Someday. Not now, though. For now, I'm keeping it a secret, just for Michael and me to share-at least for a little while.

He told me if I want, he'll get me a diamond snowflake necklace as a replacement for the old silver one I have on now. But I said no way.

I love this one, just the way it is.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!.

Anyway, I don't want to go into too much detail about what happened between us here in his loft last night, because it's private-too private even for this journal. Because what if it were to fall into the wrong hands?

But I do want to say something important, and that is this: If Dad thinks I'm spending this summer in Genovia, he's totally nuts.

Oh my G.o.d, DAD! I forgot to check and see how the election is going!

Sunday, May 7, 1:30 p.m., limo on the way to

Central Park

Okay, so Dad WON THE ELECTION!

Yeah, I'm still not sure how that happened. I accused Michael, on top of all the many other wonderful things he's done for me lately, of rigging the Genovian voting machines.

But he swears that, although he is a computer genius, he is not capable of rigging voting machines in a small European country many thousands of miles from where he lives.

Besides, in Genovia they use Scantron.

It actually turned out Dad won by a significant majority. The problem was that they're unaccustomed to voting there, so it took them a long time to count them all. Voter turnout was quite a bit higher than expected.

And then Rene couldn't believe he didn't win, and demanded a recount.

Poor Rene. It's okay, though. Dad's promised a place for him on the cabinet. Probably something to do with tourism. Which I think is very decent of Dad.

I found all this out from Dad on the phone. It wasn't a transatlantic call, though. He was phoning from Grandmere's. Dad's back here for my graduation ceremony. Which is in half an hour.

It's too bad he doesn't fly commercially because he could really rack up the frequent flyer miles with all the time he's put in, jetting between New York City and Genovia this past week. I've already spoken to him about his carbon footprint.

Anyway, everyone acted totally cool when I showed up at the loft wearing my prom clothes with Michael in tow. Like, n.o.body said anything to embarra.s.s me, like, "Oh, hey, Mia, how was it at the all-night bowling alley?" or "Mia, didn't you leave the house last night with a different guy?"

Mom seemed pretty pleased to see Michael, actually. She knows how much I've always loved him, and she can tell how happy Michael makes me, which, in turn, makes her happy.

And she never made it much of a secret that she couldn't stand J.P. At least she doesn't have to worry about Michael being a chameleon. He has an opinion about everything.

And he's not shy about expressing it, either, especially when it's opposite of my own, since that gets us arguing, which gets us...well, in the mood for kissing. That's major histocompatibility complex for you.

Sadly, I'm not sure Rocky actually remembers Michael at all. Which makes sense, since the last time he saw him was almost two years ago, and Rocky's barely three.

But Rocky seems to really like him. He right away showed Michael his drums, and how adept he is at pulling out tufts of Fat Louie's fur if Fat Louie doesn't run away fast enough.

Anyway, we're all headed uptown to the graduation ceremony now, where we're going to meet Dad and Grandmere. I've got on the dress everyone chose for me to wear today (another one of Sebastiano's creations, exactly like the one I wore last night, only pure white) under my graduation gown. I'm trying to ignore the 80,000 text and phone messages I've gotten from Tina and Lana, most of which, I'm pretty sure, have to do with where I disappeared to last night. Well, okay, Lana's are probably all about her Westpointer.

But, come on. A girl's got to have some privacy.

One of my text messages, I see, is from J.P. But I'm not opening it with Michael in the car.

Another one is from Lilly. But whatever. I'm going to see all these people in, like, five minutes! So whatever it is, they can just tell me in person.

And now I have to go, because Rocky's discovered the b.u.t.tons that control the moonroof. My little brother has a lot in common with his cousin Hank.

Sunday, May 7, 2:30 p.m., Sheep Meadow, Central Park Oh my G.o.d, Kenny-I mean, Kenneth-is giving the most boring valedictorian speech I have ever heard. All valedictorian speeches are boring (at least, the ones I've heard).

But this one takes the cake. Seriously, it's about dust particles, or something. Or maybe not dust particles. But some kind of particles. Who even cares? It's so hot up on these bleachers.

And no one is paying the slightest bit of attention to him. Lana is actually sleeping. Even Lilly, the valedictorian's own girlfriend, is texting someone.

I just want to get out of here so I can go have cake. h.e.l.lo? Is that so wrong?

Yeah. I guess it is.

Ack-someone is texting me....

Mia, what is going on? I've been texting you all morning. Is everything all right? I saw J.P. last night with STACEY CHEESEMAN! They went up the elevators together. Where were U????

Oh, hey, T! It's all good! J.P. and I broke up. But it was 100% mutual. I actually went over to Michael's last night.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.

That's what I said!!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG that is so romantic!!!! I'm so happy for you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know! Me too. I love him so much!!!! And he loves me!!!!!!!!!!! And everything is perfect. Except I wish this stupid speech would be over so we could all go eat cake.

Yeah, me too. The only thing is, this morning on my way here I could have sworn I saw Stacey Cheeseman making out with Andrew Lowenstein at a Starbucks downtown. But no way right, 'cause she's with J.P. now. Right?

Um. Right!

Oh, another text- Hey, POG. I saw you leave the hotel last night with my brother.

It's Lilly!!!!

Is that a problem? He said you sent him!!!!

It's cool. But you better not break his heart again. Or this time I really WILL break your face.

n.o.body's heart is going to get broken this time around, Lilly. We're all grown up now.

Ha. Not likely. But...I'm glad you're back, POG.

Awwww...

Glad to be back, Lilly.

Uh-oh...here's the message from J.P.

Mia. Just wanted to say again how sorry I am about...well, everything. Even though the word "sorry" seems so inadequate. I hope you meant it when you said we could be friends. Because nothing would mean more to me. And thanks, too, for suggesting I call Stacey. You were right-she really is a wonderful person. And you don't have to worry about the play. Sean's company called this morning and it looks like there's a problem with the option. Something to do with some lawyers. So I guess he won't be producing it after all. But don't worry, I'll be all right. I have another idea for a play, a really great one about a playwright who is in love with an actress, only she-well, it's complicated-I'd love to talk to you about it if you get a chance, you know how valuable I find your editorial input. Call me. J.P.

Really. You just have to laugh. Because what else can you do?

OMG, why won't this guy shut up? I'm totally getting a sunburn sitting out here. If I get freckles, I'm suing this stupid school. Wait a minute...Geek, where did you disappear to last night? You look like you had s.e.x! Don't try to deny it! OMG, the geek had s.e.x! HA HA HA! Isn't it FUN, geek?????

------------- Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device Sunday, May 7, 4 p.m., Tavern on the Green, table twelve Everyone is making speeches and taking pictures and carrying on about how this is a day we'll never forget.

It's certainly a day Lana's never going to forget...that's because Mrs. Weinberger (at my urging, though I'll never tell Lana, of course) presented Lana with the thing her heart most desired as a graduation present: That's right, the Weinbergers tracked down Bubbles, Lana's pony that they gave away so many years ago, and gave it back to her. Bubbles was waiting for Lana in the Tavern on the Green parking lot when we all walked up here for our post-graduation reception.

I don't think I've ever heard anyone scream so joyously.

Or so loudly.

It's a day Kenneth's not going to forget, either. That's because his parents just handed him an envelope containing a letter from Columbia. He's been taken off the waiting list.

So, it looks like he and Lilly won't be separated by a state anymore. They'll only be separated by a dorm-if that. There was a lot of joyous hugging and screaming over by that table, too.

At first I was kind of afraid to go over to where the Moscovitzes were sitting, even though Michael was totally hanging out with my parents. But I was shy about how the Drs. Moscovitz were going to feel about me. It was true I'd already seen them at the reception at Columbia, but that seemed so long ago, and, I don't know, things seemed different now, on account of what had gone on last night (and this morning, too)!

But, of course, they didn't know about that. And Michael had been brave in coming over to my house (not to mention, hanging out with Dad and Grandmere now). So the least I could do was return the favor.

So I did.

And, of course, it turned out fine. The Drs. Moscovitz-not to mention Nana-were totally delighted to see me. Because I'd made their son happy. And so that made them happy.

What was scary was when J.P. came over to our table with his parents to say h.e.l.lo. Now THAT was awkward.

"Well, Prince Phillipe," Mr. Reynolds-Abernathy said, all sadly, shaking my dad's hand. "Looks like our kids won't be going to Hollywood together after all."

But, of course, my dad had NO idea what he was talking about, because he'd never been let in on that plan (thank G.o.d) in the first place.

"Excuse me?" Dad said, looking totally confused.

"Hollywood?" Grandmere cried, looking appalled.

"Right," I said quickly. "But that was before I decided on Sarah Lawrence."

Grandmere sucked in so much air, it was a wonder there was any left for the rest of us to breathe.

"Sarah Lawrence?" she cried, in joyous wonder.

"Sarah Lawrence?" Dad echoed. It was one of the schools he'd thrown out, way back in ninth grade, as one of his top choices for me. But in a million years, I'm pretty sure he never thought I'd actually take him up on it.

But, as it happens, like Michael said, Sarah Lawrence is one of the colleges that don't count SAT scores toward its entrance requirements. And it's got a strong writing program. And it's really close to New York City. Just in case I have to pop back into Manhattan to visit Fat Louie or Rocky.

Or smell my boyfriend's neck.

"That's a great choice, Mia," Mom said, looking super happy. Of course, she's been looking super happy ever since she noticed the diamond ring on my left hand was gone, and I'd come home from the prom with Michael, and not J.P.

But I think she really is happy about Sarah Lawrence, too.

"Thanks," I said.

But no one was happier than Grandmere.

"Sarah Lawrence," Grandmere kept murmuring. "I was to go to Sarah Lawrence. If I hadn't married Amelia's grandfather. We've got to start planning how we'll decorate her room. I think b.u.t.tercup yellow walls. I was to have b.u.t.tercup yellow walls..."

"Okay, then," Michael said to me, eyeing Grandmere as she waxed on about b.u.t.tercup yellow walls. "Wanna dance?"

"Do I ever," I said, relieved to have an excuse to leave the table.

Which is how we ended up on the dance floor with my mom and Mr. G, dancing with Rocky and having a blast together, as usual; Lilly and Kenneth, doing some kind of new wave dance they seem to have invented themselves, even though the music was sort of slow; Tina and Boris, just holding each other, and gazing into each other's eyes, the height of romance, as one would expect, since it was Tina and...well, Boris; and...my dad and Ms. Martinez.

"No," I said, coming to a standstill when I saw this. "Just...no."

"What?" Michael looked around. "What's the matter?"

I should have expected it. I mean, they'd been dancing together at my birthday party, but I thought that had been a one-time thing.

It was at that point that my dad said something to Ms. Martinez and she slapped him across the face, then stalked off the dance floor.

I don't think anyone could have been more stunned than my dad...except maybe my mom, who started laughing.

"Dad!" I exclaimed, horrified. "What did you say to her?"

My dad came over, rubbing the side of his face but looking more intrigued than actually hurt.

"Nothing," he said. "I didn't say anything to her. Well, nothing more than I usually say when I dance with a beautiful woman. It was a compliment, actually."

"Dad," I said. When would he ever learn? "She isn't a lingerie model. She's my former English teacher."

"She's intoxicating," Dad said thoughtfully, gazing after her.

"Oh my G.o.d." I groaned, and buried my face in Michael's neck. I could see clearly what was going on. It was all too obvious. Not again! "Tell me this is not happening."

"Oh, it's happening," Michael said. "He's following her, calling after her...Did you know her first name was Karen?"