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But you know what else sucks sometimes?
Actually being a princess. And having people who are so fascinated by this that they can’t see the person you are behind the crown. The kind of person who wants to be judged on her own merits. The kind of person who doesn’t care if someone offers her a quarter of a million dollars for her book. She’d rather have less money if it’s from someone who really values her work.
Oh, sure. People will claim they like you for who you are. They might even do a really good imitation of it. So good, you’ll even believe it. For a while.
The thing is, if you’re smart, there’ll be clues. It may take you a while to pick up on them.
But you will. Eventually.
And in the end, it all boils down to this:
The people who were your friends before you got the crown are the people who are going to be your best friends no matter what. Because they’re the ones who love you for you—you, in all your geekiness—and not because of what they can get out of you. Weirdly, in some instances, even the people who were your enemies before you got famous (like Lana Weinberger) can end up being better friends to you than the people you become friends with after you become famous. And even when those friends get mad at you—like Lilly was at me—you still need them, even more than ever. Because they might just be the only people who are willing to tell you the truth.
That’s just the way it is. It’s lonely on the throne.
Luckily for me, I had fabulous friends before I ever found out I was the princess of Genovia.
And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past four years, it’s that I better do my best to try to hold on to them.
No matter what.
Which is why I found myself giving J.P. the speech Grandmère had taught me—the one for letting suitors down gently.
“J.P.,” I said, pulling the ring he’d given me off my finger. “I care about you. I really do. And I wish you the best. But the truth is, I think we’re better off as friends. Good friends. So I want to give this back to you.”
And I lifted his hand, and put the ring back in the center of his palm, and closed his fingers around it.
He looked down at his hand with an expression of abject misery on his face.
“Mia,” he said. “I can explain why I didn’t tell you about Lilly. The thing is, I didn’t think you—”
“No,” I said. “You don’t need to say another word. Don’t feel bad.” I reached up and patted him on the shoulder.
I guess I could have felt sorry for myself because my prom had gotten totally and completely ruined. I’d gone to it with a guy who’d turned out to be a total phony.
But I remembered what my dad said about how it’s the duty of royalty always to be the stronger person, and to make everyone else feel better. And I took a deep breath and said, “You know what I think you should do? Call Stacey Cheeseman. I think she has a total crush on you.”
J.P. looked down at me as if I were nuts. “You do?”
“I totally do,” I lied. But it was a white lie. And I was pretty sure she did have a crush on him. All actresses adore their director.
“This is completely embarrassing,” J.P. said. Now he was looking down at the ring.
“No, it’s not,” I said, patting him on the shoulder some more. “Now, are you going to call her?”
“Mia,” J.P. said, his expression stricken. “I’m sorry. But I thought if you knew the truth about Lilly, you’d never—”
I held up my hand to indicate he should say no more. Really, you would think a man of the world such as he would know better than to keep trying to get me back when I had made it so clear I was done.
I wondered how much of his reluctance to call Stacey was rooted in the fact that she isn’t really that famous. Yet.
But I decided this thought was ungenerous of me. I’m really trying to be more princesslike in my thoughts and actions.
I also wasn’t trying to let my gleefulness over the situation show. You know, that even though my prom was a total bust, I’d gotten my best friend back, and I hadn’t been a bit in love with my prom date, with whom I was breaking up, in the first place.
I tried to keep a solemn expression on my face as I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.
“Good-bye, J.P.,” I whispered.
