Princess Mia

But it was only J.P. He wanted to know if I’d seen the paper.

“Yes, isn’t that funny?” I tried to sound all breezy. Which is hard to do with a leftover fried chicken leg in your mouth. “They think we’re in love. Ha ha.”

“Yeah,” J.P. said. “Ha ha.”

I’m lucky he’s such a good sport.

“I’m really sorry,” I said. “It’s sort of a hazard of hanging out with me. I mean, that you’re going to end up in the paper.” I didn’t mention ihatemiathermopolis.com. I figured he’d find out soon enough about that.

“I don’t mind,” J.P. said, “being associated with a princess, the heir to a royal throne. And my parents are totally impressed. They think I’ve finally accomplished something.”

It was my turn to go, “Ha ha.” Although the truth is I was feeling kind of sick. Maybe on account of all the meat I’d consumed in the past hour and a half. Basically everything that was in the fridge. I seriously don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve gone from a vegetarian to practically a cannibal in less than a week.

Well, okay, not a cannibal. But whatever you call an excessive meat eater.

Except that I knew the truth. My sick feeling had nothing to do with all the meat I’d eaten, and everything to do with the fact that Michael’s plane had totally landed, and that he’d conceivably be checking his messages at any minute.

“Listen,” J.P. said. “I was wondering if you’d heard about Lilly’s party.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m not invited. Obviously.”

“I figured,” J.P. said with a sigh. “I was hoping she’d gotten over that by now.”

“Well, seeing our pictures plastered all over the news together isn’t going to help the situation any,” I said.

“No,” J.P. said. “Maybe if we give her the weekend…”

“Maybe.” I hope so. But I don’t really think the weekend is going to do it.

“Want to get together and have a party of our own tonight?” J.P. asked. “You know, show them how it’s done?”

“Oh my gosh, that is so sweet of you,” I said. “But I think I’d better stay here. Because Michael’s plane has landed, so he should be checking his e-mail soon. And I really want to be here when he calls.” If he calls.

But he has to call. Right??????

“Oh.” J.P. sounded kind of taken aback. “Well, wouldn’t it be better if you weren’t there when he calls? So he realizes how sought-after and popular you are?”

I laughed. J.P. really does have a twisted sense of humor.

“Funny! But I think there’s a good chance he’s going to realize that when he sees the paper. If that photo of us makes it to Japan. Besides, I really do need to work on my Precalculus if I’m going to pass.”

“Well, if you need help, I’ll be happy to come over,” J.P. offered. “I’m a whiz at the summation of infinitesimal differences.”

Isn’t he the sweetest? Imagine, offering to give up his Saturday to help me with Precalculus!

“Aw,” I said. “That’s so nice. But I’m good. I have an actual Algebra instructor living here, who I can turn to if I start pulling out my hair in despair. I mean, what’s left of my hair.”

“Well,” J.P. said. “Okay. But if you change your mind…”

“I’ll know who to call,” I said. I was kind of trying to hurry him off the phone. Because Michael could have been calling at that very moment. Not that my cell wouldn’t have told me. But. You know.

“Okay,” J.P. said. “Well, just remember. We make a ‘very attractive’ couple.”

“Because we’re both so tall and blond,” I said, laughing. J.P. laughed too, and then hung up.

When the Yellowstone caldera last erupted six hundred and forty thousand years ago, it released a thousand cubic kilometers of debris, basically covering half of North America in ash piles six feet deep.

This is totally what’s going to happen when J.P. finally finds his one true love.

I know this is totally selfish to say, but I just hope that when he finds his, I still have mine.

Saturday, September 11, 4 p.m., the loft

Inbox: 0

Phone messages: 0

I can’t believe this. He hasn’t e’d or called yet.

Mom just looked in here and went, “Mia? Aren’t you going out tonight?”

I guess she could tell by the fact that I’m wearing my Hello Kitty flannel pajamas that I’m in for the night.

“Nah,” I said, managing to sound more carefree than I really feel. WHY HASN’T HE CALLED? “I’m just going to hang here and catch up with my Precalculus homework.”

“Precalculus homework?” Mom actually reached out and felt my forehead. “You don’t feel feverish….”

“Ha ha.” Everyone around me is turning into such a comedian lately. I totally put my hands behind my back so she couldn’t see how sweaty they were.

“Mia,” Mom said, putting on her maternal face. “You can’t sit around in this apartment pining for Michael forever.”

“I know that,” I said, looking shocked. “God, Mom! Do you think I’d do that? I’m a feminist, you know. I don’t need a man to make me happy.” It’s just, you know, when that particular one is around, and I smell his neck, my oxytocin levels rise, and I feel calmer and more relaxed than I do when I’m alone. Or with anyone else.