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But I’m never going to be that girl.
And my worst fear is that someday he’s going to realize it and dump me the way my mom dumped my dad, leaving him the brokenhearted, race-car-speeding, empty shell of a man he is today.
Honestly, what good is owning a castle if the person you love doesn’t want to share it with you?
CHAPTER 2
3:32 p.m., Wednesday, April 29
Third-Floor Apartment
Consulate General of Genovia
New York City
Tried to go to work at the Community Center after my appointment, but Perin called while I was on my way and said hordes of paps had shown up there, too, and were bothering the teens (and their adult mentors) by asking how they felt about my father’s brush with the law, and whether or not I was “carrying Michael’s twins,” so maybe it would be better if I “worked from home.”
So sweet, right? Who else has such kind, concerned friends?
And not just the kind who’ve known you since high school and so have no problem telling you that your bra strap is showing and that there’s salad in your teeth. The kind who are willing to run the Community Center you just founded even though they could probably be making millions running a start-up in Silicon Valley instead.
(See? I am already taking the doctor’s advice and practicing more gratitude in my day-to-day life.)
I said, “Thanks, Perin, I understand.”
People everywhere pray for a job where they can “work from home,” so I guess, going with the gratitude theme, I should be grateful for this opportunity.
I wonder how, though, when people get one of these jobs, they keep themselves from spending the entire day going on YouTube and looking at videos about baby deer that have been adopted by golden retrievers. Because that’s all I’ve accomplished today so far.
Well, aside from FaceTiming Michael and asking again if he could see my twitch. Of course he asked if I could turn the camera lower, and then lower, and then unbutton my shirt . . .
And suddenly I realize what else people who work from home do all day.
Except that Michael does not work at home, he works at the company he founded, Pavlov Surgical, so we couldn’t have quite as much fun as we wanted since his work space has glass walls and anyone could have looked in and seen what we were up to.
He did tell me though (later) that he’d read on WebMD that eye twitches are very often caused by a magnesium deficiency and that human spermatozoa are a rich source of magnesium.
“Is that so?” I said. “I suppose you’re going to volunteer to come over later to help relieve me of this severe nutritional deficiency?”
“Well, I don’t want to brag, but I have been touted in the press as manly enough to render perfectly respectable princesses sex mad from several miles away.”
“Nice try, Mr. Moscovitz,” I said. “I’m reporting you to the board of health for making unsubstantiated nutritional claims. Good-bye.”
His eyes actually looked as normal as he claims mine do, so maybe he really is okay, and the whole shadow thing is a figment of my admittedly sometimes overactive imagination.
I am going to order magnesium right now from the grocery store down the street (to be delivered, although sadly I can’t order it with my smartphone because the closest grocery store from which the Royal Genovian Guard will accept deliveries doesn’t have an app for that. Also, I’m not allowed to have apps, except of course for iTriage, which I can’t imagine doing any harm).
I’m sure the news of what I’m ordering will get out somehow and the next headline about me is going to read:
“Pill-Popping Princess!
CAN ANYONE SAVE HER?
Pope Swears He’ll Try.”
CHAPTER 3
8:32 p.m., Wednesday, April 29
