Princess in Waiting (3 page)

Michael only likes me as a friend.'

'What?' Tina was shocked. 'But I thought you said he used the L word the night of the

Non-Denominational Winter Dance!'

'He did,' I said. 'Only he didn't say he was
in
love with me. He just said he loved me.'

Fortunately I didn't have to explain any further. Tina has read enough romance novels to know exactly

what I was getting at.

'Guys don't say the word love unless they mean it, Mia,' she said. 'I know. Dave never uses it with me.'

There was a throb

of pain in her voice.

'Yes, I know,' I said, sympathetically. 'But the question is,
how
did Michael mean it? I mean, Tina, I've

heard him say he

loves his dog. But he is not
in
love with his dog.'

'I guess I can see what you mean,' Tina said, though she sounded kind of doubtful. 'So, what are you

going to do?' 'That's

why I'm calling you!'

So then, just as I'd known she would, Tina came up with a plan. She was perfectly appalled when she

found out Michael

and I had not even spoken since the night of the Non-Denominational Winter Dance. I explained to her

the whole phone situation, and she said, no problem, that I should call her back in five minutes. So I did.

It was a really long five minutes,

but I managed to keep from going crazy during it by pushing down all my cuticles with the tip of my

sceptre, which was

lying around.

Pushing down your cuticles is not biting them, so I was still well within the confines of my New Year's

resolution.

When I called back precisely five minutes later, Tina had the number of Michael's grandmother's condo

in Florida!

'How did you get it?' I asked her, in astonishment.

'Easy,' Tina said. 'I just called information, and asked for the number for every Moscovitz in Boca Raton,

and then I called

each one on the list until I got the right one. Lilly answered. She's expecting your call.'

I couldn't believe how nice this was of Tina. Also how stupid I was not to have thought of doing it myself.

'Now that you have the number,' Tina said, 'how are you going to find out? Whether Michael is in love

with you or not?

I mean, you're not just going to ask him, are you?'

'Well,' I said. 'Yeah. That was the plan.'

'You can't put him on the spot like that,' Tina said. 'You've got to be more subtle. Remember, he's

Michael, which of course makes him vastly superior to most people, but he's still a guy.'

I hadn't thought of this. I hadn't thought of a lot of things, apparently. I couldn't believe that I had just

been going along on

this sea of bliss, happy just to know Michael even liked me, while the whole time he could have been

falling in love with someone else.

'Well,' I said. 'Maybe I should just be like, "Do you like me as a friend, or do you like me as a

girlfriend?'"

'Mia,' Tina said, T really do not think you should ask Michael point-blank like that. He might run away in

fear, like a startled fawn. Boys have a tendency to do that, you know. They aren't like us. They don't like

to talk about their feelings.'

It is just so sad that to get any kind of trustworthy advice about men, I have to call someone six thousand

miles away.

Thank God for Tina Hakim Baba, is all I have to say.

'So what do you think I should do?' I asked. 'Well, it's going to be hard for you to do anything,' Tina

said, 'until you get back here. The only way to tell what a boy is feeling is to look into his eyes. You'll

never get anything out of him over the phone. Boys are no good at talking on the phone.'

This was certainly true, if my ex-boyfriend Kenny had been any sort of indication.

'I know.' Tina said, sounding like she'd just gotten a good idea. 'Why don't you ask Lilly?'

'I don't know,' I said. 'I'd feel kind of funny about dragging her into something that's between Michael

and me .. .' The truth was, Lilly and I still hadn't really even talked about me liking her brother, and her

brother liking me back. I had always

thought she'd be kind of mad about it. But then it turned out in the end she actually kind of helped us get

together, by

telling Michael I was the one who'd been sending him these anonymous love letters.

'Just ask her,' Tina said. 'And then call me back! I want to know what she says.' 'OK,' I said.

Then I hung up and looked at the number Tina had given me for Lilly and Michael's grandmother's

condo. I have to admit

that, as I dialled, my fingers were shaking. I mean, I was going to talk to Michael - Michael, my new

boyfriend, whom I'd l

oved for years and years - for the first time since we'd stood kissing outside my apartment building on

Thompson Street.

What was I going to say? I had no idea. The only thing I knew for sure was that I was not going to say,

'Do you like me as

a friend, or do you like me as a girlfriend?' Because Tina had told me not to.

Lilly answered on the first ring. Our conversation went like this:

Lilly: (Sounding grouchy)
It's about time. I thought you'd never call.

Me: (Sounding defensive)
You never gave me your grandma's number.

Lilly:
What? And you couldn't figure it out? I mean, you take off for Genovia, and you don't leave me a

number

where I can reach you . . .

Me:
I didn't know the number. My dad always calls me. Besides, you didn't give me the number where

you were

going to be, either . . .

Lilly:
You don't respond to my emails . . .

Me:
There's no DSL here. Only dial-up, and it takes forever, and besides, I don't know how to access

my account

from Europe . . .

Lilly:
I even called your mom, and she gave me the number, and the stupid palace operator wouldn't put

me through!

She said something about Prince William. Are you two going out now, or something?

Me: (Way surprised)
Me and Prince William? NO! I barely said two words to him. Why?
(Starting to

panic)
Did

the papers say I'm going out with him? Because I'm not. I'm totally not. Does Michael think I'm

going out with him?

Lilly:
How should I know? I'd have to talk to him.

Me:
You two aren't talking? Why aren't you talking? Because he's going out with another girl? Is that it,

Lilly?

Michael met another girl, didn't he? Does she know how to boogie board? Oh, my God, I'm going

to kill myself.

Lilly:
What happens when people go to Europe, anyway? Do they suddenly become insane, or

something?

Me:
Just tell me the truth, Lilly, I can take it. Has Michael found another girl? Is her name Tiffany? All girls

from

warm states are named Tiffany.

Lilly:
First of all, for Michael to have met another girl, that would mean he'd have to tear himself from his

laptop

and leave the condo, which he hasn't done once the entire time we have been here. He is as

pasty-skinned as

ever. Secondly, he is not going to go out with some girl named Tiffany, because he likes you.

Me: (Practically crying with relief)
Really, Lilly? You swear?You aren't just lying to make me feel

better?

Lilly:
No, I'm not. Though I don't know why I should be so nice to you, since you didn't even remember

his birthday.

I felt something clutch at my throat. 'His birthday?' I shrieked. 'Oh my God, Lilly, I completely forgot!'

'Yes,' Lilly said. 'You did. But don't worry. I'm pretty sure he didn't expect a card or anything. I mean,

you're off being the Princess of Genovia. How can you be expected to remember something as important

as your boyfriend's birthday?'

This seemed really unfair to me. Michael and I have only been going out for twenty-one days, and for

twenty of them,

I had neither seen nor spoken to him, not even once. Plus, I have been busy. I mean, it is all very well for

Lilly to joke,

but I haven't seen her christening any battleships or campaigning among her populace for the rights of

bottlenose dolphins.

It may never have occurred to anyone, but this princess stuff is hard work.

'Lilly,' I said. 'Can I talk to him, please? Michael, I mean?'

'I suppose,' Lilly said with a sigh, sounding very tired of me. Then she screamed, 'Michael! Phone!'

It was a long time after that that I finally heard some footsteps, and then Michael going to Lilly, 'Thanks,'

and Lilly going, 'Whatever.' Then Michael picked up the phone and went, kind of curiously, since Lilly

hadn't told him who it was, 'Hello?'

Just hearing his voice made me forget all about how it was gone two in the morning and I was miserable

and hating my life. Suddenly it was like it was two in the afternoon and I was lying on one of the beaches

I was working so hard to protect from erosion and pollution by tourists, with the warm sun pouring down

on me and someone offering me an icy-cold Orangina from

a silver tray. That's how Michael's voice made me feel.

'Michael,' I said. 'It's me.'

'Mia,' he said, sounding genuinely happy to hear from me. I don't think it was my imagination, either. He

really did sound pleased, and not like he was getting ready to dump me at all. 'How are you?'

'I'm OK,' I said. Then, to get it out as soon as possible, I went, 'Listen, Michael, I can't believe I missed

your birthday. I suck.

I can't believe how much I suck. I am the most horrible person who ever walked the face of the planet. I

should be in jail, like Winona Ryder.'

Then Michael did a miraculous thing. He laughed. Laughed! Like missing his birthday was nothing!

'Oh, that's all right,' he said. 'I know you're busy over there. And there's that time-zone thing, and all. So,

how is it? How

did your speech go? The one on Genovian TV? Did your crown fall off? I know you were afraid it

might.'

I practically melted right there in the middle of my big fancy royal bed, with the phone clutched to my ear

and everything.

I couldn't believe he was being so nice to me, after the terrible thing I had done. It wasn't like twenty-one

days had gone by at all. It was like we were still standing in front of my stoop, with the snow coming

down and looking so white against Michael's dark hair, and Lars getting mad in the vestibule because we

wouldn't stop kissing and he was cold and wanted to go inside already.

I couldn't believe I had ever thought Michael might fall in love with some Floridian girl with boobs and a

boogie board.

I mean, I still wasn't exactly sure he was in love with me, or anything. But I was pretty sure he liked me.

And right there, at past two in the morning, sitting by myself in my royal bedchamber in the Palais de

Genovia, that was enough.

So I told him about my speech, and how I'd ruined it by going off about the plastic six-pack holders,

which Michael agreed was a vitally important issue. Then I told him about the sea turtles, and about my

plan to organize teams of volunteers to

patrol the beaches during nesting season to make sure that the eggs were not disturbed by tourists, or by

the machines they bring in every morning to comb the sand and pick up all the seaweed that washes up

during high tide.

And then I asked him about his birthday, and he told me how they'd gone to Red Lobster, and Lilly had

an allergic reaction

to her shrimp cocktail and they'd had to cut the meal short to go to Promptcare because she'd swelled up

like Violet in
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory,
and now she has to carry a syringe filled with

adrenaline around with her in case she accidentally ingests shellfish ever again, and how Michael's parents

got him a new laptop for when he goes to college and

how when he gets back to New York he is thinking about starting a band since he is having trouble

finding sponsors for his webzine
Crackhead
on account of how he did that ground-breaking expose on

how much Windows sucks and how he

only uses Linux now.

Apparently a lot of
Crackhead's
former subscribers are frightened of the wrath of Bill Gates and his

minions.

I was so happy to be listening to Michael's voice that I didn't even notice what time it was or how sleepy

I was getting until

he went, 'Hey, isn't it like three in the morning there?' which by that point it almost was. Only I didn't care

because I was so happy just to be talking to him.

'Yes,' I said, dreamily.

'Well, you'd better get to bed,' Michael said. 'Unless you get to sleep in. But I bet you have stuff to do

tomorrow, right?'

'Oh,' I said, still all lost in rapture, which is what the sound of Michael's voice sends me into. 'Just a

ribbon-cutting ceremony

at the hospital. And then lunch with the Genovian Historical Society. And then a tour of the Genovian

zoo. And then dinner

with Minister of Culture and his wife.'

'Oh, my God,' Michael said, sounding alarmed. 'Do you have to do that kind of stuff every day?'

'Uh-huh,' I said, wishing I were there with him, so that I could gaze into his adorably brown eyes while

hearing his adorably deep voice, and thus know whether or not he loved me, since this was, according to