And God knows I couldn’t tell him about the Michael thing. I mean, I love my dad. I don’t want to cause his head to explode.

At first my dad totally didn’t believe me. You know, that I could get a B on an English paper. I had to pull out my paper and SHOW him.

And then his eyes got all squinty—but I think mostly because he’d left his reading glasses back in the limo—and he cleared his throat a bunch of times.

Then he said some stuff about how this was what he was getting for his twenty thousand dollars a year and what kind of world was it where a little girl’s dream could get shot down like so much skeet and that if this Ms. Martinez person thinks she can get away with this, she has another think coming.

So, you know. That was kind of entertaining for awhile, watching him hop around, all mad.

Finally, the nurse heard him, and she came in and shooed him out.

While Nurse Lloyd was shooing my dad out, though, my mom managed to sneak in, looking all flustered, with Rocky strapped to her. So I sat up and smelled his head for a while, because Rocky’s head smells almost as good as Michael’s neck, but in a much different way, of course.

Although, the smell of Rocky’s head cannot soothe my fractious soul the way the smell of Michael’s neck can.

While I smelled Rocky’s head, my mom said, “Mia, this is a really bad time for you to have a breakdown. Our flight to Indiana leaves in two hours.”

I assured my mom that I wasn’t having a breakdown, that it was just a crying jag. I didn’t mention what had brought it on. You know, the part about what Lana had told me about college boys. And then Ms. Martinez shooting down my dreams of being a writer. Instead, I just said maybe I still had jet lag from my summer in Genovia, and all.

“This isn’t jet lag,” my mother said, scornfully. “This has Clarisse Renaldo written all over it.”

Well, I hadn’t wanted to say so out loud. At least, not to my mom, who has enough reasons not to like Grandmère.

But it IS true that the straw that broke the camel’s back was seeing Grandmère passing out pens in the hallway.

“She means well,” I pointed out to my mom.

“Does she?” Mom looked dubious.

But I assured my mom that this time, Grandmère had only the good of the crown at heart. After all, if my student electoral campaign kept the press away from the story about Genovia being voted out of the EU, it was totally worth it.

Sort of.

Mom didn’t look like she believed this, though.

“Mia, if you want to quit this election thing, just say the word. I’ll make it happen.”

My mom can look pretty fierce when she wants to—even with a baby as adorable as Rocky strapped to her chest. Really, if I had to make a choice between debating Lana and debating my mom about something, I’d pick Lana every time.

“No, Mom, it’s okay,” I said. “I’m okay. Really. So…are you going to look up Wendell when you get back to Versailles?”

My mom was busy fussing with Rocky’s foot, which had gotten all tangled up in the Tibetan prayer flags she had hanging from his carrier. “Who?”

“Wendell Jenkins.” God! I can’t believe she doesn’t even remember the man to whom she gave the gift of the flower of her virginity. “He still lives there. He and April. He works for the power company. And did you know April was a corn princess?”

Mom looked amused. “Really? How do you know all this, Mia?”

“Yahoo! People Search,” I said. “If you run into April, be sure to tell her, you know, how you’re the mother of the princess of Genovia. That’s a lot better than being a corn princess, even if we ARE about to be thrown out of the EU.”

“I’ll be sure to,” Mom said. “You’re positive you’re going to be okay? Because I won’t go to Versailles if you don’t want me to.”

I assured Mom I would be fine. At which point Nurse Lloyd came back in and, finding my mother there, basically assured her of the same thing. Then, after letting Nurse Lloyd coo over Rocky for a while—because he is the cutest baby there ever was, and no one who sees him can HELP but coo over him—Mom left, and I was all alone with Nurse Lloyd again.

Which, you know, reminded me that there was something I needed to know. And a member of the health profession was the perfect person to ask, since I couldn’t go to Yahoo! Health as there wasn’t a computer handy.

“Nurse Lloyd,” I said, from around the thermometer she’d shoved under my tongue, to make sure I was well and truly cured, and could be sent back to class.

“Yes, Mia?” She was looking at her watch as she took my pulse.

“Is it true that if college boys don’t Do It, it backs up?”

Nurse Lloyd snorted. “Is that one still really going around? Mia, you should know better. You took Health and Safety, didn’t you?”

“Then…it’s not true?”

“It most certainly is not.” Nurse Lloyd let go of my wrist and took the thermometer out of my mouth. “And don’t let any of them try to tell you differently. And PS, any condom that’s been in a wallet for an extended period of time should be discarded and replaced with a new one. Friction from movement while carrying the wallet in a pocket can cause tiny holes to develop in the latex.”

I just stared at her with my mouth hanging open. HOW HAD SHE KNOWN ABOUT THIS?

Nurse Lloyd just looked down at the thermometer and said, “I’ve been in this job a long time. Oh, look, ninety-eight point six. You’re cured. You can go now, if you want. But before you do, Mia, just one more thing.”