All I want to know is: What?

Not about the Bengazis.

I mean what - WHAT???? - am I going to tell Michael? I mean, seriously. If he doesn't dump me now then there's

something wrong with him. And since I know there is nothing wrong with him, I know that I am about to be dumped.

About which all I can say is THERE IS NO JUSTICE IN THE WORLD. NONE.

Since Lilly has her breakfast meeting with the producers of the made-for-TV movie of my life tomorrow morning, I guess

I will break the news to Michael then. That way he can dump me in time for Homeroom. Maybe then I will have stopped

crying before Lana sees me in Algebra second period. I don't think I'll be able to take her mockery, after already having

my heart ripped from my body and flung across the floor.

I hate myself.







Thursday; January 21,

The Loft




I saw the movie of my life. My mom taped it for me while I was in Genovia. She thought Mr. G recorded

Temptation Island over it, but it turned out he didn't.

The girl who played me was way prettier than I am in real life. My mom says that's not true, but I know it is.

I guess I can see why Lilly is so mad, though. I mean, her character wasn't exactly supportive of mine for a good

two-thirds of the movie.

The guy who played Michael was a total babe. In the movie, he and I end up together.

Too bad in real life he is going to dump me tomorrow ... even though Tina doesn't think so.

This is very nice of her, and everything, but the fact is, he is totally going to. I mean, it really is a matter of pride. If a girl

with whom you have been going out for a full thirty-four days cancels your very first date, you really have no choice but to break up with her. I mean, I totally understand. I would break up with me. It is clear now that royal teens can't be like

normal ones. I mean, for people like me and Prince William, duty will always have to come first. Who is going to be able to understand that, let alone put up with it?

Tina says Michael can, and will. Tina says Michael won't break up with me because he loves me. I said yes he will,

because he only loves me as a friend.

'Clearly Michael loves you as more than just a friend,' Tina keeps saying into the phone. 'I mean, you guys kissed!'

'Yes,' I say. 'But Kenny and I kissed, and I did not like him as more than just a friend.'

'This is a completely different situation,' Tina says. 'Because you and Michael are meant to be together!' Tina sounds exasperated. 'Your star chart says so! You and Kenny were never meant for one another, he is a Cancer.'

Tina's astrological predictions notwithstanding, there is no evidence that Michael feels more strongly for me than he does

for, say, Judith Gershner. Yes, he wrote me that poem that mentioned the L word. But that was an entire month ago, during which period I was in another country. He has not renewed any such protestations since my return. I think it highly likely that tomorrow will be the straw that breaks the hot guy's back. I mean, why would Michael waste his time on a girl like me, who can't even stand up to her own grandmother? I'm sure if Michael's grandmother had been all, 'Michael, you've got to go to bingo with me Friday night, because Olga Krakowski, my childhood rival, will be there, and I want to show you off,' he'd

 have been all, 'Sorry, Gran, no can do.'

No, I'm the spineless one. I'm the one completely lacking in backbone.

And I'm die one who now must suffer for it.

I wonder if it is too late in the school year to transfer. Because I really don't think I can take going to the same school as Michael after we are broken up. Seeing him in the hallway between classes, at lunch, and in G and T, knowing he was once mine but that I'd lost him, might just kill me.

But is there another school in Manhattan that might take a talentless, backbone-lacking reject like myself? Doubtful.

For Michael


Oh, Michael, my one true love

We had all new pleasures yet to prove

But I lost you due to my own retardation

before our love had yet found frutation

And now through the years, for you I will pine

and mourn for the days when you were once mine.









Friday, January 22,

Homeroom




Well. That's it. It's over. He dumped me.

All right, not in so many words. But I could see it in his face.

He tried to be nice about it. I mean, he didn't come right out and say, 'Get back, Jack.'

But I could see it in his eyes.

'No, really, Mia,' was what he said. 'I understand. You're a princess. Duty comes first.'

That is what he said. What he meant was:

'Hmmm, I wonder if Judith Gershner has broken up with that guy from Trinity yet? Maybe she's available, since this loser

Mia sure isn't.'

I told him that I would try to get out of the ball early if I could. He said that if I did, I should stop by. The Moscovitzes' apartment, I mean.

I know what this means, of course:

That he is going to dump me there.

Because he can't dump me in my own limo, in front of my bodyguard and driver. I mean, for all Michael knows, Lars might

be trained to beat up boys who try to dump me in front of him. Surely Michael, having a normal sense of self-preservation,

will choose to break off our relationship in the privacy of his own home, where he will be safe from rubber bullets and ninja throwing stars.

I cannot blame him. I would do the same thing.

Now I know how Jane Eyre must have felt when she discovered, on her wedding day, that Mr Rochester had a wife yet

living. No, Michael doesn't have a wife that I know of. But my relationship with him, like Jane's with Mr Rochester, has

come to an end. And I can think of no earthly way it can ever be repaired. I mean, it's possible that tonight, when I go by

the Moscovitzes' place, it wall be in flames, and I will be able to prove myself worthy of Michael's love by selflessly saving

his mother, or perhaps his dog, Pavlov, from the fire.

But other than that, I don't see us getting back together. I will, of course, give him his birthday present, because I went to

all the trouble of stealing it.

But I know it won't do any good. It's over. Like my life.

They just announced the name of the newest member of the Albert Einstein High junior varsity cheerleading squad. It is Shameeka Taylor.

Who even cares?








Friday, January 22,

Algebra




Michael did not stop by here between classes. It is the first day all week that he hasn't slipped in to say hi on his way to

Senior English, three classrooms away from this one.

It is obvious why. I mean, we are broken up. He hates me now. I don't blame him. I hate myself.

To make matters worse — as if I can even care about something so trivial - Lana just turned around to hiss, 'Don't think

just because your little friend made the squad that anything is going to change between us, Mia. She's as much of a pathetic geekette as you are. They only let her on the squad to fulfil our freak quota.'

Then she whipped her head around again — but not as fast as she should have. Because a lot of her hair was still draped across my desk.

And when I slammed my Algebra I—II text closed as hard as I could - which is what I did next - a lot of her silky, awa-puhi-scented locks got trapped between page 212 and 213.

Lana shrieked in pain. Mr G, up at the chalkboard, turned around, saw where the screaming was coming from, and sighed.

'Mia,' he said, tiredly, 'Lana. What now?'

Lana stabbed an index finger in my direction. 'She slammed her book on my hair!'

I shrugged innocently. 'I didn't know her hair was in my book. Why can't she keep her hair to herself, anyway?'

Mr. Gianini looked bored. 'Lana,' he said, 'if you can't keep your hair under control, I recommend braids. Mia, don't

slam your book. It should be open to page two-twelve, where I want you to read from Section Two. Out loud.'

I read out loud from Section Two, but not without a certain primness. For once, vengeance on Lana had been mine, and

I had NOT been sent to the principal's office. Oh, it was sweet. Sweet, sweet vindication.

Although I don't even know why I have to learn this stuff; it isn't as if the Palais de Genovia isn't full of dweeby staffers

who are just dying to multiply fractions for me.







Polynomials

term: variable(s) multiplied by a coefficient

monomial: Polynomial w/ one term

binomial: Polynomial w/ two terms

trinomial: Polynomial w/ three terms

Degree of polynomial = the degree of the term with the highest degree




In my delight over the pain I had brought upon my enemy, I almost forgot about the fact that my heart is broken.

Must keep in mind that Michael is dumping me after the black-and-white ball tonight. Why can't I FOCUS????

Must be love. I am sick with it.









Fiday, January 22,

Health and Safety

Why do you look like you just ate ANOTHER sock?

I don't. How was your breakfast meeting? You do, too. The meeting went GREAT.

Really? Did they agree to print a full-page letter of apology in the Times?