Forever Princess

Oh, great. I hear clapping! I’d better get back to my seat….

Friday, May 5, midnight, the loft

I was wrong about being able to stay away from my MHC match.

Everyone went up onto the stage after Boris’s fantastically successful concert (standing ovations all around) to congratulate him.

That’s how I found myself standing next to J.P., talking to Tina and Boris, when Michael and Lilly came up to congratulate Boris as well.

Which wasn’t a bit awkward.

Considering Lilly was Boris’s ex (remember when he dropped the globe on his head over her?) and J.P. was Lilly’s, and Michael was mine. Oh, and Kenny’s my ex, too!

Ah, good times.

Not.

Fortunately Michael didn’t try to hug me. Or say anything like, “Oh, hey, Mia, see you at lunch tomorrow.” It was kind of like he knew this wasn’t something I’d discussed with my boyfriend.

Although he was perfectly cordial, and didn’t storm off like he did the night of my birthday. (Why did he do that? It can’t be because of what Tina said, because he couldn’t stand to see me with J.P. Because he seemed just fine seeing me with J.P. tonight.)

Lilly, on the other hand, stonily ignored J.P.—although she cracked a little bit of a smile at me.

Tina, meanwhile, was so nervous about the whole thing (which was weird, because she was the only person there who didn’t have an ex present) that she began talking in a very high-pitched voice about the senior project committee—who were looking a little haggard, possibly from their night out with Sean Penn—and I had to take her by the arm and start steering her away, gently murmuring, “It’s going to be okay. Shhhh. It’s all over now. Boris passed with flying colors….”

“But,” Tina said, flinging a glance over her shoulder. “Why are Michael and Lilly here? Why?”

“Michael’s friends with Boris. Remember? They’re living together next year until Boris gets his single through the waiting list.”

“I need a vacation,” Tina whimpered. “I really need a vacation.”

“You’re getting one,” I said. “Tomorrow’s Senior Skip Day.”

“Are you really going to sleep with J.P.?” Tina wanted to know. “Are you really, Mia? Really?”

“Tina,” I whispered. “Could you say it a little louder? I don’t think all of Carnegie Hall heard you.”

“I just don’t think you’re doing it for the right reasons,” Tina said. “Don’t do it because you think you have to, or because you don’t want to be the last girl in our class who is still a virgin, or because you don’t want to be the only girl in your college who hasn’t slept with someone. Do it because you want to, because you feel a burning passion to. When I look at the two of you together, I just don’t think…Mia, I don’t think you want to. I don’t feel like there’s any passion. You write about passion in your book, but I don’t think you actually feel it. Not for J.P.”

“Okay,” I said, patting her on the arm. “I’m going to go now. Tell Boris he did a lovely job. Bye, now.”

I got Lars and J.P., told everyone else we were leaving, stayed far enough away from Michael that I couldn’t smell him, then left, dropping J.P. off at his place on our way home.

I tried really hard to feel passion as I kissed him good night.

I think I even did. I definitely felt something.

It might have been the staple from the dry cleaner the Reynolds-Abernathy family uses on the back of J.P.’s shirt collar though. I think it was scratching my finger as I tried to cling to him passionately.

Friday, May 5, 9 a.m., the loft

I don’t believe it.

Mom just poked her head in here and went, “Mia. Wake up.”

And I was like, “MOM. I’m not going to school. It’s Senior Skip Day. I don’t care if it’s not an officially sanctioned school holiday. I’m a senior. I’m skipping. Which means I don’t HAVE TO GET UP.”

Princess Diaries X - Forever Princess

And she went, “It’s not that. There’s someone on the house line, asking for Daphne Delacroix.”

I thought she was joking. I really did.

But she swore she was serious.

So I crawled out of bed and took the phone she was holding and put it to my ear and was like, “Hello?”

“Is this Daphne?” asked a way too cheerful woman’s voice.

“Um,” I said. “Sort of.” I really hadn’t woken up enough to be able to deal with the situation.

“Your real name isn’t Daphne Delacroix, is it?” asked the voice, laughing a little.

“Not exactly,” I said, stealing a glance at the caller ID on the handset. It said Avon Books.

Avon Books was the name on the spines of half of the historical romances I’d read while doing research for my own. It’s a huge publisher of romance novels.

“Well, this is Claire French,” the cheerful voice said. “And I’ve just finished reading your book, Ransom My Heart, and I’m calling to offer you a publishing contract.”

I swear I did not think I could have heard her right. It sounded like she said she was calling to offer me a publishing contract.

But that could not possibly be what she had said. Because people don’t call and offer me book deals. Especially first thing in the morning. Ever.

“What?” I said intelligently.