Life sucks. Everything sucks. Michael doesn't want me, he never did. He's wanted boys and tight jeans all along.

I was a fool to think I could change him? Again? Damnit, didn't I learn from the last time this happened?

What is WRONG with me?

The sound of my not-so-silent tears brought mom into my bedroom early Monday morning. I'd only been able to get about two seconds of sleep after Michael left.

"What's wrong, honey? I didn't hear Michael leave last night, is everything okay?"

"No," I said bluntly. "Everything is not okay."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Who wants to tell their mother that it turns out that the gay best friend they've re-fallen in love with wasn't making out with you every second he got because of the person you are, or even the sex that you are, but because he's simply lonely and looking to fill a void the easiest way possible? Yeah, so not me.

"Well," she retreated. "I'm here if you want me."

I responded by throwing the covers up over my head and sinking beneath them. Call me childish, I don't care.

Mom returned half an hour later to tell me I was going to be late for school. When I told her I wasn't going, she demanded an explanation or else I was going to school any way.

I considered telling her, I really did. And if it were last year, I would have. But now she's married to my Algebra teacher, and is incapable of keeping things from him. One of these days he's totally going to slip and announce my bra size to the entire class or something. How embarrassing.

So I can deal with my mom knowing about Michael, but not Mr. G.

Begrudgingly, I threw on my school dress and raced downstairs to the limo.

"So Lars," I said as we neared the school. "You understand the plan, right?"

"With all due respect, princess," he replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat across from me. "I'm not sure if this is the best plan."

"Well, I can't think of anything else. So let's run through it again. Leaves is not to come within ten feet of me. You are to restrain him by any means necessary, and that includes use of your Glock."

He shook his head. "I'm not pulling a gun on a kid who is just trying to talk to you, Mia. There are laws against that sort of thing."

"Fine," I huffed. "But I'm not talking to him, and I don't want to listen to any rubbish he has to say either. The same goes for Michael if he shows up."

"All I can say is, I'll do my best."

Well he better. And it wouldn't hurt him to remember who pays him.

Not that I do directly, of course. But I'm sure I could have some influence over dad's hip pocket.

-

Lucky for Lars, Leaves hasn't so much as sneezed in my direction all morning. I forget if that's supposed to be a good thing…

And Michael hasn't shown his ugly butt around here either. Wow, I never thought I'd put the description 'ugly butt' any where near Michael's name before, but that's how angry I am at him right now.

How dare he use me like that, and then palm me off to someone else as if I mean nothing, NOTHING, to him?

I opened my locker to get my French text book, and a hand written note fell out onto the floor. Looking around and seeing no one suspicious, I bent down to pick it up and read it:

Mia,

We need to talk. I've attempted to a few times already, but whenever I even take a step in your direction I get death glares from Lars. It's like he's planning on throwing me through a window if I say so much as a word to you.

Please talk to me. I owe you an explanation for last night. Meet me after school behind the library.

I'll wait all night if I have to.

Love always, Leaves

I smiled appreciatively at Lars and folded the note back up. Here I was thinking he was going to be incompetent when it came to keeping Leaves away, and it's just the opposite!

Leaves' note doesn't change a thing, though. And if he thinks for a second that I'm going to meet him after school, he's dead wrong.

-

When I got home after Princess Lessons, I found a certain Broderick waiting for me. But not the one I'd been half expecting. He's probably still outside the library if he was serious about wanting to explain things.

"I don't have anything to say to you," I told Max, hurriedly trying to jiggle my key in the lock. "So if Leaves sent you, you can tell him from me personally to go to hell."

"Leaves didn't send me," Max said. "I haven't spoken to him in a while, he has no idea I'm here."

The door swung open but I didn't step through it. "So then why are you here? Did Michael send you?"

"I haven't spoken to Michael either." Max hung his head sadly. "Look, I just came to talk."

I hesitated for a second, looking from the Loft back to Max. To give in, or to walk away…

"Talk about what?" I asked finally.

"Our boyfriends," he said simply.

"I think you're forgetting the fact that neither of us have boyfriends right now," I told him almost bitterly.

"You know what I mean, Mia. Come on, have a coffee with me?"

I could do with a Frappe.

"You've got half an hour," I told him. "But let me just change out of my uniform first."

Max grinned and stepped into the Loft.

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