Party Princess (9 page)

Farm Aid. I should have known.

F
T
L
OUIE
: Oh. Yeah. She is.

S
KINNER
B
X
: So is there a chance you can sneak me in? I’d love to ask Bob if he still believes an individual can change the world as we know it with a single song. Do you think
that would be okay? I promise not to embarrass you in front of any world leaders.

Oh! How sweet! Michael wants to meet a celebrity! That is so not like him.

But then, Bob Dylan isn’t your average celebrity. After all, he practically invented his own language. At least, that’s what it sounds like whenever Michael puts on one of his CDs.

Still, Michael will no doubt find a use for Bob’s sage, Yoda-like musical wisdom. He seems to have no problem figuring out what Bob is saying.

And, as an added plus for me, I get a date for next Wednesday night!

And okay, he’s basically just using me to meet Bob Dylan. But whatever.

See, that’s the great thing about having a boyfriend. When you’ve had the suckiest day imaginable, all he has to do is ask you out, and it’s like:
Poof!
Bad stuff begone. Really, it’s some powerful stuff, the whole boyfriend thing.

F
T
L
OUIE
: That sounds like it should be doable.

Michael then went on to write very nice things to me, like what an effective leader I am, both of Genovia and AEHS, and how much he can’t wait to see me this weekend, and what he’s going to do to me when he DOES see me, and how he thinks I’m the best writer in the world, and how Shonda Yost,
Sixteen
magazine’s fiction editor, must have
been on crack not to pick “No More Corn!” as the winner of her contest.

Which was all very nice, but didn’t really do anything to address the problem that was REALLY weighing on my mind:

What am I going to do about his party?

Oh, yeah. And how am I going to get the money to rent Alice Tully Hall?

Thursday, March 4, the limo on the way to school

I’m so tired. Last night just as I was getting into bed, I got an IM. I thought it must be Michael, writing to say he loves me. You know, one last time before he went to sleep.

But it was BORIS PELKOWSKI, of all people.

J
OSH
B
ELL
2: Mia! What’s this I hear about your grandmother having a party next Wednesday night and inviting celebrated violinist and my personal artistic hero, Joshua Bell, to it?

Good grief.

F
T
L
OUIE
: Joshua Bell wouldn’t happen to be considering buying an island in The World off the coast of Dubai, would he?

J
OSH
B
ELL
2: I don’t know about that. He could be buying Indiana, the great state from which he hails, which happens to be the birthplace of many other musical geniuses as well, including Hoagy Carmichael and Michael Jackson. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, Mia—could you get me into that party? I have GOT to meet him. There’s something very important I have to tell Joshua Bell.

You know, Boris might be hot now, but he’s still weird.

F
T
L
OUIE
: I can probably figure out a way to sneak you in.

J
OSH
B
ELL
2: Oh, THANK YOU, Mia! You don’t know how much I appreciate it. If there’s anything I can ever do for you—besides rehearse in the supply closet, which I already do—let me know!

As if that weren’t random enough, then Ling Su IMed me.

P
AINTURGURL
: Hey, Mia! I heard your grandma is having a party on Wednesday night, and Matthew Barney, the controversial conceptual artist, is going to be there.

F
T
L
OUIE
: Let me guess: Matthew Barney is buying an island in The World off the coast of Dubai.

P
AINTURGURL
: How did you guess? He’s buying Iceland for his wife, Björk. Any chance you could smuggle me in to meet him?

F
T
L
OUIE
: No problem.

P
AINTURGURL
: Mia Thermopolis, you rule!

Then came one from Shameeka:

B
EYONCE
_I
S
_M
E
: Hi, Mia!

F
T
L
OUIE
: Wait, I already know: You heard Beyoncé is coming to the party my grandmother is giving Wednesday night to raise money for the Genovian olive farmers, and
you’d like me to sneak you in so you can meet her.

B
EYONCE
_I
S
_M
E
: Actually, it’s Halle Berry. She’s buying California. Is BEYONCÉ going to be there, too????

F
T
L
OUIE
: Consider yourself invited.

B
EYONCE
_I
S
_M
E
: REALLY???? YOU ARE THE BEST!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then Kenny:

E=MC2: Mia, is it true your grandmother is hosting a party next week at which the world-renowned scientist Dr. Rita Rossi Coldwell will be in attendance?

F
T
L
OUIE
: Probably. Want to come?

E=MC2: COULD I? Thanks so much, Mia!

F
T
L
OUIE
: Don’t mention it.

Then Tina:

I
LUVROMANCE
: Mia, is it true your grandmother is having a party and all these celebrities are going to be there?

F
T
L
OUIE
: Yes. Which one do you want to meet?

I
LUVROMANCE
: I don’t care! ANY celebrity is fine with me!

F
T
L
OUIE
: Done. Be there or be square.

I
LUVROMANCE
: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! CELEBRITIES!!! I’M SO EXCITED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Then, finally, Lilly:

W
OMYN
R
ULE
: Hey! What’s this I hear about your grandma inviting Benazir Bhutto to some party next Wednesday night?

Whoa. Not Benazir, too. What’s she bidding on? Faux Pakistan?

F
T
L
OUIE
: You want to come and meet her?

W
OMYN
R
ULE
: You know I do. She and I have a few things I need to discuss. Primarily her support of the Taliban for all those years.

F
T
L
OUIE
: Be my guest.

W
OMYN
R
ULE
: Rockin’. See ya tomorrow, POG.

I guess all that stuff I wrote to Carl Jung about—you know, being the president of my student government, but still super unpopular—turns out not to be true. I’m QUITE popular.

Thanks to my GRANDMA.

Thursday, March 4, Homeroom

I’m going to kill her.

I told her NO. I specifically, and definitively, said NO to her.

How can she do this to me?

Again?

Thursday, March 4, PE

Seriously. How did she even DO it? I mean, so fast?

And they’re everywhere, of course. The walls are plastered with them. I opened my locker, and one popped out into my hand.

SHE STUFFED THEM INTO EVERYONE’S LOCKER.

That had to have taken HOURS. How did she do it? Who did she PAY to do it?

God. It could have been anyone. A teacher, even. They barely earn a living wage, after all. I know, I’ve seen Mr. G’s pay stubs lying around.

Everyone is walking around with one in their hand. A bright yellow flyer that says:

 

AUDITIONS TODAY, 3:30
P.M.

The Plaza Hotel, Grand Ballroom A brand-new, all-original show

Braid!

All Are Welcome No Theatrical Experience Necessary

 

I already overheard some of the Drama Club members—the ones who have been busy rehearsing for
Hair
—looking around all darkly under their eyebrow piercings and going, “
Braid!
? What’s
Braid!
? I never heard of a show called
Braid!
Is it a new Andrew Lloyd Webber? Is it about Rapunzel?”

They are furious that someone is putting on a theatrical production—especially one that seems to involve hair—that might draw away THEIR audience.

And I can’t say I blame them.

But I am not about to volunteer the information that my GRANDMOTHER is the someone they’re all looking for. I mean, Amber Cheeseman is not the only person in this school who knows how to kill with a single blow of the heel of her hand. Some of those drama people…they know how to use swords and stuff. Like, in FENCING.

I do NOT need any rapiers to my heart, thanks very much.

Don’t even get me started on nunchucks.

What can Grandmère be
thinking
? What is
Braid!
?

And why can’t she ever just stay OUT OF MY LIFE??? It’s not like I don’t have ENOUGH problems, thank you very much. I mean, just this morning, when I went into Rocky’s bedroom to kiss him good-bye before I left for school, he pointed at me all happily and shrieked, “Tuck!”

Yes. My brother thinks I’m a truck.

WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO SEES THAT THIS MIGHT BE A POTENTIAL PROBLEM????

Thursday, March 4, U.S. Economics

Okay, so paying attention now:

The focus of economics is to understand the problem of scarcity. How do we fulfill the unlimited wants of humankind with the limited and/or scarce resources available?

This is called utility—the advantage or fulfillment a person receives from consuming a good or service.

The more the person or government consumes, the larger the total utility will be.

So Grandmère’s utility must be the biggest in the WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD.

Thursday, March 4, English

Oh my God. Lana knows.

I don’t know how she found out, but she knows. I know she knows because she came up to me in the hallway and went, “I know.”

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And she said it all
knowingly
. You know?

The thing is…I don’t know WHAT she knows. Does she know Grandmère is the one behind the rival show?

Or does she know about how I blew all the seniors’ money?

Or does she know about—gasp!—my fear that Michael is going to find out I’m not a party girl?

But how COULD she? I have confided this fear to no one—no one except Tina Hakim Baba, and telling her a secret is like telling it to a wall. She’d NEVER tell.

Especially not to LANA.

Still, whatever it is Lana knows, she says she won’t tell…