Princess in Training

  Except that Boris would never do anything like that because you can see the lovelight for Tina shining in his eyes every time he looks her way. Especially now that he doesn’t have those thick lenses.

  Geez! Who knew someone could change so much in just a couple of months?

  Although, come to think of it, Tina might have a point because with last year’s senior class gone, there are a LOT of totally gorgeous girls who are completely boyfriend less now. Like Lana Weinberger, for instance. Not that I think Boris would EVER go for Lana, but I totally saw her giving him the Hey! Come over here finger crook over by the water fountain before she figured out who he was and instead of crooking her finger, pretended to be sticking it down her throat like she was barfing at the sight of him.

  So I guess SOME people haven’t changed over the summer.

  Shameeka says she heard that Lana and Josh are totally over. Apparently their love could not withstand the test of distance, since Lana spent her summer at her family’s house in East Hampton and Josh was in Southampton and the four miles between the two was just too much, especially with him leaving for Yale in the fall and thong bikini bottoms being very popular in Long Island this summer.

  Excuse me. Four miles is nothing. Try four THOUSAND. That’s how far Genovia is from New York, and Michael and I still managed to see each other over the summer.

  Poor, poor Lana. I feel so sorry for her. NOT. For the first time in my life, I have a boyfriend and Lana doesn’t. It is unprincess like to gloat over the misfortunes of others, but TEE HEE.

  Another plus about Josh being gone is that I can actually get INTO my locker this year, since he and Lana aren’t splayed up against it with their tongues in each other’s mouths.

  Although I do have to say that the guy who’s been assigned Josh’s old locker is pretty good-looking. He must be an exchange student because I’ve never seen him before. But he can’t be a freshman because he’s got razor stubble. At eight in the morning. Also, when he said, “So sorry,” after accidentally sloshing some of his grande latte onto my boot while he was wrestling a gym bag into his locker, he fully had a South American accent, like that guy Audrey Hepburn was going to run off with in that movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s before she came to her senses (or lost her mind, in Grandmère’s opinion).

  This is so BORING, sitting here listening to announcement after announcement. There’s an assembly this afternoon, so we’ve got an abbreviated seventh period. Who cares? Mr. G (FRANK. FRANK.) looks as tired as I feel. I swear, I love Rocky with every fiber of my being—almost as much as I love Fat Louie, even—but the lungs on that kid! Seriously, he will NOT stop crying unless someone sings to him.

  Which is okay during waking hours, because ever since I saw Crossroads I’ve been kind of worried, you know, about what I’m going to sing if I ever have to do karaoke to earn motel money on a road trip, and so Rocky’s obsession with song gives me a good opportunity to practice. I really think I’ve got “Milkshake” down pat, and I’m working on “Man! I Feel Like a Woman” by Shania Twain.

  But when he starts up with the crying thing in the middle of the night…whoa. I love him, but even I, the baby-licker—which is SO not fair of Lilly to call me, because I have NOT licked all of Rocky’s fur off like that red panda on Animal Planet did to HER baby—just want to stuff a pillow over my head and ignore it.

  Only I can’t. Because everyone else in the loft is doing that. Because Mom’s theory is that we’re just spoiling him, picking him up and singing every time he cries.

  But my theory is that he wouldn’t cry if there weren’t something wrong. Like what if his blanket has gotten wrapped around his neck and he’s CHOKING???? If no one goes in to check, he could be DEAD by morning!

  So, I have to drag myself out of bed and sing the fastest song I know to him—“Yes U Can” by Jewel—and then as soon as he dozes off dive back into my own bed and try to fall back asleep before he starts up again—

  OOOOH! My cell phone just buzzed! It’s a text message from Michael!

  GOOD LUCK 2DAY. LOVE, M

  He got up early just to wish me luck!!!! Could there BE a better boyfriend?

  Tuesday, September 8, PE

  I understand that obesity is epidemic in the U.S. and all of that. I know that the average American is ten pounds heavier than their BMI says they should be, and that we all need to walk more and eat less.

  But, seriously, is any of that an excuse for forcing teenage girls to have to CHANGE CLOTHES, much less SHOWER, in front of one another? I so think not.

  Like it’s not enough that I even have to TAKE physical education. And it’s not enough that I have to take it FIRST THING IN THE MORNING. And it’s not enough that I have to STRIP DOWN IN FRONT OF VIRTUAL STRANGERS.

  No, I also have to do it in front of Miss Lana Weinberger. Who also happens to have first period PE.

  And who took the liberty of pointing out in front of everyone, as we were changing into our gym clothes before class, that she “really liked” my Queen Amidala panties—which I only wore for good luck on my first day back to class, although evidently they don’t work anymore—in a tone that suggested she did not like them at all.

  And then she wanted to know if Genovia was suffering from an economic crisis, since its royals seemed to be shopping for their underwear at Target. As if all of us can afford to get our underwear from Agent Provocateur like Lana and Britney Spears!

  I hate her.

  Lilly told me not to worry about it…that Lana will be “getting what she deserves” shortly.

  Whatever that means.

  Tuesday, September 8, English

  M—Could she be any cuter?—Tina

  I know! When is the last time we had a teacher who wore anything that wasn’t corduroy?

  Totally! And her hair! That flippy thing it does on the ends!

  That is so how I want my hair. So Chloe on Smallville.

  I know! And her glasses!

  Cat’s-eye! With rhinestones! Could she be more Karen O?

  Who’s Karen O?

  Lead singer for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

  Oh, right. I was thinking Maggie Gyllenhall.

  I think it’s Gylenhaal.

  I think maybe it’s Gellynhaal.

  OH, MY GOD, YOU IDIOTS, IT’S GYLLENHAAL! WOULD YOU TWO STOP PASSING NOTES AND FREAKING PAY ATTENTION? DO YOU WANT TO ALIENATE THE ONE TEACHER WHO ACTUALLY MIGHT TURN OUT TO BE ABLE TO TEACH US SOMETHING USEFUL?????—L

  What’s Lilly’s problem today?

  Um. I don’t know, exactly. PMS?

  Oh, sure. Anyway. So Maggie’s brother’s the one who went out with Kirsten Dunst, right?

  RIGHT!

  So cute!!!!!!!!!!

  Tuesday, September 8, Geometry

  Okay.

  I can do this. I can totally do this.

  Converse:

  The converse of a conditional statement is formed by interchanging its hypothesis and conclusion.

  Contrapositive:

  The contrapositive of a conditional statement is formed by interchanging its hypothesis and conclusion, then denying both.

  Inverse:

  The inverse of a conditional statement is formed by denying both its hypothesis and conclusion.

  So:

  Logically equivalent:

  A conditional statement: a b

  The contrapositive of the statement: not b not a

  Logically equivalent:

  The converse of the statement: b a

  bThe inverse of the statement: not a not b

  I’m sorry. WHAT?

  Okay, once again, I have managed to prove to be the exception to the rule. If people who are bad at Algebra are supposed to be good at Geometry, then I should be the Stephen Freaking Hawking of Geometry, but guess what? I don’t understand a WORD of this.

  Plus, Mr. Harding? Yeah, could he BE any meaner? He already made Trisha Hayes cry over her isosceles triangles, and that’s virtually impossible, since she’s one of Lana Weinberger’s croni
es, and also I’m pretty sure she’s a female cyborg like in Terminator 3.

  He’s being totally nice to me, but that’s just because one of his colleagues is my stepdad. Oh, and the princess thing, of course. Sometimes it actually doesn’t hurt to have a six-foot-five-inch Swedish bodyguard sitting behind you.

  Euler diagram = relate two or more conditional statements to each other by representing them as circles

  Tuesday, September 8, French

  Oh, well. At least I have ONE good teacher. Ms. Martinez is SO cool. It’s so nice to have a teacher who is still close enough to our age to know about stuff like rubber spike bracelets and The OC.

  As Ms. Martinez was collecting our writing samples on how we spent our summers, she was like, “And I just want you guys to know that you can come to me with questions about anything, not just English. I really want to get to know all of you as PEOPLE, not just as my students. So if there’s anything—anything at all—you want to talk about, feel free to stop by. There is an open-door policy in my classroom, and I will always be here for you.”

  Whoa! A teacher at Albert Einstein High who doesn’t disappear into the teachers’ lounge the minute class is over? Unbelievable!

  Except I sort of wonder how long Ms. Martinez is going to hang on to her open-door policy, because as I was leaving I noticed, like, ten people scurrying up to her desk to talk to her about their personal problems. Lilly was totally the first one in line.

  I hope Ms. Martinez counsels Lilly just to let the whole Boris thing go. I didn’t want to say anything to Tina, but her boyfriend’s summer transformation into a hottie is fully why Lilly is wigging out today, not PMS like I told Tina. It must totally suck to see the guy you dumped transformed into Orlando Bloom before your very eyes.

  If Orlando Bloom had no fashion sense and breathed from his mouth, I mean.

  I hope Lilly doesn’t wear Ms. Martinez out so much that she doesn’t have time to read our writing samples tonight. Because I’m sure that when she’s done with mine, she’s going to want to submit it to a literary agent or something and get me a book deal. I realize fifteen is pretty young to have a multi-book deal with a major publishing house, but I’ve handled the princess thing pretty well so far. I’m sure I could handle a couple of book deadlines.

  Mia—The new kid, second row from door, three seats down. Boy or girl?—Shameeka

  Boy. He’s wearing pants!

  Hello. So am I. I forgot to shave my legs this morning.

  Oh. OH.

  Yeah. See what I mean?

  Well, what’s his/her name?

  Perin. At least that’s what Mademoiselle Klein said when she called roll.

  Is Perin a boy’s name or girl’s name?

  I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.

  Wait, I wasn’t paying attention during roll. Did

  Mademoiselle Klein say Per-ran or Per-reen? Because if she’s a girl, it would be Per-reen in French, right?

  Yeah, but Mademoiselle Klein doesn’t call roll in French. She just said Perin in English with no accent.

  So in other words…this is a mystery.

  Totally. I just want to know whether or not to think he’s cute.

  Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll keep an eye on him/her, and see which bathroom he/she goes into before lunch. Because everyone goes to the bathroom before lunch to put on lip gloss.

  But not boys.

  Exactly. If he doesn’t go to the bathroom, he’s a boy, and then you can like him.

  But what if he’s a girl who just doesn’t wear lip gloss?

  Argh! Mysteries are okay in books, but in real life, they kind of suck.

  Tuesday, September 8, Gifted and Talented

  WHY? WHY WHY WHY did I think this year was going to be better—in spite of Michael not being around—than last year, just because at least Lana and Josh wouldn’t be making out in front of my locker?

  Because the thing is, when Josh was around, Lana was DISTRACTED, and not actively seeking out targets to destroy.

  But now that there’s no man in her life, she has ample free time to torture me again. Like today at lunch, for instance.

  It was all my fault in the first place for being greedy and going back to the jet line for a second ice-cream sandwich. Really, one ice-cream sandwich ought to be enough for a girl my size.

  But there was something wrong with the three-bean salad. You would think that with all the money the trustees invested in those surveillance cameras outside they’d have tossed just a LITTLE the cafeteria’s way so we could get something decent to eat in here besides frozen dairy products. But no. Lilly seems to have a point: Apparently finding out who is stubbing their cigarettes out on Joe’s head is more important than providing digestible sustenance for the student body.

  So, I was standing there waiting to get my ice-cream sandwich when I heard this voice behind me say my name, and when I turned my head there were Lana and Trisha Hayes, who seemed to have recovered from Mr. Harding’s tongue-lashing—at least enough to join Lana in her quest to humiliate me publicly as often as possible.

  “So, Mia,” Lana said, when I made the mistake of turning around. “Are you still going out with that guy? You know, that Michael guy, with the band?”

  I should have known, of course. That Lana wasn’t trying to make up for all those years of being mean to me. I should have just put the ice-cream sandwich back and left the jet line then and there.

  But I thought, I don’t know, that maybe she was sorry for the whole underwear remark from the locker room that morning. I thought—don’t ask me why—that maybe Lana really had changed over the summer, too, just like Boris. Only instead of changing on the outside, Lana had changed on the inside.

  I should have known something like that would be impossible, since in order to have a change of heart, Lana would actually have to HAVE a heart in the first place, and she obviously does NOT, since when I said, cautiously, “Yeah, Michael and I are still going out,” she went, “Isn’t he in college now?”

  And I said, “Yeah. He goes to Columbia,” kind of proudly, because, hello, at least MY boyfriend had chosen to go to a college in the same STATE as the one I live in, unlike Lana’s ex.

  “Well, have you two done it yet?” Lana wanted to know, as casually as if she were asking me where I’d gotten my highlights done.

  And I was like, “Done what?” because I SWEAR I had no idea what she was talking about. I mean, who ASKS people things like that????

  And Lana went, “IT, you idiot,” and looked at Trisha and the two of them started laughing hysterically.

  That’s when I realized what she meant.

  I swear I could FEEL my face turning red. Seriously. It must have turned as red as Lana’s nail polish.

  And then before I could stop myself I went, “NO, OF COURSE NOT!” in a very shocked voice.

  Because I WAS very shocked. I mean, this is a topic I barely discuss with my best FRIENDS. I certainly never expected to be discussing it with my MORTAL ENEMY. In the JET LINE.

  But before I had a chance to recover from my paralyzing astonishment, Lana went on.

  “Well, if you want to hang on to him, you’d better hurry up,” she said, while Trisha giggled behind her. “Because guys in college expect their girlfriends to Do It.”

  Guys in college expect their girlfriends to Do It.

  That is what Lana said to me. In the JET LINE.

  Then, as I stood there staring at her in total and complete horror, Lana poked me in the back and went, “Are you going to buy that, or are you just going to stand there?” and I realized the line had moved up so that I was standing in front of the cashier with my ice-cream sandwich melting in my hand.

  So, I handed the cashier my dollar and went back to my table with Lilly and Boris and Tina and Shameeka and Ling Su and just sat there not saying anything until the bell rang.

  And no one even noticed.

  Guys in college expect their girlfriends to Do It.

  Can t
his possibly be true? I mean, I have seen a lot of movies and TV shows where guys in college seem to expect their girlfriends to Do It. Such as MTV’s Fraternity Life and Spring Break. And Revenge of the Nerds.

  But the guys in those movies and shows had girlfriends who were in college, too. None of them were going out with sophomores in high school. Who will shortly be flunking Geometry. Who happen to be princesses of small European principalities. Who have six-foot-five bodyguards.

  Oh, my God, is Michael expecting to have SEX with me??? NOW????

  Naturally, I assumed we would have sex ONE DAY. But I thought ONE DAY was way, way in the future. As far into the future as the day we go out to sea together to stop those whaling ships for Greenpeace. I mean, we have only been to second base ONCE and that was at the prom and I’m pretty sure now it wasn’t even on purpose and I didn’t even FEEL anything because of my strapless bra having way too much metal in it.

  Am I supposed to believe that all this time I have been supposed to be getting ready to DO IT? But I am NOT ready to DO IT. I don’t think. I mean, I don’t even want Michael to see me in a BATHING SUIT let alone NAKED—