I was “soopwised” all right. Surprised he was in my room, since he isn’t supposed to be allowed in it—and he isn’t supposed to be able to get in it with the special slippy thing I put over the doorknob that only adults know how to work.
Only it turned out an adult had opened the door for him. An adult who was peering down at me with a big happy grin on her face.
“Well, hey there, Mia! How you doin’?”
Oh my God. It was Mamaw. With Papaw right next to her. In my room. My BEDROOM.
That’s it. I’m moving out of this place. Just as soon as I can figure out where I’m going to go to college. Which I have a little less than a week to decide.
“Happy birthday, in advance!” Mamaw yelled. “Look atchoo, lying in bed at ten o’clock! Who do you think you are, anyway? Some kinda princess?”
This caused Mamaw and Papaw to explode with laughter. At their own joke. It caused me to pull the covers up over my head and yell, “MO-O-OOOM!!!”
“Mother.” I could hear Mom show up. “Please. I’m sure Mia’s very excited to see you, but let’s give her a chance to get up and greet you properly. You’ll have plenty of time to visit each other.”
“I don’t see when,” Mamaw said. I could tell by her voice that she was scowling. “Y’all have us visitin’ so many museums and tours and whatnot.”
“Well, I’m sure Mia will be more than happy to go on some of those tours with you,” I heard Mom say.
It was at that point I flipped the covers down and glared at her. Mom just glared right back.
So, apparently, I’m taking Mamaw and Papaw to the Central Park Zoo later today.
I understand that it’s the least I can do in my capacity as their only granddaughter. Still. It’s not like I don’t exactly have other things to do.
One of them being get ready for my coffee date, I mean interview, with Michael. Which I need to continue doing right now. Even though it’s hard because my hands are trembling so much I can barely hold my eye pencil to outline my lids.
And I really wish Lana would quit texting me to tell me what to wear because that’s not helping, either.
Although I refuse to take her advice, and I’m going with something casual. Just my 7 For All Mankind jeans, the Christian Louboutin boots, my off-the-shoulder Sweet Robin Alexandra top, all my bangles, my Subversive lava bead cameo choker, and my chandelier earrings. That’s not too much at all! I mean, it’s not like I’m trying to get him to like me in a sexy way. We’re just friends now.
I’m going to brush my teeth one more time, though, just to be safe.
Mr. G and Rocky are putting on a drum recital for Mamaw and Papaw.
Please, let me get out of here without developing a cluster headache.
Sunday, April 30, 12:55 p.m., Caffe Dante,
MacDougal Street
My hands are sweating so much. This kind of weakness is insufferable, especially in a member of the House of Renaldo. We’re all feminists. Even Dad. He has the endorsement of NOWG, National Organization of the Women of Genovia, after all. Even Grandmère is a member.
Speaking of Grandmère, she’s e-mailed me, like, FOUR times today about the party and/or Dad’s election. I’ve deleted each one. I don’t have time to read her insane messages! And why can’t she learn to e-mail properly? I realize she’s four hundred years old, and I have to respect my elders (even though if you ask me, she is in no way deserving of my respect). But still, she could let go of the R button once she’s pressed it the first time.
Where IS Michael? Lars and I are here. And I realize we’re five minutes early. (I wanted to get rid of the paparazzi if I had to, but there’s none here, strangely. I also wanted to have the first choice of seat so I could make sure I got the best lighting. Lana assures me this is vitally important in boy/girl meetings, even of the Friends Only variety. Also, I wanted to snag a table close by for my bodyguard, yet far enough away that he wasn’t breathing down our necks, no offense, of course, Lars, if you’re reading this over my shoulder, which, don’t lie, I know you do when the battery on your Treo runs down.) So where is—
Oh, God. There he is. He’s looking around for us.
He looks SO good. Even better than yesterday, because today he’s wearing jeans and they’re fitting him SO PERFECTLY in all the right places.
Wow. I’m turning into Lana.
And he’s also wearing a totally nice black short-sleeved Polo shirt and I’m just going to come right out and say that everything we suspected lay under the sleeves of his suit jacket yesterday REALLY DOES. As in, muscles. Not hideous bulked up steroidy ones, either.
But Lana was not far off in her Christian Bale Batman assessment.
And I know I have a boyfriend. I am merely observing this in my capacity as an investigative journalist.
!!!!!
He’s seen me!!!!! He’s coming!!!!!
I’m dying now, good-bye.
Interview with Michael Moscovitz for the Atom, as recorded by Mia Thermopolis on Sunday, April 30, via iPhone (to be transcribed later)
Mia: So, it’s okay if I record this?
Michael (laughing): I said it was.
Me: I know, but I need to record you saying it. I know it’s stupid.
Michael (still laughing): It’s not stupid. It’s just kind of weird. I mean, to be sitting here being interviewed by you. First of all, it’s you. Second of all…well, you were always the celebrity.
Mia: Well, now it’s your turn. And thanks again, so much, for doing this. I know how busy you must be, and I want you to know I really appreciate you taking the time out to meet with me.