Princess Diaries Series: Third Time Lucky Part 28

Well, OK, maybe not quite what Grandmere would do, but it will solve the whole problem. Granted, Sebastiano isn't going

to like it very much. But, then, he should have asked ME, not Grandmere, if it was all right to run those photos in an ad for his clothes. Right?

I have to say, this is the most princessy thing I've done so far. And I am very, very nervous. Seriously. You wouldn't believe how much my palms are sweating.

But I cannot continue to lie back and meekly take this abuse. Something must be done about it, and I think I know what.

The best part is, I am doing it all by myself with no help from anyone.

Well, all right, the concierge at the Plaza helped by getting me a room, and Lars helped by making all the calls on his mobile phone.

And Lilly helped me write down what I was going to say, and Tina did my make-up and hair just now.

But other than that, it was all me.

OK, we're here.

Here goes nothing.

Thursday, December 17, 7 p.m.

I have now watched myself on all four major networks, plus New York 1, CNN, Headline News, MSNBC, and Fox News Channel. Apparently, they are also going to show it on Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood and E! Entertainment News.

I have to say, for a girl who supposedly has issues with her self-image, I think I did a fine job. I didn't mess up, not even once. And if I maybe spoke a little too fast, well, you could still understand me. Unless, you know, you're a non-English speaker

or something.

I looked good too. I probably should have worn something other than my school uniform, but you know, royal blue comes off pretty good on TV.

The phone has been ringing off the hook ever since the press conference was first aired. The first time it rang, my mom picked

it up and it was Sebastiano, screaming incomprehensibly about how I've ruined him.

Only he can't say ruined. It just came out 'rued'.

I felt really bad. I mean, I didn't mean to ruin him. Especially after he was so nice about designing me that dress for the dance.

But what was I supposed to do? I tried to make him look on the bright side: 'Sebastiano,' I said, when I got on the phone. 'I haven't ruined you. Really. It's just the proceeds from the sales of the dresses I'm wearing in the ad that will go to Greenpeace.'

But Sebastiano completely failed to look at the big picture. He kept screaming, 'Rued! I'm rued!'

I pointed out that far from ruining him, his donating all the proceeds from sales of the dresses I modelled to Greenpeace was going to be perceived in the industry as a brilliant stroke of marketing genius, and that I wouldn't be surprised if those dresses flew off the racks since girls like me, who are really the people his fas.h.i.+ons are geared for, care a great deal about the environment.

I must have picked up a thing or two during my princess lessons with Grandmere since in the end I totally won him over. By

the time I hung up, I think Sebastiano almost believed the whole thing had been his idea in the first place.

The next time the phone rang it was my dad. I may have to scratch the plan to get him a book on anger management because he was laughing his head off. He wanted to know if it had been my mom's idea, and when I said, No, it was all me, he went, You really have got the princess thing down, you know.

So in a weird way I feel like I pa.s.sed that Final too.

Except, of course, that I'm still not speaking to Grandmere. Not a single one of the calls I've gotten tonight (which even included Mamaw and Papaw back in Indiana, who saw the broadcast) have been from her.

Really, I think she should be the one to apologize because what she did was totally underhanded.

Almost as underhanded, my mom pointed out to me over dinner from Number One Noodle Son, as what I did.

Which is sort of shocking. I mean, I never thought about it before, but it's true: what I did tonight was as sneaky as anything Grandmere's ever done.

But I guess that shouldn't be very surprising. We are related, after all.

Then again, so were Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader.

Must go. Baywatch is on. This is the first time in weeks I've been home to watch it.

Thursday, December 17, 9 p.m.

Tina just called. She didn't want to talk about the press conference. She wanted to know what I got from my Secret Snowflake. I was all, 'Secret Snowflake? What are you talking about?'

'You know,' Tina said. 'Your Secret Snowflake. You remember, Mia. We signed up for it like a month ago. You put your name in the jar and then someone draws it, and they have to be your Secret Snowflake for the last week of school before Winter Break. They're supposed to surprise you with little gifts and stuff. You know, as a stress breaker. Since it's Finals

week and all.'

I dimly remembered, one day before Thanksgiving Break, Tina dragging me over to a folding table where some nerdy-looking kids from the student government were sitting on one side of the cafeteria with a big jar filled with little pieces of paper. Tina had made me write my name on a slip of paper, then pick, someone else's name out of the jar.

'Oh my G.o.d,' I cried. With all the stress of Finals and everything, I had forgotten all about it!

Worse, I had forgotten that I had drawn Tina's name. No real coincidence since she'd stuffed her slip of paper into the jar

right before I picked. Still, what kind of heinous friend am I that I would forget something like this?

Then I realized something else. The yellow roses. They hadn't been put in my locker by mistake! And they really weren't from Kenny, either! They had to be from my Secret Snowflake.

Which was kind of upsetting in a way. I mean, it's really starting to look as if Kenny has no intention of asking me to tomorrow night's dance whatsoever.

'I can't believe you forgot about it,' Tina said, sounding amused. 'You have been getting stuff for your Secret Snowflake, haven't you, Mia?'

I felt a rush of guilt. I had totally blown it. Poor Tina!

'Uh, sure,' I said, wondering where I was going to find a present for her by tomorrow morning, the last day of the Secret Snowflake thing. 'Sure, I have.'

Tina sighed. 'I guess n.o.body picked me,' she said. 'Because I haven't gotten anything.'

'Oh, don't worry,' I said, hoping the guilt was.h.i.+ng over me wasn't noticeable in my voice. 'You will. Your Secret Snowflake is probably waiting, you know, until the last day because she's - or he's a" gotten you something really good.'

'Do you think so?' Tina asked wistfully.

'Oh, yes,' I gushed.

Rea.s.sured, Tina got businesslike.

'Now,' she said, 'that Finals are over . . . '

'Um, yes?'

'... when are you going to tell Michael that you're the one who sent him those cards?'

Shocked, I went, 'How about never?'

To which Tina replied, tartly, 'Mia, if you don't tell him, then what was the point of sending those cards?'

'To let him know that there are other girls out there who might like him, besides Judith Gershner.'

Tina said severely, 'Mia, that's not enough. You've got to tell him it was you. How are you ever going to get him if he doesn't know how you feel?' Tina Hakim Baba, surprisingly, has a lot in common with my dad. 'Remember Kenny? That's how

Kenny got you. He sent the anonymous notes but then he finally fessed up.'

'Yeah,' I said sarcastically. 'And look how great that turned out.'

'It'll be different with you and Michael,' Tina insisted.

'Because you two are destined for one another. I can just feel it. You've got to tell him, and it's got to be tomorrow, because the next day you are leaving for Genovia.'

Oh, G.o.d. In my self-congratulations over having successfully manoeuvered my first press conference, I'd forgotten about that too. I am leaving for Genovia the day after tomorrow! With Grandmere! To whom I am not even speaking any more!

I told Tina that I'd confess to Michael tomorrow and she hung up all happily.

But it was a good thing she hadn't been able to see my nostrils, because they were flaring like crazy on account of the fact that I was totally lying to her.

Because there is no way I am ever telling Michael Moscovitz how I feel about him. No matter what anyone says. I can't.

Not to his face.

Not ever.

Friday, December 18, Homeroom They are holding us hostage here in Homeroom until they've pa.s.sed out our final semester grades. Then we are free to spend the rest of the day at the Winter Carnival in the gym, and then, later this evening, the dance.

Really. We don't have any more cla.s.ses after this. We are just supposed to have fun.

As if. I am so never having fun again.