Home > Party Princess (The Princess Diaries #7)(15)

Party Princess (The Princess Diaries #7)(15)
Author: Meg Cabot

“Yeah,” I said. “But I still have nothing to do with it.”

He doesn’t seem to believe me.

I can’t say I blame him.

 

 

 

 

HOMEWORK

PE: WASH GYM SHORTS!!!

U.S. Economics: Chapter 8

English: pages 116–132, O Pioneers

French: Écrivez une histoire comique pour vendredi

G&T: Figure out what I’m going to wear to The Party Geometry: Worksheet

Earth Science: Ask Kenny

 

Don’t forget: Tomorrow is Grandmère’s birthday! Bring gift to school so I can give it to her at princess lessons!!!!!!!!

Wednesday, March 3, the Plaza

Something is definitely up with Grandmère. I knew this the minute I walked into her suite, because she was being WAY too nice to me. She was like, “Amelia! How lovely to see you! Sit down! Have a bonbon!” and shoved all these truffles from La Maison du Chocolat in my face.

Oh yeah. Something’s going on.

Either that or she’s drunk. Again.

AEHS should really do a convocation about coping with alcoholic grandparents. Because I could use some tips.

“Good news,” she announced. “I think I might be able to help you with your little financial predicament.”

WHOA. WHOA!!!!!! Grandmère is coming through with a loan? Oh, thank you, God! THANK YOU!

“When I was in school,” she went on, “and we ran low on funds for our spring trip to Paris to visit the couture houses one year, we put on a show.”

I nearly choked on my tea. “You WHAT?”

“Put on a show,” Grandmère said. “It was The Mikado, you know. That we put on, I mean. Gilbert and Sullivan. Quite difficult, particularly since we were an all-girls school, and there are so many male leads. I remember Genevieve—you know, the one who used to dip my braids into her inkwell when I wasn’t looking—was so disappointed in having to play the Mikado.” An evil grin spread across Grandmère’s face. “The Mikado was supposed to be quite large, you know. I suppose Genevieve was upset about being typecast.”

Okay. So, obviously, no loan was forthcoming. Grandmère just felt like taking a little jog down memory lane, and had decided to drag me along with her.

I wondered if she’d even notice if I started text messaging Michael. He’d just be getting out of his Stochastic Analysis and Optimization class.

“I had the starring role, of course,” Grandmère was going on, lost in reverie. “The ingenue, Yum-Yum. People said I was the finest Yum-Yum they had ever seen, but I’m sure they were only trying to flatter me. Still, with my twenty-inch waist, I did look absurdly fetching in a kimono.”

 

Text message: STUCK W/GM

 

“No one was more surprised than I was when it turned out there was a Broadway director in the audience—Señor Eduardo Fuentes, one of the most influential stage directors of his day—and he approached me after opening night with an offer to star in the show he was directing in New York. I never even considered it, of course—”

 

Text message: I MISS U

 

“—since I knew I was destined for much greater things than a career in the theater. I wanted to be a surgeon, or perhaps a fashion designer, like Coco Chanel.”

 

Text message: I LUV U

 

“He was devastated, of course. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out he was a little bit in love with me. I did look smart in that kimono. But, of course, my parents never would have approved. And if I HAD gone to New York with him, I’d never have met your grandfather.”

 

Text message: GET ME OUT OF HERE

 

“You should have heard my rendition of ‘Three Little Maids’:

‘Three little maids from school are we—’”

 

Text message: OMG SHE IS SINGING SEND HELP NOW

 

“‘Pert as a schoolgirl well can be—’”

 

Fortunately Grandmère broke off at that point in a coughing fit. “Oh dear! Yes. I was quite the sensation that year, let me tell you.”

 

Text message: THIS IS WORSE THAN WHAT AC WILL DO 2 ME WHEN SHE FINDS OUT ABOUT THE $

 

“Amelia, what are you doing with that mobile phone?”

“Nothing,” I said, quickly pressing SEND.

Grandmère’s face still had a dewy look from her stroll down memory lane.

“Amelia. I have an idea.”

Oh no.

See, there are two people in my acquaintance from whom you never want to hear the words “I have an idea.”

Lilly is one.

Grandmère is the other.

“Would you look at that?” I pointed at the clock. “Six o’clock already. Well, I better get going, I’m sure you have dinner plans with some shah or something. Isn’t it your birthday tomorrow? You must have some pre-birthday reflection to do….”

“Sit back down, Amelia,” Grandmère said in her scariest voice.

I sat.

“I think,” Grandmère said, “that you should put on a show.”

At least, that’s what I could have sworn she said.

But that couldn’t be correct. Because no one in her right mind would say something like that.

Wait. Did I just write “in her right mind”?

   
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