“But I really need to tell you now,” J.P. insisted.

“PRINCESS, RUN!” Lars was yelling. Because by then the cloud of noxious fumes was descending upon us.

Fortunately, since J.P. and I were taken away in separate ambulances, I had a chance to process this—sort of—and figure out what I’m going to do about it.

Which I’m pretty sure is nothing.

And yes, I know Dr. Knutz wouldn’t approve. He’d want me to do whatever scared me most.

Which, in this case, would be to date J.P.

But I can’t! I’m not ready! I’m barely broken up with my last long-term boyfriend—with whom I am still hopelessly in love! I can’t jump into another romantic relationship this soon!

Besides, I don’t feel that way about J.P. When I smell him, my oxytocin levels don’t rise. When I sniffed him the other night when he hugged me, I felt…nothing. All I smelled was dry-cleaning fluid.

Which is so not what I smell when Michael holds me, which is…well, okay, it’s just like soap and stuff.

But it’s not just ANY soap smell. It’s the special way Michael’s skin—and Michael’s skin alone—smells when he uses Dove unscented moisturizing beauty bar. That, and the detergent he uses on his shirts, combined with that particular Michael smell just makes…

…well, the best smell in the world.

I know it doesn’t make sense. But I’m just not sure I’m ready to move on from unscented Dove/detergent/Michael to…dry-cleaning fluid.

And what about HIM? What about J.P.? I mean, how much of this “love” thing is just a reaction to the discovery that Lilly has rebounded already with someone new? The timing is a little suspicious. I mean, we find out at lunch that Lilly and Kenny are an item, and all of a sudden, J.P. loves me? Come on!

And, okay, he says he’s been trying to tell me for a while…but I’m positive that can’t be true. Because up until very recently, I’ve been taken!

And J.P. knows I haven’t gotten over Michael yet. He has to know that the chances are I will NEVER get over Michael. At least, not for a long, long time. He wouldn’t be silly enough to fall in love with me knowing I could never return his feelings in that way….

Before senior year or so, anyway.

And, all right, J.P. does currently have a bit of a Dr. McDreamy quality about him, since the hospital has given him scrubs to change into since his sweater melted and his shirt is all scorched. So he looks pretty cute.

And he did save my life and all…

ACK! I am in no condition to deal with this right now! I just want to go home and get in my bed and try to sort out how I feel about all this!

Not the almost-getting-blown-up part. That part I can deal with. I mean, at this point, almost getting blown up is NOTHING compared to the humiliations I go through on a practically daily basis.

But the J.P.-loving-me part? It’s too weird! What could make him think I’d ever feel that way about him? Because I don’t!

At least, I think I don’t. I mean, I like him a lot. He’s one of my best friends—especially now that Lilly has dropped me.

But he’s not Michael.

He’s not Michael.

He’s not Michael.

Oh, here comes the doctor…

Wednesday, September 22, the loft

I’m home….

I don’t even care that I don’t have a TV anymore. It’s just so nice to be in my own bed, where no nitrostarches can explode, and no boys can announce their love for me.

You know, you would think, after everything that happened today, they’d finally let me move to Genovia and be palace-schooled now. For my own physical and emotional safety.

But no. Mr. G just informed me Albert Einstein is going to be cleaned up and fully functional tomorrow—including the Chem lab, which has been thoroughly fumigated, and they’ve already replaced the glass that was blown out of the windows (stupid emergency glaziers), and that I’m going to be there, just like everybody else.

Well, except for Kenny, who’s suspended for knowingly creating a secondary explosive in the lab. When I protested that if they were suspending Kenny, they ought to suspend me and J.P. as well, since we’re his lab partners, Mr. G just looked at me and went, “Mia. I’ve been trying to get you caught up in all of your classes this week, remember? Believe me, I know you and J.P. have no clue what you’re doing in that class.”

Which, you know. Harsh. But true, I guess.

So it looks like Kenny’s going to get his fifteen minutes of fame now, as opposed to after he starts working for Michael’s robotic surgical arm company, as he once asked me if I thought he could. What happened today at school is ALL OVER the news and Internet. Reporters are calling Kenny “Beaker” after that mad scientist Muppet character (which is mean, since Kenny really does have quite a lot of upper arm definition these days, and his mouth isn’t a gaping flap—as much as it used to be, anyway), and keep showing a picture of him being led off the ambulance, with his hair in all these crazy puffs on the top of his head.

That, coupled with his singed lab coat and the whole no-eyebrow thing, lent him a not dissimilar appearance to a certain dowager princess—not Muppet—that I know.

The thing’s been aired so many times by now, I’m SURE Michael must have heard about it. Every single article describes J.P. as this huge hero for throwing his body over mine and protecting me from the flames.

And every single article calls him “Princess Mia’s new boyfriend.”