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Oh, Michael, this is so sudden! I simply wasn’t expecting it. But I adore you with every fiber of my being, so of course I will go to the prom with you, and dance every single dance with you, except the fast ones because they are lame. (KISS)
That’s how it should go. If there is any justice in the world, that’s how it WILL go.
But WHEN? When is he going to ask me? I mean, look at him over there. He is so clearly NOT thinking about the prom. He is arguing with Boris Pelkowski over the fingering for their band’s new song, “Rock-Throwing Youths,” a searing criticism of the current situation in the Middle East. I am sorry, but someone who is worrying about strut placement and the situation in the Middle East is HARDLY LIKELY TO REMEMBER TO ASK HIS GIRLFRIEND TO THE PROM.
This is what I get for falling in love with a genius.
Not that Michael isn’t a perfectly attentive boyfriend. I mean, I know a lot of girls—like Tina, for instance—are totally jealous of me for having such a hot and yet so incredibly supportive life mate. I mean, Michael ALWAYS sits next to me at lunch, every single day, except Tuesdays and Thursdays when he has a Computer Club meeting during lunch. But even then he gazes at me longingly from the Computer Club table on the other side of the caf.
Well, okay, maybe not longingly, but he smiles at me sometimes when he catches me staring at him from across the cafeteria and trying to figure out who he looks like the most—Josh Hartnett or a dark-haired Heath Ledger.
And okay, so Michael doesn’t feel comfortable with public displays of affection—which is no big surprise, seeing as how everywhere I go I am followed by a six-foot-five Swedish expert in Krav Maga—so it’s not like he ever kisses me in school or holds my hand in the hallway or sticks his hand in the back pocket of my overalls when we are strolling down the street or leans his body up against mine when we’re at my locker the way Josh does to Lana….
But when we are alone… when we are alone… when we are alone…
Oh, all right, so we haven’t gotten to second base yet. Well, except for that one time during Spring Break when we were building that house. But I think that might have been a mistake, on account of my hammer was hanging by its claw from the bib of my overalls and Michael asked to borrow it and I couldn’t hand it to him because I was busy holding up that sheet of drywall, so his hand sort of accidentally brushed up against my chest while he was reaching…
Still. We are perfectly happy together. More than happy. We are ecstatically happy.
SO WHY HASN’T HE ASKED ME TO THE PROM?????????????????
Oh, my God. Lilly just leaned over to see what I was writing and saw that last part. That is what I get for using capital letters. She just went, “Oh, God, don’t tell me you’re still obsessing over that.”
As if that weren’t bad enough, Michael looked up and went, “Obsessing over what?” (!!!!!!!!!!!)
I thought Lilly was going to say something!!!!!!!!!! I thought she was going to go, “Oh, Mia’s just having an embolism because you haven’t asked her to the prom yet.”
But she just went, “Mia’s working on an essay about methane ice worms.”
Michael said, “Oh,” and turned back to his guitar.
Trust Boris to go, “Oh, methane ice worms. Yes, of course. If they turn out to be ubiquitous on shallow seafloor gas deposits, they could have a significant impact on how methane deposits are formed and dissolve in seawater, and how we go about mining and otherwise harvesting natural gas as a source of energy.”
Which, you know, is good to know for my essay and all, but seriously. Why does he even know this?
I don’t know how Lilly puts up with him. I really don’t.
Wednesday, April 30, French
Thank God for Tina Hakim Baba. At least SHE understands how I feel. AND she totally sympathizes. She says that it has always been her dream to go to the prom with the man she loves—like Molly Ringwald dreamed of going to the prom with Andrew McCarthy in Pretty in Pink.
Sadly for Tina, however, the man she loves—or once loved—dumped her for a girl named Jasmine with turquoise braces. But Tina says she will learn to love again, if she can find a man willing to break down the self-defensive emotional wall she has built around herself since Dave Farouq El-Abar’s betrayal. It was looking like Peter Tsu, whom Tina met over Spring Break, might succeed, but Peter’s obsession with Korn soon drove her away, as it would any right-thinking woman.
Tina thinks Michael is going to ask tomorro
w, on my birthday. About the prom, I mean. Oh, please let that be true! It would be the best birthday present anyone has ever given me. Except for when my mom gave me Fat Louie, of course.
Except I hope he doesn’t do it, you know, in front of my family. Because Michael is coming out with us on my birthday. We are going to dinner tomorrow night with Grandmère and my dad and mom and Mr. Gianini. Oh, and Lars, of course. And then on Saturday night, my mom is having a big blow-out party for me and all of my friends at the loft (that is, providing she can still walk then, on account of her you-know-what).
I haven’t mentioned Mom’s problem with her you-know-what to Michael, though. I believe in having a fully open and honest relationship with the man you love, but seriously, there are some things he just doesn’t need to know. Like that your pregnant mother has problems with her bladder.
I invited only Michael to both the dinner and the party. Everyone else, including Lilly, is just invited to the party. Hello, how unromantic would that be, to have your birthday dinner with your mom, your stepdad, your real dad, your grandma, your bodyguard, your boyfriend, and his sister. At least I was able to narrow it down a little.
Michael said he would come to both, the dinner and the party, which I thought was very brave of him, and further proof that he is the best boyfriend who ever lived.
If I could just nail him down on this prom thing, though.
Tina says I should just come out and ask him. Michael, I mean. Tina is now a staunch believer in being very up front with boys, on account of how she played games with Dave and he fled from her into the arms of the turquoise-toothed Jasmine. But I don’t know. I mean, this is the PROM. The prom is special. I don’t want to mess it up. Especially since I’m only going to be able to see Michael for, like, another two months before my dad drags me off to Genovia for the summer. Which is so totally unfair. “But you signed a contract, Mia,” is what he keeps saying to me. My dad, I mean.
