Invent Little Things to Do For People
"If I was a princess," she murmured, "I could scatter largess to the populace. But even if I am only a pretend princess, I can invent little things to do for people. I'll pretend that to do things for people is scattering largess."
-A Little Princess, Francis Hodgson Burnett
Book 4 (Princess Diaries Volume IV: Princess In Waiting)
;;
Look, Mia hasn't done the worst job with this whole Genovia trip, okay?
Yeah, she's tripped and stumbled and sometimes forgotten names or some sentences in French, but she hasn't done anything ridiculous. She hasn't caused a national scandal; she hasn't offended anyone – at least, not without apologizing for it. She's done well.
Which is why Mia thinks she's earned a bit of a break. Her jam-packed schedule has clearly whittled away since her Christmas Eve speech, which was perfectly standard as a first speech to a populace – she stayed entirely on script, maybe tripped over her words, like, twice – and it's pretty obvious that her Dad and Grandmere are running out of things for her to do.
It's not like anyone needs her to sit in on Parliament. Parliament isn't even supposed to be in session: it's January. What is everyone doing here? Mia doesn't know. But she's bored as hell.
Yeah, this is good experience, yes, one day she'll be sitting in her Dad's seat, overseeing the cantankerous old men, yes, she needs to absorb as much as possible and get to know her members of Parliament. Mia gets it.
But it's also Tuesday. She could be watching Buffy.
She could be! The internet and TV channels at the Palace aren't the greatest – of course they're not. The guy running the accounts is her thirty-eight year old Dad, he isn't going to pay for the Lifetime Movie Channel for Women. But he's still got HBO and the SciFi channel. She could be watching Star Trek! Instead she's watching Minister Pepin's double-chin wobble as he speaks.
And it's not like there's much for her to do even when her Dad doesn't drag her into sit with Parliament – it's not so easy to see Nick anymore, because the Palace is actually pretty far from his place, and none of the other kids her age are at the Palace – after Christmas, all their families packed them up and sent them home – like, Andrew had a reason, what with needing to get back to England and Oxford and all, and Asana and Elyssa and Lionel's families are all at their own homes now, with whichever members of their families that are in Parliament just commuting everyday – so Mia's alone in the Palace. Which is even less fun than being alone at Miragnac with Grandmere: because for all its faults, Miragnac is close to Nick's house, and she had a friend.
This isn't to say he hasn't been present. It's just that they have to call each other to do that. Granted, it's a heck of a lot easier than online messaging and email, with the average four to six hour delay between responses, the way they have to when Mia's in New York.
Which leaves one person in the Palace even close to Mia's age: Prince Rene, her 'cousin'. The word 'cousin' is in apostrophes because he isn't actually her cousin at all. Some ancestor of his was awarded a principality by the king of Italy way back in, like, 600AD, just like Mia's own Great-Great-etc-Grandma Rosagunde, the first princess of Genovia. Except Rene's family's land was absorbed back into Italy something like two hundred years ago. Rene doesn't seem to care about not having his own land to rule, though, because everyone still calls him His Highness Prince Rene, and he's extended every privilege of a member of the royal household – even though his palace now belongs to a shoe designer, who has turned it into a resort for wealthy Americans to come for the weekend and make their own pasta and drink two hundred year old balsamic vinegar, and the fact that Rene's family is still super-rich.
He didn't even arrive to Genovia until after Christmas Day! Seriously – he missed all Mia's inaugural events, her speech, all the big festivities that her family and her Dad's government peers committed to, he just turned up Boxing Day morning, and was just like, 'Here I am!'
No apology for the missed time, and not even a real excuse. Seriously, Mia still doesn't know why he wasn't present, and he's been here two weeks! He's only, like, nineteen, and in his first year at some French business school, and is totally condescending to Mia, almost every time he opens his mouth. And it's not like Mia personally likes him every much anyway – she could never get along with someone who drinks, smokes and gambles like Daisy's husband in The Great Gatsby, and that guy wasn't a good person either.
The fact that Grandmere adores him isn't helping – what a shock, the chain-smoking, drinking, fashionista who enjoys gambling loves the company of someone who is exactly the same, but a handsome guy.
So that's Mia's situation in Genovia – she's cooped up in a castle, running low on boring events for her to go to, her friend in Genovia isn't fully present (apparently, Nick's Uncle Mabrey is in the middle of acquiring a piece of property in some other country, and setting up . . something to do with 'Nick's future'? Keeping up with Mabrey is a full-time job, honestly) and so she doesn't even have a friend her own age to keep company. Oh, oh, and the best thing about the palace? The internet connection is Not Good. So she can't even email Lilly or Tina or MICHAEL, the love of her life, who is currently in Boca Raton, enjoying sunshine and beaches and probably the company of a stunning blonde girl named Stacy, who has boobs and long hair and can do long division in her head and surf.
Because that's Mia's primal fear right now – she and Michael haven't spoken in EIGHTEEN DAYS. He could've totally forgotten her by now. Boys have the long-term memory of a dog, okay? This is a legitimate concern.
"Amelia!" Grandmere snapped. "Are you even paying attention to me?"
Uh, no Grandmere. She's wallowing in the fact that she's wasting what could be the best days of her life here, instead of spending time with her BOYFRIEND. Sure, she's paying attention to your very boring lecture on maintaining poise at all times – something Viggo says Mia is doing a fine job at, by the way. Mia's a bit more likely to take the word of the Palace's expert in royal protocol over the word of the old harridan who never has anything good to say.
Grandmere doesn't even need Mia to verbally respond, just saying waspishly, "I swear, I do not know what is wrong with you. Your head has been in the clouds ever since we left New York. Even more so than usual."
Then she narrowed her eyes at Mia – which is always pretty intimidating, on account of the fact that Grandmere has black tattooed kohl all around her eyelids so that she can spend her mornings shaving off her eyebrows and drawing new ones on rather than mess around with mascara and eyeliner. (Why the eyebrow thing, Mia doesn't know. Grandmere's eyebrows are perfectly fine. She's seen the stubble.) "You are not thinking about That Boy, are you?"
That Boy is how Grandmere refers to Michael these days, ever since Mia declared she could never love another as much as she loves him. Except her cat, Fat Louie, of course.
"If you are speaking of Michael Moscovitz," Mia said back, in her most regal voice, "I most certainly am. He is never far from my thoughts, because he is my heart's breath."
Grandmere gave a very rude snort in response to this. Her tone was very put-upon as she said, "Puppy love. You'll get over it soon enough."
Um, begging your pardon, Clarisse Renaldo, but Mia so fully will not. She has loved Michael for approximately eight years. That is more than half her life. A deep and abiding passion such as Mia's cannot be dismissed as easily as that, nor can it be defined by your pedestrian grasp of human emotion.
Mia didn't say any of that out loud, though, on account of Grandmere having those really long nails that she tends to 'accidentally' stab people with.
;;
It's two in the morning, and Mia has just had the WORST THOUGHT IMAGINABLE: when Michael said he loved her that night during the Non-Denominational Winter Dance, he might have meant love in the platonic sense. Not love in the tides of flaming passion sense. You know – maybe he loves her like a friend.
Only, you don't generally stick your tongue in your friend's mouth, do you?
Well, maybe here in Europe, you might. But not in America. But her Dad's done that to his girlfriends, but he was never in love with any of them, was he?
This is very upsetting. Seriously. Mia realises it is the middle of the night and she should at least be trying to sleep, since tomorrow she has to go cut the ribbon at the new children's wing of the Prince Philippe Memorial Hospital.
But how can she sleep when her boyfriend – the first boyfriend she's ever had – could be in Florida, loving her as a friend, and actually, at this very minute, actually falling in love with some girl named Stacy?
Why is she so stupid? Why didn't she demand that Michael specify when he said he loved her? Why didn't she go "Love me how? Like a friend? Or like a life partner?"
She's SUCH an idiot.
And even if Michael managed to find the phone number of the palace somehow, the palace operator wouldn't even put the call through. Apparently, Mia gets something live seven hundred calls a day, none of them from people she actually knows. They're all from creeps who would like an autographed photo of Mia (and not the formal photo shots that the palace produced on Christmas, when Mia was all dressed up for the event. They want, like, selfies. In her underwear), or from girls who want to know what it was like when Mia met Princes William and Harry (they're both fine. Kind of stiff, but in a kind way. Easy on the eyes).
Mia is never going to get to sleep now. How can she, when the man she loves could conceivably think of her as just a friend he likes to kiss?
There's only really one thing she can do:
Mia grabbed the phone that's on her bedside table – usually only to be used to communicate with the staff in the palace when she needs it, but if she presses the dial code '568', then she can call anyone, anywhere. So, she calls Nick. Yes, it's two in the morning, but she's having a crisis, and Nick sleeps fitfully and is often awake between one and three in the morning.
He answers on the first ring. "Hi Mia."
"How did you know it was me?" like, that is some clairvoyance stuff.
"Who else is likely to call me in the middle of the night?" Nick sounds – somewhere between tired and amused.
"Fair point. I just had the Worst Thought and I need an opinion."
She says it all in a rush, and when Nick makes a 'go on' sort of noise, she just spits it all out in a big, word-vomit blob to him.
Nick's end of the line is silent when she's done.
"Nick? Are you still there?" Mia needs help with this!
"Yeah, I'm still here. I'm thinking." He sounds . . . tired. Very tired. "So, Michael, the guy you're in love with, says he loves you."
"Yeah."
"He kisses you."
"Yeah."
"He wants to be your boyfriend when you get back to New York."
"Well, he hasn't said that-" Mia began, but Nick cut her off.
"But all indications point to that being his intention, yes?"
"Yes." Mia feels a little dumb – Nick spelling out hers and Michael's relationship like this feels patronising, like he's waiting for something from Mia.
The silence after her last word gets drawn out – Mia doesn't get why, but she can hear Nick breathing softly, so she knows he's still on the line.
Nick's always been blunt when he wants to get the point across to her, though: "Mia. I think he's in love with you." His tone is exasperated. A this should be obvious attitude.
"But he said-"
"He said he loves you. He kissed you. He wants to be with you. Trust me, Mia, as a guy, I wouldn't do that with a girl I wasn't serious about. From what you say Michael is like, I will bet that he's the same. He loves you like a life partner. I promise." Nick's voice was tired, like he was about to slip into sleep. "Can I go to sleep now?"
Mia just made a noise – a hrngh thing, like when Fat Louie was annoyed.
Nick just hung up.
;;
Nick might've gone back to sleep, but Mia stayed up, staring at the phone.
So, Nick was doing his best here, but he's a guy. They aren't known for understanding the nuances of a girl's mind – or how a girl might perceive their actions.
There's only one person she can call, really. And it's okay to call her, because A) it's only six o'clock where she is, and B) she got given her own cell phone for Christmas, so even though she's probably skiing in Aspen with her family right now, Mia's call will get through to her, even if she's on a ski lift or something.
;;
Tina picked up on the very first ring! She totally wasn't on a ski lift; she'd sprained her ankle on a slope yesterday. Oh, thank you god, for causing Tina to sprain her ankle, so that she could be there in Mia's hour of need! And it is okay, because she says it only hurts when she moves.
Tina was in her hotel room at the ski lodge, watching the Lifetime Movie Channel when Mia called (Co-Ed Call Girl, in which one of the actresses from Beverly Hills 90210 portrays a young woman struggling to pay for her college education with money earned working as an escort – based on a true story). At first it was very difficult to get Tina to focus on the situation at hand. All she wanted to know was what Princes William and Harry were like. Mia tried to explain that, beyond commenting that it was hot on the Cote d'Azur for December, she'd barely spoken to them. This was extremely disappointing to Tina.
"The least you could have done," she said, "was get their email addresses. I mean, even celebrities have those, and they're not even royalty."
Ever since she started going out with him, Tina's boyfriend, Dave Farouq El-Abar, has shied away from committing to her, saying that a man can't let himself get tied down before the age of sixteen. So, even though Tina claims that Dave is her Romeo in cargo pants, she's keep her eyes open for a nice boy willing to make a commitment.
"Look Tina," Mia interjected, "I'm really sorry, but can you just hear out my crisis for a minute? I think Michael only thinks of me as a friend."
Tina gasped. "What? But I thought you said he used the L word the night of the Winter Dance!"
"He did," Mia said, "only he didn't say that he was in love with me. He just said he loved me."
Mia didn't need to explain it any further; this could be because Tina wasn't in a state of sleep-deprived exhaustion, as it was only early evening where Tina was, so she was wide awake and alert, or because Tina, as a fellow girl and has read as many romance novels as Mia – well, more, actually – and she knew exactly what Mia's dilemma was about.
"Guys don't say the word love unless they mean it, Mia," she said. "I'd know. Dave never uses it with me."
"Yes, I know," Mia said sympathetically, "But the question is, how did Michael mean it? I mean, Tina, I've heard him say he loves his dog. But he's not in love with his dog."
"I guess I can see what you mean," Tina said, though she sounded kind of doubtful. Mia pressed on.
"And I guess, Nick did say the same thing you did-" Tina cut her off.
"You've spoken to Nick about this?" Tina and Nick had ever met, but Mia'd told her all about him.
"Yeah, I called him first – sorry, but it was as soon as the thought came to me, and I figured you'd be doing something."
"No, that's okay," Tina said. "What did Nick say?"
"He said that, as a guy, he wouldn't tell a girl he loved her unless he was serious about wanting to be with her. And that Michael sounds the same, from what I've told him. But he's a guy, Tee."
Tina made a considering noise over the phone. "Yeah, Mia, he's a guy. Which means that he's closer to knowing what Michael's thinking and feeling than we are – maybe it's not romantic, but it's truthful."
Mia considered that. She had two perspectives now – and they're both telling her the same thing. "I guess I just want to hear Michael say it again."
Tina giggled over the phone, and asked when the last time Mia had heard those words was. When Mia told her that it was before she'd left New York, she was perfectly appalled, and completely understood where Mia's unease had come from. Mia explained the whole phone situation – that she didn't even know the phone number to contact Michael – she said, no problem, and Mia should call back in five minutes. So Mia did – it was a really long five minutes, but Mia managed to keep from going crazy by pushing down all her cuticles with the cap of her pen that she'd used to write in her journal before bed.
When she called back precisely five minutes later, Tina had the number for Michael's grandmother's condo in Florida!
"How did you get it?" Mia asked in astonishment.
"Easy," replied Tina. "I just called information, and asked for the number for every Moscovitz in Boca Raton, and then I called each one on the list until I got the right one. Lilly answered. She's expecting your call."
God, how nice was that for Tina to do? And how stupid was Mia, for not thinking of doing that herself?
"Now you have the number, what are you going to do?" Tina asked.
Mia considered. "Maybe . . . I mean, you AND Nick are both saying he loves me, so. . . Maybe it should just be, like, casual? Like, I just put it in the conversation, and I just go, I love you, maybe when we hang up?"
"Yeah," Tina said, "yeah, that sounds like a good idea. You don't want to put him on the spot – I would've said just be subtle, you know, to nudge him into saying it first, but that sounds a lot better. Like it's just something you want to say, not something you need him to say back, right?"
"Exactly!"
Tina sounded giddy at Mia's plan. "Okay, I'm going to hang up. Call Lilly, talk to Michael, tell me what they say, okay?"
"Definitely!" Mia hung up the phone with a breath of relief – oh, it felt good to hear from Tina! Especially when she was so right about stuff!
;;
Lilly answered on the first ring. The conversation went like this:
Lilly: (sounding grouchy) It's about time. I thought you'd never call.
Mia: (sounding defensive) You never gave me your grandma's number.
Lilly: What? And you couldn't figure it out? I mean, you take off for Genovia, and you don't leave me a number where I can reach you –
Mia: I didn't know the number. My dad always calls me. Besides, it's not like you gave me the number where you were going to be, either . . .
Lilly: You don't respond to my emails –
Mia: The internet in the palace is terrible, seriously, it's so slow, and besides, I don't know how to access my account from Europe.
Lilly: I even called your mum, and she gave me the number, and the stupid palace operator wouldn't put me through! She said something about Prince Harry, though. Are you two going out now, or something?
Mia: (surprised) What? NO! I barely said two words to him. Why? (starting to panic) Did the papers say I'm going out with him? Because I'm not. I'm totally not. Does Michael think I'm going out with him?
Lilly: How should I know? I'd have to talk to him.
Mia: You two aren't talking? Why aren't you talking? Because he's going out with another girl? Is that it, Lilly? Michael met another girl, didn't he? Oh my God, I'm going to kill myself.
Lilly: What happens when people go to Europe, anyway? Do they suddenly become insane, or something?
Mia: Lilly-
Lilly: (talking over) First of all, for Michael to have met another girl, that would mean he'd have to tear himself from his laptop and leave the condo, which he hasn't done once the entire time we've been here. He is as pasty-skinned as ever. Secondly, he is not going to go out with some other girl, because he likes you.
Mia: (practically crying with relief) Really, Lilly? You swear? You aren't just lying to make me feel better?
Lilly: No, I'm not. Though I don't know why I should be so nice to you, since you didn't even remember his birthday.
Oh GOD. Mia's stomach dropped to her knees.
"His birthday?" Mia choked, "Oh my god, Lilly, I completely forgot!"
"Yes," Lilly said waspishly, "You did. But don't worry. I'm pretty sure he didn't expect a card or anything. I mean, you're off being the Princess of Genovia. How can you be expected to remember something as important as your boyfriend's birthday?"
"Lilly," Mia said, feeling emotion blocking her throat – not just from the guilt, but also because Lilly's bitter tone and snotty words hurt. She clearly wasn't willing to see anything besides what Mia's done wrong – come one, Mia and Michael have only been together twenty-one days, and for twenty of them, Mia hasn't seen or spoken to him, not even once. She's been busy. The reason she's able to make this call right now is because she's now got free time to think about the life she's away from. "Lilly, can I talk to him, please? Michael, I mean?
"I suppose," Lilly said with a sigh, sounding very tired of Mia. Then she screamed, "Michael! Phone!"
It was a long time, but Mia could hear footsteps through the phone, and then Michael say, "Thanks," and Lilly going, "Whatever." Then Michael picked up the phone and say, kind of curiously, since Lilly hasn't told him who was on the line, "Hello?"
Immediately, the tension in her shoulders loosened. Just hearing his voice made Mia forget all about how it was past two in the morning and she was hating everything in her life at the moment. Suddenly, it was like it was two in the afternoon and she was lying on one of the beaches in Genovia or Florida, with the warm sun pouring down on her and someone was offering her an icy-cold smoothie from a silver tray. That's how Michael voice made her feel.
"Hi Michael," she said sweetly, "It's me."
"Mia," he said, sounding genuinely happy to hear from her. "How are you?"
"I'm okay," she said, then, to get it out as soon as possible, "I can't believe I missed your birthday. I suck, I'm so sorry. Put me in jail, I'll supply my own prison jumpsuit."
Michael laughed. Laughed! Like missing his birthday was nothing! "Oh, that's all right," he said, "I know you're busy over there. And there's that time-zone thing, and all that. So, how is it? How did your speech go? The one on Genovian TV? Did your crown fall off? You were afraid it might."
Mia practically melted right there in the middle of her big fancy royal bed, with the phone clutched to her ear and everything. She felt like she had the night of the Winter Dance, like when she and Michael were still standing in front of the Loft stoop, with the snow coming down and looking so white against Michael's dark hair, and Lars getting mad in the vestibule because the two of them wouldn't stop kissing and he was cold and wanted to go inside.
She couldn't believe she'd ever been concerned that Michael would be another girl. Well, she still wasn't sure he loved her like she loved him, but she was pretty sure he liked her. And right there, at past two in the morning, sitting by herself in her royal bedchamber in the Palais de Genovia, that was enough.
So she told him about her speech, and how her tiara stayed stuck on her head, and how everything was so utterly on-plan and how nothing unexpected happened. She didn't tell him about her little moment with Nick – honestly, as she was talking, it didn't even cross her mind – but she did talk about Asana and Elyssa and Lionel and Andrew and Nick, and he seemed pretty happy she wasn't alone in Genovia with only adults.
And then she asked him about his birthday, and he told her about how they'd gone to Red Lobster, and Lilly had an allergic reaction to her shrimp cocktail and they'd had to cut the meal short to go the ER because she's swelled up like Violet in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, and now she has to carry a syringe filled with adrenaline with her in case she accidentally ingests shellfish ever again, and how Michael's parents got him a new laptop for when he goes to college and how when he gets back to New York he's thinking about starting a band since he's having trouble finding sponsors for the website he runs—
Mia was so happy to be hearing Michael's voice that he didn't even notice what time it was or how sleepy she was getting until Michael went, "Hey, isn't it like three in the morning there?" which, yes. It was. Only she didn't care because she was so happy to just be talking to him.
"Yes," she said dreamily.
"Well, you'd better go to bed," Michael said, "Unless you get to sleep in. But I bet you have stuff to do tomorrow, right?"
"Oh," she said, all lethargically, "Just a ribbon-cutting ceremony at the hospital. And then lunch with the Genovian Historical Society, and then a tour of the Genovian zoo. And then dinner with the Minister of Culture and his wife."
"Oh my god," Michael said, sounding alarmed, "Do you have to do that kind of stuff every day?"
"Uh-huh."
"Mia," he said with some urgency, "you'd better get some sleep. You have a huge day ahead of you."
"Okay," Mia said happily. Honestly, the day wasn't that full – only four things. The ribbon cutting would take less than an hour. The zoo was really small – it wouldn't take three hours.
"I mean it, Mia," Michael said sternly. "Hang up the phone and go to bed."
Mia sighed gustily into the receiver. "Okay, boss. I love you."
There was a pause on the other end. It was short, and Mia was on the verge of falling asleep right where she was, the phone against her ear and everything, so she honestly didn't even notice. But then Michael said gently, his voice the softest Mia'd probably ever heard it, "I love you too."
Mia hummed into the phone, hanging up, like receiving an order to do so activated her limbs. And then she flopped back into the bed, falling asleep immediately.