Mia's POV:

Hell started the next day. We were eating lunch, talking about how excited we were to be there…okay, so I was too worried about having Grandmére there to really eat, and I was trying so hard not to barf, I couldn't talk, but whatever, that's not the point. Anyway, we were eating—or trying to eat—when a limo pulls up to the grounds. No, not a limo. The limo. The limo carrying the evilest person on the planet to her destination…my summer camp. Why must life be so unfair?

Then she stepped out, totally decked out in animal skins. Never in a million years would I wear something like that, a) because I am totally a vegetarian and environmental supporter, and b) because it looked really ugly. No offense to Grandmére, of course. Yeah.

So I kind of sucked in my breath, and Michael must have noticed, because he stopped talking to this other kid, Sean, who was a geek but a total hottie at the same time (like Michael), and said to me, "Mia, are you okay?" I shook my head and indicated the limo.

"Oh, no," Michael said. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me up out of my seat. "Wanna go for a walk…away from here?" Thank God, thank God, thank God, was all I could think. Because Michael was totally being my savior and getting me away from that place.

"YES!" I said a little too loudly, because a few people near us looked at me curiously. Grandmére must have heard it too, because then she called, "Amelia! What are you doing wearing those ridiculous overalls?" Now everyone was paying attention. I pretended like I hadn't heard her. I grabbed Michael's hand, and we ran. Like bats out of hell, really. Let me tell you, it wasn't fun. I tripped over my own feet about three times, four over something on the ground. Michael did not seem to be having the trouble that I was, but whatever. Everyone is more agile than I am. I get used to it.

We finally stopped when we got to a big intersection. Apparently, we were really close to the main drag. I saw a lot of restaurant signs in the distance. I was all, "Michael, let's go to Friendly's!"

He gave me a weird look. "We just ate, Mia."

I shook my head. "You just ate. I didn't. I want some ice cream, if you don't mind." I know what you're thinking. Bossy, huh? Well, Michael may be smart when it comes to academics, and he may be sensitive and know everything else in the world, but something he really needs to work on is figuring me out. So sometimes I have to help him along, if you know what I mean.

In any case, Michael seemed to like this, because then he said, "How're you paying?" I rolled my eyes, and started tickling him, nearly getting run over by a speeding car in the process.

"Okay, okay! Let's go," he said, smiling. But he might have only been smiling because I had just made him laugh a lot, on account of the whole tickle thing. Whatever.

We walked inside, and were seated. I ordered a Monster Mash, even though I am a little old for the kid's menu—as soon as the waiter figured out that I was a princess, he let me have anything I wanted for 75 off…whatever—and Michael had one of those Something-or-Other PB Fudge thingy sundaes.

And let me tell you, that was the best sundae I had ever had. Not because of the stellar service (on account of the royalty thing, again), or the yummy ice cream (although it was), or even the delicious Reese's peanut butter cups that were the monster's ears.

No, the best thing about it was that I was there with Michael. Talking, laughing, joking, or eating in comfortable silence. It didn't matter. Because I was with him. Ah, the bliss.

Or at least it was bliss, until I heard from the other side of the restaurant, "Amelia! What in heaven's name are you doing?" Grandmére. Oh, boy.