Princess Diaries 08 - Princess On The Brink by Meg Cabot

Author:Meg Cabot
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-11-23T05:36:44.869237+00:00

ME, A PRINCESS???? YEAH, RIGHT.

A Screenplay by Mia Thermopolis

(first draft)

Scene 24

INT/NIGHT—A large, comfortably furnished rent-controlled apartment on New York City’s Fifth Avenue, off Union Square. A newly madeover MIA THERMOPOLIS has just entered through the front door. Her best friend, LILLY MOSCOVITZ, a slightly chubby, pug-faced girl, is staring at her incredulously.

LILLY

Oh my God, what happened to you?

MIA

(taking off her coat, trying to be casual) Yeah, well, my grandmother made me go see this guy, Paolo, and he—

LILLY

(in state of shock)

Your hair is the same color as Lana Weinberger’s.

What’s on your FINGERS? Are those fake fingernails? Lana has those, too! Oh my God, Mia. You’re turning into Lana Weinberger!

MIA

(unable to take it anymore)

Lilly. Shut up.

MICHAEL

(appearing in the doorway with no shirt on) Whoa.

LILLY

WHAT? WHAT did you just say to me?

MIA

You know what, Lilly? I’m a PRINCESS. I’m the princess of Genovia. And I will ALWAYS be a princess, I can’t escape it, I can’t pretend like it didn’t happen. And as a princess, I will always value princesslike qualities in other people, such as honesty and self-respect and not Doing It with People You Don’t Even Love.

Good-bye.

MICHAEL

Whoa.

MIA stomps from the room. LILLY and MICHAEL exchange stunned glances.

Friday, September 10, 1 a.m., the loft Except, of course, I know now that the whole time—maybe even way back when I was first finding out I’m a princess—Michael was sleeping with Judith Gershner.

And I didn’t know it.

Because he never told me.

Friday, September 10, 1:30 a.m., the loft HOW AM I GOING TO LIVE WITHOUT HIM?????

Friday, September 10, 2:15 a.m., the loft I have to be strong. I HAVE to. He LIED to me. He said maybe it was a good idea for us to TAKE A BREAK.

I can’t just let him get away with that.

Maybe writing some poetry will help.

You thought I gave you up for some Foolish feminist morals.

You whose head ought to be wreathed In silver-plated laurels?

For were you not a man?

Was your sex not the best?

Had you not a suit and tie,

Big feet and hairy chest?

Yet you opened up the cage

For my headstrong reckless flight You thought I’d learn my lesson quick And return to you contrite.

My freedom found, however,

I disappeared from view.

Maybe I’d catch no one nicer

But anyone’s better than you.

Oh, our love affair was tragic!

I wept with passionate strife.

Till you let me go, and I found out I prefer the single life.

God, I wish that were all true.

Michael! My cherished preserver!

Friday, September 10, 3 a.m., the loft Dear Michael,

I just wanted to say—

Dear Michael,

Why did you have to—

Dear Michael,

WHY????

Friday, September 10, 4 a.m., the loft Michael! My hope! My love! My life!

Friday, September 10, the limo on the way to school I can’t believe Mom made me go to school today.

I told her my heart was broken. I told her I hadn’t slept A WINK

ALL NIGHT LONG. I told her I can’t stop crying. I haven’t stopped crying since last night, practically. I had no idea human beings were even CAPABLE of producing so many tears.

It was like talking to a stone wall.

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