PD 9 Sneak Peek

I just found a sneak peek of PD9 at Meg's UK site. Here it is below:

The Princess Diaries: To The Nines

Sunday, September 12, 12.30 p.m., the Lof t WHY DID I SAY OK????????????????? Why didn’t I say what I really felt, that I understand the part about having some growing up to do and spending some time apart . . . . . . but not the part about just being friends and seeing other people???? Why didn’t I say what I was thinking, which is that I’d rather DIE than be with anybody but him????? Why didn’t I tell him the truth????? And I KNOW it wouldn’t have made any difference, and I just would have come as exactly what he thinks I am – an immature little girl. But at least he wouldn’t think I’m OK with this. Because I am NOT OK with this. I will NEVER be OK with this. I don’t think I will ever be OK again. Monday, September 13, 8 a.m., the Lof t Mom came into my room just now to say she understands that I’m grieving about having lost the love of my life. She said she understands how upsetting it must have been to me to have experienced such a hideous breakup as well as the loss of my best friend in one week. She said she completely sympathizes with my plight, and appreciates that I feel the need to mourn my loss. She said she has tried to give me the time and freedom I need in order to grieve. But she said a whole day in bed is long enough. Also that she’s sick of seeing me in my Hello Kitty flannel pyjamas, which, if she isn’t mistaken, I haven’t changed out of since Saturday. Also that it’s time to get up, get dressed, and go to school. Of course I had no choice but to tell her the truth: That I am dying. Of course I know I’m not really dying. But why does it feel that way? I keep hoping it will all just . . . go away. But it won’t. It doesn’t. I keep hoping when I close my eyes and go to sleep, that when I open them again it will have all been a terrible nightmare. Only it never is. Every time I wake up, I’m still in my Hello Kitty pyjamas – the same ones I was wearing when Michael said he thought we should just go back to being friends – and WE’RE STILL BROKEN UP. Mom told me I’m not dying. Even after I had her feel my clammy palms and erratic pulse. Even when I showed her the whites of my eyes, which have gone noticeably yellow. Even when I showed her my tongue, which is basically white instead of a healthy pink. Even when I informed her that I went to wrongdiagnosis.com, and that it’s obvious I have meningitis. In which case, Mom said, I had better get dressed so she could take me to the emergency room. I knew then she’d called my bluff. So I just begged her to let me stay in bed for one more day. And she finally relented.

You can view it here.