Forever Princess by Meg Cabot Page B

already had a boyfriend.
    â€œLet’s sneak out one at a time,” I said. “I’ll go first, I have to stop in the bathroom.” I knew I had to write all this down while it was still fresh in my mind. Besides which, I had to reapply my eyeliner and mascara, since I’d just cried it all off. “I’ll meet you guys back at Broadway and One-sixty-eighth.”
    â€œThis blows,” Lana said. She is very in touch with her feelings.
    â€œThe limo’s waiting there,” I said. “I’ll take you to Pinkberry. My treat.”
    â€œPinkberry, my butt,” Lana said. “You’re taking us to Nobu.”
    â€œFine,” I said.
    So I snuck in here. Where I’ve reapplied my makeup, and I’m writing this.
    Really, it’s better this way. To let him go. Not that I ever really had him, or could have, really, but…well, ’tis a far, far better thing I do , and all of that. I’m sure Grandmère wouldn’t think so. But this really is the more princessy thing to do. The Moscovitzes looked so happy. Even Lilly.
    And she’s never happy.
    Okay, I better go meet those guys. I think Lars might actually shoot me if I make him wait any longer. I—
    Hey, those shoes look really familiar.
    Oh, no.

 
    Saturday, April 29, 4:00 p.m., limo home
    Oh, yes.
    Lilly. It was Lilly.
    In the stall next to mine.
    She totally recognized my platform Mary Janes. My new Prada ones, not the old ones I had from two years ago, which she so mercilessly savaged on her website.
    She was like, “Mia? Is that you in there? I thought I saw Lars in the hallway….”
    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.
    â€œOh, 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