Princess in Waiting by Meg Cabot Page B

important historical
    significance, such as the trial of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg and the assassination of Martin Luther King,
    so that, she says,
    the baby will have an understanding of all the problems facing our nation (Mr. G assured me privately that
    he is going to
    paint over the whole thing as soon as my mom gets admitted to the maternity ward. She will never know
    the difference
    once the endorphins kick in. All I can say is thank God Mom picked a man with so much common sense
    with whom to reproduce this time around).
    But the best thing of all was what was waiting for me on the answering machine. My mom played it for
    me proudly
    almost the minute I walked through the door.
    IT WAS A MESSAGE FROM MICHAEL!!!! MY FIRST MESSAGE FROM
    MICHAEL SINCE
    I BECAME HIS GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!!!
    Which of course means it worked. The my-not-calling-him thing, I mean.
    The message goes like this:
    'Uh, hi, Mia? Yeah, it's Michael. I was just wondering if you could, uh, call me when you get this
    message. '
    Cause I haven't heard from you in a while. And I just want to know if you're, uh, OK. And make
    sure you got home all right. And that there's nothing wrong. OK. That's all. Well. Bye. This is
    Michael, by the way. Or
    maybe I said that. I can't remember. Hi, Mrs Thermopolis. Hi, Mr. G. OK. Well. Call me, Mia.
    Bye.'
    I took the tape out of the message machine and am keeping it in the drawer of my nightstand along with:
    a. some grains of rice from the bag Michael and I sat on at the Cultural Diversity Dance, in memory of
    the first time
    we ever slow-danced together
    b. a dried-out piece of toast from the Rocky Horror Show, which is where Michael and I went on our
    first date,
    though it wasn't really a date because Kenny came too
    c. a cut-out snowflake from the Non-Denominational Winter Dance, in memory of the first time Michael
    and I kissed
    It was the best Christmas present I could ever have had, that message. Even better than DSL.
    So then I came into my room and unpacked and played the message over about fifty times on my tape
    player, and my mom kept coming in to give me more hugs and asking me if I wanted to listen to her new
    Liz Phair CD and wanting to show me
    her stretch marks. Then, about the thirtieth time she came in, I was playing Michael's message again, and
    she was all, 'Haven't you called him back yet, honey?' and I went, 'No,' and she went, 'Well, why not?'
    and I went, 'Because I am trying to be like Jane Eyre.'
    And then my mom got all squinty-eyed like she does whenever they are debating funding for the arts in
    Congress.
    'Jane Eyre?' she echoed. 'You mean the book?'
    'Exactly,' I said, tugging the little Napoleonic diamond napkin holders that the Prime Minister of France
    had given me for Christmas out from beneath Fat Louie. He had lain down inside my suitcase, I guess in
    the mistaken belief that I was packing, not unpacking, and he wanted to try to stop me from going away
    again. 'See, Jane didn't chase boys, she let them chase her. And so Tina and I, we've both taken solemn
    vows that we are going to be just like Jane.'
    My mom, unlike Grandmere had been, didn't look happy to hear this.
    'But Jane Eyre was so mean to poor Mr Rochester,' she cried.
    I didn't mention that this was what I had thought, too . . . at first.
    'Mom,' I said, very firmly. 'I think you're forgetting the whole first-wife-in-the-attic thing.'
    'Because she was a lunatic,' my mom pointed out. 'It wasn't like they had psychotropic drugs back then.
    Keeping Bertha locked in the attic was kinder, really, than sending her to a mental hospital, considering
    what they were like during that era,
    with people chained to the walls and the whole no TV thing. Really, Mia. I swear I don't know where
    you get half your
    ideas. Jane Eyre? Who told you about Jane Eyre?'
    'Um,' I said, stalling because I knew my mom wasn't going to like the answer. 'Grandmere.'
    My mom's lips got so thin, they completely disappeared.
    'I should have known,'