“Well,” Grandmère said, downing half a Sidecar in one gulp as Lars finally closed the doors on the last of the reporters. “That went well, don’t you think?”
I couldn’t believe it. I just sat there in total shock. Ecoterrorism? ELF? All because of some SNAILS????
Lilly picked up her Palm Pilot (when did she get one of those???) and strolled over to where Grandmère was standing.
“Right. So we’ve got Time magazine at six, and Newsweek at six thirty,” Lilly said. “I heard from NPR, and I definitely think we should squeeze them in this evening—drive time, you know. It can’t hurt. And we got a request from New York One for Mia to go on tonight’s broadcast of Inside Politics. I’ve gotten them to swear there won’t be any questions about the E word. What do you think?”
“Marvelous,” Grandmère said, taking another swig from her Sidecar. “What about Larry King?”
Lilly tapped the headset she’d slipped on and said, “Antoine? Have you gotten hold of Larry K yet? No? Well, get on it.”
Larry K? The E word? What was HAPPENING?
Which is exactly what I wailed.
Grandmère and Lilly looked at me as if only just realizing I was there at all.
“Oh,” Lilly said, taking off the headset. “Mia. Right. The ELF thing? Don’t worry about it. Par for the course.”
PAR FOR THE COURSE???? Since when has Lilly known anything about golf?
“We didn’t want to trouble you, Amelia,” Grandmère said coolly, as she lit a cigarette. “It’s nothing, really. Tell me, is that really how you’re wearing your hair these days? Wouldn’t you like it better if it were a little…shorter?”
“What is going on?” I demanded, ignoring her hair question. “Is Genovia REALLY going to get expelled from the EU for what I did with the snails?”
Grandmère exhaled a long plume of blue smoke.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she informed me, casually.
My heart seemed to twist inside my chest. It’s true!
“Can they do that?” I demanded. “Can the European Union really kick us out because of a few snails?”
“Of course not.” This came from my dad, who’d wandered into the room, a cell phone clutched to his ear. I felt a momentary relief, until I realized he wasn’t speaking to me. He was talking into his cell phone.
“No,” he yelled at whoever was on the end of the line, as he bent to scoop up a handful of leftover sandwiches from the tray, then head back to his own suite. “She was acting entirely on her accord, not in the name of any global organization. Oh, really? Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. Maybe when you have a teenaged daughter of your own, you’ll understand.”
He slammed the door on his way out.
“Well,” Grandmère said, stubbing out her cigarette and reaching for the rest of her Sidecar. “Shall we talk about Amelia’s platform, then?”
“Excellent idea,” Lilly said, and pressed some buttons on her Palm Pilot.
So, now at least I know why GRANDMÈRE is so behind this presidency thing. It’s the only thing she can think of to keep reporters distracted from the whole Genovia being kicked out of the EU for ecoterrorism thing.
But what’s LILLY’s excuse? I mean, she’s the LAST person I ever thought Grandmère could turn to the dark side.
Et tu, Lilly?
My dad came back into the room between my Time and Newsweek interviews. He looked way stressed. I felt really bad, and apologized to him about the whole snail-dumping thing.
He seemed to take it in stride.
“Don’t worry too much about it, Mia,” he said. “We’ll probably get through this, if I can manage to impress upon everyone the fact that you were acting on your own accord as a private citizen, and not as regent.”
“And maybe,” I added, hopefully, “when people see that the snails are only doing good and not anything bad, they’ll change their minds.”
“That’s just it,” my dad said. “Your snails aren’t doing anything at all. According to the latest reports I’ve had from the Royal Genovian Naval Scuba Squad, they’re all just sitting down there. They are not, as you so passionately assured me they would, eating that damned seaweed.”
This was very disheartening to hear.
“Maybe they’re still in shock,” I said. “I mean, they were flown in from South America. They’ve probably never been that far from home before. It might take a while before they get acclimated to the new environment.”
“Mia, they’ve been down there for almost two weeks. In two weeks, you’d think they’d get a little hungry, and eat something.”
“Yeah, but maybe they had a big meal on the plane,” I said, feeling desperate. “I mean, I requested that they be kept as comfortable as possible during transport—”
My dad just looked at me.
“Mia,” he says. “Do me a favor. From now on, if you come up with any more grand schemes to save the bay from killer algae, run them by me first.”
Ouch.
Poor Dad. It’s really hard, being a prince.
I left right after that. But Lilly stayed. LILLY STAYED WITH MY GRANDMA. Because she still hadn’t managed to get through to Larry. Lilly told me if she could get me on Larry King, I’d be a shoo-in to beat Lana on Monday.
But I disagree. If it were TRL, maybe. But no one at AEHS watches CNN. Except Lilly, of course.