Part 9 (1/2)

And she's never happy.

Okay, I better go meet those guys. I think Lars might actually shoot me if I make him wait any longer. I- Hey, those shoes look really familiar.

Oh, no.

Sat.u.r.day, April 29, 4:00 p.m., limo home Oh, yes.

Lilly. It was Lilly.

In the stall next to mine.

She totally recognized my platform Mary Janes. My new Prada ones, not the old ones I had from two years ago, which she so mercilessly savaged on her website.

She was like, ”Mia? Is that you in there? I thought I saw Lars in the hallway....”

What could I do? I couldn't say it wasn't me. Obviously.

So I came out and there she was, looking totally confused, like, What are you doing here?

Fortunately the whole time I was sitting in the audience I'd totally had a chance to make up a story for what I would say if this happened.

Mia Thermopolis's Big Fat Lie Number Six.

”Oh, hi, Lilly.” I was so Ms. Casual. Even though I had given myself a complete MAC makeover and blowout and was in my best Nanette Lepore top and black lace-trimmed leggings, I acted like the whole thing was no big deal. ”Gretchen Weinberger couldn't make it today so she gave me her press pa.s.s and asked me to cover the story of Michael's donation for her.” I even pulled Gretchen's press pa.s.s out of my bag to prove my colossal lie. ”I hope that's okay with you.”

Lilly just stared at the press pa.s.s. Then she looked up at me (because I still tower over her by about six inches, especially in my platforms, even though she was wearing heels).

Honestly, I didn't like the way she was looking at me. Like she didn't believe me.

Too late, I remembered the way Lilly could always tell when I was lying (because my nostrils flare).

However, I've been practicing lying in front of the mirror, and also in front of Grandmere, to stop this from happening, because people being able to tell you're lying is a total detriment to one's future career as a princess, or whatever you want to be, really, as white lies are really crucial to all professions (”Oh, no, you have much longer than six months to live, actually”).

And Grandmere says I've gotten much better about it (J.P., too. Well, obviously. Otherwise he'd have known when I said I hadn't gotten into any of the colleges I said I hadn't gotten into. Not to mention any of the other multiple lies I've told him. I could kill Lilly for having told him about the nostril thing. Sometimes I wonder if there's anything else she told him about me that he hasn't told me she told him).

I was pretty sure Lilly couldn't tell I was lying. But just to be sure, I added, ”I hope you don't mind I'm here. I tried to stay out of your way and in the background as much as possible. I know this is a special day for you and your family, and I...I think it's really great about Michael.”

This last part wasn't a lie, so I didn't need to worry about my nostrils. Not even a little bit.

Lilly narrowed her eyes at me. For once she hadn't smeared them all over with black kohl. I knew she'd done this out of deference for Nana Moscovitz, who thinks kohl is s.l.u.tty.

I thought she was going to hit me. I really did.

”You're really here to cover the story for the Atom?” she asked, in a hard voice.

I have never concentrated on my nostrils more in my entire life.

”Yes,” I said. And anyway, it isn't a lie, because I plan on going home now and writing a four-hundred-word story about this whole thing and submitting it Monday morning. After throwing up about nine hundred times.

Lilly's mean-eyed gaze didn't change.

”And did you really mean that about my brother, Mia?” she asked.

”Of course I do,” I said.

This, too, was the truth.

Just as I'd suspected, Lilly was totally staring at my nose. When she didn't see my nostrils move, she seemed to relax a little.

What she said next shocked me so much, I momentarily lost the ability to speak.

”It was really great of you to come. In Gretchen's place, I mean,” she said, sounding a hundred percent sincere. ”And I know the fact that you came will mean a lot to Michael. And since you're here, you can't leave without coming to say hi to him.”

That's when I nearly threw up my oatmeal again. What?

”Uh,” I said, backing up so fast, I almost collided with this old lady who was coming out of another bathroom stall. ”No, thanks. That's okay! I think I have enough for the story for the Atom. This is family time for you guys. I don't want to intrude. In fact, my ride is waiting, so I have to go.”

”Don't be an idiot,” Lilly said, reaching out and grabbing my wrist. Not in a nice, friendly, Come on kind of way. But in a You're busted, and you're coming with me, young lady kind of way. I'll admit it. I was a little scared. ”You're a princess, remember? You can tell your ride when it's time to go. As your editor, I'm telling you, you need a direct quote from Michael for the paper. And he'd be hurt if he found out you were here and didn't say hi. And,” she said, giving my wrist an ominous squeeze, along with a glare that could have frozen molten lava, ”you're not hurting him again, Mia. Not on my watch.”

Me, hurt him? h.e.l.lo? Did I need to remind her that her brother was the one who dumped me?

And okay, I acted like a complete jacka.s.s and completely deserved to be dumped. But still.

What was going on here, anyway? Was this some kind of continuation of the revenge for whatever it was I did to her last year? Was she going to drag me into that room and then do or say something horrible to humiliate me in front of everyone-especially her brother?

If so, it wasn't like I had any choice but to let her pull me back into the crowded pavilion. Her grip on my wrist was like iron.

But...what if this wasn't about revenge? What if Lilly was over whatever it was she'd been so mad at me about for two years? Maybe it was worth the risk.

Because in spite of everything-even ihatemiathermopolis.com-I missed having Lilly as a friend. At least, when she wasn't trying to get revenge on me for things I'd supposedly done to her.

I saw Lars look up in surprise as we came out of the ladies' room together, and his eyes widen-he knows perfectly well Lilly and I aren't exactly bosom buddies anymore. And I guess seeing the way she had hold of my wrist was probably a bit of a tip-off to him that I wasn't exactly going with her of my own volition.

Still, I shook my head at him to let him know he shouldn't go for his taser. This was my own mess, and I was going to take care of it. Somehow.

I also saw Tina down the hall notice us, and throw us a startled look. Lilly, thank G.o.d, didn't see her. Tina's jaw dropped when she spied the way Lilly's hand was clamped over my wrist, which I suppose did not look exactly friendly-ish. Tina thrust her cell phone to her ear and mouthed, ”Call me!”

I nodded. Oh, I was going to call Tina, all right.

Call her and give her a piece of my mind for getting me into this mess in the first place (though I suppose it was my big plan to Do The Princessy Thing that got me here, really).

The next thing I knew, Lilly was dragging me across the Simon and Louise Templeman Patient Care Pavilion toward the stage where Michael and their parents and Nana Moscovitz and Kenny-I mean, Kenneth-and the other employees of Pavlov Surgical were still standing, drinking champagne.

I felt like I was going to die. I really did.

But then I remembered something Grandmere had once a.s.sured me of: No one has ever died of embarra.s.sment-never, not once in the whole history of time.

Which I am living proof of, having a grandmother like mine.

So at least I had the a.s.surance I would escape from all of this with my life.