Mia Goes Fourth

only a trick of the not very clear light. 'The fact that Elena Trevanni has, ever since I was a little girl, always lorded it over me, because she was born into a more respected and aristocratic family than I was? That until I married your grandfather, she always had nicer clothes and shoes and handbags than my parents could afford for me? That she still thinks she is so much better than me, because she married a comte who had no responsibilities or property, just unlimited wealth, whereas I have been forced to work my fingers to the bone in order to make Genovia the vacation paradise it is today? And that I was

hoping that just this once, by revealing what a lovely and accomplished granddaughter I have, I could show her up?'

I was stunned. I'd had no idea why this stupid ball was so important to her. I thought it had just been because she'd wanted

to try to split Michael and me up, or get me to start liking Prince Rene instead, so that the two of us could unite our families in holy matrimony someday and create a race of super-royals. It had never occurred to me that there might be some underlying, mitigating circumstance . . .

. . . such as that the Contessa Trevanni was, in essence, Grandmere's Lana Weinberger.

Because that's what it sounded like. Like Elena Trevanni had tortured and teased Grandmere as mercilessly as I had been tortured and teased by Lana through the years.

I wondered if Elena, like Lana, had ever suggested to Grandmere that she wear Band-Aids on her boobs instead of a bra.

If she had, she was a far, far braver soul than I.

And now,' Grandmere said, very sadly, 'I have to tell her that my granddaughter doesn't love me enough to put aside her

new boyfriend for one single night.'

I realized, with a sinking heart, what I had to do. I mean, I knew how Grandmere felt. If there had been some way, any way

at all, that I could have shown up Lana - you know, besides going out with her boyfriend, which I had already done, but that had ended up humiliating me way more than it had Lana — I'd have done it. Anything.

Because when someone is as mean and cruel and just downright nasty as Lana is - not just to me, either, but to all the girls at Albert Einstein High who aren't blessed with good looks and school spirit - she fully deserves to have her nose rubbed in it.

It was so weird to think about someone like Grandmere, who seemed so incredibly sure of herself, having a Lana

Weinberger in her life. I mean, I had always pictured Grandmere being the type of person who, if Lana flipped her long

blonde on to her desk, would go all Crouching Tiger on her and deliver a kick to the face.

But maybe there was someone even Grandmere was a little bit afraid of. And maybe that person was Contessa Trevanni.

And while it is not true that I love Grandmere more than I love Michael - I do not love anyone more than I love Michael, except of course for Fat Louie — I did feel sorrier for Grandmere at that moment than I did for myself. You know, if

Michael ended up dumping me because I cancelled our date. It sounds incredible, but it's true.

So I went, even as I said them, not quite believing the words were coming out of my mouth, 'All right, Grandmere,

I'll put in an appearance at your ball.'

A miraculous change overcame Grandmere. She seemed to brighten right up.

'Really, Amelia?' she asked, reaching out to grasp one of my hands. 'Will you really do this for me?'

I was, I knew, going to lose Michael forever. But like my mother had said, if he didn't understand then he probably

hadn't been right for me in the first place.

Yeah, right!!! Michael is the most perfect guy in the universe!! Our astrological charts even prove it!!! And I was throwing

it all away for Grandmere, whom I am pretty sure I don't even like!!!

God, I am such a pushover. But she just looked so happy. She flung off the cashmere throw, and Rommel, and rang for her maid to bring her a Sidecar and her cigarettes, and then we moved on to the day's lesson - how to cheat at canasta without being found out, a necessity during games with the highly volatile Bengazi royal family, who, if they aren't allowed to win,

tend to go out the next day and raze entire villages.

All I want to know is: What?

Not about the Bengazis.

I mean what - WHAT???? - am I going to tell Michael? I mean, seriously. If he doesn't dump me now then there's

something wrong with him. And since I know there is nothing wrong with him, I know that I am about to be dumped.

About which all I can say is THERE IS NO JUSTICE IN THE WORLD. NONE.

Since Lilly has her breakfast meeting with the producers of the made-for-TV movie of my life tomorrow morning, I guess

I will break the news to Michael then. That way he can dump me in time for Homeroom. Maybe then I will have stopped

crying before Lana sees me in Algebra second period. I don't think I'll be able to take her mockery, after already having

my heart ripped from my body and flung across the floor.

I hate myself.

Thursday; January 21,

The Loft