And before I knew it, I was crying again. Man! What was it about this guy’s office that made me weep like a baby?

Dr. Knutz passed me the tissues. Not in an unkind way, either.

“Did he ever do or say anything to make you think this?” he wanted to know.

“N-no,” I sobbed.

“Then why do you think you feel that way?”

“B-because it’s true! I mean, being a princess is no big accomplishment! I was just BORN this way! I didn’t EARN it, the way Michael is going to earn fame and fortune from his robotic surgical arm. I mean, anyone can be BORN!”

“I think,” Dr. Knutz said a little dryly, “you’re being a bit hard on yourself. You’re only sixteen. Very few sixteen-year-olds actually—”

“JUDITH GERSHNER HAD ALREADY CLONED HER FIRST FRUIT FLY BY THE TIME SHE WAS SIXTEEN!” I shouted.

Then I felt ashamed of myself. I mean, for shouting. But I couldn’t help it.

“And look at Lilly,” I went on. “She’s sixteen, and she has her own TV show. And sure, it’s on public access, but whatever, it’s been optioned. And she has thousands of loyal viewers. And she made that show all by herself. No one even helped her. Well, except for me and Shameeka and Ling Su and Tina. But we just helped with the camera work, really. So saying I’m only sixteen—that doesn’t mean anything. There are lots of sixteen-year-olds who have accomplished loads more than me. I can’t even get published inSixteen magazine.”

“Supposing I take your word for it,” Dr. Knutz said. “If you really feel that way—that you aren’t worthy of Michael—hadn’t you better do something about it?”

Truly. He said that. He didn’t say,Gosh, Mia, how can you say you’re not worthy of Michael? Of course you’re worthy! You’re a fabulous human being, so giving and full of life.

Which is basically what everyone else has been saying to me whenever I have brought up this subject.

No, he was like,Yeah, you’re right. You do kind of suck. Now what are you going to do about it?

I was so shocked I stopped crying and just sat there staring at him with my mouth hanging open.

“Aren’t you…aren’t you supposed to say that I’m great just the way I am?” I demanded.

He shrugged. “What would be the point? You wouldn’t believe it, anyway.”

“Well, aren’t youat least supposed to say I should want to improve my worth formyself ? As opposed to for someboy ?”

“I assumed that was a given,” Dr. K said.

“Well,” I said. I was still kind of trying to get over my shock. “I mean, it’s true. Ido have to do something to prove I’m more than just a princess. Only…what? What can I do?”

Dr. Knutz shrugged. “How should I know? I still have to watch the movies of your life in order to get to know you as well as you claim they’ll make me. But I’ll tell you one thing Ido know: You’re not going to find out by lying around in bed, not going to school…or by continuing to hold grudges against people simply because they’ve said some unpleasant things to you in the past.”

Unpleasant? Wait till he gets a load of ihatemiathermopolis.com. Not that I’ve told him the URL. Or that Lana’s behind it.

But still. He doesn’t know from unpleasant.

So. My assignment?

Go shopping with Lana.

Figure out what I was put on this planet for (besides being a princess).

Come back and see Dr. Knutz next Friday after school.

I think I can handle the last one. The first two, though? Might actually kill me.

Friday, September 17, 7 p.m., the loft

Inbox: 0

Not that I actually expected to hear from either Michael OR Lilly. Especially not after I deleted Michael’s e-mail without even replying to it, and seeing the way Lilly ignored me in G and T.

Still. I had kind of hoped…I mean, this is the longest she’s not spoken to me. Ever.

I just can’t believe it’s basically over between us.

And because of a BOY.

Tina just IMed me, though. At least I still have Tina.

ILUVROMANCE: Mia! How ARE you? I barely got to talk to you at school today. Are you feeling better?

FTLOUIE: Yes, thanks!

Whatever. I lie all the time anyway.

ILUVROMANCE: I’m so glad! You looked so sad at school.

FTLOUIE: Well. Yeah. I guess that’s kind of to be expected, considering I’ve lost the love of my life and all.

ILUVROMANCE: I know. I’m so, so sorry. Hey, I know what might cheer you up! Some retail therapy! I mean, you did grow an inch and gained a whole size! You need new clothes! Do you want to go shopping tomorrow? My mom’ll take us. You know how she loves to shop!!!

Which is so totally what I get for ever having agreed to go shopping with Lana. Because Tina’s mom is practically a shopping GENIUS, being a former model and all.And she knows all the designers.

FTLOUIE: Oh, I’d love to! But I have to do something with my grandmother.

The lies just keep mounting and mounting. But whatever. I can’t tell TINA I’m doing something with LANA WEINBERGER. She’d never understand it. Even if I explained about the do-one-thing-every-day-that-scares-you thing. And the thing about Domina Rei.

ILUVROMANCE: Oh. Okay. Well, what are you doing tomorrow night, then? Want to come over? My parents are going out and I have to babysit, but we can watch some DVDs or something.

For some reason—well, okay, I guess because I’m depressed—this invitation almost made me cry. I mean, Tina is just so sweet.

Also, it sounded like something I could handle, emotionally. As opposed to going out with the guy I’d recently been accused of being in love with by the media. When the truth is, I’ve only ever loved one guy, and he is currently in Japan, sending me random e-mails about how hard it is to find egg sandwiches there.

Yeah. Nice.

FTLOUIE: I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.

Except lie in my own bed and watch TV.

But my TV got taken away. So I can’t even do that.

ILUVROMANCE: Yay! I was thinking we should re-examine the Drew Barrymore oeuvre. Her less recent works, likeEver After andThe Wedding Singer .

FTLOUIE: That sounds PERFECT. I’ll bring the popcorn.

I really don’t feel guilty about not telling Tina about Michael’s e-mail…or about the fact that I’m in therapy. Because I’m just not ready to talk about those things with anybody yet.

Maybe someday I will be.

But first? I’m going to take a really long nap.

Because I’m exhausted.

Saturday, September 18, 10 a.m., Henri Bendel luxury department store

What am I doing here?

I don’t belong in a store like this. Stores like this are for FANCY people.

And okay, I’m a princess. Which is admittedly pretty fancy.

But I am currently wearing a pair of my MOM’s jeans, because none of my own fit me.

People who are wearing MOM jeans do not belong in stores like these, which are all golden and sparkly and filled with attractive model types carrying bottles of perfume who come up to you and go, “Trish McEvoy?”

And when you go, “No, my name is Mia—” they spritz you with something that smells like Febreze, only fruitier.

I’m not kidding. This is not the Gap. It’s more of the kind of store Grandmère hangs out in. Only more crowded. Because usually when Grandmère shops, she calls ahead and has the store opened up for her after hours so she can shop without having to rub elbows with any commoners.

Mom about had a coronary when I told her where I was going this morning—and why I needed to borrow her jeans.

“You’re going shopping with WHOM????”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “It’s something I have to do. For therapy.”

“Your therapist is making you go shopping withLana Weinberger ?” Mom exchanged glances with Mr. G, who was refilling Rocky’s cereal bowl with Cheerios, and who had gotten so distracted by our conversation that he’d accidentally caused Cheerios to overflow from the bowl and all the way down the sides of Rocky’s booster chair. Which delighted Rocky no end. “This is supposed to help ALLEVIATE your depression?”

“It’s a long story,” I said to her. “I’m supposed to do something every day that scares me.”

“Well,” Mom said, handing over her Levi’s. “Shopping with Lana Weinberger would scare me.”

Mom’s right. What am I doing here? Why did I listen to Dr. K, anyway? What does HE know about the long, torrid history between Lana and me? Nothing! He’s never even seen the movies of my life! He doesn’t know all the heinous things she’s done to me and my friends in the past! He has no way of knowing that this whole shopping thing is probably a trick! That Carrot Top is the only one who is going to show up! That making me come here and stand among the perfume spritzers waiting for Carrot Top is Lana’s idea of a grand, final joke—

Oh. Here she comes.

More later.

Saturday, September 18, 3 p.m., bathroom at Nobu 57

For reasons that are completely beyond me, Lana Weinberger and her clone, Trisha Hayes, are actually being nice to me.

Well, the reasons aren’tcompletely beyond me. Lana already told me why she’s being so nice to me: “Because I’m finally over the Josh thing. It wasn’t your fault.”

When I pointed out—as politely as possible—that she hated me well before her boyfriend ever dumped her to date me (then went back to her when I, in turn, dumpedhim ), she said, while we were sorting through size 36Cs (I’m a 36C!!!! Not a 34B anymore!!!! Lana insisted on my getting measured by an actual intimate apparel expert, and the expert confirmed what I’ve been suspecting, that I’ve grown a whole cup size and an inch around as well!), “Well, it wasn’tyou so much I hated as that jerky friend of yours.”

To which Trisha added, “Yeah, how can you like that Lilly girl, anyway? She’s so full of herself.”