her Mr. Rochester for all eternity. He could just be her Mr. Rochester for, you know, now. Until her real Mr.Rochester

comes along.

Oh, my God. I just don't know. I mean, BORIS PELKOWSKI.

Well, at least Tina's right about one thing: he does feel things passionately. I have the blood-soaked sweater to prove it.

Well, not really, because Mrs Pelkowski returned it and the dry cleaner really did get out all the stains.

But still.

Tina and BORIS PELKOWSKI?????????????

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!











Thursday, May 8, the Loft




After Lars had to shield me from yet another projectile - this one thrown with stunning accuracy by a senior rugby player -

he called my dad and said he thought for safety reasons I should be removed from school premises.

So my dad said OK. So I get the rest of the day off.

Except not really, because Mr. G is going over everything I haven't been paying much attention to in his class for the past

week and a half, using the front of the refrigerator as a chalk board, and the magnetic alphabet as the coefficients in the problems I'm supposed to be solving.

Whatever, Mr. G. Can't you see I have way bigger problems right now than a sinking grade in your class? I mean, hello,

I cannot even set foot in my own school without being pelted with fruit.

I'm so depressed. I mean, after everything with the strike, and then with Tina, and now this thing with everybody hating me,

I really don't see how I'm going to make it through the rest of the week. I already called my dad and was like, 'Tell

Grandmere thanks a lot. Now I'm not even safe at my own institution of secondary education, and it's all her fault.'

I don't know if he told her, though. I'm not sure he and Grandmere are speaking any more.

I know I'M not speaking to Grandmere. It seems like I'm not speaking to a lot of people, actually . . . Grandmere, Lilly,

Lana Weinberger . . .

Well, I've never really been on speaking terms with Lana. But you know what I mean. Wow, what if I can never go back to school again? Like, what if I have to be home-schooled? That would suck so bad! I mean, how would I keep up with all the gossip? Like who was going out with whom? And when would I ever see Michael? Just on weekends, and that's it. That would be so WRONG!!!! The high point of my day is seeing him waiting outside his building to be picked up by my limo on the way to school. I know that I am going to be deprived of this forever when he starts going to Columbia. But I thought I'd still be able to enjoy it for the rest of the school year, anyway.

Oh, my God, this is bumming me out so badly. I mean, I never really LIKED Albert Einstein High, but considering the alternatives . . . you know, home-schooling or, even worse, school in GENOVIA . . . my God, in comparison, AEHS is like Shangri-La. Whatever Shangri-La is.

How dare they try to keep me from it? AEHS, I mean. HOW DARE THEY?????????? Oh, someone is at the door. Please

let it be Michael with the rest of my homework. Not because I'm desperate to do the rest of my homework, but because if I have ever needed to be comforted with the smell of Michael's neck, it's now . . .

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

PLEASE PLEASE.










Thursday, May 8, later, the Loft



Well, it wasn't Michael. But it was close. It was a Moscovitz.

Just the wrong one.

I really think Lilly has some nerve coming around here after what she put me through. I mean, Asperger's or not, she has

made my life a perfect hell these past few days, and then she shows up at my door, crying and begging to be forgiven?

But what could I do? I couldn't exactly slam the door in her face. Well, I could have, of course, but it would have been

terribly unprincesslike.

Instead, I invited her in - but coldly. Very coldly. Who's the weak one NOW, I'd like to know????

We went into my room. I shut the door (I'm allowed to shut my bedroom door so long as anybody but Michael is inside

there with me).

And Lilly let loose.

Not, as I was expecting, with the heartfelt apology I deserved for her dreadful treatment of me, dragging my good name and royal lineage across the airwaves in the manner she had.

Oh no. Nothing like that. Instead, Lilly is crying because she heard about Tina and Boris.

That's right. Lilly's crying because she wants her boyfriend back.

Seriously! And after the way she'd treated him!

I'm just sitting here in stunned silence, staring at Lilly as she rants. She's stomping around my room in her Mao jacket and Birkenstocks, shaking her glossy curls, her eyes, behind the lenses of her glasses (I guess revolutionaries working to empower the people don't wear their contacts), filled with bitter tears.

'How could he?' she keeps wailing. 'I turn my back for five minutes - five minutes! - and he runs off with another girl? What

can he be thinking?'

I can't help but point out that perhaps Boris was thinking about seeing her, Lilly, his girlfriend, with another boy's tongue down her throat. In MY hallway closet, no less.

'Boris and I never vowed to see one another exclusively,' she insists. 'I told him that I am like a restless bird ... I can't be tied down.'

'Well.' I shrug. 'Maybe he's more into the roosting type.' 'Like Tina, you mean?' Lilly rubs her eyes. 'I can't believe she could

do this to me. I mean, doesn't she realize that she'll never make Boris happy? He's a genius, after all. It takes a genius to know how to handle a fellow genius.'

I remind Lilly, somewhat stiffly, that I am no genius, but I seem to be handling her brother, whose IQ is 179, quite well.

I don't mention the whole part about him still refusing to go to the prom and the fact that we haven't got to second base yet.

'Oh, please,' Lilly scoffs. 'Michael's gaga for you. Besides, at least you're in Gifted and Talented. You get to observe geniuses in action on a daily basis. What does Tina know about them? Why, I don't think she's even seen A Beautiful Mind. Because Russell doesn't take his shirt off enough in it, no doubt.'

'Hey,' I say harshly. I'd noticed this about A Beautiful Mind, too, and I think it's a valid criticism. 'Tina is my friend. A way better friend to me than you've been lately.'

Lilly has the grace to look guilty.

'I'm sorry about all that, Mia,' she says. 'I swear I don't know what came over me. I just saw Jangbu and I ... well, I guess

I became a slave to my own lust.'

I must say, I am very surprised to hear this. Because while Jangbu is, of course, quite hot, I never knew physical attraction

was important to Lilly. I mean, after all, she's been going out with Boris for, like, ever.

But apparently, it was all completely physical between her and Jangbu.

God. I wonder what base they got to. Would it be rude to ask? I mean, I know that, considering we aren't best friends any more, it probably isn't any of my business. But if she got to third with that guy, I'll kill her.

'But it's over between Jangbu and me,' Lilly just announced very dramatically ... so dramatically that Fat Louie, who doesn't

like Lilly very much in the first place, and usually hides in the closet among my shoes when she comes over, just tried to

burrow his way into my snow boots. 'I thought he had the heart of a proletarian. I thought, at last I had found a man who shared my passion for social causes and the advancement of the worker. But alas ... I was wrong. So very, very wrong.

I simply cannot be soul-mates with a man willing to sell his life story to the press.'

It appears that Jangbu has been approached by a number of magazines, including People and US Weekly, who are vying for the exclusive rights to the details of his run-in with the Dowager Princess of Genovia and her dog.

'Really?' I was very surprised to hear this. 'How much are they offering him?'

'Last time I talked to him, they were up to six figures.' Lilly dries her eyes on one of Grandmere's Chanel scarves. 'He won't

be needing his job back at Les Hautes Manger, that's for sure. He's planning on opening a restaurant of his own. A Taste of Tibet, he's planning on calling it.'

'Wow.' I feel for Lilly. I really do. I mean, I know how much it sucks when someone you thought was your spiritual lifemate turns out to be sell-out. Especially when he French kisses as well as Josh - I mean Jangbu - does.

Still, just because I feel sorry for Lilly doesn't mean I'm going to forgive her for what she did. I may not be self-actualized,

but at least I have pride.

'But I want you to know,' Lilly is saying, 'that I realized I wasn't in love with Jangbu before all this stuff with the strike happened. I knew I had never stopped loving Boris when he picked up that globe and dropped it on his head for me. I mean, Mia, he was willing to get stitches for me. That's how much he loves me. No boy has ever loved me enough to risk actual, physical pain and discomfort for me ... and certainly not Jangbu. I mean, he's WAY too caught up in his own fame and celebrity. Not like Boris. I mean, Boris is a thousand times more gifted and talented than Jangbu, and HE isn't caught up in

the fame game.'

I really don't know quite how to respond to all this. I guess Lilly must realize this by the way she's narrowing her eyes at me

and going, 'Would you please stop writing in that journal for ONE MINUTE and tell me how I can win Boris back?'