But I want to find out what happens to the cat.

I—

I just got an e-mail. Check it out:

CHEERGRL: Hey, Mia! It’s me, Lana. Hope you had fun last night doing whatever. You missed an AWESOME party. You can see photos from it at LastNightsParty.com. OMG, on the way home I thought I saw your friend Lilly making out with a ninja or something at Around the Clock. But what would she be doing with a NINJA? I definitely partied WAY too hard. So how are those Louboutins from Saks working out for you? Too bad you can’t wear stilettos to school. Well, TTYL! ~*Lana*~

So Lilly’s romance with one of Kenny’s muay thai fighter friends continues! If you can call what they have together a “romance.”

When is Lilly going to realize that she’ll never find the emotional fulfillment she’s looking for in a relationship that’s based on pure physical attraction? I mean, what kind of muay thai fighter can keep up with Lilly on an intellectual basis? She’s going to toss him to the curb as soon as he opens his mouth.

It’s sad, really. You would think the daughter of two psychoanalysts would be able to recognize her own pathology for what it is.

But I guess since Lilly’s not in formal therapy, like I am, she thinks she doesn’t have a problem.

Ha!

Which reminds me—school tomorrow.

And I haven’t done any of my make-up work.

I wonder if I can get a note from Dr. Knutz?Please excuse Mia from her homework. She is depressed. Sincerely, Dr. Arthur T. Knutz.

Yeah. That’d go over great. Especially with Ms. Martinez—

OH MY GOD. Another e-mail from Michael just popped into my inbox.

Okay, I have got to stop having a panic attack every time this happens. I mean, we’re friends now. He’s going to write to me. I’ve got to stop losing it when he does. I’ve got to be normal. I can’t keep hyperventilating just because he’s reached out to me through cyberspace.

I’m sure he’s not writing because he’s realized what an awful, terrible mistake he’s made, saying he just wanted to be friends, and that he wants to get back together. I’m sure that’s not it at all. I’m sure he’s just wondering why I never replied to his last e-mail.

Or maybe I’m on some kind of forward list of his, and this is just some update on his eternal quest for an egg sandwich in Japan, or whatever.

Well. I guess I better click on it, or I’ll never know.

Maybe I’ll just wait for my heart rate to go down a little….

SKINNERBX: Dear Mia,

Hey, heard you had bronchitis. That sucks. Hope you’re feeling better now.

Things here are still good. We’re already working hard on the first stage of the robotic arm—or Charlie, as we’re calling it. I’m even starting to get used to the food, though baby squid isn’t really my idea of a snack. I understand my sister’s been giving you a hard time. You know how Lilly is, Mia. She’ll get over it eventually. You just have to give her space.

I know you’re feeling under the weather and probably swamped with homework and princess stuff, but if you get a chance, I’d love to hear from you.

Michael

Oh…God.

After I spent about half an hour crying over this e-mail, I deleted it without replying.

Because, I mean, seriously. Ican’t be friends with him.

I just can’t.

I’d rather have the plague.

Monday, September 20, French

Mia—what is that you’re reading?

It’s nothing, Tina. Just a journal belonging to one of my ancestresses.

Does it have a hot romance in it????

Um…not really. It’s actually kind of boring. Right now she’s just drafting some kind of executive order based on something she read in the palace library. Not that it’s going to do anybody any good. She, along with almost everybody else in the palace, dies of the plague at the end.

That doesn’t sound like your kind of read at all!

Yeah, I know. I don’t know what’s come over me lately.

Well, a lot’s been going on. Naturally, you’re growing and changing with the times. Speaking of growing—is that your new uniform?

Oh, yeah, it is. Thank God it came. I thought I was going to suffocate in that old one. Although I guess it wasn’t nearly as bad as the corsets they made my ancestress wear. Hey, did you hear Lilly was out this weekend with her mystery muay thai fighter man?

No! Who’d you hear that from?

Uh, I forget. Anyway, T, this is serious. You have to find out the 411 on this guy! Lilly could get seriously hurt.

I don’t know, I’m not exactly Lilly’s favorite person these days either. It’s like she hates me for still hanging out with you. You might have better luck with Kenny in your Chem class.

Right. I’m on it. Oh my God, did you know that in the 1600s people wore the lice they’d picked off you in lockets as a sign of affection?

Gross! I’m glad we have Kay Jewelers instead.

Seriously.

Monday, September 20, G & T

You know, I really didn’t think things could get any worse than my boyfriend dumping me and my best friend deciding I’m a cheating ho and refusing to speak to me anymore. Oh, and someone starting a website about what a dork I am and how much they hate me.

Then Lana Weinberger decided she’s my new best friend.

Look. I’m not saying I can’t use any more friends. Because God knows, I can.

But I’m just not sure I’m ready to have QUITE AS MANY FRIENDS as I apparently have now.

Especially since all I really want to do is get back in my bed and stay there.

Preferably forever.

But no. Clearly this is asking way, way too much.

Because today at lunch, when I went to sit down by Tina and Boris and J.P., I was astonished to find Lana and Trisha had put their trays down beside mine as well.

“Oh my God,” Lana said, when she saw what I was having for lunch. “Are you eating the corn dog? Do you have any idea how many carbs are in that? No wonder you’ve gone up a size. Hey, are those the new earrings you got Saturday? They look cute.”

Oh, yes. I was outed:

Outed as being a Friend of Lana.

Well, whatever. I mean, she’s not THAT bad. Sure, we’ve had our differences in the past.

But she does have some really great tips on how to stop biting your nails (put Sally Hansen Hard As Nails on them every night without fail before bed, and afterward, an olive oil cuticle rub).

Tina was staring at Lana with her mouth hanging open in astonishment, causing Trisha to say, “Take a picture, sweetie, it’ll last longer,” then remark that she liked the way Tina does her eyeliner, and asked if wearing it that way was part of her religion, or what.

This caused Tina to choke on her tuna salad.

“So do any of you have Schuyler for Precalc?” Lana wanted to know. “Because I don’t have a freaking clue what’s going on in that class.”

To which Boris replied, looking pained, “Um…I do.”

And then he spent the rest of the lunch period helping Lana with her homework, while Tina spent the rest of the lunch period showing Trisha how she does her eyes, and J.P. spent the rest of the lunch period smirking into his chili (sans corn).

All I wanted to do was read my translation of Amelie’s journal. But I couldn’t, because I was worried about how that might look. You know, that it might appear antisocial.

And I have enough strikes against me at the moment without “antisocial” being added to the list.

I did notice Lilly giving me a very dirty look over her shoulder as she went to take her tray up to the counter.

But that might have been because I was letting Lana put mini barrettes in my hair and Lilly has a thing about personal grooming in the caf.

Monday, September 20, Chemistry

J.P. wants to know how, merely by going shopping with Lana, I became one of the In Crowd.

I told him Lana and I didn’t merely go shopping: We wentbra shopping.

To which J.P. replied, “Please tell me all about it. And I meanall .”

But I was too busy reading about Princess Amelie. Uncle Francesco busted into the palace library and ordered all the books there burned, just to be mean, I’m sure, because he happened to know Amelie really liked them, not because he seriously believed they were contributing to the spread of the disease.

As if that weren’t upsetting enough, he also threw the drafts of the executive order she’d so carefully penned and signed—and hadwitnessed , which was no joke, since it was hard to find two living people in the palace to witness the signing of a document—into the fire. Even though Amelie explained to him that whatever it was she’d drawn up had been for the good of the Genovian people! Whom she did not believe he cared about. Especially since they were dropping like flies, and yet he was still allowing foreign ships to dock in the port, which only seemed to be bringing more disease into the country…not to mention spreading it back to the towns the ships had come from, on their return trips.

Amelie accused her uncle of only caring about whether or not the olive oil got delivered. To Uncle Francesco, it wasalways about the olive oil. And the crown, of course.

But no! He thought burning books (and executive orders) was the answer to all their problems!

I really wanted to keep reading because things were finally getting good with poor Amelie (or bad, as the case might be).

But Kenny yelled at me that if I wasn’t going to help with the experiment, I could just accept the zero I deserved.

So I’m stirring. Which would explain why my handwriting looks so bad.

Monday, September 20, the loft

Even though I am still in the depths of despair and all, I was actually kind of excited after school today because