wouldn’t take it—and ran out of there before I choked on my own tears.

And now Ephrain Kleinschmidt has pulled up in front of my building and wants seventeen dollars. I’m going to give him a twenty and let him keep the change as a tip. I owe him that much, at least, for all the Kleenex. Which I finally did start using, because I totally can’t stop crying. There’s no WAY I’m going to be able to hide what happened from my mom. If she’s still up when I get inside, anyway.

If this is what self-actualization feels like, all I have to say is, I was a lot happier before I became self-actualized.

Thursday, September 9, 11 p.m., the loft

Mom was up. Because Lars, not finding me at Michael’s, called her. They were talking as I walked through the door.

I’m in bed now with a cool washcloth over my forehead. That’s because when she hung up with Lars and asked me where I’d been, I had to run for the toilet, where I threw up my bluefin tuna two ways with artichoke salad with fava beans and scallions and Parmesan shavings. Not to mention the chocolate mousse.

I’ve gotten her to promise not to call Dr. Fung’s emergency service. The only thing about me that’s sick is my heart.

And I’m pretty sure Dr. Fung doesn’t have a prescription for what’s wrong with it.

Thursday, September 9, 11:30 p.m., the loft

Mom says she doesn’t think Michael not telling me about losing his virginity to Judith Gershner is that big a deal—not worth breaking up with him over, anyway. Her exact words were, “Oh, Mia. It’s just SEX.”

That’s easy for her to say. She lost her virginity when she was younger than me, and to a guy who is now married to a former CORN PRINCESS. AND she’s happily married to someone else. Of course it’s just SEX to her. To me, it’s my LIFE.

“Mom, he

LIED to me,” I said.

“Well, he didn’t EXACTLY lie,” Mom said. “I mean, you asked him if he and Judith were going out. And they weren’t.”

“Mom. GOING OUT implies sleeping together.”

“Since when?” Mom wanted to know. “I thought HOOKING UP meant sleeping together. And you didn’t ask Michael that. You asked him if he and Judith were GOING OUT.”

The reason we both know this is because I went back through my old diaries, just to make sure I was right.

And I was.

“Are you sure you didn’t pick a fight with Michael over this because it’s easier for you to cope with him being gone if you’re mad at him than if you were still loving him, and missing him all the time?” was her next totally off-the-wall question.

Yeah, right, Mom. Because I am feeling SO MUCH BETTER NOW.