can of Red Bull and started kissing me, and I got to smell his neck, which instantly soothed my Grandmere-frazzled nerves

and convinced me that somehow, some way, everything is going to be all right. Maybe.

Friday, May 9, Algebra

Oh, my God, I can barely write, my hands are shaking so badly. I cannot believe what just happened . . . cannot believe

it because it is so GOOD. How is this possible? Good things NEVER happen to me. Well, except for Michael.

But this . . .

It is almost too good to be believed.

What happened was, I came into the Algebra classroom all unsuspectingly, not expecting a thing. I sat down in my seat and started taking out last night's homework - which Mr. G fully helped me finish - when all of a sudden, my mobile rang.

Thinking my mom was going into labour - or had passed out in the ice-cream section of the Grand Union again - I hurried

to answer it.

But it wasn't my mother. It was Grandmere.

'Mia,' she said. 'There's nothing to worry about. I've taken care of the problem.'

I swear I didn't know what she was talking about. Not at first, anyway. I was like, 'What problem?' I thought maybe she

was talking about Verl and his noise complaints against us. I thought maybe she'd had him executed, or something.

Well, it's possible, knowing Grandmere.

Which is why her next words were such a total shock.

'Your prom,' she said. 'I spoke to someone. And I've found a place where you can have it, strike or no strike. It's all settled.'

I just sat there for a minute, holding the phone to my ear, barely able to register what I'd just heard.

'Wait,' I said. 'What?'

'For God's sake,' Grandmere said all testily. 'Must I repeat myself? I have found a place for you to have your little prom.'

And then she told me where.

I hung up in a daze. I couldn't believe it. I swear I couldn't believe it.

Grandmere had done it.

Oh, not fessed up to her role in causing one of the most expensive strikes in the history of New York City. Nothing like that.

No. This was more important.

She'd saved the prom. Grandmere had saved the Albert Einstein High School Senior Prom.

I looked at Lana sitting in front of me, resolutely not glancing in my direction, due to the fact that I was the one who'd caused the prom to be cancelled.

And that's when it hit me. Grandmere had saved the prom for AEHS. But I could still save the prom for me. I poked Lana in the shoulder and went, 'Did you hear?' Lana turned to stare at me in a very mean way. 'Hear what, freak?' she demanded.

'My grandmother found an alternative space to hold the prom,' I said.

And told her where.

Lana just stared at me in total shock. Really. She was so stunned, she couldn't talk. I'd stunned Lana into silence. Not like

that time I'd stabbed her with a Nutty Royale, either.

That time, she'd had a LOT to say.

This time? Nothing.

'But there's just one condition,' I went on.

And then I told her the condition.

Which, of course, Grandmere hadn't brought up. The condition, I mean. No, the condition was a little princess-of-Genovia manoeuvring all of my own.

But hey. I learned from a master.

'So,' I said in conclusion, in an almost friendly way, as if Lana and I were buddies, and not sworn mortal enemies, like Alyssa Milano and the Source of All Evil. 'Take it, or leave it.'

Lana didn't hesitate. Not even a second. She went, 'OK.'

Just like that. 'OK.'

And suddenly, it was like I was Molly Ringwald. I'm not kidding, either.

I cannot explain, not even to myself, why I did what I did next. I just did it. It was like for a moment I was possessed by the spirit of some other girl, a girl who actually gets along with people like Lana. I reached out, grabbed Lana's head, pulled it towards me and gave her a great big kiss, smack in the middle of her eyebrows.

'Ew, gross,' Lana said, backing away fast. 'What is wrong with you, freak?'

But I didn't care that Lana had called me a freak. Twice. Because my heart was singing like those little birds who fly around Snow White's head when she's hanging out by the wishing well. I went, 'Stay right here,' and ran out of my seat. . .... much to the surprise of Mr. G, who had just come into the room, his Starbucks Grande in hand.

'Mia,' he said bewilderedly as I darted past him. 'Where are you going? The second bell just rang.'

'Be back in a minute, Mr. G,' I called over my shoulder as I raced down the hall to the room where Michael has AP English.

I didn't have to worry about making a fool of myself in front of Michael's peers or anything, since none of Michael's peers

were around, it being Senior Skip Day and all. I leaped into his classroom - the first time I had ever done such a thing: usually, of course, Michael visited me in MY classroom - and went, 'Excuse me, Mrs. Weinstein,' to his English teacher, 'but may I

have a word with Michael?' Mrs. Weinstein - who you could tell had been anticipating a light work day, since she'd come armed with the latest Cosmo - looked up from the Bedside Astrologer and went, 'Whatever, Mia.'

So I bounded over to an extremely surprised Michael and, slipping into the desk in front of his, said, 'Michael, remember

how you said that you'd only go to the prom if the guys in your band went, too?'

Michael couldn't seem to fathom the fact that I was actually in his classroom for a change.