Temptation Island over it, but it turned out he didn't.
The girl who played me was way prettier than I am in real life. My mom says that's not true, but I know it is.
I guess I can see why Lilly is so mad, though. I mean, her character wasn't exactly supportive of mine for a good
two-thirds of the movie.
The guy who played Michael was a total babe. In the movie, he and I end up together.
Too bad in real life he is going to dump me tomorrow ... even though Tina doesn't think so.
This is very nice of her, and everything, but the fact is, he is totally going to. I mean, it really is a matter of pride. If a girl
with whom you have been going out for a full thirty-four days cancels your very first date, you really have no choice but to break up with her. I mean, I totally understand. I would break up with me. It is clear now that royal teens can't be like
normal ones. I mean, for people like me and Prince William, duty will always have to come first. Who is going to be able to understand that, let alone put up with it?
Tina says Michael can, and will. Tina says Michael won't break up with me because he loves me. I said yes he will,
because he only loves me as a friend.
'Clearly Michael loves you as more than just a friend,' Tina keeps saying into the phone. 'I mean, you guys kissed!'
'Yes,' I say. 'But Kenny and I kissed, and I did not like him as more than just a friend.'
'This is a completely different situation,' Tina says. 'Because you and Michael are meant to be together!' Tina sounds exasperated. 'Your star chart says so! You and Kenny were never meant for one another, he is a Cancer.'
Tina's astrological predictions notwithstanding, there is no evidence that Michael feels more strongly for me than he does
for, say, Judith Gershner. Yes, he wrote me that poem that mentioned the L word. But that was an entire month ago, during which period I was in another country. He has not renewed any such protestations since my return. I think it highly likely that tomorrow will be the straw that breaks the hot guy's back. I mean, why would Michael waste his time on a girl like me, who can't even stand up to her own grandmother? I'm sure if Michael's grandmother had been all, 'Michael, you've got to go to bingo with me Friday night, because Olga Krakowski, my childhood rival, will be there, and I want to show you off,' he'd
have been all, 'Sorry, Gran, no can do.'
No, I'm the spineless one. I'm the one completely lacking in backbone.
And I'm die one who now must suffer for it.
I wonder if it is too late in the school year to transfer. Because I really don't think I can take going to the same school as Michael after we are broken up. Seeing him in the hallway between classes, at lunch, and in G and T, knowing he was once mine but that I'd lost him, might just kill me.
But is there another school in Manhattan that might take a talentless, backbone-lacking reject like myself? Doubtful.
For Michael
Oh, Michael, my one true love
We had all new pleasures yet to prove
But I lost you due to my own retardation
before our love had yet found frutation
And now through the years, for you I will pine
and mourn for the days when you were once mine.
Friday, January 22,
Homeroom
Well. That's it. It's over. He dumped me.
All right, not in so many words. But I could see it in his face.
He tried to be nice about it. I mean, he didn't come right out and say, 'Get back, Jack.'
But I could see it in his eyes.
'No, really, Mia,' was what he said. 'I understand. You're a princess. Duty comes first.'
That is what he said. What he meant was:
'Hmmm, I wonder if Judith Gershner has broken up with that guy from Trinity yet? Maybe she's available, since this loser
Mia sure isn't.'
I told him that I would try to get out of the ball early if I could. He said that if I did, I should stop by. The Moscovitzes' apartment, I mean.
I know what this means, of course:
That he is going to dump me there.
Because he can't dump me in my own limo, in front of my bodyguard and driver. I mean, for all Michael knows, Lars might
be trained to beat up boys who try to dump me in front of him. Surely Michael, having a normal sense of self-preservation,
will choose to break off our relationship in the privacy of his own home, where he will be safe from rubber bullets and ninja throwing stars.
I cannot blame him. I would do the same thing.
Now I know how Jane Eyre must have felt when she discovered, on her wedding day, that Mr Rochester had a wife yet
living. No, Michael doesn't have a wife that I know of. But my relationship with him, like Jane's with Mr Rochester, has
come to an end. And I can think of no earthly way it can ever be repaired. I mean, it's possible that tonight, when I go by
the Moscovitzes' place, it wall be in flames, and I will be able to prove myself worthy of Michael's love by selflessly saving
his mother, or perhaps his dog, Pavlov, from the fire.
But other than that, I don't see us getting back together. I will, of course, give him his birthday present, because I went to
all the trouble of stealing it.
But I know it won't do any good. It's over. Like my life.
They just announced the name of the newest member of the Albert Einstein High junior varsity cheerleading squad. It is Shameeka Taylor.
Who even cares?
Friday, January 22,
Algebra
Michael did not stop by here between classes. It is the first day all week that he hasn't slipped in to say hi on his way to
Senior English, three classrooms away from this one.
It is obvious why. I mean, we are broken up. He hates me now. I don't blame him. I hate myself.
To make matters worse — as if I can even care about something so trivial - Lana just turned around to hiss, 'Don't think
just because your little friend made the squad that anything is going to change between us, Mia. She's as much of a pathetic geekette as you are. They only let her on the squad to fulfil our freak quota.'
Then she whipped her head around again — but not as fast as she should have. Because a lot of her hair was still draped across my desk.
And when I slammed my Algebra I—II text closed as hard as I could - which is what I did next - a lot of her silky, awa-puhi-scented locks got trapped between page 212 and 213.
Lana shrieked in pain. Mr G, up at the chalkboard, turned around, saw where the screaming was coming from, and sighed.
'Mia,' he said, tiredly, 'Lana. What now?'
Lana stabbed an index finger in my direction. 'She slammed her book on my hair!'