Title: Mia's Surprise Author: Me, Forgotten Child Pairings: None for this chapter Summary: Maybe Mia should listen to Lilly more often. Why? Well, only because when she woke up this morning, Mia..

Chapter 1: What the.?

A/N: THIS IS A PARODY. Do not be offended, or objective. This is supposed to be weird, odd, queer, or any other words that you can use to describe it. Just tell me what you think. This is my first PD fic, and my first parody.

DISCLAIMER: Oh, I own the Princess Diaries. Did I forget to tell you that? Well, I do, very much so, indeed. So, who wants to sue me?

Saturday, May 15 The loft, 7:12 pm

"Thai food, please," I smiled up to Mr. Gianini. Even though he was now my step father, and the father of my soon-to-be little brother or sister, I just can't call him 'Frank', like he wants me to. It was just too weird. So in algebra (him being my teacher), I call him 'Mr. Gianini', and at home, I call him 'Hey', or don't address him at all. That was the easiest way to deal with it. Not name him at all, I mean.
"Mia," Lilly snorted, which mad her look even MORE like a bull-dog. "How many times do I have to tell you? The online article I read last week clearly stated that Thai food has had some uncommon mishaps. Serious and BAD things have been happening to those who have had the 'tampered-with' food." Michael rolled his eyes. His perfect, blue, beautiful eyes.
"Lilly, just because you read it, doesn't mean it's true. Right Mia?" he laughed to himself. 'Just because you read it, doesn't mean it's true'. By that, he meant my past problem with the press. When word first got out that I was princess of Genovia, my then-crush, the shallow Mr. Popular himself, Josh Richer, asked me to the Cultural Diversity Dance and kissed me in front of many reporters, only for his own publicity. The pictures got rumors about the 'Royal couple' spread not only around Manhattan, but the whole United Stated. All of them, of course, weren't true.
"Just because YOU don't believe it, doesn't mean it's not true, Michael. And just because the junk you pass off as entertainment on 'Crackhead' true, doesn't automatically mean that nothing else is."
"Point," I said to Mr. "Frank" Gianini, who was the only other audience member (besides me) who was watching this 'Survival of the Smartest: Family Rivalry' in my kitchen.
"I never said that. But, I'm not the one who was convinced that spiders were going to grow rapidly form ingesting the toxic waste that polluted the little pond over in Greenwich."
"'Eight Legged Freaks'?" Mr. G asked, and I shrugged. Just then, my mom, five and a half months pregnant, walked in from the bedroom.
"Quit the arguing!" She shouted at the feuding siblings, and instantly the noise stopped. "I solved your problems. I called and ordered Thai food. Now, keep it down." My mom's been really moody since her third month. Only 3 ½ months left, I keep telling myself.
As soon as she went back into the bedroom, Lilly started up again. "No one eat ANY of it."
"What are going to do with it, then?" Michael wanted to know.
"Well, we could give it to Ronnette." Lilly replies, suggesting that we infect my neighbors, who use to be a boy, Ronnie, but is now a girl, Ronnette.
"No way!" I looked at Lilly like she was crazy. "We are NOT going to give the food to Ronnette! If, and I say IF, the food is infected, then WE will eat it. I am not going to be responsible for anything like that." Wow. Where did THAT come from? I could feel myself turn redder and hotter. Michael must think that I'm insane and confused. But he looked like he knew exactly what I meant.
Lilly sighed. "Fine, we'll keep it, but I'm not eating any of it!"

Still Saturday at the Loft, 7:45 pm

After Lars checked the delivery man and the food, we began to chow down. The rice could have been a little less soggy, but other than that, it was fine. Lilly still refused to eat any, so she just ate four apples. When there was only one roll left (Lilly insisted that we had something that WASN'T Thai, so we got out some rolls), Michael both reached for it. He had his hand on it, and my hand was on his.
"You can have it," He said. I was watching his eyes, and I noticed that he was looking back at mine. I probably had soy sauce on my face. Why else would Michael Moscovitz be looking into my eyes? Reluctantly, I let go of his hand.
"No, you." I managed a smile.
"Gag!" Lilly said with a mouth full of apple. But it was more like two syllables, like GUH-AHG.
"Shut up." Michael threw the roll at her. OUR roll. Our LOVE roll. He threw our love roll. Of course, I don't blame him, how was he supposed to know that it was our love roll? It's not like it was labeled or anything. Unfortunately.

Sunday May 16 The Loft 9:54 am

Why me? Why? WHY?? WHY????? Omigod, this is BAD! I can't go to Lilly's like this! All she'll say is 'I told you so'. She CAN'T see me like this. I'm, I'm, LANA! Well, not exactly, but, close enough!
OK, here's how it went down. I woke up this morning, and went into the bathroom. Without looking in the mirror (or at myself), I took a shower. When I got out, I wiped the mirror, and screamed. I had (or, have) straight, blonde hair (not the usual triangle-shaped, brown frizzy stuff), a size 34 C chest (instead of the size 0 that I normally have), size8 ½ feet (smaller than my size, which is, like, 11), and I'm 5'5"! Almost 6 inches shorter! This is insane. When I went out to the kitchen to see if I was really a new person, or hallucinating, Mr. Gianini dropped his coffee cup, which spilled all over the floor.
"Mia?" He wondered. That's when I lost it. I mean, I was crying. But that's all. No huge sobs, no hic-ups, no getting blotchy and red, nothing!
"Mia?" Another male voice came from behind me, and it wasn't my dad's or Lars's. I covered my face with my perfectly manicured fingers and turned around. Guess who was standing there? Take a wild guess. Well, if you guessed a) Grandmere with a bad cold, you are wrong. But if you guessed b) either my dad's or my driver, you are also wrong. Only if you guess c) are you right. That's because c is Michael Moscovitz.

A/N: OK, cliffy? Naw, just review, ok?