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What could I do? I couldn’t say it wasn’t me. Obviously.

So I came out and there she was, looking totally confused, like, What are you doing here?

Fortunately the whole time I was sitting in the audience I’d totally had a chance to make up a story for what I would say if this happened.

Mia Thermopolis’s Big Fat Lie Number Six.

“Oh, hi, Lilly.” I was so Ms. Casual. Even though I had given myself a complete MAC makeover and blowout and was in my best Nanette Lepore top and black lace-trimmed leggings, I acted like the whole thing was no big deal. “Gretchen Weinberger couldn’t make it today so she gave me her press pass and asked me to cover the story of Michael’s donation for her.” I even pulled Gretchen’s press pass out of my bag to prove my colossal lie. “I hope that’s okay with you.”

Lilly just stared at the press pass. Then she looked up at me (because I still tower over her by about six inches, especially in my platforms, even though she was wearing heels).

Honestly, I didn’t like the way she was looking at me. Like she didn’t believe me.

Too late, I remembered the way Lilly could always tell when I was lying (because my nostrils flare).

However, I’ve been practicing lying in front of the mirror, and also in front of Grandmère, to stop this from happening, because people being able to tell you’re lying is a total detriment to one’s future career as a princess, or whatever you want to be, really, as white lies are really crucial to all professions (“Oh, no, you have much longer than six months to live, actually”).

And Grandmère says I’ve gotten much better about it (J.P., too. Well, obviously. Otherwise he’d have known when I said I hadn’t gotten into any of the colleges I said I hadn’t gotten into. Not to mention any of the other multiple lies I’ve told him. I could kill Lilly for having told him about the nostril thing. Sometimes I wonder if there’s anything else she told him about me that he hasn’t told me she told him).

I was pretty sure Lilly couldn’t tell I was lying. But just to be sure, I added, “I hope you don’t mind I’m here. I tried to stay out of your way and in the background as much as possible. I know this is a special day for you and your family, and I…I think it’s really great about Michael.”

This last part wasn’t a lie, so I didn’t need to worry about my nostrils. Not even a little bit.

Lilly narrowed her eyes at me. For once she hadn’t smeared them all over with black kohl. I knew she’d done this out of deference for Nana Moscovitz, who thinks kohl is slutty.

I thought she was going to hit me. I really did.

“You’re really

here to cover the story for the Atom?” she asked, in a hard voice.

I have never concentrated on my nostrils more in my entire life.

“Yes,” I said. And anyway, it isn’t a lie, because I plan on going home now and writing a four-hundred-word story about this whole thing and submitting it Monday morning. After throwing up about nine hundred times.

Lilly’s mean-eyed gaze didn’t change.

“And did you really mean that about my brother, Mia?” she asked.

“Of course I do,” I said.

This, too, was the truth.

Just as I’d suspected, Lilly was totally staring at my nose. When she didn’t see my nostrils move, she seemed to relax a little.

What she said next shocked me so much, I momentarily lost the ability to speak.

“It was really great of you to come. In Gretchen’s place, I mean,” she said, sounding a hundred percent sincere. “And I know the fact that you came will mean a lot to Michael. And since you’re here, you can’t leave without coming to say hi to him.”

That’s when I nearly threw up my oatmeal again. What?

“Uh,” I said, backing up so fast, I almost collided with this old lady who was coming out of another bathroom stall. “No, thanks. That’s okay! I think I have enough for the story for the Atom. This is family time for you guys. I don’t want to intrude. In fact, my ride is waiting, so I have to go.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Lilly said, reaching out and grabbing my wrist. Not in a nice, friendly, Come on kind of way. But in a You’re busted, and you’re coming with me, young lady kind of way. I’ll admit it. I was a little scared. “You’re a princess, remember? You can tell your ride when it’s time to go. As your editor, I’m telling you, you need a direct quote from Michael for the paper. And he’d be hurt if he found out you were here and didn’t say hi. And,” she said, giving my wrist an ominous squeeze, along with a glare that could have frozen molten lava, “you’re not hurting him again, Mia. Not on my watch.”

Me, hurt him? Hello? Did I need to remind her that her brother was the one who dumped me?

And okay, I acted like a complete jackass and completely deserved to be dumped. But still.

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