A/N: Well, we here are...third chapter. Not bad.
I wish Cabot had more Michael/Mia interaction in her books. That's mostly why I'm writing this. I always love some romantic bantering goodness. I really just love all her characters so much. They feel so real to me.
Disclaimer: Meg Cabot owns the Princess Diaries series.
Disney has rights to the movie (which should have left room for a sequel so we could drool over Robert Carmine some more)
I own nothing but any character you don't recognize from the books or movie.
Rating: PG, I guess.
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Mia's POV
"You are doing WHAT, Amelia?" I could understand my grandmother's shock. I could hardly believe it myself. I mean, I'm a flat-chested moron and he's a brilliant, kind, witty, incredibly hot senior. Who wouldn't be shocked?
"I'm going out with Michael Moscovitz tonight," I told her. It felt so great to say that.
"Moscovitz," my grandmother repeated. "As in, the one with that gruesome cable show?"
"That's Lilly, not Michael!"
"It makes no difference," Grandmere waved her claw-like hand dramatically. "They are related. That is enough."
"Grandmere, before you lecture me about my royal duties to the Genovian public, I would like to remind you that I, not you, am heir to the throne. I will make my own decisions!" Wow. That was...assertive. I feel so self-actualized. I honestly cannot believe I said that to her.
Of course, while we were having this conversation, I was being fitted for a silk brassiere for the latest evening gown I had to wear, so I didn't feel all that dignified and royal. Sebastiano was clucking to himself and writing down measurements and circling me like some kind of animal in the jungle.
So maybe it came out more like, "Now, Grandmere, before you...go lecturing me about my...my royal duties to the Genovian-ow! (my designer has no idea how painful a safety pin jabbed into your shoulder can be)- public, I would like to remind you that (gulp) I, not...not-not really-you, am heir to the throne. I-I-will make my-own...d-decisions."
But still. It was pretty courageous of me, I think.
Grandmere didn't say anything for a minute and then she just sort of shrugged her bony shoulders and went, "Have it your way, Amelia. I am only trying to help. I hope you are happy when this Michael (she said it like he was a disease of some kind) is attacked by the Genovian press and he decides you are not worth the trouble."
She does have a way of making a person feel loved, doesn't she? As IF! Michael is NOT that shallow! Anyhow, I get to go out with Michael tonight. That's the important thing.
****
Michael's POV
"Michael, would you hurry it up? SOME of us have important interviews to get to."
"What's wrong with you?" I asked, splashing some water over my face and unbuttoning the top buttons of my shirt.
"Nothing." My sister is a rotten liar. Even if her nostrils don't flare like Mia's.
"Yeah, right, you've been in a bad mood since like, forever."
Lilly didn't answer, just picked up my laundry from the bathroom floor and threw it at me.
Being me, I had to get the last jab as she stomped out, "Of course, I'd be in a bad mood, TOO, if the only reason a reporter wanted to talk to me was because I was best friends with a PRINCESS!"
"Shut up!" she flung back.
For some reason, I immediately regretted my words. Maybe it was the way she didn't have a brainy come-back like she normally did when I made fun of her. Or maybe it was the way her eyes that looked so much like mine were filling up with tears as she slammed her door. Or maybe just the little catch in her voice when she told me where to stick my palm pilot.
I didn't want to be late for my date with Mia. Date with Mia. I grinned but it faded again.
Heaven knows why I found myself knocking on my sister's door.
She didn't answer but for the first time in a long time, I had the privilege of listening to my sister cry.
Well, it just didn't take anymore than that.
"Lilly?" I knocked again. Not waiting, I pushed the door open. My parents have this thing against locks. Something about trust issues or some crap like that. Somehow, I ended up with a lock on my door and Lilly didn't.
I have never seen a teenage girl look more dejected. Except Mia, sometimes, when she comes back from those weird lessons with her grandmother. (Who is really scary, by the way).
Lilly had pulled every single blanket from her closet onto her bed and was huddling under all of them, her face the picture of pain.
She glared at me, "Go away."
"I know you're jealous of Mia."
"Michael, for once, will you just leave me alone?"
I sat down on the edge of her bed and looked around. "Haven't been in here for awhile."
"You haven't been INVITED in here for awhile."
"What's that?" I asked, pointing towards the purplish black lump of something or other on her night stand.
She grabbed it impulsively, "Boris made it for me in art class. It's a sculpture."
"Of WHAT?"
"Of FEELINGS!"
"And how was he feeling when he made that thing? Physically ill?"
"You wouldn't know art if it slapped you in the face!" she shot back.
We sat there for another minute, staring at Boris's "masterpiece."
"So...?" I threw myself back against her pillows and waited for her to spill.
She stared at me for a moment. And then sighed, resigned, "Michael, it isn't fair. I know that's not an intelligent argument but...it ISN'T!"
I didn't say anything.
She went on, "I mean, Mia could care LESS if she ever had to be on tv again. She hates speaking in public, she doesn't enjoy attention. So why is SHE in the spotlight? Huh? What's wrong with her?"
"Lilly, just because Mia is the princess of a European country doesn't mean there's anything wrong with her."
"I know but...but...I want people to care what I have to say, too! You know?"
"They do."
"No, they don't! Not like they do with Mia! 'Mia, what do you think of George Bush?' 'Mia, what are your thoughts on global unity?' 'Mia, what kind of shampoo do you use?'"
"You want people to ask what kind of shampoo you use?"
"No, well, I don't know. I want them to CARE. Even if it is a stupid question."
I waited for her to say something else but she remained silent after that.
So I did, too.
"Well?" she asked finally.
"Well what?"
"Aren't you going to tell me what I should do?"
"I'm just your brother," I shrugged. "How would I know?"
"You're just trying to make me drag it out of you! Well, it won't work. I don't CARE what you think!"
"That's your problem."
"What?"
"You want people to care what you think. You need to try and care what they think, too."
"You mean...conform to societal standards?" Lilly sounded horrified.
"I mean, treat people with the same respect and interest you want to be treated with."
She got very quiet again.
"What else?" she whispered.
"Lilly, you've been asked to go talk about your best friend and your relationship with her for a very big newspaper. You have the opportunity, in the midst of telling them about your wonderful friend who happens to be royal, to sparkle through with that personality that got you a cable show to begin with. You're not a dud, sis. Go be you and if it's meant to be, you'll shine as much as Mia. In your own way." I really need to stop watching Dr. Phil. Fast.
"What are you on?" My sister muttered as she stood up and began rearranging her hair in the mirror. I could see the tears drying on her face so I guessed she was feeling better.
"Good luck at your interview," I called as I left her room. Hopefully, I wouldn't be too late to stop and get flowers for Mia.
"Michael! Wait a minute!" I was almost out the door when Lilly came barreling down the hall.
"Yeah?" I asked, fiddling with my metro card.
"Uh...have...have a good time, with Mia," she forced awkwardly. And then retreated quickly to the sanctuary of her bedroom. Walking backwards, she screeched at me as I closed the door, "You hurt her and I will hurt YOU! And I KNOW where you SLEEP, too!"
Sisters.
****
Mia's POV
"Well, don't you look nice?" Mr. Giannini looked up from grading papers.
I smiled nervously and turning towards the refrigerator tugged my bra strap down for the millionth time. Stupid thing wouldn't hold still.
"Frank, do you know where we put the triple fudge pistachio when we got home?"
My teacher rolled his eyes, "Uh...check the other freezer, honey."
"So where are you and Michael going?" he asked.
"Um...I don't really know."
Frank raised an eyebrow, "Do you normally agree to go on dates to an undisclosed location?"
I actually don't go on dates that much. But I didn't tell him that.
I stood up straighter and tried to look casual. It came off as more defensive, I think. "It's supposed to be a surprise."
"Uh huh."
My mom walked in then, her stomach looking bigger (if that was possible) then when she had gone to take a nap, "Mia, are we out of pickles again?"
"I didn't buy any if that's what you mean."
Helen Thermopolis sighed, "Oh, well. I guess plain triple fudge pistachio will have to do."
She eyed my clothes for a minute. I saw nothing wrong with them. I had reluctantly allowed Sebastiano to come with me on my quest and I now stood in an outfit of his choice. It wasn't bad, really. This kind of stretchy black top with ties on the sides and a v-neck, a short cargo-skirt, and black suede boots that came up to my knees. My hair was barely long enough to put in braids but I managed. Sort of the preppy-good-girl-in-gogo's-look, you know?
"You look cute, Mia." But my mother couldn't seem to think of any reason why I would bother dressing up like that. I could totally see it in her eyes.
"My date, Mom. With Michael? Remember?"
Ah, recognition.
"Oh, yeah, yeah. Where are you guys going again?"
I blushed, "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"He didn't tell me."
"A surprise, I take it?" My mom smiled, but suddenly a hand flew to her stomach and she turned to her husband, "Guess what?"
"What?"
"The baby just kicked again!"
"Really?" he reached over to put his hand over hers.
"Yeah," my mom sounded all dreamy.
"It's gonna be a fire-cracker, I take it," Frank told her, standing up, and pulling her close (as close as he could without that enormous watermelon between them). "Just like its mother."
He was bending down to kiss her and I was starting to sweat. I really, REALLY dislike seeing my mother and my algebra teacher kiss. I don't why. I just...find it disturbing is all.
I was trying to think of something to bring them back to reality when...the doorbell rang.
****
Shout ins:
imaginelet: Thank you, precious! And thanks for mentioning what Lilly might do in the interview. That helped get me thinking. :) (hugs)
touch concerned: No need to worry. I'll try to stay consistent with my meds from now on, how's that? ;) Thanks.
KlutzY: Thank you. I hope you liked this new chapter. :) Have a brownie.
Ira Gaines: Thank you for your great review! Hey, I'm sorry about misspelling Lilly's name! I had a hard time remembering which way it was when I started. Somehow, I missed that. I hope I get a chance soon to go back and fix those errors. Thank you forever for setting me straight on that. It does help. :D
I'm sad you don't like Mia but I'm glad you like this story. I guess I like her because she's so much like my best friend. It's weird. She and I've both read the books and we both think she's just like Mia. Totally. Let me know what you think of this new chappy. :D
robtaymattlouned: I actually just read Road Trip today. Without even remembering that you wrote it! It's very good. You totally should update again soon! :) Have a brownie and a hug!
Gina: You're welcome for the brownies. And yes, Robert C. is hot. Anyway, thank you. :) Here's some more. Hope you like it. Let me know.
LstCharmed1: Thank you! Review again if you can. I'd love to know what you think as the story goes on.
A/N: I know, I know. I shouldn't have left it there. But this chapter's long enough.
Chapter Four: Mia and Michael's date, Lily's interview, and oh, so much more...:D
Please review and let me know what you think!
Much love, Legs