Sunday, December 13th, my room
This morning, once again, I was violently awakened. One minute, I was dreaming about Michael and me, prancing through a wheat field on the back of a white horse... Sorry, I have corny dreams. Back to my previous story. I was curled up in my sheets (probably sucking my thumb) and BAM! Someone was suffocating me with a big squishy, fluffy unknown object! I tore it off my face and stared into its sapphire blue eyes. Fat Louie! I missed him so much! I thought dad brought him to a kennel while I was staying in the hotel! Then I noticed dad standing in the doorway:
- Good morning Mia.
- Dad!
- I thought you would like your cat back.
- Thank you so much!
- Um, about yesterday. The concierge told me that he found a female juvenile delinquent yesterday lurking at my door and told me to be careful, of course, after assuring me that the hotel security system was VERY reliable. I figured that that was you.
So wearing combat boots makes me a juvenile delinquent now????
- Yeah, that was me.
- Why didn't you come in?
- I... I thought you were busy...
- Did you hear some,
- NO!! Um, I mean, I didn't hear anything. Nothing at all.
- So then,
- I MUST GET DRESSED NOW! Oh, um, I'm really hungry you see.
- Well, fine then, your Grand-Mere and I will be waiting for you in the tearoom.
- I'll be there in a sec.
Talk about a close call! He was so trying to talk to me about his sex life! I really didn't need that before I had breakfast since I wouldn't have had anything to puke out.
Later on Sunday
After breakfast, Grand-Mere played some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard:
- Mia, after careful consideration, I've decided to excuse you from further lessons with me from now until the ball.
YESSSS!!!! I tried to disguise my joy by coughing up a storm.
- * cough, cough * Why is that?
- I think that you are respectful enough to present to the public, if you don't open your mouth of course, but we will mostly dance throughout the night so that will not be such a big problem. Your table manners are still hideous, but, that will be all right since we will dine in private beforehand.
Gee, I must really be prepared. But who am I to complain? At least I'll be able to enjoy SOME part of the holiday season! I'm thinking about ditching the Christmas state of mind next year and celebrating winter solstice instead. Christmas has just gotten way too commercial.
Even later on Sunday, a bench in Central Park
After breakfast, I went up to my room to catch up on algebra but I found a little white envelope on the floor inside my room that distracted me for a while. Major understatement. I thought someone had slipped it under the door. That was weird. They don't let anything into my room before Lars has checked it for possible bombs. I opened it and found a found a ticket to a Broadway presentation for Beauty and the Beast on December 20th (the night of the dance). OH MY GOD!!!!! I instantly remembered that the only people who know that Beauty and the Beast was favorite show of all-time were:
a) My dad, since he brings me to see every time he's in town.
b) Lily, since she's my best friend and knows me better than I know myself.
Or,
c) MICHAEL MOSCOVITZ! Since I told him so when we played End of the World.
I looked inside the envelope again but there was no note. I checked the front of the envelope but there was no address or name or ANYTHING! I'm seriously thinking about paying someone to check to fingerprints on the ticket and see who they belong too. First the notes from my not so secret admirer anymore, Billy, and now I get this! The room got too suffocating for me to think so I ran out to Central Park to stare at the pigeons. I still can't think straight, the air's too polluted in this part of Manhattan. Michael's the only logical person that could have sent me the ticket. Dad could have just given it to me at breakfast. Lily could just have given it to me tomorrow. IT JUST HAS TO BE HIM! HIM! Please let it be him. But if it isn't that who can he be? I've got to talk to Michael now.
Countdown to the non-demonial winter dance:
7 days.
Countdown to Beauty and the Beast on Broadway, hopefully with Michael.
Also 7 days.
This morning, once again, I was violently awakened. One minute, I was dreaming about Michael and me, prancing through a wheat field on the back of a white horse... Sorry, I have corny dreams. Back to my previous story. I was curled up in my sheets (probably sucking my thumb) and BAM! Someone was suffocating me with a big squishy, fluffy unknown object! I tore it off my face and stared into its sapphire blue eyes. Fat Louie! I missed him so much! I thought dad brought him to a kennel while I was staying in the hotel! Then I noticed dad standing in the doorway:
- Good morning Mia.
- Dad!
- I thought you would like your cat back.
- Thank you so much!
- Um, about yesterday. The concierge told me that he found a female juvenile delinquent yesterday lurking at my door and told me to be careful, of course, after assuring me that the hotel security system was VERY reliable. I figured that that was you.
So wearing combat boots makes me a juvenile delinquent now????
- Yeah, that was me.
- Why didn't you come in?
- I... I thought you were busy...
- Did you hear some,
- NO!! Um, I mean, I didn't hear anything. Nothing at all.
- So then,
- I MUST GET DRESSED NOW! Oh, um, I'm really hungry you see.
- Well, fine then, your Grand-Mere and I will be waiting for you in the tearoom.
- I'll be there in a sec.
Talk about a close call! He was so trying to talk to me about his sex life! I really didn't need that before I had breakfast since I wouldn't have had anything to puke out.
Later on Sunday
After breakfast, Grand-Mere played some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard:
- Mia, after careful consideration, I've decided to excuse you from further lessons with me from now until the ball.
YESSSS!!!! I tried to disguise my joy by coughing up a storm.
- * cough, cough * Why is that?
- I think that you are respectful enough to present to the public, if you don't open your mouth of course, but we will mostly dance throughout the night so that will not be such a big problem. Your table manners are still hideous, but, that will be all right since we will dine in private beforehand.
Gee, I must really be prepared. But who am I to complain? At least I'll be able to enjoy SOME part of the holiday season! I'm thinking about ditching the Christmas state of mind next year and celebrating winter solstice instead. Christmas has just gotten way too commercial.
Even later on Sunday, a bench in Central Park
After breakfast, I went up to my room to catch up on algebra but I found a little white envelope on the floor inside my room that distracted me for a while. Major understatement. I thought someone had slipped it under the door. That was weird. They don't let anything into my room before Lars has checked it for possible bombs. I opened it and found a found a ticket to a Broadway presentation for Beauty and the Beast on December 20th (the night of the dance). OH MY GOD!!!!! I instantly remembered that the only people who know that Beauty and the Beast was favorite show of all-time were:
a) My dad, since he brings me to see every time he's in town.
b) Lily, since she's my best friend and knows me better than I know myself.
Or,
c) MICHAEL MOSCOVITZ! Since I told him so when we played End of the World.
I looked inside the envelope again but there was no note. I checked the front of the envelope but there was no address or name or ANYTHING! I'm seriously thinking about paying someone to check to fingerprints on the ticket and see who they belong too. First the notes from my not so secret admirer anymore, Billy, and now I get this! The room got too suffocating for me to think so I ran out to Central Park to stare at the pigeons. I still can't think straight, the air's too polluted in this part of Manhattan. Michael's the only logical person that could have sent me the ticket. Dad could have just given it to me at breakfast. Lily could just have given it to me tomorrow. IT JUST HAS TO BE HIM! HIM! Please let it be him. But if it isn't that who can he be? I've got to talk to Michael now.
Countdown to the non-demonial winter dance:
7 days.
Countdown to Beauty and the Beast on Broadway, hopefully with Michael.
Also 7 days.