ME, A PRINCESS???? YEAH, RIGHT.

A Screenplay by Mia Thermopolis

(second draft)

Scene 12

INT/DAY—The Palm Court at the Plaza Hotel in New York City. A flat-chested girl with upside-down-yield-sign-shaped hair (14-year-old MIA THERMOPOLIS) is sitting at an ornately set table across from a bald man (her father, PRINCE PHILLIPE). We can tell by MIA’s expression that her father is telling her something upsetting.

PRINCE PHILLIPE

You’re not Mia Thermopolis anymore, honey.

MIA

(blinking with astonishment)

I’m not? Then who am I?

PRINCE PHILLIPE

You’re Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, Princess of Genovia.

MIA

(getting up from the table, pulling an Uzi from her backpack)

Dad, look out!

NINJAS descend from the ceiling on ropes. MIA kicks over the table, sending the tea things flying. Then she strafes the room with bullets from her Uzi. TOURISTS and WAITERS dive for cover. Her dad, terrified, ducks behind a potted plant. MIA throws down the Uzi, which has jammed, and kickboxes the NINJAS, dispatching them one by one, à la River in the movie SERENITY.

Finally, the room is still, all NINJAS unconscious. One by one, the TOURISTS and WAITERS climb to their feet. One of them begins to clap, slowly. He is joined by everyone else. Soon, MIA is receiving a standing ovation for her bravery.

MIA walks up to PHILLIPE and sticks out her right hand to help him to his feet. He hesitantly takes it. She pulls him up.

PRINCE PHILLIPE

(gratefully)

Mia—where did you learn to—

MIA

(matter-of-factly)

I’ve been working as a highly trained demon-killer for the Vatican for years, Dad. Didn’t you know?

PRINCE PHILLIPE

I didn’t know. I was wrong about you, Mia. You’re not just a princess.

MIA

No, Dad. No, I’m not.

F

Mia, while this is highly imaginative, in no way does it satisfy the assignment, which was to describe a beloved pet.

—C. Martinez

Friday, September 10, English

Are you okay?

I guess so, Tina. Thanks.

You look kind of…pale. And your eyes are red.

Yeah. Well. I didn’t get much sleep last night.

Have you spoken to him yet? Michael, I mean?

No. Not in person.

Hasn’t he called? Or texted?

Well, yes. But I haven’t written back. How can I, Tina? What is there to SAY?

True. But if he apologized, wouldn’t you forgive him?

He’s not going to apologize, Tina. He doesn’t think he did anything wrong!!!

But this can’t be IT. I mean, it can’t be OVER between you two. You love each other too much!!!!!

Michael himself said—in one of the e-mails he sent—that maybe it’s better this way. You know, that we see other people while he’s gone.

HE SAID THAT????

Well, he didn’t say HE was going to see other people, but that it was okay with him if I wanted to.

Wait—he really SAID that?

Yes. He did. Well, he said he guessed it HAD to be okay.

Oh, Mia! I don’t know how to say this but—do you think maybeYour Precious Giftis wrong? Because in my favorite romance novels—The Sheik and the Virgin SecretaryandThe Sheik and the Princess Bride—none of the sheiks were virgins, and it all turned out okay for them and THEIR girlfriends.

I didn’t want to write what I wrote next. Really. It HURT me to say it. But someone HAD to. Because Tina just can’t live in Tinaland for the rest of her life. She just can’t.

Tina. Those are BOOKS.

But Tina wasn’t backing down.

Your Precious Giftis a BOOK. How come it’s right, and not the sheik books?

Tina. None of the sheiks in those books Did It with Judith Gershner and then LIED about it, okay? None of the sheiks in those books invented a robotic surgical arm and are leaving for Japan for a year. Or more. And if they were, they’d take their virgin secretary princess bride WITH THEM.

I know. I just think maybe you should give Michael another chance.

How can I do that? Every time I think about him now, all I can picture in my head is Judith Gershner with her tongue in his mouth. And that is the LEAST disgusting thing I picture the two of them doing.

Yes. I felt that way when I found out about Lilly and Boris. But it goes away after a while, Mia. Really. In a few days you won’t see Judith Gershner in your head anymore when you think about Michael.

Thanks, Tina. I see what you’re saying. I really do. But the problem is, in a few days—no, in a few HOURS—Michael will be gone. Possibly forever!

Mia! Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry!

It’s not you, Tina. It’s me. I just—I just—

Mia, it’s okay. You don’t have to write another word. I’ll shut up now.

God. How can it have come to this—me sitting in English class, CRYING???

In a way I wish Michael WAS a sheik, and I was his virgin secretary or princess bride. I know it’s not very feminist of me to think that.

But if he whisked me off to his tent in the desert instead of moving to Japan, at least I’d know he really cared.

Friday, September 10, French

Mia! Is it true?

Yes, Perin. It’s true that Michael admitted he had sex with Judith Gershner and he’s moving to Japan and he and I are broken up. I feel really terrible about it and I don’t want to start crying in French, so can we not talk about it?

Um, no. I meant is it true that you would know what to do if a tsunami hit New York City?

Oh. Yes, that’s true, too.

I’m sorry about you and Michael. I didn’t know. So I guess you’re single now?

I never thought of it before. But, yeah, I guess I am.

Want to sleep over tonight?

Oh, thanks for the invitation, Perin, but I think I’m just going to go home and go to bed. I’m not really doing all that great, to tell you the truth.

Okay. Well, feel better!

Thanks!

Qu’est-ce que c’est que le mérite incroyable d’une femme, vous demandez? Selon la chaine douze, le mérite incroyable d’une femme est sa capacité de nourrir ses enfants. Une femme avec une carrière? Ça, c’est une femme qui n’adore pas ses enfants, ou son mari. Elle n’est pas une chrétienne! Elle est une serveuse du diable!

Mes camarades et moi nous nous sommes regardés les unes les autres. Nous avons changés le chaine. Et juste a l’heure!

117+76=only 193!!!!!! I need 7 more words!

Oh, wait…the title. AND MY NAME:

Une Emission Pleine d’Action par

Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Renaldo Thermopolis

YES!!!!

At least SOMETHING is going my way today.

Friday, September 10, between French and Lunch

My cell phone just buzzed. Michael left the following text message:

MICHAELM: At least let me come by and try to explain. Even though that won’t be easy because I’m still not clear on what, exactly, I did that was so wrong.

What is he talking about,come by and try to explain ? How can he come by and try to explain? I’m in SCHOOL.

And how can he still not know what he did wrong?????

Friday, September 10, Lunch

You know what? I don’t care. LET them stare at me. This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten in this cafeteria. If I’d known the cheeseburgers were this good, as a matter of fact, I’d have started eating them a long time ago.

And you know what? I don’t even care. I mean, I still feel bad for the animals, and stuff.

But in a way it’s like…well, tough luck for them. The world is an unfair place. Sometimes you’re the windshield. Sometimes you’re the bug.

That’s from a song my mom likes.

If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I’ll probably come back as a cow, and I’ll spend my whole life in a tiny stall I can barely move around in, and eventually someone will come around and bonk me on the head and then skin me and make my skin into a leather miniskirt and the rest of me into hamburger and a girl whose boyfriend gave his Precious Gift to Judith Gershner will eat me, and that will just be too bad for me. It’s the circle of life, baby.

Wow. I guess I’m a total nihilist now.

Lilly seems to think so. And she can’t seem to believe it.

“A burger?” She just kept staring at my tray. “You’re eating a CHEESEBURGER?”

“I don’t care anymore,” I said. Because it’s true. I don’t. About anything. Being a nihilist, and all.

“You and my brother,” she said, “get into one fight, and you break up with him and start eating meat? He’s right. You HAVE lost your mind.”

I put my burger down at that one.

“He SAID that?” I demanded. I didn’t care that we were having this discussion in front of the whole lunch crowd—J.P., Boris, Ling Su, Tina, Perin. Why should I? I don’t care about anything anymore. “Michael said I’ve lost my mind?”

“Basically,” Lilly said. “And the fact that you’re sitting there eating a cheeseburger proves it. You haven’t eaten meat since you were six years old!”

“Well, maybe it’s time I started,” I said. “Maybe if I’d been getting more protein this whole time, I wouldn’t have made so many boneheaded decisions.”

“Which one of your many are you referring to?” Lilly asked acidly.

“Hey, Lilly,” J.P. said, quietly but firmly. “Cut it out.”

Lilly looked startled. She isn’t used to J.P. butting in on her conversations with me. Because he’s never done it before.

But it was too late. Because my eyes were already filling up with tears. Again.

I guess I’m not a nihilist after all.

“If he thinks I’ve lost my mind,” I said to Lilly, barely able to contain a sob, “then he doesn’t get it AT ALL. I HAVEN’T lost my mind. I just can’t DEAL with it anymore.”

“Deal with what?” Lilly wanted to know. “Having a guy who loves you so much that while you were off in Genovia this summer, he invented this fantastic thing that could change the face of medical history as we know it, just so he could prove he was good enough to be with you, only to have you slap him in the face when he explained that in order to get the thing off the ground he has to go away for a while?”