Party Princess (24 page)

Which might be why she was wearing a smug little smile on her face as she stormed off to wake up Señor Eduardo and send him home.

As if all of that weren’t bad enough, though, when I walked out the doors of the hotel just now, and started toward the limo, J.P. stepped out from the shadows and said my name.

“Oh,” I said, all confused. I mean, had he been waiting for me? Well, obviously. Only…why? “What’s wrong? Do you need a ride home? We can drop you off if you want.”

But J.P. was like, “No, I don’t need a ride. I want to talk to you. About the kiss.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay. So THAT didn’t freak me out too much.

But I couldn’t show it or anything, because Lilly was in the limo waiting for me, and she totally saw us there on the red carpet, and put the window down and was like, “Come on, you two, I have to get home and collate!”

God, she can be annoying sometimes.

“Look, Mia,” J.P. said, completely ignoring Lilly, as was only fitting. “I know you’re having problems with your boyfriend, and that they’re partly because of me—no, don’t try to deny it. Tina already told me. I was really worried about you, because you just looked so down all day, so I forced it out of her. So, listen. We don’t have to kiss. Once we’re up there during the performance, we can pretty much do what we want, anyway. I mean, it’s not like your grandmother would be able to stop us. So, I just wanted to tell you, if you, you know, don’t want to, we don’t have to. I won’t be offended, or anything. I totally understand.”

OH MY GOD!

Isn’t that the sweetest thing you ever heard in the whole world?????

I mean, it’s just so thoughtful and mature and unlike me of him!

I think that’s why I did what I did next:

Which was stand up on my tiptoes and kiss the Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili on the cheek.

“Thank you, J.P.,” I said.

J.P. looked extremely surprised.

“For what?” he asked in a voice that cracked a little. “All I said was that you don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze. “That’s why I kissed you.”

Then I jumped into the car.

Where Lilly was immediately all over me with questions, since we were dropping her off on our way to the loft:

And the thing is, even though I knew I shouldn’t go there, because Lilly is about to receive the worst news she’s ever had, in the form of her parents breaking up—I mean, when someone finally gets around to telling her, and all—I totally went there. Because I was just so mad.

God. Why does she have to rub it in?

Wednesday, March 10, midnight, the loft

No e-mails from Michael.

No messages, either.

I realize he has a lot on his mind right now, and can’t be, like, totally focused on me and MY needs. I wasn’t expecting to come home and find a big bouquet of roses with a note tucked in them that said, “I love you.”

But a phone call reassuring me that we are, in fact, still going out might have been nice.

Yeah. So didn’t happen. I came home, and everyone in the house was already asleep. Again.

Being an actress, dedicated to her craft, is no joke. I mean, now I know how Meryl Streep must feel, stumbling home at all hours of the night after rehearsing whatever Academy Award–winning movie she’s in. I will never again think that acting is an easy career to have.

Anyway, I am taking Tina’s advice, and Giving Michael Some Space. The way she does with Boris when he has to learn some new Bartók.

And I can’t say I really blame Michael for not calling or e-ing me, since I’m obviously not the most
stable
person he knows. I don’t know what I was thinking, trying to prove I was a party girl when I’m so not. Basically, I was just trying to manipulate Michael, and that is never a good idea. I mean, unless you’re Grandmère or Lana, who are masters at the art of manipulation—particularly the manipulation of the laws of supply and demand.

But that doesn’t mean it’s right.

Seriously. Just because you CAN do something well
doesn’t mean you SHOULD do it.

Like my short story, for instance. I mean, sure, I can write.

But does that give me the right to write a story based on someone who actually exists, who might possibly read that story, and get upset about it?

No. Just because you HAVE the power doesn’t mean you should USE it. Or, at least, ABUSE it.

Which is what Grandmère and Lana do with the whole economics thing. If you are lucky enough to HAVE a talent—like mine, for writing—you have a moral obligation to use that talent for GOOD.

That’s what happened with the Michael thing. You know, when I did the sexy dance? That’s why it backfired. Because I was trying to manipulate people. Which is evil, not good.

I’m an evil economics abuser. I’m—

SOMEONE IS IMing ME!!!!!!!!!!

LET IT BE MICHAEL

LET IT BE MICHAEL

LET IT BE MICHAEL

LET IT

Oh. It’s Lilly.

W
OMYN
R
ULE
: You know, it was really presumptuous of you to have kissed him if you don’t even like him that way. What if he gets the wrong idea? You already sexy danced with him, and now you’re going around kissing him? For someone so worried about hurting his feelings, you sure don’t seem to have thought that through.

!!!!!

F
T
L
OUIE
: Oh, yeah? Well, for someone who claims not to like him as anything but a friend, you sure do seem concerned about him liking me.

W
OMYN
R
ULE
: Only because I THOUGHT you were dating my brother. But apparently one guy’s not enough for you. You have to have ALL the guys.

F
T
L
OUIE
: WHAT??? What are you talking about? I DO NOT LIKE J.P.

W
OMYN
R
ULE
: Sure you don’t. I bet if I looked at your nostrils right now, they’d be flaring.

F
T
L
OUIE
: OMG, I am NOT lying. Lilly, I love your brother, and ONLY your brother. You KNOW that. What is WRONG with you?

W
OMYN
R
ULE
: terminated

Wow. It’s a good thing her parents aren’t telling her about their separation just yet. If this is how she acts when she DOESN’T know about it, I hate to think how she’s going to act when she DOES.

Unless she DOES know, like Michael suspects, and she’s just PRETENDING she doesn’t know. That would explain a lot about her current behavior.

But regardless, at least I know what I have to do now.
My mission is, at last, clear. A feeling of calm has descended over me.

Oh, wait, that’s just Fat Louie, sleeping on my feet.

Still. I have a plan.

About how I’m going to keep J.P. from reading “No More Corn!”, I mean. I don’t know what I’m going to do about the rest of the mess that is my life.

But I know what I’m going to do about
Fat Louie’s Pink Butthole.

And truthfully, I think Carl Jung AND Alfred Marshall would approve.

Princess Amelia Mignonette
Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo

Wednesday, March 10, Homeroom

So Lilly isn’t speaking to me, apparently. She wasn’t waiting outside her building this morning for us to pick her up and take her to school. And when I ran inside to buzz her apartment, no one answered.

But I know she’s not home sick because I saw her just now outside Ho’s Deli, buying a soy latte.

When I waved, she just turned her back.

So now BOTH the Moscovitzes are ignoring me.

This is not a very nice way to start my first day on the Path to Righteousness.

Wednesday, March 10, PE

Okay, so I know skipping gym is probably not the most direct path to achieving transcendence from the ego.

But it’s for a totally good cause!

Even Lars thinks so. Which is convenient since I’m going to need his help carrying the stuff. I mean, I don’t have the upper body strength to lift 3,700 pieces of paper.

At least, not all at once.

Wednesday, March 10, U.S. Economics

Okay. So I guess I still have a ways to go on the path to righteousness. I mean, I really THOUGHT I was doing the right thing.

At first.

I totally remembered Lilly’s locker combination from the time she got the flu and I had to bring her her books.

And when I opened her locker door, the stack of a thousand copies of
Fat Louie’s Pink Butthole
, Volume I, Issue 1, was just sitting right there, waiting to be sold today at lunch.

It was so easy to grab them.

Well, okay, not THAT easy, because they were heavy. But Lars and I split the pile between us, and I was frantically looking around for a place to hide them—someplace Lilly would never find them, because you so know she’s going to look—when I spied the men’s room.

Well, come on! How’s she going to look for them there?