Forever Princess (The Princess Diaries 10)

“Of course,” she said. “You’re right. Only, Mia…don’t you think—”

Only I never found out what it was Tina wanted to know that I thought, because my cell phone buzzed. And there was a text message back from J.P.

And it said:

HOTEL ROOM ALREADY SECURED. ALL SYSTEMS GO. LUV U.

So. Great!

That’s taken care of. Yay! I’m about to become devirginized.

Go me.

Tuesday, May 2, 6 p.m., the loft

Daphne Delacroix

1005 Thompson Street, Apt. 4A

New York, NY 10003

Dear Ms. Delacroix,

We regret that we are unable to publish the enclosed material. Thank you for giving us the opportunity to read it.

Sincerely,

The Editors

And…the hits just keep coming.

I walked into the loft and found (besides this letter) Mom with every college-acceptance packet I’ve ever received spread out on the floor and Rocky sitting in the middle of it all like the stamen of a flower (if the stamen of a flower ever drank from a Dora the Explorer sippy cup). Mom looked at me and went, “We’re picking a college for you. Tonight.”

“Mom,” I said crankily. “If this is about J.P. and the ring thing—”

“This is about you,” Mom said. “And your future.”

“I’m going to college, all right? I said I’d choose one by the election. I’ve got till then. I can’t handle this right now, I’ve got a Trig final tomorrow I have to study for now.”

Also, I’m going to be devirginized after the prom on Saturday. Only I didn’t mention this part to her. Obviously.

“I want to discuss this now,” Mom said. “I want you to make an informed choice, not just pick any old place because your father is pressuring you.”

“And I don’t want to go to some Ivy League college,” I said, “that I didn’t deserve to get into and that just let me in because I’m a princess.” I was fully stalling for time, because all I wanted to do was go into my room and try to digest the whole losing-my-virginity-on-Saturday thing. And the fact that Lilly Moscovitz, my ex-best friend, knew about it. Was she going to tell her brother?

No. She wouldn’t. She didn’t care about me anymore. So why would she?

Except to totally and completely annihilate me in his eyes even further than I have been already by my own idiotic behavior.

“Then don’t go to some Ivy League college,” Mom said. “Go to some college you might have had a shot at getting into without the princess thing. Let me help you pick a place. Please, Mia, for the love of God. Don’t tell me your future degree is an MRS.”

“What’s that?” I asked her.

“Mrs. Reynolds-Abernathy IV,” she said.

“It’s a PROMISE ring,” I yelled at her. God! Why doesn’t anyone listen to me? And why, when I’d been getting my feet done with all those girls who’d had sex, hadn’t I asked them more questions about it? I know I wrote about it in my romance novel. I’ve certainly READ about it quite a bit.

But that’s not the same as actually doing it, you know?