“I think Jangbu was Nepalese,” I said.

“Whatever. The point is, Mia, your sweet sixteen should be a birthday you’ll remember for all time. It should be special. Don’t let Lilly—or your grandmother—dictate how you celebrate it. But DO celebrate it.”

“Thanks, Michael,” I said, feeling truly moved by his words. He is so wise sometimes.

“And if you change your mind about the sex thing,” he joked, “call me.”

And other times, so not.

Friday, April 30, G&T

I think I finally get it. What’s going on with Lilly and this My Super Royal Sweet Sixteen thing, I mean.

I figured it out when Lilly looked up from the issue of The ’Zine—the school literary magazine—she is currently working on, and said, in an effort to get me to change my mind about the birthday thing, “It may be the only way some of us are ever going to get on MTV!”

And then it all became clear. Why it is that Lilly is so adamant about my letting Grandmère go ahead with her birthday plan, I mean.

Think about it. Where on earth would GRANDMÈRE have gotten the idea to go on My Super Sweet Sixteen? She’s never seen that show. She doesn’t even know what MTV is. Somebody had to have planted that idea in her head.

And I’m betting that somebody is named Lilly Moscovitz.

I KNEW IT!!!! I KNEW THEY WERE IN ON SOMETHING TOGETHER!!!!

They really ARE like Snape and Malfoy. Minus the capes.

“Lilly,” I said, trying to sound understanding, and not accusatory. Because Dr. Phil says this is the best way to handle conflict resolution. “I’m sorry Andy Milonakis got his own show, and you didn’t. And I do think it’s a travesty of justice, because your show is way more intelligent AND entertaining than his is. And I’m sorry your parents are separated, and I’m sorry your boyfriend won’t say the L word. But I am not violating my most sacred principles just so that you can finally reach your target demographic. I’m sorry, but there’s not going to be any Super ROYAL Sweet Sixteen Slumber Party in Genovia. And that’s final. And you can tell my grandmother that.”

Lilly blinked a few times. “Me? Tell your grandmother? Why would I tell your grandmother anything?”

“Oh, please,” I said. “Like you weren’t the one who put the bug in her ear about the show My Super Sweet Sixteen.”

“Is that what you think?” Lilly demanded, throwing down the pen she was using to mark up ’Zine submissions. “Well, what if I did? SOMEONE should do something for your birthday, since you’re so opposed to anyone so much as mentioning it.”

“And whose fault is that?” I asked her. “After you ruined my birthday party last year—not to mention what you did at Christmas, in Genovia—”

“I SAID I WAS SORRY FOR THAT!” Lilly shrieked. “WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO MAKE YOU FREAKING TRUST ME THAT IT WON’T HAPPEN AGAIN?”