Princess Mia (The Princess Diaries 9)

Not that I don’t think J.P. deserves everybody’s praise and thanks.

It’s just that…that thing Tina said? It’s really true. It’s like everyone in the world is rooting for J.P. and me to go out—not including everyone who already thinks we ARE going out.

And I feel totally bad for resenting it, because J.P. really is a great guy, and we totally SHOULD be dating.

It’s just—how come everybody wasn’t this gung-ho about Michael and me going out? I mean, sure, Michael never saved me from exploding nitrostarch.

But he saved my sanity PLENTY of times.

And it’s not like he’s over there in Japan learning how to draw MANGAS or something like that. He’s over there building something that’s going to save people’s lives.

Jeesh.

Thursday, September 23, PE

Oh my God. I KNEW it was going to happen. I knew there was going to be a price to pay for being chummy with Lana Weinberger:

She’s making me cut class with her.

And, okay, the only class I’m missing is PE, which isn’t exactly integral to my academic career.

But still! I’m so not a class-ditching type of girl!

Well, I mean, I’ve ditched…but usually only to sit in the third-floor stairwell to talk someone—generally MYSELF—through an emotional trauma…not to go to Starbucks.

But Lana and Trisha were waiting for me in the girls’ locker room when I got there today. They grabbed me and hustled me—right past Lars, who’d been leaning against the wall by the water fountain playing Fantasy Football on his cell phone—out of school and down the street. (Lars finally caught up around Seventy-seventh Street.) Lana said she really, really needed a nonfat mocha latte, and that she can’t possibly sit through Spanish (the class she has this period) anyway, because it’s right beneath the Chem lab, and that whole side of the school still reeks of smoke.

“Besides,” Lana said, “with all the reporters stand

ing around outside, trying to get interviews with Principal Gupta about Beaker, it’s not like we’re going to obtenga cualquier trabajo a hecho, anyway.”

Which is no exaggeration. Our school is still the center of a media blitzkrieg, though the reporters are keeping off the school property, with the help of the NYPD, whom the school board apparently called in for crowd control.

However, we managed to get past them without my being recognized thanks to draping our blazers over our heads and running for it. Which was educational, in that it illustrated how it might feel to have to wear a burka.

“So,” Lana said, once we were all seated. “Everyone’s saying that J.P. guy saved your life. Are you two, like, going out?”

“No,” I said, feeling myself beginning to blush.

“Dude, why not?” Trisha ordered a nonfat no-whip caffè mocha and was blowing on it to cool it off. “Saving your life? That’s hot.”

“Yeah.” My cheeks felt as warm as my hot chocolate. “I just—you know. I’m just coming out of a long-term relationship, and I don’t know if I’m ready to jump back into another right now.”

“I hear you,” Lana said. “That’s how I’ve felt ever since I broke up with Josh. We’re young, you know? We have to play the field. Who needs to be tied down to one guy when you’re SIXTEEN?”

“I’d like to be tied down to Skeet Ulrich,” Trisha volunteered.

“It’s just…,” I said, ignoring the Skeet Ulrich remark. Although, you know, ditto. “I really love Michael. And the idea of being with some other guy…I don’t know. It doesn’t do anything for me.”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Lana said, slurping some nonfat foam from her wooden stirrer. “After Josh and I broke up, I was like, who can ever replace Josh, you know? Because he’s, like, so tall and hot and smart and good about hanging out in the boyfriend chair while I’m shopping.”

“Totally,” Trisha said, nodding in agreement, “good about that. A lot of guys aren’t. You’d be surprised.”

“So I was really reluctant, you know, to hook up with anyone,” Lana went on, “because I just didn’t want to get hurt again. But then I thought, I need to make a new start. You know? Like a do-over. So I went to a party. And that’s where I met Blaine.”

“Blaize,” Trisha corrected her.

“Was that his name?” Lana looked far away. “Oh, yeah. Well, whatever. He was, like, my rebound guy. And after that I was totally cured.”