Part 8 (1/2)

And then, naturally, my mind keeps turning back to what Grandmere said, back in Dr. Knutz's office. About how if we could get our hands on one of Michael's CardioArms, Dad might stand a better chance against Rene.

Except I know how wrong it is to think that way. The reason we need a CardioArm is because it would make the lives of the citizens of Genovia so much easier.

A CardioArm at the Royal Genovian Hospital wouldn't stimulate the economy or bring tourists to Genovia or even help Dad in the polls or anything like that, like Grandmere seems to believe.

But it would help Genovians who are sick not to have to travel to hospitals outside of our country to get medical care, because instead, they could easily get noninvasive heart surgery right inside our own borders. They'd save time and expense.

Plus, like the article said, they'd heal faster, because of the CardioArm's precision.

I'm not saying if we got one, people would be more likely to vote for Dad. I'm just saying, getting one would be the right thing to do-the princessy thing to do-for my own people.

And I'm not saying by going to the thing today, I want to get back together with Michael. I mean, if he'd even have me, which he fully wouldn't, because he's moved on, as is ill.u.s.trated by the fact that clearly, he's been in Manhattan for a while now, and hasn't even so much as called. Or e-mailed.

I'm just saying obviously I should go to the thing at Columbia today. Because it's what a true princess would do for her people. Get them the most up-to-date medical technology available.

Just how I'm going to do that without looking like the world's biggest tool, I have no idea. I mean, I can't go, ”Um, Michael, due to the fact that we used to date, even though I treated you horribly, can you jump Genovia to the top of the waiting list and get us a CardioArm right away? Here's a check.”

But I think that's pretty much the way it's going to go. Part of being a princess means swallowing your pride and doing the right thing for your people, no matter how personally humiliating it might be.

And anyway, he still owes me for the Judith Gershner thing. I understand now that the reason Michael didn't tell me about how he had s.e.x with her before he and I started going out was because he knew I wasn't mature enough at the time to handle the information.

He was right: I wasn't.

And though it might be really manipulative and awful of me to use my past romantic relations.h.i.+p with Michael to try to get him to let us jump to the head of the CardioArm waiting list, this is Genovia we're talking about.

And it's my royal duty to do whatever I have to do for my country.

I haven't spent the past four years with the combs of a tiara digging into my head for nothing, you know.

I guess I didn't just learn which one was the soup spoon from Grandmere, after all.

I better go call Tina.

Sat.u.r.day, April 29, 1:45 p.m., Columbia

University Medical Center, Simon and Louise

Templeman Patient Care Pavilion

This. Was. The. Worst. Idea. Ever.

I know this morning when I woke up I had some big n.o.ble idea that I was doing something way important for the people of Genovia.

And-okay, I'll admit it, maybe in some twisted way, I guess, for my dad.

But in actuality, this is just insane. I mean, Michael's entire family is here. All the Moscovitzes! Even his grandma! Yes! Nana Moscovitz is here!

I'm so embarra.s.sed I could die.

And, okay, I've made us all sit in the very back row (security here is very lax: They let us all in, even though we only had the two pa.s.ses), where, thank G.o.d, it doesn't appear there's any chance any of them is going to see us (but Lars and Wahim, Tina's bodyguard, are so tall, what are the chances of them not being noticed? I've made them wait outside. They're so mad at me. But what am I supposed to do? I can't risk the chance of Lilly seeing them).

And I know the whole point of this was my actually speaking to Michael.

But I didn't know Lilly was going to be here! Which was incredibly stupid of me. I should have a.s.sumed, of course. I mean, that Michael's family (including his sister, who brought Kenny, I mean Kenneth, who is wearing a SUIT. And Lilly is wearing a dress...and she's taken out all her piercings. I barely recognized her) would, of course, be at such an important and prestigious event.

How can I go up and talk to Michael in front of her? It's true Lilly and I are not exactly at each other's throats anymore, but we're definitely not friends, either. The last thing I need right now is her revving up ihatemiathermopolis.com again.

Which I could totally see her doing if she suspected I was trying to use her brother to, oh, I don't know, get a CardioArm for my country, or something.

Lana says it's no big deal and I should just go up to the Drs. Moscovitz and say hi. Lana says she's totally on friendly terms with all her exes' parents (which, considering it's Lana, is, like, half of the population of the Upper East Side), even though she's used most of their sons for s.e.x, and even worse things (...such as? What is worse than using a boy for s.e.x? I don't even want to know. Lana took Tina and me to the Pink p.u.s.s.ycat Boutique last year because she said we needed educating in that department, and while I did make a purchase, it was only a h.e.l.lo Kitty personal ma.s.sager. But you don't even want to know what Lana bought).

But Lana's never dated any guy for as long as Michael and I dated. And she wasn't best friends with any of those guys' sisters, or made them as mad at her as Lilly was mad at me. So going up to them at public events and being all, ”Hey, how's it going?” is no big deal for Lana.

I, on the other hand, cannot go up to the Drs. Moscovitz and go, ”Oh, hey, hi, Dr. and Dr. Moscovitz. How you doing? Remember me? The girl who acted like a total byotch to your son and who used to be best friends with your daughter? Oh, and hey, Nana Moscovitz. How's that rugelach you used to make? Yum, I used to love that stuff! Good times.”

Anyway. This donation thing is turning out to be a huge event (fortunately, because there are a ton of people I can slouch behind and remain unseen). There's press from everywhere, Anesthesia magazine to PC World. They've got hors d'oeuvres and stuff, too, and a lot of model-looking types slinking around in tight red dresses, pa.s.sing around flutes of champagne.

There's no sign of Michael so far, though. He's probably in a green room somewhere, getting a ma.s.sage from one of those slinky-dress girls. That's what bazillionaire robotic-arm inventors do before giving away major donations to their alma maters. I'm just guessing.

Tina says I should stop writing in my journal and pay attention in case Michael comes in (she doesn't believe my slinky-model-ma.s.sage theory). Also, she thinks the dark sungla.s.ses and beret I'm wearing are only drawing attention to myself, not serving as a good disguise.

But what does Tina know? This has never happened to her before. She- Oh.

My.

G.o.d.

Michael just walked in....

I can't breathe.

Sat.u.r.day, April 29, 3:00 p.m., Columbia

University Medical Center, ladies' room

Okay. I messed up.

Really, really messed up.

It's just...he looks so incredibly good.