Mia Goes Fourth

at our school, so usually when I see him he is in grey flannel pants, as that is part of our uniform.

It seemed to take my mom a minute to digest all this. When she had, all she said was, 'I respect that you want to take things with Michael slowly, Mia. But I do think that if you haven't seen a boy in a month, and he leaves a message for you, the

decent thing to do is to call him back. If you don't, I think you can pretty much guarantee he is going to run. And not like a startled fawn, either.'

I blinked at my mom. She had a point. I saw then that Grandmere's scheme — you know, of always keeping the man you

love guessing as to whether or not you love him back — had some pitfalls. Such as, he could just decide you don't like him, and take off, and maybe fall in love with some other girl of whose affection he could be assured, like Judith Gershner,

president of the Computer Club and all-round prodigy, even though supposedly she is dating a boy from Trinity, but you

never know, that could be a ruse to lull me into a false sense of security about Michael and put my guard down, thinking he

is safe from Judith's fruit-fly-cloning clutches . . .

'Mia,' my mom said, looking at me all concerned. 'Are you all right?'

I tried to smile, but I couldn't. How, I wondered, could Tina and I have overlooked this very serious flaw in our plan? Even now, Michael could be on the phone to Judith, or some other equally intellectual girl, talking about quasars or photons or whatever it is smart people talk about.

'Mom,' I said, standing up. 'You have to go. I have to call him.'

I was glad the panic that was clutching my throat wasn't audible in my voice.

'Oh, Mia,' my mom said, looking pleased. 'I really think you should. Charlotte Bronte is, of course, a brilliant author, but

you've got to remember, she wrote Jane Eyre back in the 1840s, and things were a little different then.'

'Mom,' I said. Lilly and Michael's parents, the Drs. Moscovitz, have this totally hard and fast rule about calling after eleven

on schoolnights. It is verboten. And guess what, it was practically eleven. And my mom was still standing there, keeping

me from having the privacy I would need if I were going to make this all-important call.

'Oh,' she said, smiling. Even though she is pregnant, my mom is still somewhat of a babe, with all this long black hair that

curls just right. Clearly I had inherited my dad's hair, which I've actually never seen, since he's always been bald since

I've known him.

DNA is so unfair.

Anyway, FINALLY she left - pregnant women move SO slowly, I swear you would think evolution would have made

them quicker so they could get away from predators or whatever, but I guess not - and I lunged for the phone, my heart pounding because at last, AT LAST, I was going to get to talk to Michael, and my mom had even said that it was all right,

that my calling him wouldn't count as chasing since he'd called me first. . .

. . . and just as I was about to pick up the receiver, the phone rang. My heart actually did this flippy thing inside my chest,

like it does every time I see Michael. It was Michael calling, I just knew it. I picked up after the second ring -even though

I didn't want him dumping me for some more attentive girl, I didn't want him to think I was sitting by the phone waiting for

him to call, either - and said, in my most sophisticated tone, 'Hello?'

Grandmere's cigarette-ravaged voice filled my ear. Amelia?' she rasped. 'Why do you sound like that? Are you coming

down with something?'

'Grandmere.' I couldn't believe it. It was ten fifty-nine! I had exactly one minute left to call Michael without running the risk

of the wrath of his parents. 'I can't talk now. I have to make another call.'

'Pfiiit!' Grandmere made her traditional noise of disapproval. And who would you be calling at this hour, as if I didn't know?'

'Grandmere.' Ten fifty-nine and a half. 'It's OK. He called me first. I am returning his call. It is the polite thing to do.'

'It's too late for you to be calling that boy,' Grandmere said.

Eleven o'clock. I had missed my opportunity. Thanks to Grandmere.

'You'll see him at school tomorrow, anyway,' she went on. 'Now, let me speak to your mother.'

'My mother?' I was shocked by this. Grandmere never talks to my mom, if she can help it. They haven't gotten along since

my mom refused to marry my dad after she got pregnant with me, on account of her not wanting her child to be subjected

to the vicissitudes of a progenitive aristocracy , ,

'Yes, your mother,' Grandmere said. 'Surely you've heard of her.'

So I went out and passed the phone to my mom, who was sitting in the living room with Mr. Gianini, watching Absolutely Fabulous. I didn't tell her who was on the phone, because if I had, my mom would have told me to tell Grandmere that she was in the shower, and then I would have had to talk to her some more.

'Hello?' my mom said, all brightly, thinking it was one of her friends calling to comment on the high jinks of Eddie and Patsy.

I slunk out as fast I could. There were several heavy objects lying around the couch that my mom could have hurled in my direction if I'd stayed within missile range.

Back in my room, I tried to figure out what to do about Michael. What was I going to say to him tomorrow, when Lars and

I pulled up in the limo to pick up him and Lilly before school? That I'd gotten in too late to call? What if he noticed my nostrils flaring as I spoke? I don't know if he's figured out that they do that when I lie, but I think I'd sort of mentioned it to Lilly, since

I have a complete inability to keep my mouth shut about stuff I really should just keep to myself, and supposing she told him?

Then, as I sat there dejectedly on my bed, pretty sleepy because in Genovia it was five in the morning, I had a brilliant idea.

I could see if Michael was logged on, and instant message him! I could do it even though my mom was on the phone with Grandmere, because we have DSL now!

So I scrambled over to my computer and did just that. And he was online!

Michael, I wrote. Hi, it's me! I'm home! I wanted to call you, but it's after eleven,

and I didn't want your mom and dad to get mad.

Michael has changed his screen name since the demise of Crackhead. Now he's no longer CracKing. He's LinuxRulz.

LinuxRulz: Welcome home! It's good to hear from you. I was worried you were dead or something.

So he had noticed I'd stopped calling! Which meant the plan that Tina and I had come up with was working perfectly.

At least, so far.

FtLouie: No, not dead. Just super-busy. You know, fate of the aristocracy resting on

my shoulders and all of that. So should Lars and I pick you and Lilly up for school tomorrow?

LinuxRulz: That'd be good. What are you doing Friday?

What am I doing Friday? Was he asking me out? Were Michael and I actually going to have a date? At last????