Princess Diaries Series: Third Time Lucky Part 24

the blue sash. My dad says over his dead body am I going to wear it, or any other Sebastiano creation. But there isn't another designer in Genovia who could do as good a job a" let alone finish the dress in time. So it looks like it's going to be the dress by Sebastiano, which got delivered to the loft this morning.

Which is one thing off my mind, anyway.

I guess.

Sat.u.r.day, December 12, 8 p.m., the Loft I have already gotten seventeen e-mails, six phone calls and one visitor (Lilly) about the fas.h.i.+on thing. Lilly says it's not as bad as I think and that most people throw the supplements away without even looking at them.

But if that's true, I said, why are all these people calling and e-mailing me?

She tried to make out like it was all members of the Students Against the Corporatization of Albert Einstein High School,

calling to show their solidarity with my suspension, but I think we both know better:

It's all people who want to know what I was thinking, selling out like that.

How am I ever going to explain that I had nothing to do with it - that I didn't even know about it? n.o.body is going to believe that. I mean, the proof is right there: I'm wearing the proof. There's photographic evidence of it.

My reputation is going down the drain, even as I sit here. Tomorrow morning, millions of subscribers to the New York Times are going to open their papers and be like, 'Oh, look, Princess Mia. Sold out already. Wonder how much she got paid? You wouldn't think she'd need the money, what with being royal and all.'

Finally I had to ask Lilly to please go home, because I'd developed such a headache. She tried to cure it with some s.h.i.+atsu, which her parents frequently employ on their patients, but it didn't work. All that ended up happening was that I think she burst a blood vessel or something between my thumb and index finger, since it really hurts.

Now I am determined to start studying, even though it's Sat.u.r.day night and everyone else my age is out having fun.

But haven't you heard? Princesses never get to have any fun.

Here is what I have to do: a Algebra: review chapters 1-10

a English: term paper, 10 pages, double s.p.a.ced, utilize appropriate margins; also, review chapters 1-7

a World Civ.: review chapters 1a"12

a G & T: none

a French: revue chapitres Una"Neuf

a Biology: review chapters 1-12

a Write out instructions on how to care for Fat Louie.

a Christmas/Hanukkah shopping:

Mom - Bon Jovi maternity T

Dad - Book on anger management

Mr. G a" Swiss Army knife

Lilly a" blank videotapes

Tina Hakim Baba - copy of Emanuelle

Kenny - combination TV/VCR (I don't think this is too extravagant. And no, it's not guilt, either. He really wants one)

Grandmere - NOTHING!!!!!!

a Paint fingernails (maybe presence of foul-tasting polish will prevent biting them off)

a Break up with Kenny.

a Organize sock drawer.

I am going to start with the sock drawer because that is clearly the most important. You can't really concentrate on anything if your socks aren't right.

Then I will move on to Algebra because that is my worst subject, and also my first test. I am going to pa.s.s it if it is the last thing I do. NOTHING is going to distract me. Not this thing with Grandmere, not the fact that four of those seventeen e-mails are from Michael, not the fact that two are from Kenny, not the fact that I am leaving for Europe at the end of next week, not the fact that my mother and Mr. Gianini are in the next room watching Die Hard, my favourite Christmas movie, NOTHING.

I WILL Pa.s.s ALGEBRA THIS SEMESTER, and NOTHING IS GOING TO DISTRACT ME FROM STUDYING FOR THE FINAL!!!!!!!!!!!

Sat.u.r.day, December 12, 9 p.m., the Loft I just had to go out and see the part where Bruce Willis throws the explosives down the elevator shaft, but now I am back

to work.

Sat.u.r.day, December 12, 9:30 p.m., the Loft I was really curious about what Michael could possibly want, so I read his e-mails -just his. One was about the supplement (Lilly had told him, and he wanted to know if I was thinking of abdicating, ha ha) and the other three were jokes that I

suppose were meant to make me feel better. They weren't very funny but I laughed anyway.

I bet Judith Gershner doesn't laugh at Michael's jokes. She's too busy cloning things.

Sat.u.r.day, December 12,10 p.m., the Loft How to Care for Fat Louie While I am Away: a.m.

In the morning, please fill Fat Louie's bowl with dry food. Even if there is already food in the bowl, he likes to have some

fresh served on top so he can feel like he is having breakfast like the rest of us.

In my bathroom is a blue plastic cup sitting by the bathtub. Please fill that every morning with water from the bathroom sink. You must use water from the bathroom sink because water from the kitchen sink isn't cold enough. And you have to put it

in the blue cup because that is the cup Fat Louie is used to drinking out of while I am brus.h.i.+ng my teeth.