But I digress.
So Sebastiano was there, with Grandmere, drinking aperitifs and listening as I rattled off name after name (Grandmere has made flashcards out of the pictures of the cabinet ministers - kind of like those bubble gum cards you can get of the Backstreet Boys, only the cabinet ministers don't wear as much leather). I was kind of thinking maybe I was wrong about Sebastiano's commitment to fashion, and that maybe he was there to try and pick up some pointers for after he's thrust me into the path of
an oncoming limo or whatever.
But when Grandmere paused to take a phone call from her old friend General Pinochet, Sebastiano started asking me all these questions about clothes, in particular what clothes my friends and I like to wear. What were my feelings, he wanted to know, on velvet stretch trousers? Spandex tube-tops? Sequins?
I told him all of that sounded, you know, OK for Halloween or Jersey City, but that generally in my day-today life I prefer cotton. He looked saddened by this, so I told him that I really felt orange was going to be the next pink and that perked him right up, and he wrote a bunch of stuff down in this notebook he carries around. Kind of like I do, now that I think about it.
When Grandmere got off the phone, I informed her -quite diplomatically, I might add - that, considering how much progress we'd made in the past two months, I felt more than prepared for my impending introduction to the people of Genovia, and that
I did not feel it would be necessary to have lessons next week as I have SIX finals to prepare for.
But Grandmere got totally huffy about it! She was all, 'Where did you get the idea that your academic education is more important than your royal training? Your father, I suppose. With him, it's always education, education, education. He doesn't realize that education is nowhere near as important as deportment.'
'Grandmere,' I said. 'I need an education if I'm going to run Genovia properly.' Especially if I'm going to convert the palace into a giant animal shelter - something I'm not going to be able to do until Grandmere is dead, so I see no point in mentioning it to her now ... or ever, for that matter.
Grandmere said some swear words in French, which wasn't very dowager-princessy of her, if you ask me. Thankfully, right then my dad walked in, looking for his Genovian Air Force medal since he had a state dinner to go to over at the Embassy. I told him about my Finals and how I really needed time off from princess stuff to study, and he was all, 'Yes, of course.'
When Grandmere protested, he just went, 'For God's sake, if she hasn't got it by now, she never will.'
Grandmere pressed her lips together and didn't say anything more after that. Sebastiano used the opportunity to ask me about my feelings on rayon. I told him I didn't have any.
For once, I was telling the truth.
Friday, December 11 Homeroom
Here's what I have to do:
1. Stop thinking about Michael, especially when I should be studying.
2. Stop telling Grandmere anything about my personal life.
3. Start acting more:
A. Mature
B. Responsible
C. Regal
4 Stop biting my fingernails.
5 Write down everything Mom and Mr G need to know about how to take care of Fat Louie while I'm gone.
6 CHRISTMAS/HANUKKAH PRESENTS!
7. Stop watching Baywatch when I should be studying.
8 Stop playing Pod-Racer when I should be studying.
9. Stop listening to music when I should be studying.
10. Break up with Kenny.
Friday, December D, Principal Guptas Office
Well, I guess it's official now:
I, Mia Thermopolis, am a juvenile delinquent.
Seriously. That fire alarm I pulled was only the beginning, it appears.
I really don't know what's come over me lately. It's like the closer I get to actually going to Genovia and performing my first official duties as its princess, the less like a princess I act.
I wonder if I'll be expelled.
If I am, it is totally unfair. Lana started it. I was sitting there in Algebra, listening to Mr. G go on about the Cartesian plane, when suddenly Lana turns around in her seat and slaps a copy of USA Today down in front of me. There is a headline screaming:
Today's Poll Most Popular Young Royal
Fifty-seven per cent of readers say that Prince William of England is their favourite young royal, with Will's little brother Harry coming in at twenty-eight per cent. America's own royal, Princess Mia Renaldo of Genovia, comes in third, with thirteen per cent of the votes, and Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson's daughters, Beatrice and Eugenie, round out the votes with one per cent each.
The reasons given for Princess Mia's lack of popularity? 'Not out-going' is the most common answer. Ironically, Princess Mia
is perceived as being as shy as Princess Diana — the mother of William and Harry — when she first stepped into the harsh glare of the media spotlight.
Princess Mia, who only recently learned she was heir to the throne of Genovia, a small principality located just off the Cote d'Azur, is expected to make her first official trip to that country in her capacity as its future ruler next week. A representative
for the princess describes her as looking forward to her visit with 'eager anticipation'. The princess will continue her education
in America and reside in Genovia only during the summer months. I read the stupid article and then passed the paper back to Lana.
'So?' I whispered to her.
'So,' Lana whispered. 'I wonder how popular you'd be — especially with the people of Genovia — if they found out their future ruler goes around pulling fire alarms when there isn't any fire.'