The Princess Diaries (16 page)

Authors: Meg Cabot

Tags: #Education & Teaching, #Studying & Workbooks, #Study Guides

BOOK: The Princess Diaries

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Well, I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I have detention for a week,
plus
math review with Mr. G,
plus
princess lessons with Grandmère.

I didn’t get home until nine o’clock tonight. Something has
got
to give.

My father is furious. He says he is going to sue the school. He says no one can give his daughter detention for defending the weak. I told him that Principal Gupta can. She can do anything. She’s the principal.

I can’t say I really blame her. I mean, it wasn’t like I said I was sorry or anything. Principal Gupta is a nice lady, but what could she do? I admitted I had done it. She told me I’d have to apologize to Lana and pay to have her sweater cleaned. I said I’d pay for the sweater but that I wouldn’t apologize. Principal Gupta looked at me over the rims of her bifocals and went, "I beg your pardon, Mia?"

I repeated that I wouldn’t apologize. My heart was beating like crazy. I didn’t want to make anybody mad, especially Principal Gupta, who can be very scary when she wants to. I tried to picture her in her husband’s sweat pants, but it didn’t work. She still scared me.

But I won’t apologize to Lana. I won’t.

Principal Gupta didn’t look mad, though. She looked concerned. I guess that’s how educators are supposed to look. You know. Concerned about you. She went, "Mia, I must say, when Lana came in here with her complaint, I was extremely surprised. It’s usually Lilly Moscovitz I have to pull in here. I never expected I was going to have to pull
you
in. Not for disciplinary reasons. Academic reasons, maybe. I understand you aren’t doing very well in Algebra. But I’ve never known you to be a discipline problem before. I really feel I must ask you, Mia . . . is everything all right?"

For a minute I just stared at her.

Is everything all right?
Is everything all right?

Hmm, hold on a minute, let me see . . . my mom is going out with my Algebra teacher, a subject I’m flunking, by the way; my best friend hates me; I’m fourteen years old and I’ve never been asked out; I don’t have any breasts; and oh, I just found out I’m the princess of Genovia.

"Oh, sure," I said to Principal Gupta. "Everything is fine."

"Are you certain, Mia? Because I can’t help wondering if this isn’t all rooted in some problems you might be having . . . maybe at home?"

Who did she think I was, anyway? Lana
Whine
berger? Like I was really going to sit there and tell her my problems. Yeah, Principal Gupta. On top of all that other stuff, my grandmother is in town, and my dad is paying $100 a day for me to get lessons from her in how to be a princess. Oh, and this weekend, I ran into Mr. Gianini in my kitchen, and all he was wearing was a pair of boxer shorts. Anything else you want to know?

"Mia," Principal Gupta said, "I want you to know that you are a very special person. You have many wonderful qualities. There is no reason for you to feel threatened by Lana Weinberger. None at all."

Oh, okay. Just because she’s the prettiest, most popular girl in my class, and she’s going out with the handsomest, most popular boy in school, you’re right, Principal Gupta. There’s no reason at all to feel threatened by her. Especially since she puts me down every chance she gets and tries to humiliate me in public. Threatened?
Me?
Nah.

"You know, Mia," Principal Gupta said, "I bet if you took the time to get to know Lana you’d find that she’s really a very nice girl. A girl just like you."

Right. Just like me.

I was so upset, I actually told Grandmère all about it at our vocabulary lesson. She was surprisingly sympathetic.

"When I was a girl your age," Grandmère said, "there was a girl just like this Lana at my school. Her name was Genevieve. She sat behind me in Geography. Genevieve would take the end of my braid and dip it in her inkwell, so that when I stood up I got ink all over my dress. But the teacher would never believe me that Genevieve did it on purpose."

"Really?" I was kind of impressed. That Genevieve had some guts. I never met anyone who’d try to dis my grandmother. "What did you do?"

Grandmère let out this evil laugh. "Oh, nothing."

There is no way she did
nothing
to Genevieve. Not with a laugh like that. But no matter how hard I pestered her, Grandmère wouldn’t tell me what she did to get back at Genevieve. I’m kind of thinking maybe she killed her.

Well? It could happen.

But I guess I shouldn’t have pestered Grandmère so hard, because to shut me up she gave me a quiz! I’m not kidding!

It was really hard, too. I’ve stapled it in here, since I got a 98. Grandmère says I’ve really come a long way since we started.

Grandmère’s Test

In a restaurant, what does one do with one’s napkin when one rises to go to the powder room?
     If it’s a four-star restaurant, hand it to the waiter who rushes over to help you with your chair. If it’s a normal place, and no waiter rushes over, leave your napkin on your empty chair.


Under what circumstances is it acceptable to apply lipstick in public?
     Never.


What are the characteristics of capitalism?
     Private ownership of the means of production and distribution, and the exchange of goods based on the operations of the market.


What is the appropriate reply to make to a man who says he loves you?
     Thank you. You are very kind.


What did Marx consider to be the contradiction in capitalism?
     The value of any commodity is determined by the amount of labor needed to produce it. In denying workers the value of what they have produced, the capitalists are undermining their own economic system.


White shoes are unacceptable . . . .
     At funerals, after Labor Day, before Memorial Day, and anywhere there might be horses.


Describe an oligarchy.
     Small group exercises control for generally corrupt purposes.


Describe a Sidecar.
     1/3 lemon juice, 1/3 Cointreau, 1/3 brandy shaken well with ice, strained before serving.

The only one I missed was the one about what to say to a man when he tells you he loves you. It turns out you aren’t supposed to say thank you.

Not, of course, that this will ever happen to me. But Grandmère says I might be surprised someday.

I wish!

Tuesday, October 14, Homeroom

No Lilly again this morning. Not that I expected there to be. But I made Lars stop at her place anyway, just in case maybe she wanted to be friends again. I mean, she could have seen how assertive I was with Lana and decided she was wrong to criticize me so much.

But I guess not.

The funny thing is, when Lars was dropping me off at school, Tina Hakim Baba’s chauffeur was dropping her off, too. We sort of smiled at each other, then walked into school together, her bodyguard behind us. Tina said she wanted to thank me for what I had done yesterday. She said she told her parents about it, and that they want me to come over for dinner Friday night.

"And maybe," Tina asked, all shyly, "you could spend the night after, if you wanted."

I said, "Okay." I mostly said it because I feel sorry for Tina, since she doesn’t have any other friends, because everybody thinks she’s so weird, with the bodyguard and all. I also said it because I heard she has a fountain in her house, just like Donald Trump, and I wanted to see if that was true.

And I kind of like her, too. She’s
nice
to me.

It’s nice to have somebody be nice to you.

I HAVE
GOT
TO

1. Stop waiting for the phone to ring (Lilly is NOT going to call; neither is Josh Richter)

2. Make more friends

3. Have more self-confidence

4. Stop biting my fake fingernails

5. Start acting more:

A. Responsible

B. Adult

C. Mature

6. Be happier

7. Achieve self-actualization

8. Buy:
  trash bags
  napkins
  conditioner
  tuna
  toilet paper!!!!

More Tuesday, Algebra

Oh my God. I can’t even believe this. But it must be true, since Shameeka just told me.

Lilly
has a date to the Cultural Diversity Dance this weekend.

Lilly
has a date. Even
Lilly
has a date. I thought all the boys in our school were terrified of Lilly.

But there’s one boy who’s not:

Boris Pelkowski.

AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

More Tuesday, English

No boy will ever ask me out. Ever. EVERYONE has a date to the Cultural Diversity Dance: Shameeka, Lilly, Ling Su, Tina Hakim Baba. I’m the only one not going. The ONLY ONE.

Why was I born under such an unlucky star? Why did
I
have to be cursed with such freakishness? Why? WHY???

I would give anything if, instead of being a five-foot-nine flat-chested princess, I could be a five-foot-six normal person with breasts.

ANYTHING.

Satire—employs humor systematically for the purpose of persuasion

Irony—counter to expectation

Parody—close imitation that exaggerates ridiculous or objectionable features

More Tuesday, French

Today in G & T, in between showing me how to carry over, Michael Moscovitz complimented me on my handling of what he called the Weinberger Incident. I was surprised he’d heard about it. He said it was all over school, about how I’d decimated Lana in front of Josh. He said, "Your locker is right next to Josh’s, isn’t it?"

I said yes it was.

He said, "That must be awkward," but I told him actually it wasn’t, since Lana seems to be avoiding that area lately, and Josh never talks to me at all, except to say, "Can I get by here?" once in a while.

I asked him if Lilly was still saying mean things about me, and he said, all taken aback, "She’s never said mean things about you. She just doesn’t understand why you blew up at her like that."

I said, "Michael, she’s always putting me down! I just couldn’t take it anymore. I have too many other problems without having friends who aren’t supportive of me."

He laughed. "What kind of problems could
you
have?"

Like I was too much of a kid or something to have problems!

Boy, did I straighten him out. I couldn’t exactly tell him about being the princess of Genovia, or about not having any breasts or anything, but I did remind him that I’m flunking Algebra, I have detention for a week, and I had recently woken up to find Mr. Gianini in his boxer shorts eating breakfast with my mom.

He said he guessed I did have some problems after all.

The whole time Michael and I were talking, I saw Lilly shooting us these looks from behind the poster board she was writing Ho-Gate slogans on with a big black Magic Marker. So I guess because I’m fighting with her I’m not allowed to be friends with her brother.

Or maybe she’s just sore because her boycott of Ho’s Deli is creating serious turmoil within the school. First of all, all the Asian kids have started doing their shopping exclusively at Ho’s. And why not? Because of Lilly’s campaign, now they know they can get a five-cent discount on just about anything. The other problem is that there is no other deli within walking distance. This has caused some serious division within the ranks of the protesters. The nonsmokers want to continue the boycott, but the smokers are all for writing the Hos a stern letter and then forgetting about it. And since all the popular kids in school smoke, they aren’t honoring the boycott at all. They’re going to Ho’s just like they always did to get their Camel Lights.

When you can’t get the popular kids on your side, you have to realize it’s hopeless: Without celebrity supporters, no cause stands a chance. I mean, where would all those starving kids be without Sally Struthers?

Anyway, then Michael asked me a strange question. He went, "So, are you grounded?"

I looked at him kind of funny. "You mean for getting detention? No, of course not. My mom is totally on my side. My dad wants to sue the school."

Michael said, "Oh. Well, I was wondering because, if you aren’t busy Saturday, I thought maybe we could—"

But then Mrs. Hill came in and made us all fill out questionnaires for the Ph.D. she’s doing on urban youth violence, even though Lilly complained that we’re hardly qualified to comment, seeing as how the only youth violence any of us had ever experienced was when there was a sale on relaxed fit jeans at the Gap on Madison Avenue.

Then the bell rang, and I ran out as fast as I could. I knew what Michael was going to ask me, see. He was going to suggest we meet to go over my long division, which he says is a human tragedy. And I just didn’t think I could take it. Math? On the weekend? After spending almost every waking moment on it all week?

No, thank you.

But I didn’t want to be rude, so I left before he could ask me. Was that terrible of me?

Really, a girl can only take so much criticism on her remainders.