In honour of the day the world stops to celebrate the birth of moi, I'm updating.

Oh, and rongbananas: you rock for liking Holly. Haha.


Mia's POV...

A faint voice calling my name woke me from my dream. Without opening my eyes I knew it was mom.

She's come to see me once already, but I wasn't very responsive. I haven't been very responsive with anyone.

I cracked open my eyes and briefly smiled at her; I don't want her to think I'm dead or anything.

"Mia, honey, do you think you can get up? There's someone I want you to see."

I groaned and rolled over to face the wall. I don't want to see anyone, and I especially don't want to get up to see anyone.

"Mia?"

No response. I can't even be bothered opening my mouth to say anything. Not even 'Go away'. Not that I want to tell mom to go away though. I don't want to talk to her, but she can stay.

Michael on the other hand...Lars told me he wanted to see me earlier, but do I want to see him? No. He's made my life a disaster enough already, and there's still a few weeks to go before Finals. I'd rather just stay out of his way.

"Mia, honey, are you sure you can't get up and come with me?

I just ignored her.

"Ok, I'll come back in a few hours then."

As soon as she left I fell back to sleep again. It's the only safe place for me these days. The only place where I can pretend the world is right. And happy.

A few hours later, I was lying there, just staring at the chipped peach-coloured ceiling. I reached over to my bed side table and fumbled around for my cherry Chap Stick; but not looking at what I was doing, I accidentally knocked it off the edge.

Since my lips are parched and dry and in desperate need of some moisture, I actually bothered to reach down to get it. I pulled it up, along with a tiny, baby blue vest with three ducks on the front.

Michael's vest. Michael and Holly's baby vest.

Not sure whether I should laugh or cry at my find, I simply clutched it to my chest and resumed staring at the ceiling.

Mom returned sometime later, and she brought with her the person I'm guessing is the person she'd wanted me to go with her to see: a Doctor.

"Hello, Mia," the woman said, sitting next to me on the bed and pulling out various instruments from her bag. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Ask away," I thought to myself. "But I may not answer." I didn't give her an actual response.

First she checked my pulse and my blood pressure while I just lay there unwillingly. Then she stuck a thermometer under my tongue and another one in my ear.

Finally she took out a note book and asked me why I didn't want to get out of bed.

I didn't answer her; I just looked at the wall.

"Is it a problem with school?" she asked,

No reply.

"Have you been eating?"

This wall needs a coat of paint.

"Have you been drinking enough water?"

Or maybe I could just cover it up with posters.

"Is there anyone you would feel comfortable talking to about this?"

Pictures of Fat Louie would do the trick. I should have enough to cover all the patches.

"What's that?"

I looked over at her to see what she meant, and I saw she was looking sceptically at the baby vest I still had clutched in my hand.

I quickly pulled it away and shoved it under the covers.

The doctor stood up and strode over to mom, who'd watched over the whole thing with a panicked expression.

"I think we should do a pregnancy test," I heard her whisper to mom. Mom's face turned white.

A pregnancy test! Ha! I so don't think so. I'm not the one who's pregnant.

"Mia," mom hissed to me, rushing to my side. "Are you... pregnant?"

I didn't even dignify her assumption with a response.

A minute later, as mom was gently stroking the hair out of my face and the doctor was writing notes, someone barged through the door.

"Where is she?" Grandmere cried.

Great. Just great. Things just keep getting better.

"Clarrise!" Mom jumped up. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm on vacation," she snapped, walking towards me.

"No, I mean, why are you HERE? Why didn't you go straight to the Plaza?"

"Because I heard about Amelia of course. Why else would I be here in this mouldy, no doubt flea infested building? I'm here to take charge of the situation!"

Grandmere sat down in the part of the bed mom had just vacated. "Amelia, what's this about you being...depressed?" She said it as if it was a curse word. "Why won't you get out of this bed? It smells, Amelia, and princesses should never smell."

Over her shoulder I saw dad enter the room; he looked apologetically at mom and then came over to me on the bed.

It feels just like at moment at the end of The Wizard of Oz, where everyone is crowded around Dorothy's bed, and she's just woken up from her dream.

Except instead of being happy and telling everyone how great it is to see them, I merely stared at them all looking at me.

"Hey, kiddo. Are you ok?" dad asked.

No reply. I haven't seen him in months and I don't even say hi to him. What does that say?

"Of course she's not ok, Phillippe! If she were ok would she be lying in bed in this musty room? Open the window and let in some fresh air, for Pete's sake!"

Instead of talking back to Grandmere, dad just opened the window.

"Now," Grandmere said, turning back to mom. "What's going on health wise? What do we know?"

"That's what Dr. Peters is here for," mom said.

"Good. At least you're not completely useless then, Helen."

Mom looked like she was going to say something back, but dad motioned for her to let it go.

"So...Woman," Grandmere addressed Dr. Peters. "What can you tell us about Amelia?"

"Should we take this into the hallway?" Dr. Peters suggested.

"In front of all those pimply teenagers out there? No, here is fine."

"Ok, well Mia is basically depressed…about something. I would even go as far as to say she's suffered a break down."

Grandmere and mom gasped, dad looked solemn, but I wasn't fazed by the news. It doesn't mean anything to me. Nothing does anymore.

"What can we do?" mom asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"There are a number of things. You can remind her of how loved and wanted she is. You can get her to talk about whatever it is that has obviously upset her and you can remove the problem. Or remove her from it."

"Right, Amelia, whatever it is, you're coming back to Genovia with me right now! I'm removing you from the problem!"

"Wait!" mom cried. "We don't even know what the problem is, she can't just run away! Running away never helps!"

The adults argued for a minute while I lay in bed and thought about it.

Then I spoke up; for the first time in a week I actually said more than a few words at one time. "I want to go. I want to go to Genovia. For good."

Each of them turned to me with shocked expressions on their faces.

"Excellent!" Grandmere finally exclaimed, rubbing her hands together gleefully.