Forever Princess

And okay, that’s not what my book is really about.

But still! He doesn’t know that.

How could he say something like that? How could he? That’s not the kind of thing exes—or even mere friends—say to each other.

And that’s all we’re supposed to be now.

Anyway. Whatever.

It’s not like I can show it to Tina, either, and she’s my best friend. Although I don’t know what I’m so embarrassed about, really. There are people who slap their novels all over the Internet, begging other people to read them.

But I can’t do that. I don’t know why. Except…

Well, I know why: I’m afraid Tina—not to mention Michael, or J.P., or whoever, really—might not like it.

Just like every single publisher I’ve sent it to hasn’t liked it. Well, except AuthorPress.

But they want me to pay THEM to publish it! REAL publishers are supposed to pay YOU!!

Of course, Ms. Martinez claimed to like it.

But I’m not convinced she even read the whole thing.

The thing is, what if I’m wrong, and I’m a terrible writer? What if I just wasted almost two years of my life? I know everybody thinks I did, writing about Genovian olive oil presses.

But what if I really did?

Oh, no. Tina is still texting me about the prom!

Mia! Prom isn’t lame! What’s wrong with you? You’re not going through a depression thingie again, are you?

“Depression thingie.” Great.

Okay. I can’t fight Tina. I can’t. She’s a force too strong for me.

No! No depression thingie. Tina, I didn’t mean it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Senioritis, I guess—the same thing that’s keeping all of us from paying attention in class. I just meant—forget it. I’ll talk to J.P. about the prom.

Do you mean it???? You really will????? You’re not just saying that????

Yes, I’ll ask him. I’m sorry. I just have a lot of stuff on my mind.

And you’ll go shopping with us today after school?

Oh, man. I so don’t want to go shopping with them today after school. Anything but that. I’d take princess lessons over that.

Wow. I can’t believe I just wrote that.

Yeah. Sure. Why not.

YAY! We’re going to have so much fun! Don’t worry, we’ll make you forget ALL about what’s going on with your dad—eep!

Je ne ferai pas le texte dans la classe.

Je ne ferai pas le texte dans la classe.

Je ne ferai pas le texte dans la classe.

Je ne ferai pas le texte dans la classe.

Je ne ferai pas le texte dans la classe.

Je ne ferai pas le texte dans la classe.

Wow. Madame Wheeton has been on the warpath this month.

I swear they’re going to take away all our iPhones and Sidekicks one of these days.

Except, if you ask me, the teachers all have senioritis, too, because they’ve been threatening for weeks, and so far nobody’s actually carried out that threat.

Thursday, April 27, Psychology

Okay! So I told someone the truth about something…

And nothing earth-shattering happened (well, except that Madame Wheeton flipped out over finding us texting each other while she was trying to do her review session for the final).

I told Tina the truth about J.P. not having asked me to the prom…and my not really wanting to go anyway. And nothing earth-shattering happened. Tina didn’t faint dead away.

She did try to convince me I’m wrong, of course.

But what else did I expect? Tina is such a romantic, of course she thinks the prom is the height of teen l’amour.

I know there was a time when I thought so, too. All I have to do is look through the pages of my old journals. I used to be crazy for the prom. I would sooner have DIED than missed it.

I guess in a way I wish I could recapture that old excitement.

But we all have to grow up one day.

And the truth is, I really don’t see what the big deal is about going to a dinner (rubbery chicken and wilted lettuce under disgusting dressing) and dance (to bad music) at the Waldorf (which I’ve been to a million times before anyway, most notably last time where I gave a speech that may have ruined my family’s reputation, not to mention my native country, for all time).

I just wish—

AHHHHH!!!! God, I have to get used to that thing vibrating in my pocket….

Ameliaaaaaaa—I need an updated guesssssst list from you for Mondayyyyyy. I’m quite put outtttttttt. Everyone I’ve invited has RSVP’d yesssssss, according to Vigo. Even your cousin Hankkkkkkkkkkkk is coming in from the Milan shows to attend. And I just heard from your motherrrrrrrr that your dreadful grandparents from Indianaaaaaaaaaa will be flying into town for the event. I am most upset about thisssssssss. Of course they had to be invited, but I never expected them actually to say yesssssssssssss. It’s all most disturbing…I may need for you to disinvite a few of your guests. You know the yacht only holds three hundred comfortably. Call me immediately.—Clarisse, your grandmotherrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device

God! Why did Dad get Grandmère a BlackBerry? Is he trying to ruin my life? And who, exactly, was stupid enough to show her how to use it? I could kill Vigo.

Bystander effect—a psychological phenomenon in which someone is less likely to intervene in an emergency situation when other people are present and able to help than when he or she is alone. See Kitty Genovese case, in which a young woman was brutally attacked within hearing of a dozen neighbors, but none of them called the police, each thinking someone else would do it.