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I thought back to something Lilly had said that day we bumped our heads in the limo. I think Ruth and Morty have bigger things to worry about, she’d said.
I flung a startled look at Michael. “Does Lilly know?”
“My parents are waiting for the right time to tell her,” Michael said. “They didn’t even want to tell me, except that—well, I could tell something was wrong. Anyway, they seem to think with this magazine Lilly’s working on, and this play you guys are in—”
“Musical,” I said.
“—that she seems stressed right now, so they thought they’d tell her later. I don’t necessarily agree with their decision, but they asked me to let them do it their own way. So please don’t say anything to her.”
“I think she knows,” I said. “In the limo the other day…she said something.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Michael said. “She has to have at least suspected. I mean, she’s been home with the two of them fighting all year, while I’ve been here at the dorm, sort of removed from it.”
“Oh, God,” I said, feeling a stab of pity for Lilly. Suddenly, I sort of understood why she was being so weird about the literary magazine thing. I mean, if she knew her parents were splitting up, that would totally explain her mood swings and general weirdness.
Too bad I didn’t have any such excuse for MY weirdness.
“Michael,” I said. “I had no idea. I thought…I thought you were mad at me because I acted like such a head case the other night. I thought you were disgusted with me. Or disappointed in me. Because I’m not a party girl.”
“Mia,” Michael said, shaking his head—almost as if HE couldn’t believe any of this was happening, either. “I was mad at you. I don’t want a party girl. All I want is—”
But before he could say anything else, the door to his dorm room opened, and Doo Pak came in, looking cheerful as ever…especially when he saw me.
“Oh, hello, Princess!” he cried. “I was thinking you are here, since I see Mr. Lars in the lounge! How are you doing tonight? Thank you for the giant ‘Sorry’ cookie. It was very delicious. Mike and I have been eating it all day.”
I was going to say “You’re welcome.” I was going to say “I’m great, Doo Pak. How are you?”
Which wasn’t what I WANTED to say. What I WANTED to say was, “Get out, Doo Pak! Get out! Michael, finish what you were saying. All you want is what? ALL YOU WANT IS WHAT???”
Because, you know, it had sounded like it might be slightly important—especially considering the “I was mad at you,” part right before it.
But then the phone rang, and Doo Pak picked it up, and said, “Oh, hello, Mrs. Moscovitz! Yes, Mike is here. You wish to speak to him? Here, Mike.”
And even though Michael was making slashing motions under his chin and mouthing, “I’m not here,” at Doo Pak, it was too late. He had to take the phone, and go, “Um, Mom? Yeah, hi. Now’s not a real good time, could I call you back later?”
But I heard his mother droning on and on.
And Michael, always the dutiful son, listened. While I sat there going, Dr. and Dr. Moscovitz, splitting up? It CAN’T be. It’s not possible. It’s just not NATURAL for them to split. It’s like…well, it’s like Michael and me splitting up.
Which we might actually be doing. Because, you know, he never actually did say he forgave me. For the J.P. thing. He admitted he was mad at me, but never said if he was STILL mad.
Oh my God. Are the Moscovitzes not the only couple breaking up right now?
Except there was no way I could actually find out. At least not just then, since Michael was holding the phone to his face, going, “Mom. Mom, I know. Don’t worry.”
And I knew then that what was going on with him—and with us—was more than a “Sorry” cookie could solve.
I also knew there was nothing else I could do.
Which was why I got up and left.
Because what else was I supposed to do?
From the desk of
Her Royal Highness
Princess Amelia Mignonette
