Sorry it's taken a while for me to update. The computer crashed and we've
only just got it properly working again. Thanks to everybody who reviewed.
I sorry if some of you though Mia was a bit whiney but in the books she
does worry about her hair and stuff. Ok, so here's the new chapter, please,
please review this as well!
Disclaimer: Meg Cabot owns everything I write about. Well, except for the rough plot but you know what I mean.
Tuesday 13th February, School
Ok, so I tried the whole beauty regime thing. I even got up a whole hour earlier. I moisturised, exfoliated and loads of other stuff that models apparently do every morning. And I have on thing to say: this stuff is hard. And tiring. How can people do it every single day? They must be pretty dedicated. Or mad. By the time I'd finished, my face was tingling and also kind of itchy. But I always thought that was supposed to be a good thing. It was worth it though. I mean, it wasn't stunning but it was still ok. Better than normal, anyway. Paolo would be proud. Anyway, I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard.
But as I was in the limo on the way to the Moscovitzs' apartment, I started to have doubts. What if Lilly was better? She hated being ill, and in all the time the I'd known her she'd only been ill, like, twice. And if she was better she'd probably be angry with me. For conforming or whatever, we might even go through the whole selling-out thing again. So as we were pulling up I was mentally running through an imaginary argument and all the clever things I could fire back at Lilly when she accused me of being like Lana. I tensed as the door opened but then relaxed as Michael got in and closed it behind him.
"Hey," I said as casually as I could while trying to hide a grin, "is Lilly still ill?" Ok, so I know it's wrong of me to be happy that my best friend's I, and it's not like I want her to be in pain or anything. It's just that it's so rare for me to be alone with Michael. I mean, it's like my only chance to convince him that I'm not just some huge freak. So I'll admit that I was pleased when Michael confirmed my hopes.
"Yeah," he said, smiling, "but she's not too happy about it believe me. She's even worse when she's ..... Jesus, Thermopolis, who are you trying to impress?"
"Nobody," I answered quickly, blushing.
Michael narrowed his very lovely, brown eyes. "Since when have you practically permed your hair before school?"
I touched my under-control hair self consciously.
"Oh that?" I replied airily, though inside I was panicking, "I just thought I'd have a change."
"Huh." Was All Michael replied.
"What's wrong?" I asked anxiously, "does it look really bad?"
"No," said Michael, obviously surprised, "It looks...good. Really good, in fact..." He trailed off, grumpily.
I frowned, was Michael Moscovitz jealous?
Whoa, reality check, Mia.
We sat in silence for a while and then I desperately tried to break the tense atmosphere with some dumb joke. At first I was ashamed that I had stooped to such pitiful levels of humour, but was rewarded when Michael laughed. I apologised for the awful joke, but he just smiled even more. And suddenly it was just like the morning before.
When we stopped outside school, Michael suddenly turned to me,
"Mia," he started, "I was just wondering..."
Then frowned and stared at me where I was sitting nervously.
"I don't want to alarm you, but you seem to have a rash."
I froze.
"A rash?" I repeated, warily.
"Um, yeah.."
I jumped up and looked in the limo's mirror and tried not to scream as I caught sight of my reflection. It was truly gross. There were these little red bumps all over my cheeks and forehead. I must have been allergic to my face mask.
I slumped back in my seat and covered my face, trying not to cry in front of Michael.
"Hey," he said gently, "it's not that bad."
"It is, it's awful."
"Seriously, Mia, you're over-reacting. You look fine."
I smiled wanly at him.
"I think I'm going to go to the nurse," I said weakly, "Michael.... Could you possibly tell Tina where I am?"
"Sure no problem," he smiled easily.
"Thanks."
The rest of the day was just so humiliating The nurse wouldn't let me go home but insisted I return to class. She said it was harmless. Harmless? Something as bad as this will haunt me for the rest of my high school life. But school nurses just don't seem to appreciate this.
So I trailed back off to class. Tina was really nice. She tried to distract me by talking about how nice Michael had been about it but that just made me even more miserable. He must think I'm such an idiot. I mean, not only am I his little sister's best friend, but now I'm The Girl With A Rash.
Lana was horrible too. She kept asking me where the mother ship was. I was too miserable to tell her to get a life.
There is no way I am ever using a face mask again. Ever.
Later. The Loft.
Well there was some progress with Grandmere. She has arranged a dermatologist appointment for me tomorrow if it hasn't gone. She says it is unsightly for a princess to look as I did, which boosted my confidence no end.
Mom just laughed. She handed me some ointment and told I'd just have to wait til it apsses. I didn't actually tell her about the dermatologist, as I'm sure she'd disapprove. She refused to let me stay off school tomorrow though. Does nobody understand how embarrassing this is?
Even Later
I was just online and so was Michael...
CracKing: So, how are you?
FtLouie: Fine, I guess.
CracKing: is it better?
FtLouie: Slightly. It won't be gone by tomorrow though. I'm just embarrassed.
CracKing: Don't be, It's not as bad as you think, I promise.
FtLouie: Hmmmm
CracKing: Listen, do you mind about giving me a lift?
Now that was way surprising
FtLouie: No, why?
CracKing: It's just that seeing as my lovely sister is ill, isn't it kind of strange to be giving me a lift? I mean, your best friend's older brother?
I typed quickly, trying to calm myself so that he wouldn't know how panicked I was.
FtLouie: No, It's not strange at all.
CracKing: Are you sure? I can always get the subway.
FtLouie: No! It really is fine, giving you a lift. I feel kind of selfish being in a limo on my own.
Then, with my heart in my mouth:
Besides, it's fun.
CracKing: Yeah it is. Thanks.
FtLouie: No problem.
CracKing: Don't worry about you face. At least it's not a nasty case of tonsillitis.
FtLouie: That's true. Oh, I'd better call your sister!
CracKing: Please do, maybe then she'll stop complaining about how the society she does so much for has forgotten her.
FtLouie: Oh God. Well, see you tomorrow then.
CracKing: Yeah, see you. I hope you get better.
Ha! He doesn't hate me. He hopes I get better! Now, I'd better call Lilly...
Disclaimer: Meg Cabot owns everything I write about. Well, except for the rough plot but you know what I mean.
Tuesday 13th February, School
Ok, so I tried the whole beauty regime thing. I even got up a whole hour earlier. I moisturised, exfoliated and loads of other stuff that models apparently do every morning. And I have on thing to say: this stuff is hard. And tiring. How can people do it every single day? They must be pretty dedicated. Or mad. By the time I'd finished, my face was tingling and also kind of itchy. But I always thought that was supposed to be a good thing. It was worth it though. I mean, it wasn't stunning but it was still ok. Better than normal, anyway. Paolo would be proud. Anyway, I didn't want to look like I was trying too hard.
But as I was in the limo on the way to the Moscovitzs' apartment, I started to have doubts. What if Lilly was better? She hated being ill, and in all the time the I'd known her she'd only been ill, like, twice. And if she was better she'd probably be angry with me. For conforming or whatever, we might even go through the whole selling-out thing again. So as we were pulling up I was mentally running through an imaginary argument and all the clever things I could fire back at Lilly when she accused me of being like Lana. I tensed as the door opened but then relaxed as Michael got in and closed it behind him.
"Hey," I said as casually as I could while trying to hide a grin, "is Lilly still ill?" Ok, so I know it's wrong of me to be happy that my best friend's I, and it's not like I want her to be in pain or anything. It's just that it's so rare for me to be alone with Michael. I mean, it's like my only chance to convince him that I'm not just some huge freak. So I'll admit that I was pleased when Michael confirmed my hopes.
"Yeah," he said, smiling, "but she's not too happy about it believe me. She's even worse when she's ..... Jesus, Thermopolis, who are you trying to impress?"
"Nobody," I answered quickly, blushing.
Michael narrowed his very lovely, brown eyes. "Since when have you practically permed your hair before school?"
I touched my under-control hair self consciously.
"Oh that?" I replied airily, though inside I was panicking, "I just thought I'd have a change."
"Huh." Was All Michael replied.
"What's wrong?" I asked anxiously, "does it look really bad?"
"No," said Michael, obviously surprised, "It looks...good. Really good, in fact..." He trailed off, grumpily.
I frowned, was Michael Moscovitz jealous?
Whoa, reality check, Mia.
We sat in silence for a while and then I desperately tried to break the tense atmosphere with some dumb joke. At first I was ashamed that I had stooped to such pitiful levels of humour, but was rewarded when Michael laughed. I apologised for the awful joke, but he just smiled even more. And suddenly it was just like the morning before.
When we stopped outside school, Michael suddenly turned to me,
"Mia," he started, "I was just wondering..."
Then frowned and stared at me where I was sitting nervously.
"I don't want to alarm you, but you seem to have a rash."
I froze.
"A rash?" I repeated, warily.
"Um, yeah.."
I jumped up and looked in the limo's mirror and tried not to scream as I caught sight of my reflection. It was truly gross. There were these little red bumps all over my cheeks and forehead. I must have been allergic to my face mask.
I slumped back in my seat and covered my face, trying not to cry in front of Michael.
"Hey," he said gently, "it's not that bad."
"It is, it's awful."
"Seriously, Mia, you're over-reacting. You look fine."
I smiled wanly at him.
"I think I'm going to go to the nurse," I said weakly, "Michael.... Could you possibly tell Tina where I am?"
"Sure no problem," he smiled easily.
"Thanks."
The rest of the day was just so humiliating The nurse wouldn't let me go home but insisted I return to class. She said it was harmless. Harmless? Something as bad as this will haunt me for the rest of my high school life. But school nurses just don't seem to appreciate this.
So I trailed back off to class. Tina was really nice. She tried to distract me by talking about how nice Michael had been about it but that just made me even more miserable. He must think I'm such an idiot. I mean, not only am I his little sister's best friend, but now I'm The Girl With A Rash.
Lana was horrible too. She kept asking me where the mother ship was. I was too miserable to tell her to get a life.
There is no way I am ever using a face mask again. Ever.
Later. The Loft.
Well there was some progress with Grandmere. She has arranged a dermatologist appointment for me tomorrow if it hasn't gone. She says it is unsightly for a princess to look as I did, which boosted my confidence no end.
Mom just laughed. She handed me some ointment and told I'd just have to wait til it apsses. I didn't actually tell her about the dermatologist, as I'm sure she'd disapprove. She refused to let me stay off school tomorrow though. Does nobody understand how embarrassing this is?
Even Later
I was just online and so was Michael...
CracKing: So, how are you?
FtLouie: Fine, I guess.
CracKing: is it better?
FtLouie: Slightly. It won't be gone by tomorrow though. I'm just embarrassed.
CracKing: Don't be, It's not as bad as you think, I promise.
FtLouie: Hmmmm
CracKing: Listen, do you mind about giving me a lift?
Now that was way surprising
FtLouie: No, why?
CracKing: It's just that seeing as my lovely sister is ill, isn't it kind of strange to be giving me a lift? I mean, your best friend's older brother?
I typed quickly, trying to calm myself so that he wouldn't know how panicked I was.
FtLouie: No, It's not strange at all.
CracKing: Are you sure? I can always get the subway.
FtLouie: No! It really is fine, giving you a lift. I feel kind of selfish being in a limo on my own.
Then, with my heart in my mouth:
Besides, it's fun.
CracKing: Yeah it is. Thanks.
FtLouie: No problem.
CracKing: Don't worry about you face. At least it's not a nasty case of tonsillitis.
FtLouie: That's true. Oh, I'd better call your sister!
CracKing: Please do, maybe then she'll stop complaining about how the society she does so much for has forgotten her.
FtLouie: Oh God. Well, see you tomorrow then.
CracKing: Yeah, see you. I hope you get better.
Ha! He doesn't hate me. He hopes I get better! Now, I'd better call Lilly...