Princess in Pink (The Princess Diaries 5)

It is strange how even though I don’t like seeing blood in movies and stuff, in real life, it didn’t bother me a bit. Seeing Boris’s blood, I mean. Because I had to sit with my head between my knees in Bio that time they showed the acupuncture film. But seeing that blood spurt out of Boris’s skull in real life didn’t cause me so much as a twinge.

Maybe I’ll have a delayed reaction, or something. You know, like post-traumatic stress disorder.

Although, to be frank, if all of this princess stuff hasn’t caused me PTSD, I highly doubt seeing my best friend’s ex-boyfriend drop a globe on his head is going to do it.

Uh-oh. Here comes Principal Gupta.

Monday, May 5, French

Mia, is it true about Boris? Did he really try to kill himself during fifth period by stabbing himself in the chest with a protractor?—Tina

Of course not. He tried to kill himself by dropping a globe on his head.

OH, MY GOD!!!!!!!! Is he going to be all right?

Yes, thanks to the quick action of Michael and me. He’ll probably have a bad headache for a few days, though. The worst part was talking to Principal Gupta. Because of course she wanted to know why he did it. And I didn’t want Lilly to get in trouble, or anything. Not that it’s Lilly’s fault, or anything. Well, I guess it sort of is….

Of course it is!!!!! You don’t think she could have handled the whole thing a little better? My God, she was practically Frenching Jangbu right in front of Boris! So what did you say to Principal Upchuck?

Oh, you know, the usual. Boris must have cracked under all the pressure AEHS teachers put on us, and why can’t the administration cancel finals like they did in Harry Potter 2. Only she didn’t listen, because it’s not like anyone is dead, or a giant snake was chasing us around, or anything.

Still, it is fully the most romantic thing I have ever heard. Only in my wildest dreams would a man be so desperate to win back my heart that he’d do something like drop a globe on his head.

I know! If you ask me, Lilly is totally rethinking the Jangbu thing. At least, I think so. I actually haven’t seen her since it all happened.

My God, who knew that all this time, inside Boris’s spindly chest beat the heart of a Heathcliff-like lover?

Tcha! I wonder if his spirit is going to roam around East 75th Street the way Heathcliff’s roamed around the moor. You know, after Cathy died.

I kind of always thought Boris was cute. I mean, I know mouth breathers annoy you, but you have to admit, he has very beautiful hands.

HANDS? Who cares about HANDS?????

Um, they are slightly important. Hello. They’re what guys TOUCH you with.

You are sick, Tina. Very sick.

Although that might be the pot calling the kettle black given my whole neck thing with Michael. But whatever. I have never ADMITTED that to anyone. Out loud.

Monday, May 5, in the limo on the way to princess lessons

I am so totally the star of the school. As if the princess thing were not enough, now it’s going all around Albert Einstein that Michael and I saved Boris’s life. My God, we are like the Dr. Kovac and Nurse Abby of AEHS!!!!!!!!! And Michael even LOOKS a little like Dr. Kovac. You know, with the dark hair and the gorgeous chest and all.

I don’t even know why my mother is bothering with a midwife. She should just have me deliver the baby. I could so totally do it. All I’d need is, like, some scissors and a catcher’s mitt. Jeez.

God. I am going to have to rethink this whole writer thing. My talents may lie in a completely different sphere.

Monday, May 5, lobby of the Plaza

Lars just told me that to get into medical school you actually have to have good grades in math and science. I can see why you’d have to know science, but why MATH?????? WHY?????? Why is the American educational system conspiring against me to keep me from reaching my career goals?

Monday, May 5, on the way home from the Plaza

Trust Grandmère to burst my bubble. I was still riding high from the medical miracle I’d performed back at school— well, it WAS a miracle: a miracle I didn’t pass out from the sight of all that blood—when Grandmère was like, “So when can I schedule your fitting at Chanel? Because I’ve put a dress on hold there that I think will be perfect for this little prom you’re so excited about, but if you want it on time, you’ll have to have it fitted in the next day or so.”

So then I had to explain to her that Michael and I still weren’t going to the prom.

She didn’t react to the news like a normal grandmother, of course. A normal grandmother would have been all sympathetic and would have patted my hand and given me some home-baked cookies or a dollar or something.