More Wednesday, French Class

He was already sat down in his usual seat in G & T when she walked in.

A princess. She was a freaking princess. He had called her 'happy-go-lucky'. He had guessed that 'she really did have some problems, after all' – yeah, like being a goddamn princess.

Jesus Christ.

Mia sat down and Michael continued to stare.

She just smiled at him, pulled out her Algebra notebook, and began talking away like there was nothing wrong. "Hi, Michael. I did all those problems you gave me. But I still don't see why you couldn't just look at the train schedule to find out what time a train travelling at sixty-seven miles per hour will arrive in Fargo, North Dakota, if it leaves Salt Lake City at 7 a.m."

Was she trying to avoid Jumbo in the corner? Perhaps the whole 'princess' thing really didn't faze her? Well, it fazed him – how the hell was he ever allowed anywhere near her now, especially in the capacity he wanted to be allowed near her, when she was a princess?

He wasn't – that was the answer. He wasn't allowed anywhere near her, because she was far too good for him – no matter his belief in equality.

He felt sick.

Because of this, he decided just to throw Jumbo a packet of peanuts and make him do rings around the circus tent.

"So. Princess of Genovia, huh?" He asked. "Were you ever going to share that little piece of info with the rest of the group, or were we all meant to guess?"

Mia nervously half-smiled. "I was kind of hoping no one would ever find out."

He internally rolled his eyes – so like Mia. Though he was annoyed, it still endeared him. She hadn't changed.

"Well, that's obvious. I don't see why, though. It's not like it's a bad thing," he said more softly.

She gawped. "Are you kidding me? Of course it's bad!"

Either she wasn't on the up-and-up, or she wasn't the kind of girl that ever dreamed of wearing a tiara and being worth millions of dollars. Knowing Mia as he did, he guessed it was both.

"Did you read the article in today's Post, Thermopolis?"

Mia fervently shook her head – which also inadvertently sent a wave of her citrus scent crashing over him, sending his brain into a whirl.

"No way. I'm not going to read that trash. I don't know who this Carol Fernandez thinks she is, but–"

And that's when Lilly had to get involved.

"So, you're not aware that the Crown Prince of Genovia – namely your father – has a total personal worth which, including real estate property and the palace's art collection, is estimated at over three hundred million dollars?" His sister asked.

Judging from the look on Mia's face, she definitely didn't.

Lilly continued. "I wonder how much of that fortune was amassed by taking advantage of the sweat of the common labourer."

That's where Michael had to cut in – if just to shut Lilly up – with the limited knowledge he had of Genovia, but which he had fleshed out a bit using a search engine on the internet earlier.

"Considering that the people of Genovia have traditionally never paid income or property taxes, I would say none of it." He squinted at his sister. "What is with you, anyway, Lil?"

He knew she didn't like that name.

She glared – score. "Well, if you want to tolerate the excesses of the monarchy, you can be my guest, Michael. But I happen to think that it's disgusting, with the world economy in the state it's in today, for anyone to have a total worth of three hundred million dollars…especially someone who never did a day's work for it!"

Sometimes his sister was exceptionally narrow-minded, and it really pissed him off.

"Pardon me, Lilly, but it's my understanding that Mia's father works extremely hard for his country." His voice was lofty, but he felt like he was growling. "His father's historic pledge, after Mussolini's forces invaded in 1939, to exercise the rights of sovereignty in accordance with the political and economic interests of neighbouring France, in exchange for military and naval protection in the event of war, might have tied the hands of a lesser politician, but Mia's father has managed to work around that agreement. His efforts have resulted in a nation that has the highest literacy rate in Europe, some of the best educational attainment rates, and the lowest infant mortality, inflation, and unemployment rates in the Western hemisphere."

Thank you, Google…

He was exhausted, practically out of breath, but he wouldn't show it. For a second, time stood still – Mia simply stared at him, and…it looked like Lilly was going to back down.

But then, Lilly had never backed down.

"Shut up," Lilly hissed at him, before turning on Mia. "I see they already have you spouting off their populist propaganda like a good little girl."

"Me?" Mia asked indignantly. "Michael's the one who–"

"Aw, Lilly, you're just jealous." Michael cut in, smiling thinly at his sister.

She was so transparent.

"I am not!"

He nodded, leaning back in his chair. "Yes, you are. You're jealous because she got her hair cut without consulting you. You're jealous because you stopped talking to her, and she went out and got a new friend." He'd heard all about Tina Hakim 'Blah-Blah' from Lilly in one of her whirlwind rants. "And you're jealous because all this time, Mia's had this secret she didn't tell you."

It was the killing blow. Lilly turned purple with rage.

"Michael, SHUT UP!" She practically yelled.

Boris poked his head out of the supply closet then, but Michael didn't dare take his eyes off of his sister – he wasn't sure how far he'd pushed her.

After some more yelling, Lilly turned back to Michael with a malicious glint in her eye. "Gosh, Michael, you sure are quick to come to Mia's defence all of a sudden. I wonder if maybe it ever occurred to you that your argument, while ostensibly based on logic, might have less intellectual than libidinous roots?"

She was playing dirty. Michael's palms began to sweat and he could feel his ears burning – Mia wasn't stupid, so did she understand what Lilly had just said so…plainly?

He didn't even dare look at her.

"Well, what about your persecution of the Hos? Is that rooted in intellectual reasoning? Or is it more an example of vanity run amok?" He asked his sister, pretending she hadn't said anything before.

"That's a circular argument," she scoffed.

Wrong.

"It isn't. It's empirical."

Seeing Lilly's defeated look, he decided to bluntly change the subject and practically go on like there had never been such a long-winded argument at all.

And…well, he really wanted to know the answer to his question, as well as take his chance to repair whatever Lilly might have carelessly destroyed.

He turned to Mia. "So does this guy have to follow you around everywhere from now on?"

He doubted he still had a chance with her, if he ever had one to begin with, but it was good to get a lay of the land – if they did get to go out on a date, he wondered whether Mr Armed and Expressionless had to be there too.

"Yes," Mia answered.

His eyebrows shot up. "Really? Everywhere?"

Mia playfully rolled her eyes. "Everywhere except the Ladies' Room. Then he waits outside."

He didn't know why he had to ask…but he had to. Even with his sister sitting so close and still fuming, and even with Mr A.E. scanning him so intensely. "What if you were to go on a date? Like to the Cultural Diversity Dance this weekend?"

Mia smiled. "That hasn't exactly been an issue, considering that no one's asked me."

Michael opened his mouth, ready to let the words finally roll off of his tongue and not let his nerves stop him…when Boris stumbled out of the closet, releasing rubber cement fumes, and everyone made enough noise to alert Mrs Hill that her unsupervised lesson needed supervising.

Mia had gone back to her Algebra by the time everyone had settled, and he didn't have the courage or the strength to try again.

She looked up at him with those wide, grey eyes. "Are you alright?"

He shook everything off, including his heavy heart, and nodded. "I'm fine, Thermopolis."