The Princess Diaries: Royal Wedding - NC JINDAL PUBLIC ...

EPIGRAPH

She will be more a princess than she ever was—a hundred and fiftythousandtimesmore.

ALITTLEPRINCESS

FrancesHodgsonBurnett

CONTENTS

Epigraph

IntroductionChapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14Chapter15Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22Chapter23Chapter24Chapter25Chapter26Chapter27Chapter28

Chapter29Chapter30Chapter31Chapter32Chapter33Chapter34Chapter35Chapter36Chapter37Chapter38Chapter39Chapter40Chapter41Chapter42Chapter43Chapter44Chapter45Chapter46Chapter47Chapter48Chapter49Chapter50Chapter51Chapter52Chapter53Chapter54Chapter55Chapter56Chapter57Chapter58Chapter59Chapter60Chapter61Chapter62

Chapter63Chapter64Chapter65Chapter66Chapter67Chapter68Chapter69Chapter70Chapter71Chapter72Chapter73Chapter74

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INTRODUCTION

RoyalScandal:

PrincePhillipeofGenoviaArrested

MANHATTAN—PrincePhillipeRenaldo, the50-year-oldcrownedprinceofGenovia, was arrested early Wednesday morning for driving his newlypurchased 1978 Ferrari 312T3 Formula One race car down the West SideHighway, according to a spokesperson for the New York City PoliceDepartment.Noinjurieswerereported.

Witnessessaytheprincewasdrivingatspeedsinexcessof180milesperhourbeforebeingpulledoverbyNYPDHighwayPatrolofficers.AspokespersonfortheNYPDconfirms that theprincecompliedwithall instructionsgivenby theofficers,includingtakingafieldsobrietytest.

Police as well as Genovian embassy officials declined to share furtherdetailsregardingthearrest.PrincePhillipehashadnopreviousarrests,eitherintheUnitedStatesorabroad.

It is illegal todriveracecars intendedforclosed-trackuseonlyonpublicstreets in the state of New York. It is not known whether the prince, whoseprimary residence is theEuropean principality ofGenovia,was aware of this.Theprinceissaidtohavepurchasedthevehicleearlierinthedayatanauctionupstate.

NewtoFormulaOneracing,thisisthefirstyeartheprincehastakenpartinGenovia’s Grand Prix, infamous for its tight corners through the smallprincipality’snarrow,cobblestonedstreetsandprecipitouscliffsoverlookingtheMediterranean.

Accordingtotheprince’smother,theDowagerPrincessClarisseRenaldo,ageunknown,thisyear’sracewillalsobehislast.

“The only place he’ll be racing after this is down the aisle, with mygranddaughter,” PrincessClarissewas overheard to say outside theManhattanDetentionComplex,whereshewaswaitingtovisithersoninjail.

AccordingtotheRoyalPalace,however,therearecurrentlynoplansforaroyal wedding between PrincessMia Thermopolis Renaldo, 25, and longtimeboyfriend,medical entrepreneurMichaelMoscovitz, 29.Moscovitz is founderandCEOofPavlovSurgical,asuccessfulmedicalroboticsfirm.

PrincessMia is theprince’sonlychildandheir to the throneofGenovia.

Shewasraisedbyhermother,AmericanartistHelenThermopolis,inNewYorkCity’s Greenwich Village. Mia has stated in numerous interviews that she isthankfulshedidnotfindoutshewasaprincessuntilshewasateenager,thoughitmeantmissing out on the glamour of being raised as a young royal on theRiviera.

“Iwas able to growup in a fairly normalway,”Mia has been quoted assaying.“IfI’dhadacellphoneandconstantaccesstotheInternetlikemostkidsdotoday,Iprobablywouldhavecaughtonsooner.”

Thisisnotthefirstunhappyeventtostriketheprincess’sfamilyinrecentmonths: her stepfather, Frank Gianini, passed away last year from congestiveheartfailure.

Inhisname,theprincessfoundedtheFrankGianiniCommunityCenterinNewYorkCity.The center is designed to help children and teens acquire theskills they need to succeed in school or their chosen future career path. In astatementat itsopening, theprincess said,“Mystepfatherwasalways there tohelpmewithmyhomework,andmyhopeis that thiscenterwillcarryonthatlegacyinhismemory.”

Genovia isaconstitutionalmonarchyandmemberof theEU,withPrincePhillipehavingruledasmonarchsincethedeathofhisfatherovertwentyyearsago.He’salso serveduncontestedas thecountry’sprimeminister fornearlyadecade, but a distant cousin of the prince’s—Count IvanRenaldo—has drawnsignificantly ahead in recent polls, running on a campaign of economic andimmigrationreform.Genoviahasseenasharprise in illegal immigrationbutadeclinein tourisminthepastfewyearsdueto theworldwiderecession, losingrevenuetobetter-knowntouristdestinationssuchasParis,London,andVenice.

For these reasons,many are speculating that the prince’s arrest could nothavecomeataworsetime.

CHAPTER1

2:37p.m.,Tuesday,April28Third-FloorApartment

ConsulateGeneralofGenovia

NewYorkCity

Idon’tknowwhat’shappeningtome.IliewhenIshouldtellthetruth,andtellthetruthwhenIshouldlie.

Like half an hour ago, when Dr. Delgado, the newly appointed “royalphysician,”washere,andaskedifI’vebeenunderany“unusual”stresslately.

Ilaughedandsaid,“Gosh,no,Doctor,nonethatIcan’tthinkof.”Youwould thinkDr.Delgadomighthavenoticed thehordesofpaparazzi

gatheredoutsidetheconsulatedoorswhenhecamein,andfiguredoutthatIwasbeingsarcastic.

Butno.Instead,hesaidIshouldn’tbeconcernedaboutthefactthatmylefteyelid

hasbeentwitchingprettymuchnonstopforthepastweek,whichiswhyIaskedforanappointmentinthefirstplace.

According toDr.Delgado, this sortof thing“happensall the time,and isnotatallindicativeofabraintumororstroke.”

ThenhesuggestedIstopputtingmysymptomsintoiTriageandinsteadget“plentyofsleepandexercise.”Oh,andImighttryeatinghealthier.

Sleep? Exercise? Who has time to sleep or exercise? And how am Isupposed to eat healthier when I’m literally trapped by the press inside theGenovian consulate and can only order food fromplaces that deliver near theUnitedNations (whicharebasically steakhouses,Chinese restaurants,orgyrojoints)?

Itwasn’tuntilhewaspackinguphismedicalequipmentthatIrealizedDr.Delgadowasimmunetosarcasmandreallyintendedtoleavewithoutwritingmeaprescription.

So I said, “The truth is,Doctor, Ihavebeen feelinga little stressed.Youmighthaveheardaboutmyrecentfamilydifficulties,whichhaveledto...”

Ipointedmeaningfullyout thewindow.Dominique, thedirectorofRoyalGenovianPressRelationsandMarketing,saysifwedon’tencouragethemedia,they’ll go away—like stray cats are supposed to, if you don’t feed them—butthisisn’ttrue.I’veneverfedthemedia,andtheystillwon’tgoaway.

“Oh,yes,yes,yes,”Dr.Delgadosaid,seemingtorealizethingswerealittleoutoftheordinary—asifthefactthathewasvisitingmeintheconsulateinstead

ofseeingmeinhisofficehadn’tgiven itaway.“Ofcourse!Butyourfather isdoingverywell,isn’the?AllthereportsI’veheardsaythathe’llmostlikelybegivenaslaponthewrist,andthenhe’llbeabletoreturntoGenovia.Thepressseemtofindhislittlemishapwiththelawquiteamusing.”

Little mishap with the law! Thanks to my father’s decision to take amidnight jauntdown theWestSideHighway inhisnewlypurchased racecar,CountIvanRenaldo,Dad’sopponentforprimeminister,isaheadfivepointsinthe polls. If the count wins, Genovia will be transformed from a charmingmedieval-walledmicrostateontheFrenchRivieratosomethingthatlooksmorelikeMainStreetUSAinDisneyland,witheveryonestrollingaroundinT-shirtsthatsayWHOFARTED?andeatinggiantturkeylegs.

“Oh,Dad’sdoinggreat!”Imadethehugemistakeoflying(Irealizenow).Thisiswhatwe’resupposedtotelltheextendedfamilyandthepress.It’snotthetruth.Royalsnevertellthetruth.Itisn’t“done.”

It’sforthisreasonthatIthinkI’mlosingmygriponmysanityandcannolongertellthedifferencebetweenwhat’srealandwhat’safaçadeforthesakeofthemedia (iTriage says this is calleddisassociation and is generallyused as acopingmechanismtomanagestress).

“Wonderful!”Dr.Delgadocried.“Andthingsaregoingwellbetweenyouand—whatistheyoungman’sname?”

I swear Dr. Delgado must be the only person in the entire westernhemispherewhodoesn’tknowMichael’sname.

“IsMichaelMoscovitztheWorld’sGreatestLover?‘YES!’SaysSex-MadPrincessMia,”declaresthecoverofthisweek’sInTouch.

Michael’sdadthoughtthiswassohilariousheboughtdozensofcopiestogive tohis friends andevenhispatients.Michael’s askedhim to stop, buthisdadwon’tlisten.

“Youreallyexpectmenot tobuythis?”Dr.Moscovitzasked.“Mysonistheworld’sgreatestlover!Itsayssorighthere.OfcourseI’mgoingtobuyit!”

Thiscouldbeoneofthereasonsformytwitch.“Michael,” I said to Dr. Delgado. “Michael Moscovitz. And yes,

everything’sfinebetweenus.”Except that’s a lie. Michael and I hardly ever see each other anymore

thankstoourworkschedulesandthefactthatI’mbeingheldaprisonerinmy

currenthomeby thepaps. Ihad tomoveoutofmyoldapartment lastyearonaccount of my stalker, RoyalRabbleRouser, who enjoys posting online abouthow he’s going to “destroy”me forwriting a historical romance novel (yearsago,underanothername)featuringaheroinewhohaspremaritalsex(heclaimsthisisproofofhow“feminismhasdestroyedthefabricofoursociety”).

Theconsulate is theonlybuilding inManhattanguarded24/7bymilitarypolicespeciallytrainedintheprotectionofaroyal.

AndnowlatelyonthelimitedoccasionsMichaelandIdofindtimetogettogether, we mostly just order in, then watch Star Trek on Netflix, becauseleaving theconsulate is suchapain,unless Iwant tohear all sortsofhorriblequestionshurledatmeonmywaytothecarbythepress:

“Mia,what’sitliketohaveafelonforafather?”“Mia,isthatababybumpordidyoujusthavetoomuchofthatfalafelwe

sawdeliveredanhourago?”“Mia,howdoesitfeeltoknowthatseventy-fourpercentofthosesurveyed

thinkKateMiddletonworeitbetter?”“Mia,whyhasn’tMichaelputaringonit?”ItriedtoshowMichaelmytwitchearlieronFaceTime,buthesaidmyeye

lookedperfectlynormaltohim.“Ifyou’retwitchy,though,Mia,it’sprobablyinnervousanticipationatthe

prospectofgoingoutwithme,theworld’sgreatestlover.”“Ithoughtweagreedweweren’tgoingtoreadourownpress,”Ireminded

him.“How can I help it?” he asked. “Especially since my erotic powers

seemingly extend all theway to theUpperEast Side,where they’ve renderedyousexmad.”

“Hahaha.Youprobablyplantedthatstoryyourself.”“You’vegrownsojadedandcynicalsinceIlastsawyou.Butreally,Mia,”

hesaid,finallygettingserious.“Ithinkyou’rejuststressingtoomuchaboutallofthis.I’mnotsayingthingsaren’tbad—theyare.Butmaybeallyouneedistogetawayforadayortwo.”

“Away?HowamIpossiblygoingtogetaway?AndwhereamIgoingtogothatthepresscan’tfollowmeandaskaboutmyallegedbabybumporhowmydadlooksinhisorangejumpsuit?”

“Goodquestion.Letmeworkonit.”Iknowhe’sjusttryingtohelp,butreally,howcanIgoawaywithDadin

somuchtroubleandthecountryinsuchanuproarandtheelectionsocloseandMombeinganewwidowandGrandmèreascrazyasever?

Plusmyboyfriendhavingrenderedmesexmad,ofcourse.No.Justno.ButofcourseIcouldn’ttellDr.Delgadoanyofthis.It’slikemylipshave

been frozen into a permanent smile by all my media training (andcompartmentalizingofmyfeelings).

“Well,that’sfine,then,”thedoctorsaid,beaming.Fine? It’s sonot fine.Was it really sowrongofme to think thatmaybe,

possibly, the palace physician might give me a little something to keep myeyelidfromjumpingaroundlikeaChihuahuaatdinnertime,oratleasthelpmenotlieawakeallnight?

AndthenwhenIdomanagetofallasleepIhavenightmares,liketheoneIhadlastnightthatIwasmarriedtoBruceWillis,andwheneverBrucegotoutoftheshower,hewoulddryoffhisnaughtypartswhile singing thesong“ChittyChittyBangBang.”

I can’t even tell Michael this. How do you explain it to the kindly oldphysiciantheyfoundwhoisstillwillingtodohousecalls?

Youcannot.“I’llmakesurethelabgetsthebloodandurinesamplesyouinsistedItake,

YourHighness,”Dr.Delgadosaid.“Ishouldhave theresults inaboutaweek.ButIhavetosaythatmedically,Idoubtthey’llfindanythingwrong.Yourpulseisstrong,yourskintonelookseven,yourweightiswithinthenormalrangeforyourheight.Despitethistwitchyousayyouhave—whichfranklyIcan’tsee—and your fingernails,which I see that you bite, you seem to be glowingwithhealth.”

Damn!Hewouldnoticemyfingernails. Imustbe theonly female leftontheentireplanetwhodoesn’tgetmanicuresbecause there’snothing leftofmyfingernailstofile,letalonepaint.

“Maybe,”Isaid,tryingtokeeptheeagernessoutofmyvoicesoIwouldn’tsoundlikeoneofthosecrazedOxy-addictsonIntervention,“Ishouldbewrittenaprescriptionforaverymildmoodstabilizer.”

“Oh,no,”Dr.Delgadosaid.“Nail-bitingisabadhabit,butverycommon,and hardly worth treating psychopharmacologically. The worst that couldhappenfromcompulsivenail-bitingisthatyoumightincuraninfection,orpickupapinworm.”

Oh my God. I am never biting my nails again. At least not beforethoroughlywashingtheminantibacterialsoap.

“WhatIsuggestyoutry,”headdedashepackeduphisbag,“isjournaling.”“Journaling?”Washejoking?Hewasnot.“Whyyes, I seeyou’veheardof it. Journalinghasbeen shown to reduce

stressandhelpwithproblemsolving.Mywifekeepswhatshecallsagratitudejournal.Shewritesdownthreethingseverydayforwhichshefeelsgrateful.Shekeepsadreamjournalaswell.Shesaysit’shelpedtremendously,especiallywithhermoodswings.Youshouldtryit.Well,I’llbeintouchinaboutaweekaboutthatbloodwork.Goodday,Princess!”

Andthenheleft.Whichleavesmehere.Journaling.Whycouldn’tIhaveliedtomakemyselfseemmorepatheticsohe’dhave

writtenme aprescription for an antianxietymedication, or at least a low-dosesleepingpill?EventheveterinariandoesthisforFatLouiewhenItakehimontheprivatejetbackandforthtoGenovia,andFatLouieisacat.

Granted, he’s an extremely elderly catwhonowneeds a tiny staircase toclimbupanddownfrommybedandtendstorevenge-pooponeverythingwhenhedoesn’tgethisownway.Butstill.Whydoesacatget tranquilizersbut theexpensiveconciergedoctorwehiredwillnotgivethemtome?

Oh,dear, I just read thatover, and it sounds abit odd.Of course I don’trevenge-pooponthingswhenIdon’tgetmyownway.I’msimplysayingthatitseemsabitunfairthatwehavetheoneconciergedoctorinallofManhattanwhorefuses toprescribeantianxietymedication.I’msureeveryothercelebrity(androyal)isloadeduponthem.

•Notetoself:Checkonthis.Thiswouldexplainalotabouttheirbehavior,actually.

Butif“gratitude”and“dream”journalingreallydoeshelpwithstress,I’m

willingtogiveitago.Atthispoint,I’lltryanything.Let’ssee.IalreadywrotedownwhatIdreamedabout.Herearethreethings

forwhichIfeelgrateful:

1.Idon’thaveabraintumor.

2.Myfatherdidn’tdieinthatrace-carincident.Thoughgivenhowrecklessitwasofhimtohavebeeninitinthefirstplace,heprobablydeservedto.

3.Michael,thefunniest,handsomest,smartest,andmostforgivingboyfriendintheentireworld(evenifeveryonceinawhilelatelyI’venoticedthere’ssomethinggoingonwithhiseyes,too.Notatwitch.Morelikesomethingbrewinginthere.IfIstillwrotehistoricalromancenovels—whichIhadtogiveup,notbecauseofRoyalRabbleRouser’sthreatsbutbecauseIdon’thavetime,betweenallmypublicspeaking,runningtheCommunityCenter,andworryingaboutDad—Iwoulddescribeitasa“hauntedshadow.”)

Iknowit’sselfish,butIhopeifthereissomethingwrongwithMichael,it’sthathe’spassinganotherkidneystone—eventhoughhesaidtheonehepassedlast May was the most painful experience of his life, and the nephrologistcompared it togivingbirth—andnot thatMr.G’sdeathhascausedhim to re-evaluatehis lifeandmakehim realizehe’swith thewrongperson. I’m totallyawareof the fact that itwouldbemuch,mucheasier forhimtobewithagirlwho could meet him for drinks after work at T.G.I. Friday’s without it firsthaving tobeswept forbombs,orgo to themovieswithhimwithouthavingaplainclothes sharpshooter sit behind us, or simply stroll around Central Parkwithoutbeingfollowedbyaphalanxofphoto-hungrypress.

ButI’mnevergoingtobethatgirl.Andmyworstfearisthatsomedayhe’sgoingtorealizeitanddumpmethe

way my mom dumped my dad, leaving him the brokenhearted, race-car-speeding,emptyshellofamanheistoday.

Honestly,whatgoodisowningacastleifthepersonyoulovedoesn’twanttoshareitwithyou?

CHAPTER2

3:32p.m.,Wednesday,April29Third-FloorApartment

NewYorkCity

Tried togo toworkat theCommunityCenteraftermyappointment,butPerincalledwhileIwasonmywayandsaidhordesofpapshadshownupthere,too,andwerebotheringthe teens(andtheiradultmentors)byaskinghowtheyfeltabout my father’s brush with the law, and whether or not I was “carryingMichael’stwins,”somaybeitwouldbebetterifI“workedfromhome.”

Sosweet,right?Whoelsehassuchkind,concernedfriends?Andnotjustthekindwho’veknownyousincehighschoolandsohaveno

problemtellingyouthatyourbrastrapisshowingandthatthere’ssaladinyourteeth.ThekindwhoarewillingtoruntheCommunityCenteryoujustfoundedeven though they could probably be making millions running a start-up inSiliconValleyinstead.

(See?Iamalreadytakingthedoctor’sadviceandpracticingmoregratitudeinmyday-to-daylife.)

Isaid,“Thanks,Perin,Iunderstand.”Peopleeverywhereprayforajobwheretheycan“workfromhome,”soI

guess,goingwiththegratitudetheme,Ishouldbegratefulforthisopportunity.I wonder how, though, when people get one of these jobs, they keep

themselves from spending the entire day going on YouTube and looking atvideos about baby deer that have been adopted by golden retrievers. Becausethat’sallI’veaccomplishedtodaysofar.

Well,asidefromFaceTimingMichaelandaskingagainifhecouldseemytwitch.OfcourseheaskedifIcouldturnthecameralower,andthenlower,andthenunbuttonmyshirt...

AndsuddenlyIrealizewhatelsepeoplewhoworkfromhomedoallday.Except thatMichaeldoesnotworkathome,heworksat thecompanyhe

founded,PavlovSurgical,sowecouldn’thavequiteasmuchfunaswewantedsincehisworkspacehasglasswallsandanyonecouldhavelookedinandseenwhatwewereupto.

Hedid tellme though (later) thathe’d readonWebMDthateye twitchesareveryoftencausedbyamagnesiumdeficiencyandthathumanspermatozoaarearichsourceofmagnesium.

“Isthatso?”Isaid.“Isupposeyou’regoingtovolunteertocomeoverlater

tohelprelievemeofthisseverenutritionaldeficiency?”“Well, Idon’twant tobrag,but Ihavebeen touted in thepressasmanly

enough to render perfectly respectable princesses sexmad from severalmilesaway.”

“Nicetry,Mr.Moscovitz,”Isaid.“I’mreportingyoutotheboardofhealthformakingunsubstantiatednutritionalclaims.Good-bye.”

His eyes actually looked as normal as he claims mine do, so maybe hereally is okay, and the whole shadow thing is a figment of my admittedlysometimesoveractiveimagination.

Iamgoingtoordermagnesiumrightnowfromthegrocerystoredownthestreet (to be delivered, although sadly I can’t order it with my smartphonebecause the closest grocery store fromwhich the Royal GenovianGuardwillaccept deliveries doesn’t have an app for that. Also, I’m not allowed to haveapps,exceptofcourseforiTriage,whichIcan’timaginedoinganyharm).

I’msurethenewsofwhatI’morderingwillgetoutsomehowandthenextheadlineaboutmeisgoingtoread:

“Pill-PoppingPrincess!

CANANYONESAVEHER?

PopeSwearsHe’llTry.”

CHAPTER3

8:32p.m.,Wednesday,April29Benefit for theChernobyl ShelterFundWaldorfAstoriaBathroom

NewYorkCity

Have to write fast because the ladies’ room attendant is wondering what I’mdoinglockedinthisbathroomstall.

But I had to jot down what this scientist who has been working on theproject to build a containment structure over Chernobyl just told me (cannotbelieve all that radiation is still floating around out there, even though thatnuclearreactorexplodedalmostthirtyyearsago).

So this scientist said that thevery intelligent are sometimesbadatgameslike Trivial Pursuit because they dismiss knowledge they consider“inconsequential”tomakeroomforinformationtheythinkwe’llneedsomeday(whichfinallyexplainswhyI’msoterribleatJeopardy!Alsosports).

(Of course I’m not saying I’m very intelligent.)Butwhy else do I knowabsolutelynothingaboutChernobyl(orreallywhatanyoneistalkingaboutheretonight,thoughI’mhappymypresenceisdrawingattentiontosuchanimportantcause) and so much about etiquette, Genovian history, and European citrusproduction?

Althoughthisdoesn’texplainwhyIknoweverythingaboutStarWars.

CHAPTER4

5:22a.m.,Thursday,April30Third-FloorApartment

NewYorkCity

The journaling isn’t working yet, and neither is the magnesium. Probably IshouldhavetakenMichaeluponhisoffer.(Justkidding.)

NotthatIcouldhaveevenifIwantedto,sinceheendedupnotbeingableto come over again tonight, this time because of some kind of glitch in theconsulate’s security system.Anytime anyone enters or exits the building fromanyofthesidedoors,itsetsoffthealarm,theoneconnectedtotheNewYorkCityPoliceDepartment.

WhichIguessisagoodthing(nicetoknowthesystemworks),butIcan’thaveanyovernightguestsuntiltheyfindtheglitch,unlessIwanttopickupthemorning paper and see “Princess of Slut-o-via!” in twenty-point font on thecoveragain.

Usedaneyemask,earplugs,mymouthguard,TylenolPM,andstoleashotfromthetwo-hundred-year-oldbottleofNapoleonbrandytheconsulategeneralkeepshiddenunderhisdeskforvisitingdignitaries(whichtechnicallyIam),butamstillwide-awakeatfiveinthemorning.

Thereportersseemtobehavinganicetimeout there, though, judgingbytheirlaughter.

IpartlyblamemyinabilitytofallasleeponthefactthatImadethemistakeofFaceTimingwithTinaHakimBababeforebed(eventhoughshelivesonlyafewdozenblocksaway,Ihardlyeverseeheranymoreeither).Thewholetime,Icouldn’tstoplying.Whatkindofpersonliestoherbestfriend?Well,oneofherbestfriends.

Our conversation started out normally enough—Tina swore she couldn’tseemy eye twitching, evenwhen I said thewords guaranteed to bring on thetwitch:

“Dad’sgoingtolosetheelectionandmycousinIvanwillbethenewprimeministerofGenovia.He’lldonothingfortheimmigrationproblem,buthewilldestroythecountry’sfragileecosystemandinfrastructurebydredgingtheharborandallowingcruiseshipslargerthantheCostaConcordiatodockatthePortofPrincessClarisse.”

“Really,Mia, I can’t see it,”Tina assuredme. “I’mnot saying it’s all inyourhead,butIdon’tthinkyouneedtoworry.”

I could feelmy eyelid pulsating like SigourneyWeaver’s stomach in themovieAlien,soIknewshewasfibbingtomakemefeelbetter.

Maybethat’swhylateronintheconversation,Ireturnedthefavor.Still,sinceTina’sinmedschoolatNYU,itwasrefreshingtohearhertake

on twitching eyes, which she knew all about since she just did a section onophthalmology.She confirmed everythingDr.Delgado said. It’s nice to knowI’mnotseeingaquack.

Ididn’taskherabout the thingMichael toldme, though. Ididn’twant toremindherofherex,Boris,withwhomshe’sbeengoingthroughanextremelypainfulbreakup.

“Ithinkit’sgoodforyoutogetbackintojournaling,”Tinasaid.“Itriedit,too, in the hopes itwould helpme not to think somuch about . . .well, youknow.”

Well,somuchfornot talkingaboutherex.That’swhenourconversationstartedgoingdownhill,andIstartedlyingmyheadoff.

Ifeltforcedtoask:“Didjournalinghelp?”“No,”shesaid,withasigh.“IreallythinkImightbeaddictedtoBoris.Did

you know a medical study showed that participants who had recentlyexperiencedabreakuphadtheexactsamebrainactivityaspeoplegoingthroughdrugwithdrawal?”

Ack.“Well,” I said, trying to keep my tone upbeat. “You’re a strong,

independentwoman,andIknowyou’regoingtobreakthatbadhabit!”“Thanks.” She sighed again. “It’s so hard, though. I thought Boris and I

wouldstaytogetherforever,thewayyouandMichaelhave.”Ugh.Ugh,ugh,ugh.Look,Iknowit’sweirdthatI’mnearlytwenty-sixandstilldatingmyhigh

schoolboyfriend.Believeme,I’mmorethanawareofwhataclichéitis.But it gets even worse: almost all my friends are people I went to high

schoolwith,too.Butinmyowndefense,whenyoufindoutatthetenderageoffourteenthat

you’retheheirtoathroneandabillion-dollarfortune(becausemymomanddadnever gotmarried, andDad always thought he could havemore kids. Due tochemoforcancerthatfortunatelyhasremainedinremission,hecannot),whoare

yougoingtotrust,thepeoplewhoknewandlikedyoubeforeyougotonForbesListofRichestYoungRoyals,orthepeopleyoumetafter?

Theanswerisobvious.Ican’tevencountthenumberofguysIdatedafterIfoundout Iwas aprincesswho turnedout toonlybe interested inme formytiara.

(Well,yes,Ican,actually:two.JoshRichterandJ.P.Reynolds-AbernathyIV.NotthatI’mstillbitteraboutit,orholdagrudgeagainstthem,oraskedtohavemy Facebook password taken away and changed so I don’t spend hoursobsessivelylookingupeverydetailoftheirlivestomakesurethey’remiserablewithoutme,becauseonlyaweirdowoulddothat.)

•Notetoself:AskDominiquewhatthenewpasswordisbecauseitwouldbequitenicetoseethephotosLanaispostingofhernewbaby.I’msurethatatnearlytwenty-six,Iammature(andself-actualized)enoughnottogohuntingdownmyexes.Besides,IamsohappyinmyownrelationshipthatIdon’tcarewhatmyexesaredoinganymore.Verymuch.

One of the reasons I love Tina so much is that she understands andsympathizeswith somany ofmy issues—being the daughter of an extremelywealthyArabsheikhwhoalsoforceshertobefollowedaroundbybodyguardsatalltimes—butshe’salsotheoppositeofmeinmanyways.She’sgoodatmathandscience,andintends,assoonasshegetshermedicallicense,tojoinDoctorsWithout Borders and help sick children. This is so admirable and amazing! IwishIcouldbemorelikeher.

Except thepartwhere she stillhasn’tmanaged to sever all ties toher ex,BorisPelkowski.

“Tina,”Isaid.“MichaelandIareananomaly.Hardlyanyonestaystogetherforever with their first significant other, except maybe in YA novels. Andusually when they do, it’s because he’s a vampire or a werewolf or owns abeautifulestatecalledPemberleyorsomething.”

“But—”“Seriously,didyouthinkLillyMoscovitzandKennyShowalterweregoing

tostaytogetherforeverwhentheybothwentofftoColumbiaaftergraduation?”“Well,”Tinasaid.“IguessnotafterKennybuiltthatyurtinthemiddleof

campus,thenrefusedtogotoclassanymore.”“Exactly,” I said. “It’s normal for people to change and grow, and for

couplestosometimesgrowapart.”“YouandMichaelnevergrewapart.AndwhataboutPerinandLingSu?”Isighed.JustlikeIhaveadisproportionatelylargenumberoffriendsfrom

myhighschoolclass,adisproportionatelylargenumberofthecouplesfromthatclasshavestayedtogethersincegraduation.

I blame the faculty. The absurd amount of homework with which theyloadedus down every night gavemanyof us permanent post-traumatic stress.College—eventhoughIattendedSarahLawrence,oneofthetopschoolsinthecountry—wasabreezecomparedtoAEHS(AlbertEinsteinHighSchool).

“Okay,well,PerinandLingSuareananomaly,too,”IsaidtoTina.“Butthey’vehadtheirproblems.Rememberhowtheyhadtopretendforsolongthattheywereonlyroommates?”

“Only because Ling Su’s grandparents were so old-fashioned,” Tinaprotested.“Theytotallysupportsame-sexmarriagenow.”

“Yeah,becausePerinworkedsohard towin themover.SheevenlearnedMandarin. What’s Boris done for you lately, Tina, except swap his classicalviolinforanelectricguitar,writeabunchofcheesypopsongs,andthenbecomeaninternationalpopsensationwhoisfawnedoverbymillionsofgirlswhocallthemselvestheBorettes,oneofwhomhesleptwith?”

“Allegedly,” she remindedme. “He still says he didn’t do it.He says hemissesmeandwantstomeetwithmesohecanexplain—”

“Oh,Tina!”“Iknow.ButhestillinsiststhosepicturesofhimwerePhotoshopped,and

thathewouldnever,evercheatonme.”Icouldfeelmyselfbeginningtoclenchmyjaw,andtriedtorelaxit.Who

couldhaveimaginedthatBorisPelkowski, themouth-breathingviolinvirtuosofrom my Gifted and Talented class way back in ninth grade, would become“Boris P.,” the purple-haired pop singer-songwriter who now plays sold-outconcertsallovertheworldandhasgirlsthrowingthemselvesathimeverytimehe steps from his limo (even though he still hasn’t quite learned to breathethrough his nostrils, a fact the Borettes have declared “totes adorbs” on theInternet).

Although therewas nothing “totes adorbs” about the nude photos one ofthosegirlspostedonlineofherselfwithhiminahotelroom.

“Whatabout the textssheposted thathesenther?”IaskedTina.“Didhehaveanexplanationforthose?”

“Hesaidshedidinterviewhimforherblog,so thetextsarereal,but thateveryone’stakeneverythinghesaidoutofcontext,andthatalltherestshemadeuptogetmorehitsonhersite.Imean,Iguessthat’spossible,right?”

“Um,”Isaid.“Sure.Iguessso.”Lienumberone.Boris had told Michael the exact same thing (the two of them are still

friends—theygettogethertoplayWorldofWarcraftafewtimesamonth.Thefact that Boris enjoys playing online fantasy role-playing games only endearshimmoretotheBorettes).

Michael refuses to stop speaking to Boris just because he “allegedly”cheatedonmyfriend.Hesaystherearetwosidestoeverystory,andasafellowcelebrity,Ishouldunderstandhowthesekindsofthingsgettwistedbythepress,andthatIshouldgiveBoristhebenefitofthedoubt.

But I’ve seen the photos. Some violin players develop Fiddler’s Neck, asort of callus along the underside of their chin from holding their instrumentthereforextendedperiodsoftime.

Theguy in thephotoshas the sameFiddler’sNeckpattern asBoris (as Iknow only toowell, having seen him shirtless playingwater volleyball at thepalace pool back in Genovia when he used to be allowed to visit there withTina).

So despite Boris’s protests—and Michael’s—those pictures aren’tPhotoshopped.Thestoryhastobetrue.

Although I guessMichael hasn’t really drivenme sexmad, somaybe itisn’ttrue.Ugh.

I always thoughtwhen I became an adult everythingwould become lessconfusing,butunfortunately,everything’sonlybecomemoreconfusing.

“Borissaysthatgirlcouldhavehackedintohisphone,thenwroteallthosemean things aboutmebecause she’sobsessedwithhim,”Tinawenton. “Youknow, stalker style.He says she’s jealousofme.Butnoneof that seemsverylikely...”

“Tina!”Igasped.“Yousaythatlikethere’snothingforhertobejealousof.You know perfectlywell how hot you are. You’re the hottest,most beautifulwomanIknow.”This,atleast,wasnotalie.

“That’ssweetofyoutosay,Mia,butI’mnotashotasher,”shesaidwithan unhappy sigh. “Have you seen her? She’s totally rocking that Brooklynhipstermusicbloggerthing.”

“AndIwillbemorethanhappytoyankthatringrightoutofherseptumifyou’d likemeto. IcanalwaysclaimI trippedandgrabbeditbyaccident.”Tomyrelief,Tinastarted to laugh.“No, really.Peoplewillbelieveme,becauseIhaveareputationforbeingaklutz,butI’malsoaprincess,andprincessesneverlie.”

HAHAHAHA.“Aw, thanks,Mia,” she said. “That’s what I love about you. You’re the

loyalist friendever.Anyway,Idon’tknowwhat todo.Boris toldmethatnewsongofhis,‘AMillionStars,’isaboutme.”

Ugh!Idon’twanttobethatgirl—thegirlwhotellssomeonenottogiveherexanotherchance,especiallyrightafterthatperson’sjustcalledherthe“loyalistfriendever.”

Because,ofcourse,there’salwaysachanceMichaelisright,andthethingwith Boris really is only a misunderstanding. And this is America. We loveforgivingpeople,thenlettingthemhaveasecondchance.

But that doesn’t mean “AMillion Stars” isn’t the worst, cheesiest, mosthorriblesongever.

Which,ofcourse,isonlymyopinion.TheBorettesloveitsomuchthey’vemadeitthenumberonebestsellingsongofalltimeever.Youcan’tgoanywhere—anyelevator,anystore,anyairport,anyhotellobby,anyrestaurant,notevenNew York’s Times Square—without hearing it being blared over a set ofspeakers.

Worse, in the video for it (which is also played everywhere constantly),Borisissingingtoagirlwhoisdyinginahospitalbed,andBorisistellingher(lyrically)thathe’llgiveheramillionstars(plushislove)ifshe’lljustfindthestrengthwithinherselftonotdie,andlovehimforever.

Ofcoursethegirlissomovedbythishotrockerdude’samazingsongthatshedoesn’tdie.Becauseitisamedicalfactthatpeoplewithfataldiseasesonly

needahotrockerdudetositontheedgeoftheirhospitalbedandsingthemarockballadinordertogivethemthestrengthtogoonliving.

Peopleactuallybelievethisstuff!AtleasttheBorettesdo.BoththesongandthevideohavemademehateBorisPelkowskisomuch

morethanIalreadydid(forbreakingTina’sheart)thatnowwheneverIhearorseeeitherof them, Ibegingrindingmy teeth. I’veevenstarteddoing it inmysleep,andhavetowearanightguard,whichissonotsexywhenMichaelstaysover.

Althoughhesayshe’dratherhavemewearabigrubbermouthguardinbedwithhimthanformetohavetinylittlenubsforteethsomeday.

•Notetoself:Which,ifyouaskme,isactuallywaymoreromanticthansomerockerdudesingingtoagirlonherdeathbed.Butnooneaskedme.

“SowhatdidyousaywhenBoristoldyouhewantstogetbacktogether?”IaskedTinacautiously.

“I said I’d have to think about it. Just because he has over five millionBorettesfollowinghimonTwitterdoesn’tmeanI’mreadytofollowhim.”

ThankGod,Ithought.ButaloudIonlysaid,“Thatwasverywise.”“Andmaybeit’sbetterwebreakupnowanywaytospareourselvesfuture

heartbreak.What’s going to happenwhen I graduate and have tomove awayfrom New York to do my residency. Or when I’m with Doctors WithoutBorders.I’mnotgoingtobeabletofollowhimaroundontourlikesomelittleBorette.Ihavemyowncareertothinkabout.”

“Totally,”Isaid,thrilled.“So I told him that right now I really need to concentrate on acing my

exams,butthatmaybewecouldtalklater.”“Well,Ithinkyoudidtherightthing.”Thiswaslienumbertwo.Idothink

Tina should concentrate on her exams, but I’m not so sure she should talk toBorislater.

“Thanks,Mia,”shesaid.“It’sjustsohard,youknow,becauseeverytimeIgoonlineorturnontheTV,thereheis,beinginterviewedaboutthisforty-citytour,lookingallbufffromworkingwiththatnewtrainerofhis.”

“I know.”Lie number three.Boris doesn’t look that good, but then, he’s

never exactly beenmy type. “Honestly, Tina, I have no ideawhat I’d do if Iwereinyourshoes.”

Lienumberfour.IthinkaboutwhatI’ddoifIwereinTina’sshoesallthetime,which is ridiculous, sinceMichael’s the best boyfriend ever (or the bestboyfriendhecanbe,consideringwhathehastoputupwith,datingaroyal).

ButTinathoughtBoriswasthebestboyfriendeveruntilnumberoneBorisFan,BrooklynBoretteBlogger,camealong.

What if that shadow Ikeep seeing inMichael’s eyes isn’t akidney stonehe’s toomanly tomention,butguiltbecausehe’sseeingsome little“Michael-ette”behindmyback?Idon’tknowifI’dbeabletohandleitwithasmuchclassas Tina has with Boris, keeping her mouth shut about it (except to me, ofcourse).IthinkImightgofull-onMrs.ex–TigerWoodsElinNordegrenonhim(eventhoughviolenceisnevertheanswerandMichaeldoesn’tplaygolforevenownanSUVlikeTigerWoods).

The problem, of course, is that I come from a long line of warriorprincesses.SometimeswhenIcan’tsleep—likenow—ImentallyrehearsehowI’dgetbackatMichaelifIfoundouthe’dcheatedonme,eventhoughI’mself-actualizedenoughtoknowhe’dneverdosuchathing,andthatifhedid,losingmewouldbehisloss,notmine.

Still,occasionallythesethoughtscreepinunbidden(IprobablyshouldhavementionedthistoDr.Delgado.Ibethe’dhavegivenmesomemedicationifheknew)andthenIrecallhowmyroyalancestresseshandledtheirbusinesswhenbetrayedbyaman:

PrincessRosagunde

ThefirstprincessofGenovia,Rosagunde,strangledherhusband—thechiefofaninvadingtribeofmarauders—todeathinhissleepwithherbraid,anactofheroismforwhichshewasthenunanimouslynamedrulerofhervillage.

I’d never do something like that toMichael, of course, since violence isnever the answer (my hair’s not long enough anyway), and I do not want tospendtherestofmylifeinjailliketheladiesinOrangeIstheNewBlack.

But since I’m descended from Rosagunde, the capacity for this kind ofbrutality runs through my veins—even though sadly I can never seem tosummonitwhenIneedto,likewhenteenagersbehindmeinthemovietheaterwon’tstop texting,especiallyduring thedramaticmoments.ThenImerelygetLars,mybodyguard,togetupandglareatthemthreateningly.

PrincessMathilde

Upondiscoveringreportsofher intended’smultipleaffairs,myancestressPrincessMathildedonnedfullbodyarmor,rodetohishome,thenproceededtosmasheverypieceoffurnitureinitwithabattle-ax.

Then she rode away, takingwith her his favorite hunting dogs, servants,andhorses,claimingthemascompensationforherbrokenheart.

Hewasmuchtoofrightenedofhertoprotest.Michaeldoesn’thaveanyservants,muchlessanyhorses,andhisbeloved

dogPavlovdiednot too longagoofoldage (dogsdon’t liveas longascats).Michael does, however, have a lot of furniture, plus tons of Star Warsmemorabilia that he values greatly. He has every single Princess Leia actionfigure,somestillinthebox!

Still,I’dfeelweirdaboutsmashinguphishousewithanax, thenstealinghisstuff.MaybeI’djustlightalltheboxerbriefshe’sleftoverhereonfire(inthesink,forsafety).

DowagerPrincessClarisseRenaldo

It’sanot-very-well-keptsecretthatmygrandmotherhadastringofsuitorsbeforemygrandfather,thewealthyPrinceofGenovia,fellforher.OneofthemwasaTexasoilbaronshemet inMonteCarlowhileshewasvacationingwithfriends.Thisgentlemanwassosmittenthatheproposedonthespot(accordingtoGrandmère’sversionofevents).

Unfortunately, itwas soondiscovered that theoilbaronhad, in romance-novelparlance,“awifeyetliving”—butnotbeforeGrandmèrehadalreadyspentaheftyamountofmoneyonhertrousseau.

SoshedidwhatanyshrewdGenoviangirlwoulddo,andsuedhimforthecostofhernewwardrobe(tothetuneofahundredthousandGenovianfrancs).

“ThosegownswerehandmadebyMonsieurDior!Theycosttwothousanddollarseach,”shestillsayswheneverthesubjectcomesup.“WhatelsewasItodo?”

Theguypaidup.Itwasapparentlycheaperthangettingadivorce.

Oh,ugh.All the insomniawebsitessay that toensureagoodnight’s rest,you’re supposed toengage in soothing rituals rightbeforeyou fall asleep, liketakingahotbathorsniffinglavenderordrinkingwarmmilk.

Fewadvisemakinglistsofwaysyourroyalancestorsgotrevengeontheirboyfriends for cheating on them, and none mentions discussing your father’srecentrun-inwiththelaw—orthefactthathediditbecausehewastryingtogetbacktogetherwithyourmother.

But that’sexactlywhatTinabroughtup lateronduringourconversation,andprobablywhyI’mwiderawakenowthanever.

“Things have actually gotten a bit better since this news about your dadbroke,”Tinasaid,justbeforewewereabouttoquitFaceTiming.“Nowthere’salotlessstuffonallthegossipsitesaboutBoris,andmoreabouthowpeoplethinkyourdadwantsasecondchancewithyourmom.”

“Wait...”Iwasshocked.“What?”“It’strue,”Tinainsisted.“Peoplethinkyourdadtookuprace-cardrivingto

get yourmom’s attention now that your stepdad has died and she’s availableagain.”

I’ve seena lotofwrongheadedandoffensive thingswrittenaboutmyselfandmyfamily,butthatonereallytakesthecake.I’mnotgoingtosayitdoesn’thurtwhenpeoplesaybadstuffaboutme,particularlywhenit’suntrue,butI’myoungandstrong:Icantakeit.

But to say it about mymom, who isn’t really a public figure, and can’tdefendherself,andmydad,who’sgettingoninage,andisclearlybecomingatragicfigurelikeMickeyRourke,onlywithouttheboxingortinydogs?

“Well, if that’swhatDad’sup to, it’s a reallybad strategy,” I spluttered.“My mom’s so not the type to care about trophies, unless it’s a Pulitzer, ormaybeaNobel.”

“Iknow,right?Yourmomwouldneverdropeverythingandcomerushingtobeatyourdad’sbedsideafterhalfhisfacewasburnedoffinatragicrace-caraccident, because she’d be like, ‘He deserved it for being involved in such adangeroussportinthefirstplace.’”

“It’strue,”Isaid,thenadded,“Althoughthatwouldhavemadeanexcellentscene in amovie that Iwouldhavepaid fullprice to see in theaters, not evenwaitedtowatchathomeonpay-per-vieworHBO.”

“OhmyGod,me,too.”NowonderIcan’tsleep.Except that if this turns out to be true, Dad pretty much brought it on

himself.Well,atleastthepartwherehe’sallegedlystillinlovewithmymother,aftermorethantwenty-sixyears(that’showlongagoheimpregnatedherwhiletheywere both college students back in the eighties,when drinking toomuchandbeing“inthemoment”wasanacceptableexcusefornotusingbirthcontrol,althoughnotreally,ifyouaskme.Well,twenty-fiveyearsandninemonthsago.Mybirthdayistomorrow).

“Of course I don’t blame your dad for thinking such a crazy stuntmightwork,”Tinawenton.“Yourmotherrushedtobeatyourstepfather’ssideafterhehadthatheartattackwhiletakingtheM14crosstownbustobandpracticelastyear.”

“Right,” I said. “ButMr. G. and my mom weremarried. And also, notknowingyouhaveheartdiseasebecauseyoukeepputtingoffgoingtothedoctoriscompletelydifferentfrompurposelypursuinghigh-risksports.”

At least Mr. G. had plenty of life insurance and a surprisingly healthy

401(k),soheleftmymomandmyhalfbrother,Rocky,financiallysecure(andMom’s paintings are still selling really well, considering the market forcontemporaryrealism).

Of course, now that I think about it, Tina—and apparently the media—aren’ttheonlyoneswiththiscrazytheoryaboutmydad.Michael’sparentskindofbroughtitupwhenIwaslastattheirhouse(forPassoverdinner).

Thiswasbeforethearrest,ofcourse.ButsomehowtheconversationturnedtowardDadandhowweirdhe’sbeenactinglatelyandoneoftheDrs.Moscovitz—I can’t remember which—said my dad’ll never be happy because hedesperatelywantstobewithmymother,butshe’sneverbeenthekindofwomanwho—likeGrandmère—isattractedtomeninpositionsofpower.

“Soareyousayingmydadwantstomarryhismother?”I’daskedinhorror.“Well,” Dr. Moscovitz had replied, “according to Freud, deep down, all

menwanttomarrytheirmothers,andallwomen,theirfathers.”Iknew therewasa reason Idon’t likeFreud.Michael isnothing likemy

dad,andIreallycan’tseehowIresemblehismother.ShelookslikeabrunetteDr.RuthWestheimer,onlyslightlyshorterandwithmoremolesonherface.

Oh,well.Tina and Ihungupafterpromisingeachotherweweren’tgoing to think

about themen inour liveswhowerebotheringus—inhercase,herex,and inmine,mycurrentboyfriendandmyfather—anymore.

Butthat’sprettymuchallI’vedonesince.Imusthavegottenalittlesleep,though,becauseIdidhaveadreamearlier

that Iwas askedbyKate,DuchessofCambridge, tohave lunch, so she couldgive me tips on how to handle the stress of being a modern-day princess(something I am obviously still not handling well, even after a decade ofpractice).

ButwhenKategreetedmeatthedoor,shetoldmeshehadnotimetotalktomeaboutprincessstuff,becauseshehadadatewithBruceWillis.SosheleftmealoneinBuckinghamPalacewithPrinceGeorge!

SoIbakedacakeforhim,thenhelpedhimeatit.

ThreethingsforwhichIfeelgrateful:

1.TinaHakimBaba.

2.Mynobleancestresses.

3.Cake.

CHAPTER5

9:15a.m.,Thursday,April30Third-FloorApartment

NewYorkCity

Ican’tbelievethis.Ilookedoutthewindowthismorningbecausethepapsseemedabitlouder

than usual. I expected to see them playing some kind of drinking game (perusual)butinsteadIsawprotesters!

Notmany,butenough.They’reholdingsignsprotestingmydad(andme,too).

IcalledDominiquerightawayandshesaid(inheradorableFrenchaccent),“Iknow,Iknow,your’ighness.Don’tworry,weareonit.”

(Dominique has a hard time pronouncing the letterH, which is silent inFrench, so asking her things like the nameof “that boywizard” is one ofmyfavoritepastimeswheneverIhappentobestuckintrafficwithher.“Youmean’airyPottair, Princess?” she always asks, excitedly. “’airyPottair, ’oowent to’ogwarts?” Juvenile, but alwaysentertaining.) “On it?” I asked. “Howareyou‘onit’?”

“Oh,we’aveafewideas...”“Likewhat?Shouldweholdapressconference?Doyouwantmetoissuea

publicstatement?What?”“No,no,nothinglikethat.It’sbetterthatwejustignorethemfornow.”“That’swhatyousaidabout thepaparazzi,but theyhaven’tgoneawayin

twoweeks.”“Iknow,butdon’tworry.It’sonlyaploybyyourfather’sopponenttoget

mediaattention.”Oh,right.Ofcourse.What do Genovians have to complain about, anyway? Genovia has the

lowest unemployment, violence, and poverty rate in the world (zero percent),and also the loveliest median year-round temperature (seventy-five degrees),beingsituatedas it is so idyllicallyon theRiviera.Genovianspaynopersonalincometax,andbusinesstaxesareamongthelowestintheEuropeanUnion.

EvenGenovia’s royal family is self-supported (unlike theUK’s,which isfinancedbypublicmoney).AccordingtoRatetheRoyals,Ihaveapersonalnetworthofahundredmilliondollars.

HA!Wheredothesewebsitesgetthisstuff?

•Notetoself:Well,ofcourse,Iprobablydohaveapersonalnetworthofthatmuch,butonlyifyoucountthingslikemedieval-erajewel-encrustedscepters,whichyoucan’texactlyselloneBay.

So ifCousin Ivan isgoing tohaveachanceofbeatingmydad forprimeminister in this next election, he has to do something tomake people believethingsinGenoviaaren’tallthatgreat.

So why not pay a bunch of lame Genovian expats to stand outside itsconsulateinNewYorkholdingsignsmakingabigdealoutofsupertinyissues,likeallowingcruiseshipsin,keepingGMOsout,andcomplainingaboutthatop-edpieceIwrotetheotherweekfortheWallStreetJournal?

Apparentlysomepeople feel theheir to the throneofoneprincipalityhasnorighttoexpressheropinionofhowtherulerofanotherprincipalitygovernshiscountry,evenonewho’sstrippedhalfhispopulationofwhatlittlerightstheypreviouslyhad(thefemalehalf,ofcourse),andisthreateningtobeheadhisownsonformarryingacommoner(fortunatelyPrinceRashidandhisbridehavebeengivenasylumintheUnitedStates).

AllIdidwascommentonhowmuchIdisapproveofthesheikh.Ididn’tputoutabigsignthatsaysHEY,OPPRESSEDPEOPLEOFQALIF,COMETOGENOVIA!LiketheseprotestersapparentlythinkIdid.

Still,whensomeonewhoisbeingmistreatedintheirhometravelsveryfarandunderhorribleconditionstoget toyours,shouldn’tyouat leastoffer themshelterandsomething toeatanddrinkuntil theysort thingsout? It seems likecommoncourtesytome.

Sowhatiseveryone’sproblem?Oh,God,nowa televisionnewsvanhasshownupdownstairs to film the

protesters.Why?Why can’t a celebrity couple choose today to announce thatthey’redivorcingsothemediahassomethingelsetocover?

Iwonderhowmuchmagnesiumit’ssafetotakeinoneday.

•Notetoself:CheckiTriage.

CHAPTER6

12:00p.m.,Thursday,April30Third-FloorApartment

NewYorkCity

Lillyjusttextedme:

LillyMoscovitz“Virago”*:Whatareyoudoing?

*I have to give allmy contacts code names in case of hacking.Kate,Duchess ofCambridge, has beenhacked155times.Viragomeans“femalewarrior”butalso“bad-temperedwoman.”Not thatLilly’sbad-tempered,butlately,sinceshe’sbeenstudyingforthebar,she’sbeenmoredifficultthanusual.

IguessI’dbedifficult,too,though,ifIhadtostudyforatestthattooktwowholedaystocomplete.It’salittledisappointingthatmybestfriend,whoshowedsuchpromiseinthepastasatelevisionproducer,isgoingintothelaw,butlikeLillysays,hertruepassionisarguing,soatleastinthelegalprofessionshe’llbepaidtodoit.

HRH Mia Thermopolis “FtLouie”: What do youthink I’m doing? I’m “working from home.” ButreallyI’mtrappedinmyapartment,watchingNY1interview Genovian protesters about how muchtheyhatemeandmydad.

Therewasapause,andthenLillywrote:

<LillyMoscovitz“Virago” HRHMiaThermopolis“FtLouie”>

Oh my God, there you are! Well, not you, but theconsulate,rightonliveTV.Wow,slownewsday.Whydon’tyoucomeoverhereandwecanlivetweetitwhiledrinkingtequila?

Thanks,but that isnothowthepalace is choosingtohandlethesituationandwouldalsobeaviolation

ofdiplomaticprotocol.Besides,theRoyalGenovianGuard has me on lockdown in case any of theprotestersturnsouttobemystalker.

Theyhaven’tcaughtthatguyyet?

No. They think RoyalRabbleRouser must use aVPN(VirtualPrivateNetworksoftware)tohidehisIPaddresssincetheyhaven’tbeenabletotrackhislocation.

Wow, that is not scary at all. But anyway, that crowddoesn’tlooktooviolent.

Don’t underestimate them, one of them alreadythrewaGenovianorangeatLars.

WhyaGenovianorange?

In addition to their many other complaints, theprotestersareanti-GMOanddon’tthinkGenovianfarmers should be allowed to plant drought-resistant Genovian orange trees (even thoughgeneticallymodified food could help to end worldhungerandtheGenovianorangeyieldincreasedby25% last year. And that study with the tumor-riddenratswasproventobecompletelyfaked).

Sorry I asked. I thought Genovia was known for itsolives.Orisitpears?

Itdoesn’tmatter.Thedemand fororange juice inEurope is huge, so now all we’re growing isoranges.

Of course. What did Lars do when they threw thegeneticallymodifiedorangeathim?PLEASEsayheshotthemwithtear-gascanisters,PLEASE.

Hedidnot.Hepickedtheorangeupoffthegroundandtookahugebiteoutofit.Includingthepeel.

♥

Stop.

I swear to God someday I am going to tie thatScandinavian to my bed and do unspeakable things tohim.

Iknowit’sbeenawhilesinceyou’vehadadate,butplease keep in mind that Lars has been mybodyguard since I was 14 years old, so I think ofhimasanolderbrother.

I’mpretty sureyoudounspeakable things toMYolder

brotheronaprettyregularbasis.

Howmanyenergydrinkshaveyouhadtoday?

Not enough. So all this fuss is over some geneticallymodifiedoranges?

Of course not. They also want us to allow biggercruiseships(3,000peopleadayisnotenough)andimmigrationreform.

What immigration? I thoughtnoonegets citizenship inGenoviaunless they’reborn there (orhas aparentwhowasbornthere,likeyou)ormarriesaGenovian.

Yes, and that’s theway theywant to keep it. Butwe’reofferingemergencyhumanitarianvisastoalltheQalifirefugeeswho’vebeenshowingupbytheboatloadsincemyop-edpiece.

Is that what those signs they’re carrying mean, “LetThemLivewithMia”?

Yes.

Make your own sign and hang it in thewindow tellingthemtosuckyour[REDACTED].

Thank you so kindly for that piece of advice.However, that is neither princessy nor physicallypossible.Actually we are working on finding a more

diplomatic solution that includes providing therefugeeswithemergencyshelterinlocalhotels,butall the hotels are full due to the 125th GenovianYachtClassic.

Oh,of course.How foolishofmenot to know that the125thGenovianYachtClassicistakingplacerightnow.I’msureMuffyandCarringtonmustbeveryupsetaboutalltheriff-raffdirtyingupthebeaches.

It doesn’t matter since even if there were hotelrooms,noonewouldtaketherefugeesin,asCousinIvan has spread a rumor that they all havetuberculosis and cholera, so border officials areholdingthematthePortofPrincessClarisse.

Again,sorryIasked.CanIcomeoverwithasigntellingthoseprotesterstosuckMY[REDACTED]?

I’msohappysomeonelikeyouispursuingacareerin contract law since it’s clear you’re so calmandlevelheaded.

Speaking of calm and levelheaded (no), where’s yourdad?

Probably the Oak Bar at the Plaza Hotel, wherehe’s been drowning most of his sorrows whilewaiting to hear from the judge about when he’sgoingtobeallowedtoleavetheU.S.

Typical. What are you doing for your birthdaytomorrow?

Whatdoyouthink?

Wait, let me guess: your grandmother is taking you toCirqueduSoleil.AGAIN.

Themagicofthecircusiswhatshelivesfor.

HAHAHA!Howmanytimesisthis?

Shesayswehavetoput“abravepublicfaceon”inlightoftheprotestersandDad’sarrest,andactlike“everythingisnormal”forthegoodofGenovia.

Isthatwhythere’snowavanpullingupinfrontofyourbuildingthatsays“ParrucchierediPaolo”ontheside?

No. Paolo is coming over to giveme a blowout soI’lllookgoodasIbravelyfacetheprotesterswhilegreeting our guests tonight. Grandmère’s decidedtothrowadinnerpartyhereattheconsulate.

Whatifonesneaksinandthrowsanorangeatyou?

Thatisariskthat,asaroyal,I’mobligatedtotake.

Aw,you’rejustlikethatprincessfromthemovieBrave.Onlyyouhavezerohand-eyecoordination.Whyistherenoe-viteinmyin-box?

Because only Genovian expats who pass abackgroundtest(andhaven’tthrownanyGenovianoranges at Lars) are invited, so they will see how“real” and “caring” we are and hopefully post tosocialmediaaboutit.

IfIgetinvited,Iwillposttosocialmediaaboutit,andIwon’tthrowanorangeatyouORLars.I’llthrowmyselfathimbutnotanorange.

Seriously,stop.Icanonlytakesomuch.

Ismybrotherinvited?

DoyouthinkI’dputhisbeautifulheadatriskoversomethingthisstupid?

Well, if he’s your future prince consort, he’d better get

usedtothiskindofthing,don’tyouthink?

TherearesomethingsIthinkevenafutureprinceconsortshouldbespared.

Putlikeatrueroyal.

CHAPTER7


NewYorkCity

NotalotoftimetowritebecausePaoloisgivingmeablow-dryandit’srudetowriteinone’sjournalwhilesomeoneisperformingpersonalgroomingserviceson you (also difficult, especially when that person has applied press-on nailsoveryourbitten-downnails,andtheglue/paintonthosenailsisstilldrying).

Anyway, Paolo started out the appointment upset because I wouldn’t lethimcutoffallmyhair (quote fromPaolo:“It looksbettershort, it showsoffayourlongneck”),butIknowthetruth:

Paolojustwants todosomethingdifferent thatwillgetmyphotoontoallthefashionsites,andthebestwaytodothatthesedaysiswitha“daring”pixiecutlikesomanyofthetwentysomethingstarletsaredoing.

But I’m not an actress in a movie about someone dying ofcancer/tuberculosis,so:

Isaid,“No,thankyou,Paolo,Ilikemyhairbetterlong,butifyourarmsaretired,youcanleavetheblow-dryingtooneofyourassistants.”

This offended him verymuch.He sniffed, “No, Principessa! Paolo nevergettired,”whichisfinewithmesincenowwedon’thavetotalkanymore(Paolodoesn’tliketoshoutoverthewhineofhairdriers.Alsoarelief:thathecan’ttellwhat I’m writing since he’s not so good at reading English. Or any otherlanguagethatIcantell,exceptthelanguageofbeauty).

But unfortunately he did noticemy twitch earlier and said, “Principessa,you look like thepirate,onlynot thehotoneplayedbyJohnnyDepp,what iswrong?”

Generally I don’t believe in pouring out one’s hardships to one’shairdresser, because, as Grandmère is always reminding me, “Your personalbaggage should only be shared with family, Amelia . . . and the bellboy, ofcourse.”Thisisprettygoodadvice,exceptthatusuallyfamilymembersaretheonescausingthebaggageproblems,soIfindthattherapistsandgoodfriendscanbemorehelpfulwithit.

ButPaolohasbeenaroundsolong,he’slikefamily.SobeforeIknewit,itallcametumblingout.

This turned out to be one of the few times I should have listened toGrandmère.

Paolowasn’tatallsympathetic,especiallywhenImentioned thefact thatrightafterIloggedofffrommyconversationwithLilly,IwenttoGoogleNewstoseewhatthemediawassayingabouttheprotesttoday,andthefirstheadlineIsawwasfromthePost.Itscreamed:

“WhyWon’tHeMarryMia?”

Really?That is what the editors feel is themost important news to report ontoday,thereasonsMichaelMoscovitzhasn’tproposedtomeyet?

Ofcourseitisn’t,it’sjustwhattheythinkwillgetthemostclicks.Andofcourseitworked,becauseevenIclickedonit,knowingIshouldn’t

have, becauseMichael and I aremature adults and of coursewe’ve discussedmarriageatlength,andthedecisionwe’vecometo(andourreasonforit)isourbusinessandoursalone.

(Exceptofcoursethatmygrandmotherthinksitshouldbeherbusinessandsoshe’salwaysaskingmewithelaboratecasualness,“SowhendoyouthinkyouandMichaelwillbegettingmarried?” thewayotherpeopleask,“SowhendoyouthinkyouandMichaelwillbecomingoverfordrinks?”)

But apparently the Post thinks it is everyone’s business, since they’veprinted the reasons they believe Michael doesn’t want to marry me, whichinclude(butarenotlimitedto):

1.Thefactthatafterwe’remarried,MichaelwillhavetogiveuphisAmericancitizenshipandbecalledPrinceMichael,RoyalConsort.(True.)

2.He’llhavetobeescortedatalltimesbybodyguards.(True.)

3.He’llhavetoattendcharitybenefitspracticallyeverynightoftheweek,which,whilebeingextremelyworthyandfulfilling,canalsobequiteexhausting.(True.Ican’ttellyouhowmuchIfeellikestayinghomesomenightsinmyrattiestpajamas,eatingpizzastraightoutoftheboxwhilewatchingSpecialAgentLeroyJethroGibbsandhisteamtakeroguishmiscreantstotaskonNCIS,ratherthanhavingtodressupandshakethehandsofwealthystrangerswhoonlywanttotalkabouttheirlastsafari,

thenlistentoaspeechaboutLatvia’srichculturalheritage.)

4.Someonewillalwaysbesendingtheirhobbydroneovertospyonus,usuallyattheexactmomentI’vehadtoomanydaiquirisanddecideditwillbeperfectlyallrighttogotopless.(Whichhappenedonce,andIthinkitmighthavebeenthePostthatboughtthosephotos.Still,onceistoomany.)

5.Somedayhe’llhavetomovehimselfandhisentirebusinesstoGenoviafull-time.(Sadly,thisisalsotrue.)

6.ThefactthatIonlywearplatformwedgesbecauseIstillhaven’tmasteredtheartofwalkinggracefullyinhigh-heeledshoesandthatsometimeswhenIdoI’mactuallyastallortallerthanMichael.(True,butwhywouldthisbeareasonamanwouldn’tmarryawoman,unlessofcoursehehadverylowself-esteem,whichMichaeldoesnot?)

7.Michael’sallegeddislikeofmygettinginvolvedwiththepoliticsofconstitutionalmonarchies.(Blatantlyfalse.)

8.Ourhaving“driftedapart”inrecentdaysduetoourbusycareers.(FALSE.AtleastIhopeit’sfalse.Itbetterbefalse.Oh,God,pleaseletitbefalse!)

9.Myfamily.(True.Sotrue.)

“Idon’tsupposeit’severoccurredtotheeditorsofthePostthatifMichaeland I have drifted apart—which we haven’t—it’s because of them,” Icomplained to Paolo after having read this list aloud in a comical voice. Dr.Knutz,myunfortunatelynamedtherapist,recommendsIdothiswheneverIseemean-spirited comments or stories about myself. Reading them aloud in acomicalvoiceissupposedtohelpmakethemhurtless.

But it doesn’t.Nothing does. Except refusing to look at them in the firstplace.

“The press has a field daywithmy name every time I get caught in themorningsneakingoutofMichael’splacedowntown,orhegetscaughtsneakingoutofmine.DoyouknowwhatPageSixcalledmethelasttimeaphotographerspiedme comingout ofMichael’s building?” I askedPaolo. “ThePrincess of

Gen-HO-via!”Paoloput his handoverhismouth topretend likehewashorrified, but I

could tell he was secretly laughing behind his fingers. Only there’s nothingfunnyabouttheothernamesthemediahascalledme,including:

•ShameofThrones.

•BadIdeaMia.

•He’llNeverBuytheCowIfHeCanGettheMilkforFree-a,Mia.

And of course now,WhyWon’tHeMarryMia. (Get it?WhyWon’tHeMarryMe-Ah?Haha.)

Youwouldthinkthatintheenlightenederainwhichwelive,asinglegirlcould have a boyfriend and a career and also a healthy sex life (and help herfathertoruleacountry)withoutgettingcallednames.

Butapparentlythisistoomuchtoaskofsomepeople.“Youknow,thereareverygoodreasonstomarry—taxadvantages,andthe

fact that married people live longer and report a higher degree of happinessoverall than singlepeople, and things like that,” I said toPaolo. “ButMichaeland I have just as valid reasons for not marrying, like that marriage is anantiquated institution that ends in divorce almost half the time, and thatwe’reperfectlyhappywithourrelationshipstatusthewayitis...exceptforthepartwherewenevergettoseeoneanother,eventhoughweliveinthesamecity.”

Andthepartwheremyboyfriendhasstartedtolookeveryonceinawhileasifhewereharboringsomedark,terriblesecret.Thatmightbeagoodreasonnottogetmarried,oratleasthaveaveryserioustalksometimesoon,thoughI’mreallynotlookingforwardtoit.

“Andwhat about howwe don’t think it’s fair for us tomarry when ourmanysame-sex-orientedcouplefriendscannot?”Idemanded,sincetherewasnowayIwasgoingtomentionthatotherthingoutloud.“Atleast,noteverywhereintheworld.”

Paolobrightened.“Yes,butthankstoyou,Principessa,same-sexmarriagehasbeenlegalinGenoviasince2013.”

“Right,”Isaid.“YoucanmarrythemanyouloveinGenovia,butIcan’t.

Not without having news helicopters and quadcopter drones flying over myhead,vyingforasunflatteringashotofmybuttastheycanmanage.”

Paololookedhorrified.“WhywouldPaolowanttogetmarried?Paolohassomuchgreatness tosharewithmany,manymen.Hewouldnotwant to limitthisgreatnesstoonlyonemanforever.”

“Yes,Iknow,Paolo,”Isaid.“I’mjustsaying.Didyouhearthepartaboutthedrones?”

That iswhenPaolo laiddownthescissors(I’dconcededtoaquarter-inchtrimonly)andsaidveryfirmly,“Principessa,everyonemustmakethesacrificeforlove!That’swhatmakesitworthit.Eventheprincipessas.AndIthinkthisiswhereyouhavetheproblem,becauseyouthink,‘No,Iamaprincipessa,IcandowhateverIwant.Idonothavetosacrificeanything.’Butyoudo.”

“Paolo,”Isaid.“Haveyoueverevenmetme?I’vesacrificedeverything.Ican’tevenwalkoutmyfrontdoorrightnowwithoutpeoplethrowingorangesatme.”

“Ithinkyouneedrightnowtofindthebalance,”hewenton,ignoringme.“For life, you never knowwhere the roadwill take you.Yours took you to aplacewhereyougotthediamondshoes,butnowallyoucansaysis,‘Ow!Thesediamondshoes!Theyfitsotightandhurtsomuch!’Noonewantstohearabouthow tight your diamond shoes fit.You got the diamond shoes!Many people,theyhavenoshoesatall.”

“Uh,”I interrupted.“I thinkyoumeanglassslippers.Cinderellahadglassslippers—”

“Soyougottodecide,Principessa,whatareyougoingtodo,putonyourdiamondshoesandgo to thedance?Or take themoffandstayhome? Iknowwhat Iwoulddo ifsomeonegivemediamondshoes. Iwouldgo to thedance,andIwouldneverstopdancinguntilmyfeetfelloff.”

Itwasn’tuntilPaoloputitinquitethatPaolowayofhisthatIrealizedhewasright.

Ofcourse, Idon’t literally ownshoesmadeoutofdiamonds. (Well, IdoownapairofJimmyChoosthathavediamondtoeclips.)

Butifyouthinkaboutit,Ihavenorealproblems.Asidefrommyobviouslyannoying housing situation,mymentally disturbed family, and the fact that astalkersayshewantstokillme.

Ihaveneverevenreallysacrificedanythingforlove,orhadanyoneIloveddie,exceptforabelovedstepfather,andalthoughthiswasextremelytragic,thedoctorsassuredusMr.Gianinididn’tsuffer,andprobablywasn’tevenawareofwhatwashappeningoncehe initially lost consciousness (though it’s quite sadthat the last thing he saw was an advertisement for Dr. Zizmor, Skin CareSpecialist,Don’tAcceptSubstitutes).

But comparatively, I have nothing—absolutely nothing—to complainabout.

I felt ashamed ofmyself, andwanted to grabmy checkbook andmake alargedonation toacauseofPaolo’schoice right thatminute (exceptofcourseI’vealreadymadeseveralthisyearalone—nottomentionhavingdonatedhugechunks ofmy time, including only last nightwhen I attended that benefit forChernobyl).

“I’msorry,Paolo,”Isaid.“You’resoright.Idoneedtofindbalanceinmylife.OnlyIdon’tknowhow.Doyouhaveanysuggestions,otherthankeepingagratitudejournal,whichI’malreadydoing?”

“Sì!Ithinkmynewboyfriend,Stefano,canhelpyou,Principessa.”“Hecan?That’swonderful!How?”“Stefano has the healing hands!” Paolo cried proudly. “He can cure you

withonetouch!”“He’samasseur?Oh,how—”“No, no, not the massage! The ancient art of Reiki, laying on of hands.

Onlythehands,theynevertouchyou.”Iwasconfused.“Iftheynevertouchyou,thenhowdotheyhealanything?”“Theflowofenergyfromtheuniverse!Andforyou,Principessa,Stefano

do it for free. But of course after first half hour, it’s two hundred dollars foreverythirtyminutes.”

“Um,”Isaid.Ofcourse sweetPaolohasfallen in lovewithsomeguywho’sconvinced

hecancurepeople’sproblemsbywavinghishandsover themandchannelingtheflowofenergyfromtheuniverse.

But if anyone could actually do that,wouldn’t all of life’s ills have beensolvedalready?

I said, plastering onmy fake smile, “Thank you, Paolo, that’s so kind of

you,butIdon’tthinkIhavetimerightnow.Maybeanotherday,allright?”Paolo looked disappointed. I know he’s probably been fantasizing about

havinghiscurrentboyfriendmagicallyrestorebalancetomyuniverse,andthenmeravingaboutittothepress.Thenthetwoofthemcouldopensomenewspa—PaoloandStefano’sUniversalBeautyandWellness. Ifwecancureroyalty,wecancureyou!

ButIthinkit’sgoingtotakemorethanonepairofhealinghandstofindthebalanceinmyuniverse.

CHAPTER8


NewYorkCity

Ugh.Sogladthat’sover.AtleastIlookedgood.Paoloisatrueartistofhair.Icouldn’ttellLillythetruthaboutwhyIdidn’twantherorMichaelaround

tonight. Itwasn’t thatIwasafraidof themgettingoranges thrownat them(noorangeswerethrown;everyonebehavedwithperfectdecorumwhenGrandmèreandIwentouttogreetourguests.Exceptforthebooing).

It isn’t even that the security system is still glitchy and that I’m afraidMichael will get caught entering the building in the wee hours and we’ll getmorebadpress.

It’sthatGenoviansaresnobs.That’s why they don’t want the Qalifi refugees to be given Genovian

citizenship, even temporaryGenovian citizenship.They barely think I’m goodenoughtohaveGenoviancitizenship.

My eye was twitching like crazy the entire time (when my jaw wasn’tachingfromfakesmiling),butIdon’tthinkanyoneexceptGrandmèrenoticed.

Of course, even though I overheard half of them making catty remarksabout the fact that I’m a “commoner” and, even worse, anAmerican (but ofcoursetheotherhalfofmeisroyal,sotothemthatmakesupforit),theywerefallingoverthemselvesinanefforttogetselfiestakenwithme(andtheportraitofmy dad in theGrandHallway, since he didn’t show up—probably a goodthing,givenhiscurrentstateofnear-constantinebriation).

Now they’ll be busy posting their pics to their social media accounts,sayingwhatafantastictimetheyhad.

SinceMichaelwasn’tthere,severalofthemaskedmewithfakeconcernif“everything is all right” between the two of us. I could tell theywere hopingthingswerenot all right and thatwe’dbrokenup, so then I coulddateoneoftheirhalf-witchinlesssons(whowouldthenbecomeprinceconsortandfathertothefutureheirtothethrone).

“No,” I said, withmy big fake smile. “Michael’s fine. Just working latetonight.”

“Oh,” they said, givingme smiles thatwere every bit as phony asmine.“He works? How wonderful.” (You could tell they didn’t think this waswonderful.)

ButhasCousinIvan(whoinsistsoneveryonecallinghimCountRenaldo,eventhoughheisn’taRenaldoandthatisn’tevenacorrecttitle,whichIcan’tbelieve I know, but that iswhat over a decade of etiquette lessons from yourgrandmother, the dowager princess, will do to you) ever invented a roboticsurgicalarmthathelpedsavethelifeofasufferingchild?

No.No,hehasnot.All Cousin Ivan does ismanage the properties his father purchased ages

ago, and by “manage” Imean raise the rents so ridiculously high that decent,hardworking Genovians can no longer afford them, which is why there is nolongerasinglebookstoreinallofGenovia.

But when I pointed this out (politely) tonight to one of the count’ssupporters, he said, “Books? No one reads books anymore! Look at all thetourism that guy’s bringing inwith hisT-shirt shops and bars.Have you everbeen toCrazy Ivan’s?Thatplace is thebomb. Ithasabar that’s toplessonly!Everyone who comes in—male or female—has to take their top off. It’smandatory!”

IsaidIhaveneverbeentoCrazyIvan’s,butIcertainlydonotwanttogotherenow.

That’swhenGrandmèretookmeasideandtoldmeIwasbeingrude.“I’m being rude?” I demanded. “I’m an adult, for God’s sake—nearly

twenty-six years old, the age at which neuroscientists have determined mostpeople’scognitivedevelopmentisfullymatured.IcansayIdonotwanttogotoabarwhereshirtlessnessismandatoryifIdon’twantto,andIcanespeciallysayitwhileI’mstandinghereonAmericansoil.”

(It’sacommonmisconceptionthatconsulatesandembassiessitupon“thesoil” of the country they represent. So in all those episodes ofLaw&Orderwhere Detectives Briscoe et al arrest foreign diplomats who then claimimmunitybecausethey’reon“Flockistansoil”?Theycan’t.)

So thenGrandmère draggedme into the drawing room—shehas a prettystronggripforsuchanoldlady,althoughofcoursenooneknowshowoldsheissince she won’t tell anyone and she had all copies of her birth certificatedestroyed,which you can do if you’re the dowager princess—and said, “YouwillbecivilwhenspeakingaboutyourcousinIvanandhisbusinesses.”

Isaid,“Idon’tseewhy,alltheplanshehasforGenoviaareonlygoingto

ruin the place if he wins. Why are we even having these people to dinner?They’reobviouslyhisfriends.Or,Ishouldsay,spies.”

ThenGrandmèreleanedinandhissed,“They’reGenoviancitizens,andthisis theGenovian consulate, and it will always be open to them. Besides, keepyourfriendsclose,butyourenemiescloser.”

Iwasappalled.“AreyouactuallyquotingfromTheGodfather?”“WhatifIam?”Sheexhaledaplumeofvaporfromhere-cigarette—which,

thank God, she’s switched to, none of us could take the Gitanes anymore.“Really, Amelia, you’re slipping. And after everything I taught you, too. Isupposeyou’relettingthisnonsenseaboutyourfather’sarrestgettoyou.Whatiswrongwithyoureye?”

Iflungahandoverit.“Nothing.”“Straighten up. You look like the Hunchback of Notre-Dame. And there

wasnohappy ending for him, youknow, like therewas in the insipidDisneyversion, which I suppose you adore. Quasimodo lies down in the tomb withEsmeralda—who also dies—and perishes of a broken heart. That’s realliterature,noneofthismaudlinpapyoulovesomuch.That’stheproblemwithyourgeneration,Amelia.Youallwanthappyendings.”

IwassostunnedIthinkmyeyestoppedtwitchingmomentarily.“Wedon’t,actually,”Isaid.“Wewantendingsthatleaveuswithasenseof

hope,possiblybecausetheworldwe’relivinginseemstobefallingapartrightnow.Peoplecan’tfindworktosupporttheirfamiliesintheirowncountries,butthen when they try to immigrate to countries where they can, they’re eitherenslaved—likeinQalif—orstoppedattheborderandtoldtheyaren’twelcome,like in Genovia. And you’re inviting the people who are telling them that todinner!Whatkindofmessageisthatsendingtothepopulace?”

Herdrawn-oneyebrowsshotupsohighIthoughttheymightcausehertiarato go flying off.Grandmère is old school and still believes in dressing in hereveningbestfordinner.It’sprobablywhatmakeshersopopular(withtheyacht-clubandracehorseset).

“It’snotthemessageIcareabout,”shesaiddramatically,“it’sthepopulaceitself.IvanRenaldoisverylikelygoingtobethiscountry’snewprimeminister,Amelia,thankstoyourfather’smostrecentexploits,sowe’ddowelltopositionourselvesashisalliesnow.AlthoughIdoblamemyselfforallthis...doyou

haveanyideawhyhedislikesus—especiallyyourpoorfather—so?”“No,butIhaveafeelingyou’regoingtotellme.”“Hisgrandfather—CountIgor—wasverymuchinlovewithme,andtookit

veryhardindeedwhenIchosetomarryyourgrandfatherinstead.”Irolledmyeyes.“Ofcourse.Whydidn’tIfigureitoutsooner?”AccordingtoGrandmère,thereareapproximatelythreethousandmenwho

wereonceverymuch in lovewithher,and took itveryhard indeedwhenshechose tomarry thePrinceofGenovia, instead.They’veall taken their revengeagainstherinvariousways,includingbutnotlimitedto:

1.Writingbooksabouther.

Youmightbesurprisedtoknowthatmostmajorworksinmodernliteraturearethinlydisguisedtributestomygrandmother,includingeverythingwrittenbyMailer,Vidal,andofcourseJ.D.Salinger,evenworkswrittenbeforeshewasoldenough tohavepossiblyknown theauthors.OfcourseFitzgeraldmodeledDaisyinTheGreatGatsbyafterClarisseRenaldo.

2.CompetingagainstGenoviaineverysportineveryOlympicsever.

Youprobablyhaven’theardthis,buteverysingleathletewhohaseverbeatGenoviainanyOlympiccategory(especiallysailinganddressage,prettymuchthe only sports in which any Genovian athletes ever qualify) did so out ofromanticspiteagainstmygrandmother.

3.Sculptingorpaintingworksofartfeaturingwomen.

AccordingtoGrandmère,sheinspiredPicasso’sCubistperiodbysayingtohim,“Darling,Ithinkyou’requitetalented,butyoureallyoughttodevelopyourownstyle,”whichactuallyisn’tpossiblebecauseitwouldmeansheisover127yearsold.ButwhenIinformedherofthis,shetoldme“nottobesoobtuse.”

“Really, Grandmère?” I said. “You think the reason Ivan Renaldo iscampaigning against Dad is because he’s upset that you didn’t marry hisgrandfather?”

“Iknowso,”Grandmèresaid.“Thoughofcourseyoumustnevermentionthistoyourfather.”

“Don’tworry,Iwon’t.”“Poor Igor spent night after night atMaxim’s, drinkingChambordout of

oneofmydancingslippers.”“Eww.”Imadeaface,notjustbecausetheguywasdrinkingoutofoneof

mygrandmother’sshoes,butbecauseChambordisaraspberryliqueur,andonlytastes good when poured over vanilla ice cream. “Was he before or after themarriedTexasoilbaron?”

Sheignoredme.“Finallyhisparentshadtocometakehimaway.Theytriedto sober him up in time for his own wedding, but it was too late. Deliriumtremensnearlytookthepoorboyoff.ButI’msorrytobeburdeningyouwithallthis, Amelia. This should be a very special time for you, so close to yourbirthday.You should be flitting from social engagement to social engagementand shopping for folderols, enjoying the companionship of your friendswhileyoustillcan,beforeyouhavetosettledowntotheveryhardworkofprovidingthecountrywithanheir.Letmeworryabout thegovernanceof themonarchy.Youworryaboutbeingyoungandhavingfun.”

It was amazing how shewas able to say all this, considering howmuchshe’dhadtodrink—really,it’samiracleofscienceshe’slivedthislong.Everyotherweek,itseems,theyannouncetheresultsofsomenewstudywarningthatwomenwhoconsumemorethanonealcoholicbeverageadayincreasetheirriskofcancerbyquiteafewpercentagepoints.

ButGrandmère,whohasatleastsixtoeightdrinksaday,plussmokestheequivalentofmultiplepacksofcigarettes(thoughit’shardtotellwiththesenewvaporones),keepsgoingstrong.

Mymothersaysit’sbecauseshe’spickled.Still,Grandmèrehadapointabout trying togetalongwithCousin Ivan’s

supporters instead of antagonizing them. It’s annoying how often mygrandmotherisright.

“Okay, Grandmère,” I said. “I’ll play along with your little game. ButCousinIvanisn’tgoingtowin.Wecanstillbeathim.Iknowwecan.”

“I’dbequite interested tohearyourstrategy,”Grandmèresaid,blowingalong stream of orange-scented smoke (despite the claims of the vaporcompanies, I’m quite sure there is still nicotine in the “juice” Grandmèresmokes). “Unlessof courseyou’replanning togetyourselfphotographedwith

him inacompromisingposition.But I’mafraid thatwillonlymakehimmorepopular,andforevercementyourreputationasthePrincessofGen-HO-via.”

This was a low blow, and disheartening to think that even my owngrandmotherthinksthattheonlywaywomencangetaheadinthisdayandageiswiththeirsexuality.

IwassodisgustedthatIhadnochoicebuttoleavethediningroomandgobacktomyownapartmentandliedownwithacoolclothonmyforeheadandwatchtelevision(whichisquitehardtodowhenyoureyeistwitchingnonstop).

CHAPTER9

12:01a.m.,Friday,May1Third-FloorApartmentConsulateGeneralofGenoviaNewYorkCity

Michaeljusttexted.

MichaelMoscovitz “FPC”*:Wanted to be the first onetowishyouahappybirthday.WishIwasthere.

*FuturePrinceConsort

HRHMiaThermopolis“FtLouie”:Noyoudon’t.Ican still hear them down there. They’re drinkingshots and comparing Genovian Yacht Classichorrorstories.

<MichaelMoscovitz“FPC” HRHMiaThermopolis“FtLouie”>

What could turn the Genovian Yacht Classic into ahorrorstory?Protesters?

Worse.Computerprogrammers.

TheChosenPeople?Whathavewedonenow?

You came sweeping in with your advancedtechnologyandwonallthetrophiesandmadethemfeelinferior.

It’s not only our advanced technology thatmakes themfeelinferior.

Issexreallyallmeneverthinkabout?

Notalways,sometimeswethinkaboutfood.Why,isthatnotwhatwomenthinkaboutallthetime?

No,wethinkaboutit—andfood—allthetime,too,butmoreinanarrativecontextwherethegirlendsupbeingtrappedinasecretroomfullofcakewitha bed in the middle of it and then you come indressedinfullarmorandgo,“Putdownthatcakeandpritheegetnaked.”

Noted, thoughI’mnotsurehowthesexworkswith thearmor.Whatwaswithgoingoutsidewithyourgrandmainfrontofthoseprotesterstonight?

Oh,nothing.

Theyweren’tthrowingfruitovernothing.

Whatareyouwearing?

Mia,I’mseriousaboutthis.

I’m serious, too. The armor has a codpiece. I’veresearchedit.

We’regoingtodiscussthistomorrow.

Couldn’t we discuss it now? I think I need aprofessional trained inextinguishingfires.Becausethere’sonegoingoninmypants.

Imeantwe’regoingtodiscusstheprotesters.

Beforeorafter theshowofshows,storyofstories,sightsofallsights?

If by that youmean Cirque du Soleil, howwould youfeelifweskippedthatparticulartraditionthisyear?

Uh, Michael, you know Grandmère always paysextraforfront-rowVIPseats.

WhatifI’vecomeupwithsomethingbetterforustodo?

Whatcouldbebetterthanadramaticmixofcircusartsandstreetentertainmentperformedliveundera large tent near New York City’s main jailcomplex? Except of course the aforementionedsecretroomfilledwithcake.

You’llfindouttomorrow.

Michael,youknowIhatesurprises,right?

Ithinkyou’lllikethisone.

I can already guarantee I won’t unless it involvescakeandarmor.

You really need to do something about that negativity.MayIrecommendaniceyoga/meditationretreat?

That isn’t funny. Just reading the wordmeditatemademyeyelidstarttwitchingmore.

Goodnight!Sweetdreams...

Headdedanemojihe’dmadehimselfofagorillawithheartsforeyes.Yes,inhissparetimefromwork,myboyfrienddesignsemojis.

I think I’m going to have to watch about three more episodes ofNCISbeforeI’llbeabletocalmdown.

IwishIwereaspecialagentfor theNavalCriminalInvestigativeService

MajorCaseResponse Team and not the princess of a tiny principality on theMediterranean.ThenIcouldjustsavethecountryfromterroristthreatsoverandover, and never have to hear about oranges (or Reiki, or meditation retreats)again.

ThreethingsforwhichIamgrateful:

•ThatI’vegotaTVwithstreamingNetflix.

•Michael.

•TylenolPM.Seriously,I’msosleepyrightnow,IthinkI’m...

CHAPTER10

8:37a.m.,Friday,May1Third-FloorApartment

NewYorkCity

Wokeupto1,479happybirthdayposts,texts,e-mails,andvoicemails,severalofwhicharefrompeopleIactuallyknow.

This is what happens when you become a public figure. Total strangerswishyouhappinessonyourbirthday,whichisvery,verynice.

Butbirthdaywishesfrompeoplewhoknowyou(andstillcareaboutyou,despitebeingawareofyourcharacterflaws)areevennicer.

NosignyetofMichael’s“birthdaysurprise.”I’mgoingtotrytobealesssuspiciousandcynicalpersonnowthatI’ma

yearolderandwiser,butIcan’tsayI’mafanofsurprises.“Guesswhat,Mia?You’re the Princess of Genovia.” That’s just one example of a surprise I’vereceivedthatturnedoutnottobesogreat.

Michael’saprettygoodpresentgiver, though,soItrusthisisgoingtobebetter.

Andit’sanewyear,soI’mgoingtospendittakingPaolo’sadvice:figuringouthowtomakethesediamondshoesworkforme.

The people I’ve heard from so far (that I actually know, though notnecessarilyintimately)include:

1.Mymomandhalfbrother,Rocky(singing“HappyBirthday”together).

ThisisthefirstyearI’veheardthemwithoutMr.Gianiniaccompanyingonhis drum set.Thatmademe a little sad.Butwhen I called themback (I onlyspoketoMom,becauseshe’dalreadydroppedRockyoffatschool),shesoundedupbeat.It’sgoodthatshe’sdoingsowell,becauseIsometimeswonderifshe’sjustmaskinghergriefbythrowingherselfintoherworklikethebereavedsinglemoms I always see onmade-for-TVmovies,where the ghost of the deceasedhusbandiswatchingoverherandthekidsuntiltheycute-meetanewguy.

This timeMommentioned she’d seen a piece onDad’s arrest onAccessHollywoodandwantedtoknowifIthinkhe’sondrugs,andifso,didIthinkweshouldgettogethertodoanintervention?

Isaidnotoboth.ThisactuallymakesmethinkMom’sgettingbacktohernormalsassyself

(and that Mr. Gianini has moved on to heaven or his next life or whatever,because if he were a ghost he would definitely never steer her in Dad’sdirection).

2.Thepresident(oftheUnitedStates.I’mprettysureitwasprerecorded,though).

3.Ex–collegesuitemates,ShawnaandPamela,whonowshareanapartmentovertheirshopinWilliamsburg,Brooklyn,thatsellsartisanalmayonnaise.

4.TheWindsors(despitewhatsomepeoplesayaboutthem,they’reallactuallyverysweet).

5.TinaHakimBaba.(Shewastryingsohardtosoundchipper.IknowMichaelsaidIshouldlistentoBoris’ssideofthestory,butwoulditbesowrongifinstead,thenexttimeIhappentobeinthesameroomasBoris,ItellLarsthatIthoughtIsawaweapononhim?AbodycavitysearchbytheRoyalGenovianGuardcouldteachhimavaluablelesson.)

6.Myfather,hopingIhaveaveryhappytwenty-fifthbirthday.Whichisgreat,exceptthatIturnedtwenty-sixtoday.Butsinceit’smybirthday,I’mchoosingtobemagnanimous.(He’snevergottenmyageright.Oncehegavemeabirthdaycardwithmynamespelledwrong.Butatleastthatmeanthe’daddressedithimself.)

7.LingSuandPerin.Itotallymadeitapointnottomentionmyb-daytoanyoneatwork,soIhavenoideahowtheyremembered.Thisisanexample,though,ofPerin’sextremelyhigh-levelorganizationalskills,andwhyI’mgladIhiredher.

8.Ex-high-school-nemesisLanaWeinberger(ImeanRockefeller.Sohardtorememberthatshegoesbyhermarriednamenow).

ThiswassurprisingsinceIhaven’ttalkedtoLanainages,eventhoughshelivesjustuptheblockfromhere,onParkandSeventieth(inPenthouseL,asshealwaysmakesapointtoremindus.Sheevenhaditemblazonedinblockletters

onhermonogrammedweddingandbabyannouncements).Lanaleftalong,ramblingmessageabouthowweneedtospendmoretime

togetherbecauseBestFriendsAreForever!andit’sbeenwaytoolongandsheknowsI’msuperinvolvedwiththis“after-schoolthing”I’vestartedfor“allthejuveniledelinquents”(eventhoughIexplainedtoherlasttimeIsawherthatit’sacommunitycenteropentoallstudentsinthefiveboroughs,notjustoneswithcriminal records), but couldn’t I “take one day off from being a politicallycorrectdo-goodertogetamani-pediandbikiniwax,foroldtime’ssake?”

“Also,” shewent on, “there’s something really super important I need totalktoyouabout,justateenytinyfavorthatonlyyoucouldhelpmewith,Mia,socanyoupleasecallbackassoonaspossible?Okay,bye-yeeeebitch!”

Thegoodthingaboutbeinginone’smidtwentiesisthatyouknownothingbad is going to happen if youdon’t return people’s texts andvoicemails . . .especiallythetextsandvoicemailsofpeoplewhoprobablyonlywanttouseyouforyourfortuneorpoliticalconnections.

9.ShameekaTaylor.Shameekawantedtosayhowsorrysheisabouttheprotesters(whoaregonetoday,thankGod.IguessGrandmèrewasright—eitherthatorCousinIvanonlypaidthemtoprotestforoneday)andthateverythingisgoingwellwiththenewboyfriend(eventhoughhewasonlysupposedtobeaone-nightstand,buthemakessuchamazingbreakfaststhatshe’sdecidedtolethimturnintoathirty-nightstand)andsheappreciatesmywearingtheredVerasuit(shedoesmarketingforVeraWang)tothebenefitforvictimsofHurricaneJulio.

•Notetoself:Didshesendmethesuit,ordidIbuyit?Iseriouslydon’tevenremember.Checkintothis.

AmIdoingsomanypubliceventsthesedaysthatthey’veallbeguntoblur?AmIslipping intoearly-onsetdementia?Howearlydoesearly-onsetdementiabegin,andwhatarethesymptomsbesidesforgettingwheremyclothingcomesfrom?Isoneofthesymptomsatwitchingeyelid?

Or is it the Tylenol PM? I know I’ve only just started taking it, butseriously,Ican’tevenrememberfallingasleep,letaloneanyofmydreams.

Andfinally:

10.Myex-boyfriendJ.P.Reynolds-AbernathyIV.Ican’tbelievehehadthenervetocontactme.

Oh,wait,Iforgot:he’sJ.P.Anyway, he posted the following on my Instagram (where, of course,

EVERYONEcanseeit).And even though at the restorative yoga class I tookwithGrandmère to

prove to her that yoga isn’t so bad and she should do it to improve her jointhealth,theyogisaidthathatredbarsthepathtospiritualenlightenment,IreallydohateJ.P.Oratleastdislikehimalot:

Mia,I’vebeenfollowingyouonsocialmedia.MayIjustsayI’msoproudofthewomanyou’vebecome?Youlookmorebeautifuleveryday.Idon’tunderstandwhyMichaelhasn’tproposedyet.I’msorrythepressisnowcallingyou“WhyWon’tHeMarryMia.”

Really?Hehadtobringthatup?Also,hehadtomentionthatIlookgreat,nothing about everything I’ve accomplished, like founding the CommunityCenterortheop-edpieceIjusthadpublishedintheWallStreetJournal?

Thenhemadethingsworsebylistinghisownaccomplishments.

I’vebeenkeepingquitebusy!Asyouknow,I’vealwayshadacreativeside.Screen-andplaywritinghavealwaysbeenmythinginthepast,buttomysurprise,thiswinterIwasinspiredtowriteanovel!Evenmoresurprising,it’saYAnovelsetinthedystopianfuturefeaturingalovetrianglecenteredaroundaraciallydiverse,strong-mindedheroinewhoisalsosufferingfromradiationpoisoning.

Ofcourseitis.BecauseJ.P.knowssomuchaboutallofthosethings,beingawhitemalewhohasneversufferedfromradiationpoisoninganddoesn’tknowanyonewho is racially diverse (except Shameeka and Ling Su and Tina, andtheystoppedbeingfriendswithhimlongago,afterwhathedidtome).

Thewordsjustseemedtopouroutofme.Ithinkitmightevenendupbeingatrilogy!

Ofcourse.

Sinceyou’reapublishedauthor,Mia,IwashopingifIsentLoveintheTimeofShadowstoyou,you’dreaditandgivemeyourthoughts,andalsoperhapssenditontoyoureditor.(Dotakeyourtime,Iknowhowbusyyoumustbe,especiallydealingwithyourfather’sarrest.AndIwassosorrytohearaboutFrank,bytheway.Pleasegivemyregardstoyourmother.)

Ofcoursehehadtobringupmystepfather’sdeathandmyfather’sarrest.BECAUSEINHISMINDTHESETWOTHINGSAREEQUALLYBAD.

OMG,IseriouslyhopeJ.P.getsradiationpoisoning,thenhastogoliveinthedystopianfuture.

Oh,wait.Maybehealreadydoes:

Unfortunatelythingshaven’tbeengoingsowellformerecentlyeither.Mylatestfilm,whichIwroteandalsoproducedanddirected,Nymphomania3-D,wasnotwellreceivedbycritics(oraudiences).Iamreallyintheholetomyinvestors,andhavebeenforcedtotakeajobworkinghereinthecityatmyuncle’scompany.ButIwon’tboreyouwiththedetails!

Toolate.

Thankyou,Mia.Despitewhat youmight think, Iwill always loveyou andwishthingscouldhaveturnedoutdifferentlybetweenus.XOXOJ.P.

Ugh.UGHUGHUGHUGH.Someonewithfullcognitivedevelopmentwhoisalsoself-actualizedwould

never takepleasure in thepainof someoneelse—even their ex-boyfriendwhocompletely betrayed them andwho has now fallen on hard times andmade amoviecalledNymphomania3-D(which,bytheway,Ilookedupandit’sabout“ayounggirl’ssensualjourneyfromfrigiditytosexualawakeninginthearmsofa skilledolder lover”whoalsohappens tobeawriternamedJohnPaul)—butI’mgoingtobehonest:

It’spossiblethisisthebestbirthdaypresentI’veeverreceived.BecauseitgivesmefreereinnottofeeltheleastbitbadaboutCOMPLETELYHATING

J.P.But because I’m a princess, instead of reveling in J.P.’s pain, I’ll simply

writebacktohimandtellhim“Thanksforthebirthdaywishes”andtosendhisbook along, but that since I’m quite busy, I don’t know how long it will bebeforeIcanreadit,ifever.

(Wrong:Iwillreaditimmediatelyandlaughandlaughathowstupiditis.PlusI’mgoingtomakesuretogetacopyofNymphomania3-Dandplayit inthepalacetheaterandlaughatthat,too.)

(Well,probablynot,becauseitsoundscompletelydisgusting.)It’snotallgoodnews,though.RateTheRoyals.comchimed in to letmeknowmy royalpopularity rating

has now sunk to an all-time low, “thanks to recent highly publicized events.”Thishasnowmademelesspopularthanaroyalbaby.

Thanks,RatetheRoyals.Happybirthdaytome.

CHAPTER11


ConsulateGeneralofGenoviaRatetheRoyalsRating:5

MarieRosejustarrivedwithbreakfast(Belgianwafflesstillhotfromthekitchendownstairsandasoft-boiledeggwithbuttered toastandapotofsteaminghotGenovianblackteawithmilkandfreshsqueezedjuice).

Itoldhershedidn’thavetokeepdoingthis—she’ssupposedtobethecheffortheconsulategeneral,notme—butsheonlyrolledhereyesandsaid,“C’estpasgrave.”

Sheisalovelywomanandatruepatriotofthesovereigncity-state,thoughshegothergreencardin1997,andbothherdaughtersareAmericancitizens.

OfcourseMarieRosecheckedRatetheRoyals,too.Shesaysthesiteisanoutrageandoughttobeshutdown.ShesaysI’m“definitelyafour,”rightafterKate,William,andPrinceHarry.Royalbabies,shesaid,shouldn’tcount.

“Ongooddays,afterhavinghadyourhairblownout,Princesse,”shesays,“you’re probably a two, afterKate, ormaybe even a one if Paolo’s used thatairbrush makeup that makes your skin look so smooth on high-definitiontelevision.”

ItriedtoexplaintoherthatRatetheRoyalsisnotanattractivenessratingscale,butapopularityranking,*butshe’sstayingfirm.

*Not that rating women on a numerical scale of attractiveness is ever okay, even when we do it toourselves.Itisalwayssexistandwrong.Popularityrankingsarenotmuchbetter,though,becausethey’rebasically about how well a celebrity—in this case, a person born into a royal family—is marketingthemselves,whichisanexhaustingjobinandofitself.

IwishIcouldtakeMarieRosewithmeeverywhereIgo.Butofcourseit’srudetopoachotherpeople’sstaff.

I’m sure my current unpopularity has nothing whatsoever to do withyesterday’sevents(sarcasm).

AccordingtoBrianFitzpatrick(founderanddeveloperofRatetheRoyals),thelowest-rankedroyalsintheworldrightnow(besidesme)are:

1.HisHighnessGeneralSheikhMohammedbinZayedFaisal,crownprinceanddeputysupremecommanderofQalif,whoonlylastnightimposed

martiallawafterhisownwifewasfoundtryingtofleeacrosstheborderintoSaudiArabia.

2.Myfather,theCrownPrinceRegentofGenovia,ArturChristoffPhillipeGérardGrimaldiRenaldo(nosurprise).

3.Mygrandmother,theDowagerPrincessClarisseRenaldo(who,I’msure,wouldtakegreatprideinherunpopularity,ifsheknewaboutit.Grandmèrelovesbeingnumberone,evenifit’sNumberOneMostDespisedRoyal).

Thisisnodoubtduetoapaparazzomanagingtosnapaphotoofhertakinga long drag from her electronic cigarette outside the Manhattan House ofDetentionwhenshewenttopostbailforDad.

She probablywould have gotten awaywith this and even had her RoyalRating boosted up a few points (in a isn’t-it-funny-when-you-see-old-ladies-smokingkindofway)ifGrandmèrehadn’tnoticedthephotogandthensmackedhimintheheadashardasshecouldwithher$20,000Birkinbag.

Not that I blame her. I feel like smacking paparazzos in the head all thetime,thoughI,ofcourse,wouldneverdosowitha$20,000bag,becauseI

a)wouldneverbuya$20,000bag,andb)restrainmyself.

But of course the photog got a picture of my grandmother hitting him,whichhe’susinginasuitagainsttheprincipalityofGenoviafor$200millionindamages,somethingelsetheprotestersbroughtup,likeit’scomingoutoftheirpersonalpockets(no).

•Notetoself:Wouldapaparazzoeverearnthatmuchsnappingphotosofunsuspectingcelebritiesinhis/herlifetime?Probablynotunlesshe/shewinsthelottery,andthattinyscratchishardlygoingtopreventthisguyfrombuyingPowerballtickets.

Anyway, I still feelabitguilty,because itwouldn’thavehappened if I’dgonedowntoWhiteStreettopostDad’sbail.Hedidaskmefirst,butIwassoangrythathecouldhavedonesomethingsostupid,Isaid,“Dad,whensomeone

getsarrested,they’resupposedtocalltheirlawyerortheirparentsforhelp,nottheirchildren.”

ThenIhunguponhim.Ugh,thatsoundsawful.But honestly, he’s supposed to be setting a good example, not getting

arrested in foreign countries for speeding race cars down public streets,especiallyrightbeforeanelection.It’sonethingtobegoingthroughamidlifecrisisbecauseyourcousinisbeatingyouintheelectionforprimeministerandthe woman you’ve allegedly been in love with for some time is now finallyavailablebutdoesn’tseemtoknow—orcare—thatyouarealive.

It’squiteanothertotrytogetthatwoman’sattentionbydrivingyournewlyacquiredvintageFormulaOneracecaratahundredandeightymilesperhourdownoneof themosthighly traffickedhighways in theworld.Hecouldhavebeenkilled...orworse,killedsomeoneelse.

IhopeIimpresseduponhimthegravityofthesituation.And really, what worse punishment is there than to have to face the

DowagerPrincessofGenovia after having spent thenight in a jail nicknamed“TheTombs”?Ican’tthinkofany.

Frankly, Dad’s lucky that paparazzo came along when he did, otherwisehe’stheonewhowouldhavebeenhitbythatBirkin.

Still,apartofmecan’thelpfeelinglikethisisallmyownfault(notwhathappened to Dad, of course, or what Grandmère did. They’re responsible fortheirownactions,buthowrottenIfeelrightnow).WhydidIclickonRatetheRoyals????

Dominique is always saying to me in her thick French accent: “Your’ighness,whydoyoudothistoyourself?Stopgoingonline!Nothinggoodevaircomes fromgoingonline.Youwillonly see something terrible thatwillmakeyou feel bad, like that princesses can’t be feminist role models, or anothercommentfromyourcrazystalkerabout’ow’ewouldliketokillyou!”

Dominique is right. It’s ridiculous how one critical remark can ruin yourwholeday.Afteralltheseyears,whydoIstillletit?Ishouldknowbetter.I’macollege-educated, vital, attractive, newly-turned-twenty-six-year-old woman,with meaningful employment, a loving (if sometimes challenging) family, anamazingboyfriend,loadsofgreatfriends,andtonstooffertheworld.

SowhatdoIcarewhatsomenutcaseonRatetheRoyalssays?ScrewRatethe Royals. Everyone knows that if 95 percent of the people don’t hate you,you’renotdoingyourjobright.

SoI’mgoingtoignorethehaters,getoutofthisbed,andgettoworkdoingwhathumanbeingswereputonthisplanettodo:leaveitabetterplacethantheyfoundit.

(WhichissomethingRatetheRoyalswillneverbeabletosayit’sdone.)

P.S.Oh,Lord,IseeIonceagainforgottoaddteabagstomygrocery-storedeliverylist,soassoonasI’mdonewiththispotMarieRosebroughtme,I’mout.

ButforsomereasonIhavetonsofcookies,icecream,cheesepopcorn,andcat food.At leastFatLouiewill be all right.Hehas aplethoraof varieties tochoosefrominhisfinickyoldage.

I’msureifRatetheRoyalssawhowincrediblygivingandkindIamtotheanimals,itwouldbeworthanotherpoint.PrinceHarrydoesn’tevenownacat.

P.P.S.No!Imuststopthis!Idon’tcare! I’mnotgoingtostooptothelevelofBrianFitzpatrick.Youthoughtyouwouldbringmedown,didn’tyou,Brian?Butallyou’vedoneismakememoredeterminedthanevertoconquertheuniversewithmywit,charm,andkindness.

P.P.P.S.Wouldhaving theRoyalGenovianGuard lookup the ISPaddressofRate theRoyals and then sendBrian Fitzpatrick a cease and desist be an abuse ofmypowers? Check on this. Because this is what I’d really like to do for mybirthday.

AsidefromgettingoutofseeingCirqueduSoleiltonight.And,ofcourse,sendingBrianFitzpatrickaboxfilledwithdeadlyscorpions.

CHAPTER12



WasgettingoutoftheshowerwhenIgotthefollowingtext(s):MichaelMoscovitz“FPC”:Pickingyouupinexactlyonehourfora birthday surprise.Take the bagMarieRose has packed for youand meet me in the consulate lobby. Don’t bring your laptop.There’snoInternetwherewe’regoing.

BeforeIcouldtextbackthatIcouldn’tpossiblydoasheasked,Igotthis:Don’targue.Justdoit.

Thenthis:

P.S.Makesureshe’spackedthatbikiniyouworetothebeachlastNewYear’s.Thewhiteone.

Headdedanemojiofapenguinexperiencingwhatappeared tobea fatalmyocardialinfarction,sinceitsheartwasexplodingfromitsbody.

I think thiswasmeant toshow loveorpossibly lust,notamarineanimalsufferingabrutaldeath,thoughI’mnotentirelysure.Guysaresoodd,especiallyguyswhoworkwithcomputers(androbots)allday,likeMichaeldoes,andalsoliketodesigntheirownemojisasahobby.

IknowMichaelmeanthisnewemojitobefunny,butconsideringhowMr.G.died,it’salittleinsensitive.

Wait...Could thisbewhat’sbehind that strangeshadow inhiseyes?Simply that

he’sbeenplottingsomethingbehindmyback?No.Whatkindofplacedoesn’thaveInternetaccess,though?Doesthatmeanit

alsodoesn’thavecabletelevision?Whatifitreallyisayoga/meditationretreat?God, I hope not. Michael knows I freak out if I go too long without

television.It’sembarrassingtoadmit,buttelevisionismydrugofchoice.Andhowwill I be able to keep abreastwithwhat’s happeningon all theNCISs inQalif?

CHAPTER13



JustdialedMichael’scell,buthewouldn’tpickup.So then Iphonedhisofficenumber,buthis latestassistant (Michaelgoes

through assistants the way I go through tea bags, only because he keepspromotingthem,notbecausehe’sdunkedtheminboilingwater)saidhewasinatowncarheadeduptoseeme.

“Doyouwantmetoputyouthroughtohiscellphone,YourHighness?”Itoldtheassistantthathedoesn’thavetocallme“YourHighness”because

he’snotaGenoviancitizenandwe’reonU.S.soil.ThenIsaidno,thatI’dtriedMichael’scellalready,thankedhim,andhungup.

•Notetoself:Isitmyimagination,ordidMichael’snewassistantsounddisappointedabouttheYourHighnessthing?Ihopehedoesn’tturnouttobeanotheroneofthoseweirdoswhofetishizesroyals.I’llhavetogethisfullnamefromMichaelandthenhaveLarslookintohim.

Oh,anothertext:

Areyoujustsittingtherewritinginyourdiaryorareyouactuallymakingprogress?

OhmyGod.HowdoesheDOthat?


Michael, this isverysweetofyou,butyouKNOWwhatever it is you’ve got planned, I can’t go. It’sabsurd.Whywon’tyoupickupyourphone?

BecauseIdon’twanttogetintoitwithyou.Whatpartof“don’targue”didyounotunderstand?

I’m not arguing, I’m telling you facts. Seriously,this isa terrible timeformeto leave.Thecountryof Genovia needs me. The center needs me. Myfamilyneedsme.

I needyou.Weneed to have a relaxingweekend awayfrom orange-throwing Genovians and your insanefamily.

There’s been a DEATH in my insane family,Michael,andanotherALMOSTdeath(ifyoucountmydad).Andwhataboutmygrandmother?Ican’tleave.

Yes, youCAN leave, and youwill. Perin and Ling Sucanhandle thecenter—that’swhyyouhired them.AndFrankdiedayearago.Anddon’tworryaboutyourdad,he can take care of himself. And your grandmother’sbeentakencareof,too.

What? What is that supposed to mean? No one “takes care” of mygrandmother.Grandmère’s like that old dowager countess onDownton Abbey(only not as nice). She takes care of herself, although occasionally she allowsservants toprepareher foodanddrinkanddriveheraround (thankGod, sincetheytookawayherlicenseyearsago,whichtheyshouldprobablydotomydad).

It’s sweet of you, Michael, whatever you haveplanned,butyouknowthisiscrazy.It’sbecauseofthe orange-throwingGenovians that I can’t leave.And in addition to everything else, I have thatcharity gala I promised to attend on Saturdaynight.AndIcan’tleavebehindmylaptop.Neithercanyou!Do Ihave to remindyou that youownacomputer-basedbusiness?

I don’t want to think ofmyself as predictable (who does?) but it almostseemsasifheanticipatedmyresponse,hewrotebacksoquickly:

WebothneedtodisconnectfromworkandtheInternet.Don’t even try to tellme that you didn’t seeRTR thismorning.Iknowyoucheckiteveryfiveminutestomakesureyou’reinthetopthree.

Thisisascurrilousfalsehood!IcheckRatetheRoyalsnomorethanonceaday.

ButbeforeIcouldprotest,Ireceivedthis:

IalreadyaskedDominiquetogiveyourregretsaboutthegalaandshesaidshe’dbegladto.Iknowhowanxiousyou are to rebuild what you consider your family’s“tarnishedreputation,”butIthinkthrowingyoursupportbehind every charity that asks for your help (such as asociety hoping to reverse the “alarming decline ofbutterflies andmoths in urban areas”)might not be themosteffectivewaytodoit.

He’dspokentomypublicistbehindmyback?Howdarehe?Butagain,beforeIcouldtextawordinreply,Ireceivedthis:

AndbothyourmomANDdadsaythey’llbefinewithoutyou.Theyagreewithmethatyouneedabreakafterallthestressyou’vebeenthroughthispastyear.It’smakingyouphysicallyill.

Lillywould rightfully have accused her brother of being both patriarchalandcontrollinghere,talkingtomyparentsbehindmybacklikeI’machild...

...thoughIsortofloveitwhenhetellsmewhattodo,especiallyinbed,likewhenweplayFireman, thegameweinventedwherehe’s thefiremanandI’mthenaughtyresidentwhoignoredthesmokedetectoranddidn’tevacuatethebuildinginatimelymanner.

Thenhefindsmesprawledhalfconsciousonmybedinmysexylingerie,andhastogivememouth-to-mouthtoreviveme.OnlywhenIgetrevived,werealizeburningtimbershavefallenacrossouronlyformofegress,sohehasnochoicebut tospendhis timewaitingforrescuegivingmeasexylessoninfiresafety.

Plus I ran the whole trip through the RGG and theyclearedit.TheyouthofNewYorkCity,thewomenandchildrenofQalif,andthegeneticallymodifiedorangesofGenoviawillbeallrightwithoutyouforoneweekend.

Now grab the bag and get downstairs. Are you evendressed? The clock is ticking, Thermopolis. The jetleavesfromTeterboroateleven.

Jet?He’shiredaprivatejet?Whodoeshethinkheisallofasudden,ChristianGrey?

Iamnotokaywiththis.I’mnotsomeshyvirginalcollegestudentwhoonlyownsoneshirt.Iamatwenty-six-year-oldwomanfullyinchargeofmakingupmyownmindaboutwhetherornotIwanttogoonvacation.

I do love itwhenMichael callsmeThermopolis, though.Evenwhen it’sonlyinwriting,itdoessomethingtome,somethingthatnormallyonlyhappenswhenhewalksintotheroomafterIhaven’tseenhiminawhileandhugsme,andIgetawhiffofhisamazing,clean,Michaelsmell,orwhenhecomesoutofthe shower wearing only a towel and his hair is all wet and plastered downdarklytothebackofhisstrong,newlyshavedneck,andheannounceshesmellssmoke—

Maybe he’s right.Maybe Ido need a relaxing vacation. Especially awayfrommycrazyfamily,andtheconsulate,andtheInternet,and...

Oh,crap.Mightaswelladmitit:afteralltheseyears,I’mstilldisgustingly,revoltingly in lovewithhim,explodingpenguinsandall. I’devengoonsomekindofweird,wirelessretreatwithhim.

Now,that’slove.

CHAPTER14

10:00a.m.,Friday,May1Lobby,ConsulateGeneralofGenoviaRatetheRoyalsRating:5

Sitting downstairs, waiting for Michael to pick me up for the wirelessmeditation/yogaretreat,orwhateveritis.

Everyonewhocomesin(quitealotofpeopleforaFridaymorninginMay,but they were probably put off coming yesterday by the crowd of orange-throwingprotesters)isgivingmetheside-eye.

Isupposetheyweren’texpectingtoseePrincessMiaThermopoliswritinginherdiaryinthelobbyoftheconsulateofGenoviawhentheypoppedbytogetavisaorcertificateofnationality.Mostofthemlookquitepleased...

IwishIcouldsaythesamefortheconsulatestaff.FromthemomentIsetfootdownhere,Iwasimmediately:

•chastisedbyMadameAlain,theambassador’ssecretary,forenteringtheconsulatestaffkitchen(tostealteabags,butshedoesn’tknowthat),and

•toldtoremovethefourgoldiPhonesanddozensofotherbirthdaycardsandpackagesthatarrivedformeviatheconsulate’saddress.

ThiswasonlyslightlyembarrassingsincetheRoyalGenovianGuardopensall my packages/mail thanks to RoyalRabbleRouser, who pledged to “destroymyworld.”

Oneofthepackagessenttometodayturnedouttobeaworlddestroyer,allright,butitwasfrommyboyfriend’ssister(andsoon-to-beex–bestfriend),notmy stalker. It consisted of awaterproof vibrator shaped like a dolphinwith a

notethatsaid:

I’mFLIPPINGoutoveryourbirthday!

XOXOLilly

WhenLarshanded it tome justnow (back in itswrappingpaper, thoughnotverynicely;apparentlythey’reoutofScotchtapeinthesecurityoffice,soheusedbluemedicaltapefromthefirst-aidkit),hedidn’tevenbothertowipethesmirkoffhisface.

“FromMissMoscovitz, Your Highness,” he said gravely, “with her bestbirthdaywishes.”

Thethingis,sheknowsthatLarsopenseverythingsenttome.Sothiswasherwayofbirthday-prankingmeandalsotitillatingmybodyguard.

Happybirthdaytomeagain.He must have seen my expression since he asked, “What?” over his

shoulderashewalkedbacktothesecurityoffice(hehastopack,too,sincehe’scoming with me wherever Michael is taking me). “I think it’s a highlythoughtful, creative gift. Much more original than a gold iPhone, which youcan’tevenkeep.”*

*I’mnotallowedtohaveAppleproducts—asidefrommylaptop—letalonepostanythingtothe“Cloud”duetohoweasilythey’rehacked/traced,whichiswhyalltheiPhonesI’vereceivedtodaywillhavetobereturned for store credit. But it’s all right, since the products we buy instead will be donated to Mr.Gianini’safter-schoolvocationalprogram.

But see, this kind of thing could have happened no matter where I wasliving(thepartwheretheRoyalGenovianGuardhastogothroughallmymail).EvenifImovedbackinwithMomandRocky(whichI’llneverdobecausewhatifthedeaththreatsturnouttobeseriousafterall?Iwouldn’twanttoputtheirlivesatrisk.Also,Ilovemymomandmyhalfbrother,butIdon’twanttomoveback inwith them.Rocky sailed through his toddler years to turn intowhat’scharitablycalled“achallenge,”andnotbecausehisdadpassedawayeither.Hewas“challenging”beforethathappened).

Momdoesn’tevenhaveadoorman(neitherdoesMichael.His loft is inacondobuilding).RoyalRabbleRousercouldgethimselfbuzzedrightintoMom’sbuilding,walkuptothedoorofherloft,knock,andthenshoveapieinherface...orworse.SandraBullockfoundhergun-owningstalkerinsideherbathroomaftershesteppedoutofhershower,andQueenElizabethoncewoketofindherssittingontheedgeofherbedinBuckinghamPalace,wantingtochat(hegotin

throughanopenwindow—twice—aftershimmyingupadrainpipe).

•Notetoself:Dominiquesaysit’sbestnottodwellonthesethings,orletthemdecideforyouhowtoliveyourlife,butthat’seasiersaidthandone,especiallywhenyou’retheonegettingthethreatsabouthowmuchbetterofftheworldwouldbe“withoutyouinit.”

Oh,God.MadameAlain just walked over and said, “YourHighness, doyouthinkyoucouldwriteinyourdiarysomewhereelse?Youaredistractingthestaff.”

“I’msoverysorry,MadameAlain,”Isaid.“Anddon’tworry,I’mgoingtobepickedupanyminute,andthenI’llbeoutofyourhairallweekend.”

Isitmyimagination,ordoesshelookrelieved?“Oh,Isee.Allright,then.”Iknowit’swrongsinceshe’sacivilservantandhasdevotedherwholelife

(practically)topromotingeconomicdevelopmentandtourisminGenovia,butIwouldliketohaveaserioustalkwiththeambassadorabouttransferringMadameAlain to a different officewhere Iwouldn’t have to see her asmuch. I thinkshe’dbesublimeastheheadmistressoftheGenovianRoyalAcademy.

•Notetoself:Seeifthiscanbearranged.

I tried to getMarieRose to tellmewhereMichael is takingme, but sheonlygiggledandsaid,“Ican’t,Princesse.Ipromised.ButI’llmakesuretofeedFatLouiewhileyou’reaway.”

FatLouie!Ialmostforgotabouthim.Ihopehe’llbeallright.He’sgettingoninyears,whichiswhyit’seasiertoforgetabouthimthanitusedtobe,asallhedoesnowissleepandeat.Hehasn’teatenasockinages,hehasnointerestinthematallanymoreasfood,heonlyeatsactualfood.

Oh,whatamIsaying?He’ssooldheprobablywon’tevennoticeI’mgone.Don’tevenaskmewhenMarieRosehadtimetopackformewithoutmy

noticing.Oh,here’sabirthdaytextfromTinaHakimBaba:

<TinaHBB“TruRomantic” HRHMiaThermopolis“FtLouie”>

Happy birthday, Mia! I hope you have a great time. IwishIweregoing.Butthatwouldbeweird,haha!Plus,Ihaveexams.

P.S.Don’tworryaboutwhatitsaysonRTR.You’re#1tome!

Aw.She’ssosweet.SoTina’sinonMichael’ssurprise,too?Howdid—HE’SHERE!

CHAPTER15

3:00p.m.,Saturday,May2SleepyPalmCay,TheExumas,BahamasRatetheRoyalsRating:Whocares?

Iwill admitwhenMichael suggestedavacation, especially in aplacewithnotelevision,Wi-Fi,orcellservice,Iwaslike“Noway,howamIgoingtoknowwhat’sgoingonwithNCISworkandworldaffairs?I’mtheheirtothethroneofasmallprincipalityandfounderofanewnonprofit,mydadjustgotoutofjail,Ihavetobeinclosetouchwithmypeopleandfamilyatalltimes.Ican’tleave.”

ButthenwhenweflewintotheExumas(whichareastringoflittleislandsofftheBahamas),andIsawtheclearturquoisewaterstretchingsofararoundus,andtheblueskyoverheadlikeagiantoverturnedrobin’s-egg-bluebowl,Ibeganhaving second thoughts.Maybe I can dealwith this. It’s only for a couple ofdays,afterall.

Whenthelimofromtheairportpulleduptoamarina,notthedrivewaytoahotel, and therewas a speedboatwaiting, I knew somethingveryunusualwasgoingon.

Michael still wouldn’t tell me where we were going, though. “It’s asurprise,”hekeptsaying,wagglingthosethickblackeyebrows,whichIlovesomuch,especiallywhentheygetmessyandIhavetosmooththemdownwithmyfingertips.

Then the speedboat took us across the sometimes blue, sometimes green,sometimes aquamarinewater toour own island, completewith a private dockleading to a thatched-roof cabana, inside of which is a king-sized bed somassive,youneedafootstooltoclimbontoit(atleastIdo,anyway.Michaelistallenoughnottoneedone).

Therearetwofullhis-and-hersbaths(withteakshuttersthatopenfromtheclawed-foot tubs to a spectacular view of the sea, sowhile you’re soaking inthere, readingabook,youcanalsowatch thewaves, like ina commercial forerectiledysfunction).There’sadiningandsitting room,decorated to look likeoneofthoseold-timeybeachhousesfromthemovieswherepeopleworesafarisuits and drank gin and tonics to prevent malaria and said things like “I’mterriblyworriedaboutthevolcano,Christopher.”

Andofcoursethere’sanoutdoorshowerandhottub,butyoudon’tneedtoworryaboutanyonespyingonyouusingthemnaked,becausethewholeplaceissurroundedbyacompletelyprivatebeach,andtherearenoother livingbeingsformiles around, except exotic seabirds and the occasional flash of silverfishleaping from thewater against thepink sunset andapodofdolphins that livenearbyandcomenosingaround,curiousaboutwhatwe’redoing.

Dolphins.DOLPHINS.And then there’sMoMo, thepersonal room-servicebutler assigned tous

by the resort, who brings us succulently preparedmeals three times a day byboat, and then also restocks theminibar and cleans our snorkelmasks, beforeleaving us completely to ourselves. He rings the bell on his boat very loudlywhenever he’s approaching to let us knowhe’s coming sowe can put on ourclothes.

Not that I don’talways have on clotheswhen I’moutside of the cabana,becauseI’mnotabouttopullanotherMe-Ah-My-Ah!andgetspottedtoplessbyapassingGooglesatelliteorcamera-equippeddronecopter(thoughIknowLarsandtherestof thesecuritysquadarestationedontheclosest islandwith long-range sniper rifles, looking to take any of those out. This has become Lars’sfavoritenewhobby).

AtfirstwhenIgothere,Iwaslike“Michael,thisisinsane.Thisiswayoverthetop.Howmuchisthiscostingyou?Youarespendingwaytoomuchmoney.It’snotthatIdon’tappreciatethethought,butatleastletmesplitthe—”

Michaelstuffedarum-soakedpieceofpineappleintomymouthandasked,“Can’tyourelaxforfiveminutes?”

So then Iconcentratedveryhardon relaxing,which it turnsout isn’t thathardtodowhenthesandissowhiteandsoftandthewavessosmallandmildthatyoucansimplywalkafewstepsoutonto thebeach, liedown,andlet the

warmwaterlapgentlyaroundyouwhilethesunandsandsweetlyembraceyouuntilyoufinallyfallasleep(fortunatelyhavingrememberedtoputonSPF100).

WhenIwokeupthetidewascomingin,sothewaveswereabitstrongerand the beach had gotten a little smaller and Michael was leaning over mewithout his shirt on asking if I liked it (and also if I wanted to reapply mysunscreen),andIsaidsleepily,“Okay,Michael,IguessIcandothis...justfortheweekend.”

Andhelaughedandsaid,“Ithoughtso,”andkissedme.ThenheaskedifIthoughtIsmelledsmoke...

CHAPTER16

7:00p.m.,Saturday,May2SleepyPalmCay,TheExumas,BahamasRatetheRoyalsRating:Don’tknow/don’tcare

Itisamazinghere.Wearedoingnothing.NothingexceptkissingandeatingandsleepinginthesunandplayingFiremanandsnorkeling(whichisquiteeasytodoonceyouget thehangof it) and looking at birds anddolphins through thebinoculars.

Althoughyoudon’tevenneedthebinoculars,that’showclosethedolphinsswimup.

I’msorelaxed,myeyehasevenstoppedtwitching.Itcouldbebecauseofthe massive doses of magnesium I’ve been taking, or it could be because ofleavingallthatstressbehind...oritcouldbebecauseoflove.

I’mvotingforlove.But themost amazing thing is the sight I’m looking at right now, and I

don’t need the binoculars to see it either:Michaelwearing nothing but boardshorts as he lies in the hammock across from mine, reading a book onmicroprocessing (Idohope themicrosand theprocessorsenduphappilyeverafterattheend).

IknowhowluckyIam,soIshouldn’tbrag,andofcoursebeautyisintheeyeofthebeholder,butwasthereeversuchastunningpieceofmasculinityinallofhistory?Idon’tthinkso.Ihappentolikedark-hairedmen(wewon’ttalkaboutthatbriefunhappyperiodinmypastwhenIwasattractedtoafair-hairedboysincethankfullyIsooncametomysenses),thedarkerthebetter.

AndwhileIknowsomegirlswholikeguyswithouthairontheirlimbsandbodies, I frankly find that veryodd.FortunatelyMichael hasquite a lot. If he

ever startedwaxing it (like Boris, who, the less said about him, the better), Ithinkwewouldhavetohaveaserioustalk.

Butthebestthingabouthimisn’thislooks;it’sthatheissomeonearoundwhom I can be totally myself.When I’mwithMichael, I don’t ever have toworryaboutsayingthewrongthing,becausetohim,everythingIsayisfunnyorinteresting.

AndnomatterwhatIhaveon(ordon’thaveon),hethinksIlookbeautiful.I knowbecausewe’vebeen together for so long, he can’t be faking itwhen Iworry thatIdon’thaveanymakeuponandhegoes,“Youactually lookbetterwithoutmakeupon.”(Idon’t,withoutmascaraI looklikea lashlessmarsupialleft too long in an experimental government lab, but amazingly, even in mylashless marsupial state, he’s still quite interested in pursuing carnal relationswithme.)

Plus,whenwesnuggleourbodies fit togetherperfectly, almostas if theyweremadeforeachother.

And he never complains when Fat Louie climbs up onto the bed andsnuggleswithus,eventhoughFatLouiehasgottenquitesmellyinhisoldage,havingcompletelygivenupbathing(Ihavetodiphiminthebathtubeveryonceinawhileorhe’dsimplynevergetclean).

FatLouie,Imean.NotMichael.Michaeltakestwotothreeshowersaday,dependingonwhetherornothe’sdoneyoga.

Fortunately we no longer have to deal with Michael’s dog, Pavlov,climbingintothebedatMichael’splaceanymore,sincePavlovpassedawayinhissleepafteralongandhappylife.Dogsgenerallydon’t liveaslongascats,exceptGrandmère’sminiaturepoodle,Rommel,whomshewillneverallow todie.Rommel’sgottenalittledottyinhisoldage,butbecauseGrandmèrenevergothimfixed,hestillhasaveryactivesexdrive.

This means in recent months he’s been caught attempting to makesomewhataggressive love to:anottoman;anumbrella stand;otherdogsofallbreeds(andsexes);Dominique;myfather;Michael;me;Lilly;Grandmère; themayor ofNewYorkCity;ClintEastwood (in town for amovie premiere); an$84,000Persiancarpet;sofasoftoolargeanumbertoname;numerouswomen’spurses;multiple room-servicewaiters; and almost all the bellmen at the PlazaHotel.

I toldGrandmère thatweshouldwriteabook—WhatRommelHumped—anddonatetheprofitstotheASPCA.I’mpositiveitwouldmakeafortune.

She didn’t find the idea very funny, though. Nor did she like it when IsuggestedthatsheshouldgetRommelfixed.Shesaid,“IsupposewhenIgetoldandamstill interested insex,you’llhaveme fixed.Remindmenot toappointyoumyhealth-careproxy,Amelia.”

Oh,dear.MichaeljustaskedwhatI’mwritingabout.Icouldn’ttellhimthetruth,ofcourse.

SoItoldhimI’mwritingabouthowmuchIlovehim.It’ssortoftrue...it’showIgotstartedonthistopic,anyway.

Heputdownhisbookandlookedatmewiththosebigbrowneyesofhis(such beautiful long lashes! Totallywasted on aman. If only I had them, I’dneverneedmascaraagain)andsaid,“Iloveyou,too.”

Soserious!Hedidn’tevensmile.NeversurewhatI’msupposedtodowhenhelooksatmesoseriouslyand

says“I loveyou” like that. Iknowhedoes—his love is like thisbeautiful seaaroundus,warmanddependableandtranquilandcalm,aplacewheredolphinscansafelyfrolicandplay.

But even here, on vacation, I’m seeing shadows in those lovely browndepths . . . and I’m getting the feeling that there’s roughweather ahead,withdark,deepwaters,whereyoucan’tseethebottom.

If Icouldhaveanywish, itwouldbe thatwecould juststayhere foreverunderthiscrystal-bluesky,inthesenicewarmshallowwaves,andneverhavetofacetheharshrealitiesIsuspectlieahead.

But I supposeeveryonewhocomesherewishes for that.Whowishes forstormcloudsandwind-tossedseas?Onlyidiots.

Oh,herecomesMoMoontheboat,withdinner.

CHAPTER17

1:00a.m.,Sunday,May3SleepyPalmCay,TheExumas,BahamasRatetheRoyalsRating:Whatever

Mustwrite thisquicklybecauseIdon’twantMichael towakeupanddiscovermeoutofbedwritinginmydiaryinthebathroomlikealunatic.

But I foundoutwhat theshadows inhiseyesareallabout,andwhyhe’sbeenlookingsoseriouslately.Iknewtherewassomething.Anditisn’tbecausehe’spassinganotherkidneystone,beencheatingonmewithamusicblogger,orthathewantstobreakupsohecanhaveanormallife.

It’sthecompleteoppositeofallthosethings.IstartedgettingsuspiciousthiseveningwhenMoMobroughtahelperwith

him—he’dneverdonethatbeforewhensettingupforanymeals.ThehelperwasaprofessionalchefnamedGretel.

MoMo set up a little table for two in the sand, looking out toward thesunset,withawhitetableclothandtworattanarmchairs.Thenhesankacoupleoftikitorchesintothesandandlitthem.

Meanwhile,Gretelwassettingthetableandlayingoutallthefood,whichIcouldn’t help noticing included several things that have lately become myfavorites, such as grilled shrimp in pasta with mozzarella, jumbo lump crabcakes,andtunatataki.

Also,Michaelhadactuallygottendressed—andIwasprettysureitwasn’tjust for Gretel’s sake, because he’d changed out of his board shorts into realpants—longkhakis—andawhitebutton-downshirt.

Ialsospiedabottleofchampagnesittingoniceinasilvercooler.I didn’twant to think anythingwasgoingonother than a niceSaturday-

nightdinner,despitewhatthepress(andTinaHakimBaba)hasbeensayingforAGES.Iloveromancenovels,too,butasIkeeptellingTina,inreallifethingsdon’talwaysworkoutthatway.

But suddenly it seemedpossibleTinacouldbe right foronce.She’sbeenaskingmesomeoddquestionslately,thoughIthoughttheywererelatedtoherbreakupwithBoris,orherloveofTheBachelor.

“Whichdoyou think ismore romantic,”Tina askedmenot even aweekago,“findinganengagementringinaconchshellorachampagneglass?”

“Neither,”Ihadreplied.“Botharebetterthanabigpublicproposal,likeona Jumbotron,which you know is theworst, becausewhat if the person beingproposedtowantstosayno?She’dfeelterrible.”

“Iknow,butifyouhadtopickone.”“A champagne glass, I guess. Sticking a ring in a conch shell would

probablykilltheconchiftherewereonealiveintheshell.”“True,”Tinasaid.“WhichdidTheBachelordo?”Iaskedher.“Oh,”shesaid.“Uh,conchshell.”“Typical,”Isaid.Sowhen I suddenly sawMichaelhadputona shirt, I thought,What if it

isn’tbecausehesimplyfeelslikedressingupfordinner?Whatifhe’sgoingtopropose?

Ofcoursetherewasthatever-presentvoiceofself-doubtinmyhead(thatprobablyallthosepeoplewhoseemeinmagazineswouldneverbelieveexists,becauseofthewayIprojectmyselfpublicly)thatwhispered:Don’tbeanidiot.He’snotgoingtopropose.He’sgoingtoannouncethenewsthathecan’ttakeitanymore,andbreakupwithyou!

ButasMr.SpockwouldsayonStarTrek,that’snotlogical.NoonebringsawomanallthewaytotheExumastobreakupwithher.SoIquicklysquashedthatvoice.

Mynext,morerationalthoughtwasOrwhatifhehasaringinhispocket?IdecidedPaolowasright:Idoneedtoenjoymydiamondshoes.Notonly

enjoythem,butstartdancinginthem.SoIraninsideandshoweredandputonthenicesundressthatMarieRose

had, thankfully,packed forme.Then Iaddedsomemascaraandcamerushing

backout,myhairnicelycombed(since,whetherIwasgettingbrokenupwithorproposed to, I didn’twant it tobewhile Iwaswearing a swimsuit,myoldestHavaianas,andMichael’sownNewYorkYankeesT-shirtwiththeholesunderthesleeve,withmyhairinarattyknotontopofmyhead).

ButeventhoughI’dbeenveryquick,bymyestimation,MoMoandGretelandtheboatwerelonggone,andtherewasonlyMichaelstandingthere...

...attheendofapathofpinkrosepetalssomeonehadscatteredfromtheporch of the cabana, where I was, to the little table, where Michael stood,holdingaglassofchampagneforme.

“Thirsty?” he asked. Behind him, the tiki torches were flaming merrilyaway.

Okay.Iwasprobablynotgettingbrokenupwith.“Um,”Isaid.“Sure.”Ifollowedthetrailofrosesthroughthesandtowhere

hewasstandingandtookthechampagneglassfromhim.“Thanks.”Hesmiledandclinkedmyglasswithhisandsaid,“Cheers,”andallofmy

insides (and some of my outsides) seemed to melt because I saw that theplayfulness inhis smile reachedhiseyes,and though thedarkness theremighthave been as deep as the ocean beyond the reef—which was quite serious,because Mo Mo had warned us there were sharks there—he was finallywelcomingmetodivein.Infact,hewasgrinningeartoear.

“Okay,”Isaid,loweringmyglass.“Whatisgoingon?”“Whatdoyoumean?”Heloweredhisglass,too.“Nothing’sgoingon.”“Something is definitely going on. There are rose petals scattered on the

beachandyou’resmilinginaweirdway.”“I’mmerely enjoying a romanticmealwith thewoman I love. Is that so

wrong?”Hepulledachairoutforme,theonethathadthebestviewoftheseaandthesunset,whichhadturnedtheskyadramaticpinkandperiwinkleblue.

“It’s weird,” I said, taking the seat. “I love you, but you’re acting veryweird.Youhaveaweirdlookinyoureye.You’vehaditforafewweeksnow.Don’ttrytodenyit.Ithoughtyouwerehavinganotherkidneystone.”

Michaelhandedmeanapkin.“It’satragedywhenamancan’tenjoydinnerwiththewomanheloveswithoutbeingcastigatedbyherasweird.”

“Ididn’tsayyou’reweird,Isaidyou’reactingweird.”“YoualsosaidyouthoughtIwashavingakidneystone.”

“Well,”Isaid,“youknowhowyouget.”“ApparentlyIdonot,sinceIthoughtIwasbehavinginaperfectlynormal

manner.”“No,youareclearlyhidingsomethingfromme.”“Icanassureit’snotakidneystone.”“Well,then,what—?”That’swhensomethinghardstruckmylip—somethingthathadbeeninside

the champagne glass. At first I thought it was a strawberry—everyone lovescutting up strawberries and sticking them on the side of champagne glasses,which is simply annoying, as it takes up a lot of room where deliciouschampagnecouldbe.

Butthen,whenIlookedinsidemyglass,Isawthatwhatwasinitwasnotastrawberry,butsomethingthatglitteredlikemetal.Andstone.Alarge,glitteringwhitestoneonaplatinumband.

Myheartstopped,andnotfromamyocardialinfarction.Therewasnosound(sincemyheartwasnotbeating)except thesoundof

thewavesgentlylappingupagainstthewhiteshoreandtheoccasionalcallofafar-offbird.Weweretheonlyhumanbeingsformilesaround(I’mnotincludingLarsandwhoeverelsefromtheRGGsecuritydetailwasstationedon thenextislandover,scanningtheareaforincomingboatsandspydrones).

ItwasonlyMichael,me,andthebirds(anddolphinsandmillionsoffishafewfeetaway).

IlookedfromtheringupatMichael.“Whatisthis?”Iaskedhim,raisingtheglass.“I think it shouldbeprettyobvious,”he said. “It’s anengagement ring. I

thoughtyou’d like itbecause thediamond’s laboratory-grown. Iknowwesaidweweren’tgoingtogetmarried,butI’mtiredofneverseeingyouanymore,andthisseemslikethemostpracticalsolutiontotheproblem.”

Then,beforeIknewwhatwashappening,he’ddroppedtoonekneebesidemeinthesand,puthishandsovermine,andlookedupintomyface.

“Icantaketheringbackandgetanaturaldiamondifyouwant,”hesaid,“butIthoughtyou’dlikethisonesinceit’sconflict-free.”

Iwanted to laugh and cry at the same time.Had there ever been amoredown-to-earth,moreMichaelMoscovitzyproposalinhistory?

“No,”Isaid.“It’sperfect.”“You’vebarelylookedatit.Here,tryiton,atleast.”Hetooktheglassfrom

me,tossedtheremainsofmychampagneintothesand,thenfishedtheringfromthebottom.“IhopeIgot therightsize.Youneverwearrings.Tinahelpedmeguess—”

“Tina?”Theringslidneatlyontothethirdfingerofmylefthand,wherethelarge colorless diamondcaught the raysof the setting sun and flamed like thefireattheendofoneofthenearbytikitorches.“Tinaknew?”

“Ofcoursesheknew.Well,someofit.”This explained everything. I can’t believe poor Tina kept herself from

breathingawordofittome.“Doyoulikeit?”Michaelaskedagain.Heactuallylookedalittleanxious,

butalsoexcited,likeakidatChristmas.OrHanukkah,tobeexact.“Iloveit.”Iloweredmyheadtokisshim,becauseobviouslywhenamanhasgotten

downononekneeinthesandtoproposetoyouwithalab-engineereddiamond,thenatural thing todo iswrapyour arms aroundhis neck andkiss him,quitedeeply,andforalongtime,astheoceanwaveslapgentlyaroundyou.

“But, Michael,” I said a little while later, after catching my breath, “Ithoughtweweregoingtowaittogetmarrieduntil—”

He’d had his arms around my waist, and his head was resting quitecomfortablyagainstmychest,inasortofdreamyway.ButwhenIsaidthethingabouthowIthoughtweweregoingtowait,hisheadjerkedup.

“I’m sorry, Mia, but I’m tired of waiting,” he said, in a decidedlyunromanticmanner.“Wecan’tevenlivetogether,thankstothosevulturesinthepress.Thinkaboutit,becauseIhave,alot.Whatifsomethingweretohappentoyou? I wouldn’t be the first person they’d notify. I doubt anyone wouldremember to notify me at all. I wouldn’t even be allowed into your hospitalroom—”

“Oh,Michael,howcanyousaythat?Itisn’ttrue.”Iranmyfingersthroughhis thick dark hair, still slightly damp from his shower and giving off thatirresistibly fresh, clean scentofhis. “Firstofall,nothing’sgoing tohappen tome—”

Hisgazewas filledonce againwithdarkhurricane clouds, and I realized

this waswhat had been troubling him all along. “How can you say that afterwhathappenedtoyourstepfather?”

“Michael,wealllovedFrank,butyouknowhewasterribleaboutfollowinguponhismedicalcare.Nothinglikethatcouldeverhappentome,becauseI’mveryproactiveaboutmyhealth.”

“Fine,butwhataboutthoseprotesters?Oryourstalker?Nexttimeitmightnotbeonlyanorangethatgetsthrowninyourdirection.”

“Yes,”Isaidpatiently.“Butthat’swhyIhavetheRoyalGenovianGuard.There’snothingLarswouldlovemorethantotakeabulletforme—”

“Iwanttotakeabulletforyou,”Michaelsaid,hishandscurlingintofistsinmylap.

“Michael,that’sthelastthingIwant.”“I don’t understandwhy you’re arguingwithme about this. Do you not

wanttomarryme?”“Ofcoursenot!Imean,yes.Yes,ofcourseIdo,but—”“Butwhat?”“But I don’t want you to ask me because you feel like you have to, or

becauseyouwanttotakeabulletforme,orbecauseyoufeelpressuredtodoit—”

“Mia, I’m a grownman. No one can pressure me into doing anything Idon’twanttodo.”Helookedquitefierceashesaidthis,hisdarkeyesflashing.Therewasn’tahintofshadowinthemanymore.Theywereveryclear.“IwanttomarryyoubecauseIloveyou,andIwanttospendasmuchtimeasIhavelefton this earth with you. And the most practical way for me to do that is bymarryingyou.Now,doyouwanttomarryme,ornot?”

I slipped both my hands into his. “Yes, Michael Moscovitz, of course Iwanttomarryyou,morethananything.But—”

“Good.” He lifted both my hands and kissed them, then laid them backdowninmylapandrosefromthesand.“Noweatyourcrabcakesbeforetheygetcold.”

Really, has there ever been a more sensible—yet loving and romantic—husband-to-be in the entireworld? Probably, but you never see or hear aboutthembecause theyaren’t thekind thatgetwrittenabout inbooksorshownonmovies and TV. They just go about their business, getting things done. Like

Albert,theprinceconsortofQueenVictoria.Nooneeverhearsanythingabouthim (except for prank calls about having “Albert in the can,” and of coursereferences to a certain genital piercing,which in historical fact the realPrinceAlbertdidnothave,andofcourse,asweallknowfromhavingwatchedSexSentMetotheER,canactuallybequitemedicallydangeroustoboththepiercedandtheirsexpartners).

But early intoQueenVictoria’smarriage toAlbert,while theywerebothriding in anopen carriage, the prince consort sawawould-be assassin drawagun.Insteadoffreakingout,Albertdidthemostpracticalthingontheplanet:hepulledQueenVictoriadownagainstthecarriageseat(andhimself)sothebulletbrushedhimandnother (at least according towhat I rememberof thebiopic.ObviouslyIcan’tfact-checkitrightnow,asIhavenoInternetaccess,andalsoI’minthebathroom).

Howcompletelysensible—yetutterlyromantic—isthat?Andhow likesomethingMichaelwoulddo, ifevergiven theopportunity

. . .whichI’mgoingtodoeverythinginmypowertomakesurehewillneverhave to.Because protecting your subjects,which includes your loved ones, iswhatbeingaroyalisallabout.

Ofcourse,iftheymakeathirdmovieofmylife,itwouldbelovelyiftheyshowMichael taking a bullet forme, just to liven things up a bit.But only asmallonethatdoesminordamage,andnottohisface(oranythingdownstairs).

It wasn’t until I sawMichael eating his own crab cakes (with surprisingsavagery) that I realized that’s what’s been going on in his eyes lately: Mr.Gianini’sdying,apossiblemadmanwantingtokillme,andprotestersthrowinggeneticallymodifiedorangesatmybodyguardhavebroughthometohimhowfleeting life is, andhow,whenyou really love someone,allyouwant todo isspendallthetimeyoucanwiththatperson.

Whydelayhappiness—even for amatterofprinciple—ifyoucanhave itright away? Of course, we’re going to have a talk eventually about all thosethings thatwerementioned in thePostarticle—like thatwhenwegetmarried,he’sgoingtohavetogiveuphisname(andU.S.citizenship,etc.).Womengiveup those things when they marry as a matter of course—well, not theircitizenship,generally—soitshouldn’tbesuchabigdeal(plus,Ithinkhealreadyknows),butweliveinasocietywhere,formostmen,I’mafraidthiswouldbe

nonnegotiable.ButMichael’snotlikemostmen.Ididtellhimthatweareabsolutelyonehundredpercentgoingtohaveto

elopebecausethereisnowayI’mgoingthroughwhatWilliamandKatedidontheirweddingday.Thatwascompletelyludicrous.Sweettowatchontelevisionifyouweren’tthereyourself,butthebehind-the-scenesdramawasinsane.

Heagreed.Except a littlewhile later, afterwe’d finished dinner—I have to admit, I

was so excited andhappy I couldbarely finishmy shrimppasta, though I didmanagetopolishoffallmycrabcakesandlemonsorbetinlimoncello—andwewerebothinthehammock,lookingforshootingstars(Idonotthinkthatlastonewas a satellite nomatterwhat he says), he said, “My parents are going to bereallydisappointedifwedon’thaveawedding.”

“But,Michael,yourparentsaresoprogressive!Theysubscribe toMotherJones.”

“Yes,butthey’regettingolder,andlatelythey’vebeendroppinghintsthatthere are only twooccasions duringwhich families get together anymore, andonlyoneofthemishappy.”

IttookmealittlewhiletofigureoutwhatMichaelmeant.Iliftedmyheadwithajerkfromhischest.“Yikes!”

“Yes,”hesaidgrimly.“Thinkaboutthenumberoffuneralsthere’vebeeninourfamilieslately.”

“Ofcourse,”Imurmured,loweringmyheadagain.“Mr.Gianini.”“Mygreat-auntRose.”“Pavlov...”He laughedandkissedme.Wedidn’tactuallyhavea funeral forhisdog.

He now lives as tiny cremated ashes in an elegant tin shaped like Rosie theRobotfromTheJetsonsonMichael’sbedroomshelf.

“What if we have a very small wedding?” I asked. “Just family andfriends.”

“Doyoureallythinkyoucouldgetawaywiththat?”“Whynot?BradandAngelinadid.”Helookedskeptical.“They’removiestars.You’regoingtoruleacountry.”“Thatmakes it eveneasier, inaway,” I said. “Ihavenational security to

helpmekeepitasecret.”“True,buthowwouldwekeepthepressfromfindingout?”“ThewayBrad andAngelina did. They didn’t invite theirmost talkative

familymembers...”He raised his delectably dark, thick eyebrows. “Are you saying you

wouldn’tinviteyourgrandmothertoyourownwedding?”“Orwe could invite her and not tell herwhat it actually is until the last

minute,”Isaidwithashrug.“Thinkaboutwhatwillhappenifwedon’t.Atherownweddingtomygrandfather,Iheardtherewasatwo-daypublicholiday,amilitary parade, a gown that today would be worth over a couple hundredthousanddollars,itwasdrippingwithsomanydiamondsandpearls,areligiousandcivilceremony,televisioncameras,enoughcaketofeedtheentirepopulace,twentythousandbottlesofchampagne,fireworksandcarriageridesthroughthetownsquare,acommemorativepostagestampwithherheadonit—”

“Waitaminute,”Michaelsaid,tensingup.“Isthatsomethingthey’regoingtodotome?Makeastampofmyhead?”

“Oh,”Isaidsoothingly.“No,ofcoursenot.”Itwas totally something theywere going to do to him.There’s only one

commemorative stamp of me, but there are three of my dad, and sixteen ofGrandmère (they reissue them every time the postage rate changes, and she’sbeenaroundforawhile).

Personally I’d love to lick a stamp ofMichael’s head and stick it on anenvelope,butI’llwaituntilafterwe’remarriedtobreakthenewstohimthathehastositforastateportrait.TomisquoteBeyoncé,I’mnotsurehe’sreadyforthisjelly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m beginning to think maybe we should riskdisappointingmyparents,andjustelope.”

Damn!Hemusthavedetectedthehintofstamp-lustinmyvoice.“Michael, we can’t. I don’t want our future together to start off with us

disappointing everyone. I’m willing to risk it with my grandmother—she’salwaysdisappointedinmeanyway—butnotyourparents.Icouldn’tbearthat.”

Heliftedoneofmyhandsandkissed it.“Well,whenyouput it like that,howcanIsayno?”Heheldmyhandupsothediamondonmyfingercaughtthemoonlight.“ButIdon’twantyougettingstressedoutagain.”

Ihuggedhim.“I’llnevergetstressedoutagainwithyoubymyside.Ourwedding’sgoingtobeamazing,justlikeourfuturetogether.”

Idon’tthinkI’veeverbeenthishappyinmyentirelife.

ThreethingsI’mgratefulfor:

1.Shootingstars.

2.Lab-engineereddiamonds.

3.ThatI’mengagedtobemarriedtoMichaelMoscovitz.

CHAPTER18

3:05p.m.,Monday,May4HELV* from Teterboro back to the consulate Rate theRoyalsRating:?

*HybridElectricLiveryVehicle

Sohappy.Can’teventhinkofanythingtowriteI’msohappy.ExceptthatI’msorrytohaveleftourlittleisland...Iwishwecouldlive

there,swimmingandsnorkelingandsleepinginthesunallday,thenlyinginourhammockandwatchingshootingstars(andsatellites)atnight.Weeveninventedanewgame. . . it’scalledSpaceAlien.Wepretendedoneof thesatelliteswesawwasactuallyaspaceshipvisitingfromadistantgalaxyand ithappened tolandonourtinyisland,andwhenthedooropened,outcameMichael,whowasan alien (with many humanoid qualities) who’d been sent to explore the farreachesofspacebecauseallthefemalesinhissectorhaddiedoutfromaterribleplague,sohekidnappedmeandtookmebacktohisplanettohelprepopulateit(thoughIwentwillinglybecausehewasquitehandsomeandmoregentlemanlyandintelligentthananyofthemenonmyownplanet).

Obviously, inreal life itwouldnotbefun to travel toaplanetwhereyouwerethesolefemaleandhavehumanoidmalesfightoveryouallday,butthat’swhat’sfunaboutfantasies:they’renotreal.AnotherfunfantasywouldbeforustoliveintheExumas,whereMichaelcouldfishandIcouldsellthefishfromalittlehutonthebeach,andwecouldplaySpaceAlieneverynightandforgetallourotherresponsibilities.

Butthat’snotrealeither.Which iswhy I just had to switchmyphonebackon. I need to seehow

thingsaregoingatthecenterandwithmydadand—...andnowit’sbuzzingoffthehook.Whatisgoingon?Therehadbetterbeaninternationalincidentor—Ihave1,372newe-mails,texts,andvoicemails.

I was kidding about there better having been an international incident.Please don’t let anything bad have happened tomy family or friends or kidsfromthecenterortherefugeesfromQaliforthepeopleofGenovia...

CHAPTER19

3:15p.m.,Monday,May4

StillintheHELVRatetheRoyalsRating:1

Therehasn’tbeenaninternationalincident.Well,therehasbeen,butitturnsouttobeme.Onceagain,I’mtheinternationalincident.

AtLongLast:They’reEngaged!

Youhearditherefirst!She’sofficially“WhenWillHeMarryMia”nomore!

Longtime beau—multimillionaire biotech entrepreneurMichaelMoscovitz, 29—has finally popped the question to newNumberOne–ranked royal, PrincessMiaThermopolisofGenovia!

RateTheRoyals.comhasallthevitalstatistics:♥Thecouplebecameengagedonthe princess’s 26th birthday this weekend during an exotic getaway in theBahamas.

♥Beforetheyleft,MichaelaskedMia’sfather—PrincePhillipeRenaldoofGenovia—forherhand.

♥Theringisa10-caratsapphiresurroundedbydiamondsonaplatinumband.

♥TheroyalweddingwillbeheldthissummerattheGenovianPalaceinaCatholicceremonythatwillbetelecastliveworldwidetoanapproximateaudienceofabillion!

♥Michaelwillmovehisbillion-dollarmedicalbusinesstoGenovia,whereheandMiawillliveintheroyalpalaceoncethey’remarried!

♥Mia’sgrandma:“I’vealwaysbeenveryfondofMichael.”

♥Miais“beyondthrilled,”accordingtoapalacespokesperson.

♥Divorcelawyersarealreadydraftingprenups.

♥BookiesareplacingoddsonJuly20astheearlyfavoritefortheweddingdate.

TheofficialstatementreleasedbytheGenovianPalacereads:

TheDowagerPrincessClarisseRenaldoofGenoviaisdelightedtoannouncetheengagementofhergranddaughterPrincessAmeliaMignonetteGrimaldiThermopolisRenaldotoMisterMichaelMoscovitz,Esq.,ofNewYorkCity.

TheweddingwilltakeplaceinGenoviainthesummerof2015.Furtherdetailsabouttheceremonywillbeannouncedshortly.

PrincessMiaandMr.Moscovitzbecameengagedonher26thbirthdayduringaholidaythispastweekendintheBahamas.

Mr.Moscovitzsoughtthepermissionoftheprincess’sfatherpriortoproposing.

Followingthemarriage,thecouplewillliveinGenovia,wheretheprincessandherconsortwilldevotetheirlivestoservingtheneedsofthepeopleofGenovia.

CHAPTER20



Iamgoingtokillmygrandmother.MichaelandIpromisedwe’dtellourparentsfirst(whichweweregoingto

dotonightafterhegetsbackfromaspeechhehastogiveonneuralprostheticsatamedicalconferenceinElizabeth).

Onlynowthey’regoingtohearitfirstonthenews.OfcourseIcan’tget through toMichael.He tookhisowntowncar from

Teterborotothemedicalconference,andforwhateverreasonmycallsaregoingstraighttovoicemail.

Probablyhe’salreadybeenkidnappedbyRoyalRabbleRouserandisbeingheldforransominanundergroundbunkerformyexactnetworthaccordingtoRatetheRoyals.OnlyhowamIgoingtopayit,inscepters?

Seriously,though,Iknowmygrandmotherisbehindthis.Buthowdidshefindout?

IthadtohavebeenMoMo.Hewassonice,butshegottohim.Shegetstoeveryoneeventually.

CHAPTER21

3:25p.m.,Monday,May4Still in the HELV thanks to the horrible traffic on theUpperWestSideRatetheRoyalsRating:1

StillnoMichael.Amcheckingallmymessages.


Mia,ruback?Howwasit?

Yes,I’mback.Iguessyouheardthenews?

Youmeanyoudidn’tannounceit?

OfcourseIdidn’tannounceit.

Oh,Mia,I’msosorry!Ididkindofwonder,becausethedetails about the ring were wrong. I was like, “DidMichaelgetadifferentringatthelastminute”?Andit’smore your style to let your closest friends know aboutthingsbeforeannouncingthemtothepress.

Youthink?

Wait,areyoubeingsarcastic?

Yes,sorry.I’mjustupsetrightnow.

I’m sorry! But congratulations, anyway! Were yousurprised?

OfcourseIwassurprised!Itwasamazing.Besttrip—best birthday—best time of my life! Until now.ThanksforhelpingMichaeltoplanit,anyway.

Andyoulikethering?

I LOVE the ring. I love love love it. I’m just sosorryyouhadtohearthenewsfromthepress.FYI,I’ve decided not to go on the Internet anymore,especially after all this. You know this morning Isawamajesticstingrayleapfromthewaterforthesheer joy of it andnow I realize I amwasting toomuchoftheshorttimeI’vebeengivenhereonthisplanet worrying about my online social mediaimage.

Oh. That’s cool about the stingray, but what’s wrongwithyoursocialmediaimage?Ithinkyoudoafinejobwithit.

YoumeanDominique does, but thanks for sayingso.Thewholepoint,though,iswhydoweevenhavetohaveasocialmediaimage?Stingraysdon’t,andtheylivetotallyfulfilledlives.

Stingrays don’t have higher-functioning cerebralcortexes, so they don’t have the ability to worry aboutthingsliketheironlinepresence.

Oh.Goodpoint.

Alsotheyleapoutofthewaterinordertocatchfoodoravoid predators or to get rid of parasites that arebothering them. I don’t think they experience intenseemotionslikejoy.

I’mnotgoing tosay it’spointless toarguewithTinaaboutmoreesotericthings these days (especially given what happened with Boris), but she hasdevelopeda tendencysincestartingmedicalschool to insist there’sascientificexplanationforalmosteverything.

OK,Tina.

That’swhenIgotanothermessage.ItwasfromamemberoftheMoscovitzfamily,butnottheoneIwashopingtohearfrom.


I suppose I should say “mazel tov” but really? Then

again,thebestfriendisalwaysthelasttoknow.

I’m sorry! We were going to tell you in person,Lilly, but “someone” blabbed to the press. Oneguessastowhothesomeonewas.

Really?YoutoldClarissebeforeyoutoldyourBFF?

Ofcoursenot.Ithinkshemusthaveweasleditoutofthehelp.

Why doesn’t the CIA hire your grandmother tointerrogate terror suspects? She does amuch better jobthantheydoofgettingclassifiedinformation.

Sadly,Lilly’sright.Actually,nowthatIthinkaboutit,itprobablywasn’tMoMo,butthechef,

Gretel, who Grandmère managed to con out of all the intel about Michael’sproposaltome.Iknewtherewassomethingsweetlygullibleabouther.Herhairwasflat-ironed.Whobotherstoflat-irontheirhairinthetropics?

Someonewho’sanxioustoleavethere,that’swho,andsowillingtoacceptbribesfrommygrandmother.

Ishouldhaveknown.Paradise,mybutt.Andtothink,Ifantasizedaboutmovingthereforever.

CHAPTER22

3:45p.m.,Monday,May4StillintheHELV,stillontheWSHRatetheRoyalsRating:1

Finally got through toMichael. Hewasn’t picking up because hewas on thephonewithhisparents.Theyhearditon1010WINS,NewYork’stwenty-four-hournewsradiostation.

ItoldhimIwasso,sosorry.“It’sallright,”hesaid.“Theyactuallydidn’tbelieveituntilItoldthemit

was true.They thought itwasonly a rumor, like the time thePost announcedyouwerecarryingPrinceHarry’sroyaltwins.”

Great.“Aretheymad?”Hehesitated.“...No,ofcoursenot.”“Michael,Icantellyou’relying.Youhavethesametoneofvoicethatyou

getwhenIaskyouifIlookterribleinkhakishorts.”“Noonelooksgoodinkhakishorts.Andthey’renotmadthatwe’regetting

married, just upset that you aren’t converting to Judaism. They’re veryconcernedabouthowI’mgoingtobeabletokeepkosherinthepalace.”

“Michael!Stopit.It’snotfunny.”“Also, that when I become PrinceMichael of Genovia, my children are

goingtobeRenaldosandnotMoscovitzes.”I stopped laughing. “Wait . . . they really did say that last thing, didn’t

they?”“Well, I’m their only son, so you can understand their concern. I think

they’retornbetweentheideaoflosingasonandtheideaofgainingaprince.I

told themnot toworry, that in the unlikely eventLilly ever getsmarried, shewon’t takeherhusband’sname,soherkidswillbeMoscovitzes.Weirdly, thisdidn’tseemtoplacatethem.”

“Of course it didn’t,” I said. “Lilly swore off men her junior year incollege.”IknewbetterthantomentionthethingaboutLars,especiallywithLarssittingrightthereinthecar.Ithoughtitwouldbegoodforhimtohearthethingabout her having sworn offmen, though. Lars’s ego is inflated enough. “Shesaysshe’snevergettingmarried.Howcouldyouforget?”

“Ididn’tforget,”Michaelsaid.“Whatsheactuallysaidwasthatyoufallinlovewiththeperson,theirgenderdoesn’tmatter.Althoughtobehonest,ifyouwereaguyIdon’tknowifI’dbeasintoyou.”

“Maybeweshouldcallthiswholethingoff.”Hesoundedshocked.“Why?BecauseIsaidIwouldn’tbeasintoyouifyou

wereaguy?ImeanIguessIcouldgetusedtoit,butitmighttaketime.”“No, because your parents are right.Michael, you know you’re not only

goingtohavetotakemyname,you’regoingtohavetorenounceyourAmericancitizenshipwhenwegetmarried.”

“I’llbeGenovianonpaper,”Michaelsaid,“butI’llalwaysbeAmericaninmyheart.Thesecolorsdon’trun.”

“Uh...maybewe’rerushingintothis.”“Mia, I’m kidding. We’ve been going out for eight years—more if you

counthighschool.Howcanwebe rushing intoanything?And Icouldn’tcarelesswhatlastnameIorourkidshave,orevenifwehavekids,orwhatcountryI’macitizenof.Ijustwanttobewithyou,andI’llrenouncewhateverIhavetoinordertomakethathappen.”

My heart swelled with love for him. “Aw. Michael, that’s so sweet,” Iwhispered (I had towhisper because of Lars, and also François, the driver. Itwouldbenicetohavesomeprivacy,butprivacygoesoutthewindowwhenyougetachauffeur/personalsecurity).“Ijustwanttobewithyou,too.”

“Thenhowcomeatthefirstsignoftroubleyou’rereadytobail?Ithoughtyouweremadeofstrongerstuff,Thermopolis.”

IhadtoignorethelittlethrillIalwaysgetwhenhecallsmeThermopolis.“I’monlythinkingofyou.Thingsarejustgoingtogetworsefromhereonout,youknow.She’stryingtoGameofThronesus.”

“Whois?Whatareyoutalkingabout?”“My grandmother! The story about our engagement is going to be

everywhere in exactly one hour.Reuters.BBC.TMZ.They’re all going to becovering it. Our royalweddingwill be the lead on the national news tonight.Andafterthat,thereisnowaywe’regoingtogetoursmall,private,family-and-friends-onlywedding.We’re going to have to dowhatmy grandmother says,whichmeansthereprobablywillbeanationaldayofcelebrationdeclared,andacommemorativestampissuedofyourhead.”

“Idon’tcare,”Michaelsaid,soundingbravelydetermined.“Ifthat’swhatIhavetogothroughinordertomarryyou,Iwill.”

“Oh,Michael,thanks.”“That’s the worst of it, though, right? There’s no weird secret royal

Genovianmarriage ritual I have to undergo, do I? Sacrificial scarring? Ritualcutting?”

“Well,you’realreadycircumcised,sono.”Therewassilencefromhisendofthephone.“OhmyGod,I’mkidding,”Icried.“Thefirstruleofbeingaroyalisthat

youhavetolearntotakeajoke.”“Thefirstruleofjokesisthattheyhavetobefunny,”hecountered.“Fine.Canwegetdowntotherealquestion,whichishowmygrandmother

evenfoundout?IknowTinadidn’ttellher.”“Itwasn’tme,”Larssupplied,fromthefrontseat.“Ididn’ttell.”“Ofcourseitwasn’tLars,”Michaelsaid,havingoverheardhim.“TellLars

nooneisblaminghim.”Seriously,ifmylifewereoneofthoseromancenovelswithalovetriangle,

Lars andMichael would be the sexy paranormal alphamales, but the two ofthemwouldbeinlovewitheachotherandjustignoreme.

“Weknowitwasn’tyou,Lars,”Isaid.“Andbeforeweleftthismorning,Iputtheringonmysnowflakenecklacearoundmynecksonooneontheplanesawit.IthadtohavebeenGretel.”

“Gretel?”Michaelechoed.“The chef.Who else could it have been? I swear, I’mgoing towrite the

meanest review about her on TripAdvisor. Unless—” I gasped. “Unless therewerecamerasinthecabana.Youdon’tthink—”

“Mia,”Michaelsaid.“Calmdown.Iknowwholeakedthestory.”“Youdo?Who?”“Itwasme.”“You?”Iwasstunned.“Michael,whatareyoutalkingabout?”“Thatpartofthepressreleaseaboutmeaskingyourfather’spermissionto

marryyouwastrue—well,partlytrue,anyway.Ididn’taskpermission—Iknewyouwouldn’t like that, it’s sexist.You’renotyour father’sproperty.But Ididseehimbeforeweleft,totellhimIwasgoingtoproposetoyouthisweekend,andaskforhisblessing.”

Iwasstunned.“Wait...isthiswhatyoumeantwhenyousaidbeforeweleftthatyou’dtalkedtomyparents?”

“Yes.Ispoketoyourmother,too,becausesheplayedanevenbiggerroleinraisingyou.Ithoughtitwastherightthingtodo.Howdoyouthinkyougotout of doing all those events—and birthday Cirque du Soleil with yourgrandmother—soeasily?”

“Oh, Michael,” I said into the phone. I was feeling a maelstrom ofemotions.“That’sso...that’sso...”

“Yeah,”hesaid.“Iknow.Messedup,right?Especiallyconsideringthewayeverything’sturnedout.”

“No,”Isaid.“Thatisn’twhatIwasgoingtosayatall.Itwasveryromanticofyou.Inanordinaryfamilyitwouldhavebeenasweetthingtodo.”

“Icanseethatnow,”hesaid.“Ithinkyourdadmusthavementionedittosomeone—”

“Youdon’thavetobecoy,Michael,”Isaid.“You’refamilynow.Youcancomerightoutandsayit.Mydadmusthavementionedit tomygrandmother,who turned it into an opportunity to drumup some positive press formy dadafterhisbrushwiththelaw.”

Michaelsighed.“IguessIshouldhaveknownbetterafteralltheseyears.”“Oh,shutup,”Isaidaffectionately.“Iwouldn’tchangea thingabout this

pastweekend for theworld, not even this. Butwhy didn’t you tellme you’daskedthem?”

“Idon’tknow,”hesaid.“Itnevercameup.Weweresortofbusydoing...otherthings.”

Iblushed,eventhoughMichaelwasspeakingtomefromanotherstateand

no one in the car could hear his end of the conversation. “Er, yes,” I said. “Iguesswewere.”

“Anyway,sorryaboutthat.IguessI’llseeyouinalittlebit.”“Inalittlebit?WhathappenedtoyourmedicalconferenceinNewJersey?”Histonewaslight.“Oh,it’sstillhappening,butthepressfoundoutabout

my speech and swamped the hotel, and they don’t have enough security tohandlethesituation,sothey’vepolitelyaskedmetoreschedule.”

“Oh,Michael,”Icried.“I’msosorry!”“It’sallright,”hesaid.“There’snowaythosedoctorsweregoingtolisten

to a talk about thenew stridesPavlovSurgical ismaking inneural prosthesesresearch when they find out the guy who’s giving it just got engaged to thePrincessofGenoviaanyway.”

He said it lightly, trying to make a joke of the whole thing, but there’snothing amusing about this to me. It actually made me angrier than ever atGrandmère. She isn’t only selfishly Game of Throning our wedding: she’shurtingMichael’s business, and causing vital medical research information tofailtobedisseminated.

“Michael,I’msosorry.I’mgoingtogettothebottomofthisifit’sthelastthingIdo.”

“Mia,it’sfine.Noneofthisisyourfault.Iguessit’sallpartofbeinga—”But I didn’t get to find outwhat it is he thought itwas all part of being

becausehisphonedied.OrtheRussianshadgottentohim,butwhenImentionedthisoutloud,Lars

saidI’vebeenwatchingtoomuchNCISandfromnowonIneedtosticktotheLifetimeMovieChannelforwomen.

I’vejusttoldhimtostopbeingsosexistsincemenwatchthatchannel,too,andalso,tonsofpeoplegetkidnappedonLifetime,particularlypregnantwomenwhosebabiesarelatersoldonthebabyblackmarket,whichisacompletelyrealthing. I once attended a charity event to raisemoney to help fight it.MariskaHargitaywasthere,andwebothcomplimentedeachother’soutfitintheladies’room.

CHAPTER23



ManagedtoreachMomtotellherabouttheweddingbeforeshehearditonthenews(sheonlylistenstoNationalPublicRadiowhileshepaints,sotherewasn’tmuchofachanceofthat,asNPRisnotknownforkeepingitslistenersawareofallthelatestroyalgossip).

MomaskedforthedetailsaboutMichael’sproposal,whichIgaveher,butbriefly.There are some things I’ve found it betternot to sharewithmymom.Whendiscussingmylifewithher,Itrytokeepittothehighlights,likethesportsreelinahalfhournewscycle.

Unfortunately, Mom has never felt the same about me. I was forced tolistenasshetoldmeeverysinglefacetofMichael’svisittotheloftlastweektoaskherifourunionwassomethingshefeltshecouldsupport.

“Hewasverygentlemanlyaboutit,”shesaid.“Hewasevenwearingatie.Iappreciated that he was respecting my role as your primary caregiver. So ofcourseItoldhimthatIsupportedyourunionwholly—”

“Aw.”Thiswarmedmyheart.“Thanks,Mom.”Shewasn’tfinished.“—butthattobehonest,Ididn’tthinkyou’dhadenoughdatingexperience,

soIthoughtyoutwoshouldwait.”“Mom!”Iyelled.“Yousaidthattohim?”“Well,ofcourseIdid.You’re twenty-sixandyou’veonlyeversleptwith

oneperson.Don’tyouthinkyououghttobroadenyourhorizons?”“No,Mom,Idonot.AndIdon’treallywanttodiscussthiswithyouright

now.”IeyedLarsandFrançois,whowerehavingananimateddiscussioninthefrontseatabouthowtoavoidchafingwhilewearingashoulderholsteronahotday.Droppingmyvoice, I added, “But just to remindyou, Ihave datedotherpeople,evenifIdidn’tactuallyhavesexwith them.SoI’mahundredpercentsureI’mwiththerightperson.”

“I thoughtyoukids todaywereallabout thecasualhookups,”Momsaid.“Friendswithbenefits,andallofthat.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you need to stop watching rom-coms that bill

themselvesasedgybutstillendwith theguyrunning throughanairport.”Notthat there’s anythingwrongwith that, since I still totallywatch them, usuallywithTina,who can’t get enoughof them, especially if they involve a heroinewho works as a sassy surgeon, as most gorgeous size-two ladies who areunluckyinlovearewonttodo.

“I just don’t understand it,” Mom said, with a sigh. “Kids today are sodifferentfromwhenIwasyourage.”

“Yeah,”Isaid.“Weare.Whenyouweremyage,youalreadyhadatoddler—me—with someone youweren’t even interested in beingwith long term. I,however,ammarryingsomeoneIwanttobewithforever,andIhavenevernotusedbirthcontrolinmylife.”

“Yes,Mia,Iknow,”mymothersaid,inasoothingvoice.“You’vealwaysbeenmy littleworrywart.That’swhy I loveyou.But I lovedyour father, too,youknow.Istilldo.Iwouldn’twantyoutothinkthatIdidn’t.”

“Well,that’sjustgreat,Mom,”Isaid.“Sothenwhydon’tyouletmedotheworryingaboutmyownwedding?Godknowsit’sgettingofftoarockyenoughstart.Wait...whatdidyousay?”

“Oh,Ithinkyourwedding’sofftoafinestart,”mymothersaid.“Michaelaskedyouanyway,didn’the?Ididn’tmanagetoscarehimoff.”

“Notthatpart,”Isaid.“ThepartaboutyoulovingDad.”“Well,ofcourseIloveyourfather.Ialwayshave,andIalwayswill.Ijust

could never live with him. Could you imagineme, living in a palace?” Shelaughed,buttherewasn’tmuchhumorinthesound.“I’dmakeaterribleroyal.”

“Uh,”Isaid.“Idon’tknowaboutthat,Mom.Idon’tthinkanyonecouldbeworse than me.” I couldn’t help thinking about Paolo and his diamond shoeanalogy.Wouldmineeverstopchafing?

“Don’t be silly, Mia. You’ve done an amazing job, what with bringingdemocracytoGenoviaandbuildingthatcommunitycenterforthekidsandnowchoosing Michael as your prince consort. You’re the best thing that everhappenedtothatplace,andI’mnotjustsayingthatbecauseI’myourmother.”

“Aw.” Itwas silly, but this caused tears towell up inmyeyes. “Thanks,Mom.You have no idea howmuch itmeans tome to hear you say that.Butseriously, if I can adjust to being a royal, don’t you think you could? If youreallyloveDadthatmuch—andIknowheadoresyou—don’tyouthink—?”

“Oh, Mia,” she interrupted, in the old exasperated tone she used to usewhenshe’dwalkintomyroomtofindmetakingmytemperaturebeforeschoolbecause I had a test that day and I was hoping I’d spontaneously developedmalaria in thenight. “Love iswonderfulbut it can’t solveeveryproblem,youknow. It certainly isn’t compensation enough for the fact that your father is agrownmanwhostillliveswithhismother.”

Iwinced.Momhadapoint.“No,”Isaid.“Iguessnot.”“IsupposeI’mgoingtohavetobuyoneofthoseawfulmother-of-the-bride

dresses for the ceremony,” shewent onwith a sigh. “Nothing kicky frommyownwardrobeisgoingtowork.”

“Um,”Isaid,rememberingthelasttimeMomworesomething“kicky”toapublic function. She’d shown up at the opening ofMr. Gianini’s communitycenter inabluedresswitharedpetticoat,coveredinpurpleroses.IthadbeenMr.G.’sfavorite.“Absolutely.Youcanwearwhateveryouwant,Mom.”

“Mia,”shesaid,laughing.“OfcourseIcan’t.Yourweddingisgoingtobebroadcastallovertheworld.Imaybeacrazypainter,butIdon’twanttolooklike one on your special day. I think I can standwearing one of those stuffymother-of-the-bride dresses for an afternoon,” she added, bravely. “Itwas theideaofwearingoneofthem—withpantyhose—everydayfortherestofmylifethatIwasneverabletostand.”

WhichprettymuchconfirmsbothTina’sandtheDrs.Moscovitz’stheory.“That’s very sweet of you,Mom,” I said. “But the whole idea was that

Michael and I didn’twant you to have towear one of those dresses, with orwithoutpantyhose.Wewantedtohaveasmall,informalwedding,nomorethanfiftypeople,nocommemorativestampsofMichael—”

Mymomlaughedsomemore.“Oh,okay,”shesaid.“Well,bestofluckwiththat.Actually,Iquitelikethe

ideaofastampofMichael.”“Iknow,right?That’swhatIsaid!”I loveMom,but Iworryabouther.Oneof the thingsmy stalker likes to

harponinhisanonymouslettersande-mailstome(andrantsonRatetheRoyalsmessageboards)ishowwomenlikemymom,whoraisechildrenontheirown,are evil. His posts go on and on about how women like her (and me) aredestroyingthefabricofsocietybybeingtooindependent(becausewehaveour

ownbankaccounts,jobs,etc.),andhowIshouldtrytomakeGenoviamorelikethedespoticnationofQalif,insteadofadvocatingforequalsocial,political,andeconomicrightsforwomen.

Ifonly Icould findoutwhohe is so Icouldhavehim imprisonedand/orpublicallyhumiliated,oratleasttellhisownmotheronhim.

•Notetoself:Remindpressofficetostoplettingmereadthoseletters.IwouldpreferonlytoreadthenicelettersIgetfromlittlegirlswhodrawmepicturesofthemselveswiththeircats.

It’stoobadthatMomandDadwereneverabletoworkthingsout.ButMomreallyisn’tthepanty-hose-wearingtype,andunfortunatelythose

arerequiredformostofficial royalduties,especiallywhendescendingprivate-plane staircases in highwindswhile wearing dresses. Trustme, I’ve had thishappenenoughtimesinfrontofphotographerstoknow.

UGH.Ofcourseneithermygrandmothernormyfatherisansweringtheirphones.SonowIamresortingtotexting,whichisbadbecause,consideringallthe

messagesI’mgetting,mybatteryiscompletelydying.

<DowagerPrincessClarisseofGenovia“ElDiablo”HRHMiaThermopolis“FtLouie”>

Grandmère, why are all the gossip sites reportingthat Michael proposed to me this past weekend?Howwouldtheyevenknowaboutthat?AndwhyisRate theRoyals sayingwe’re gettingmarried thissummer? Call me back ASAP because I’d reallyliketoclearupthismatter.

Whoisthis?Whyaretherewordsonmyphone?

It’s called a text message, Grandmère, stop

pretendinglikeyoudon’tknowwhatitis,Ishowedyouhow to text last yearwhenTMZhackedyourphoneandfoundoutaboutyouandJamesFranco.So IKNOW you know how to do it. And it’s theonlywayIappear tobeable tocommunicatewithyourightnowsinceyouwon’tpickupyourphone.

Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.Clearlymymobileis broken. Pleasemake an appointmentwithmy assistant,Rolanda,ifyouwishtospeakwithme.

IwillnotmakeanappointmentwithRolanda.Iamonmyway to seeyou (even thoughwe’re stuck intraffic right now). So you had better have anexplanationready.Whywouldyoudosomethingsohorrible as announcemy engagement to the pressbeforewehadachancetotellMichael’sparentsinperson?

Oh, it’s you. Amelia, something terrible has happened.Pleasecomeseemeatonce.

SomethingterribleisABOUTtohappen.Toyou.

Amelia, Iamspeakingof somethingofnationalurgency. Idarenotwrite it here.We couldbebeing spiedupon, youknow.

Let me get this straight. You sent out a press

release that I’m getting married to distracteveryone from some OTHER story that you’reafraid is about to break? Who are you now,PresidentSnowfrom“TheHungerGames”?

Amelia,don’tbeflippant.

Sometimes I think Rommel may not be the only one in the family withdementia.

CHAPTER24

5:20p.m.,Monday,May4Grandmère’sCondo,ThePlazaHotelRatetheRoyalsRating:1

Well,thatwas...Idon’tevenhavewordstodescribewhatthatwas.ButIhavetowriteitalldownbecauseit’stheonlywayI’mevergoingto

makesenseofit,letalonefigureoutwhatI’mgoingtodoaboutit.It started normally enough—normally enough for my family, anyway—

whenIwalkedinandGrandmèredidn’twanttotalkaboutit(ofcourse).All shewanted todowasorderus“tea” fromroomservice.Shesaid she

couldn’tbearthethoughtoftellingmethe“heinousnews”onanemptystomach,andofcourseshe’dsentawayherassistant,Rolanda,becausewhatweneededtodiscusswas“soprivate.”

Exceptnotsoprivatethatcertainotherpeopledon’tknowallaboutit.OnlyofcourseIdidn’tfindthatoutuntillater.

“So let’s be honest, Grandmère,” I said, sitting down on one of heroverstuffedpinksatin-coveredLouisQuatorzearmchairs(hernewdecoratorhastoldherthat“everythingoldisnewagain,”whichisanotherwayofsaying,“Ineedahundred-thousand-dollarcommission,solet’sredecorate”).

“There isnoheinousnews,amI right?You’resimplyupset that Icaughtyou using my marriage proposal as a propaganda tool to boost Dad’s imagesincehegotarrested.OrisitthatI’mmarryingMichael,andnottheheirtosomewealthyEuropeanfamily?Well,I’msorry,butyou’rejustgoingtohavetogetusedtotheideaofthenextprinceconsortofGenoviabeingaJewishcomputergeniuswholooksincrediblygoodinboardshorts.”

“Don’t be a fool, Amelia,” Grandmère said. She was trying to keep

Rommel from humping an incredibly ugly antiquemilking bench forwhich Ihappenedtoknowshe’dpaidsixteenthousandeuros.“WhywouldIwantyoutomarryanyoneotherthanMichael?Hesavedourlivesthatsummerhefixedthehi-fiat thepalaceand Iwasable tocastmyvote formydarlingRudolphoonGenoviaCanDance.”

Irolledmyeyes.“YoumeanwhenhefixedtheWi-Fi.”“Whateverit’scalled.Nowgetupandhelpmewiththisdog.”IthoughtshemeantRommel,soIgotuptohelpherplacehimbackinhis

basket (eighteenth-centuryFrenchegg-gathering, one thousandeuros).But shesaid,“Notthatdog!He’sfine.Theotherone.Gettheotherone!”

Yes, Grandmère now owns another dog (although this isn’t the nationalemergency.Iwish).

Andwhileitisveryadorable—fornow,anyway,thedogstillhasallitshair—really,peoplewhocan’ttakepropercareoftheircurrentpetshouldn’tgooutandbuyasecondone.

“Why?”Idemanded,liftingthetinywhitepowderpuffIfounddiggingfora stray cocktail onion under the $40,000white satin-covered couch. “Why didyougetanotherdog?”

“She’stopoftheline,”Grandmèresaid.“Thebreederassuredmethatanypuppies she haswithRommelwill be of the highest quality, intelligence, andbeauty. And you’re the one who said I needed to solve Rommel’s little . . .problem.”

Iwashorrified.“Bygettinghimfixed,notbybuyinghimawife!Andlook,he’snoteveninterestedinher.”Rommelwashumpinghisthousand-euroFrenchegg-gatheringbasket.

“Oh,that’sbecausesheisn’tinheatyet,”Grandmèresaidmatter-of-factly.“But he’ll humpmy leg, regardless of whether or not I’m in the mood.

Grandmère, this is worse than The Bride of Frankenstein, because instead ofbuildingRommel a girlfriend out of corpses, which he’d have been finewithsincehecan’ttellinanimateobjectsfromanimatedones,youactuallywentoutandboughthimalivinggirlfriend.”

“Stopworryingaboutthedog,she’sperfectlyhappy.Showmethering.”I put Grandmère’s sweet, innocent new dog down in the kitchen with a

bowlof foodandanotherofwater, thenclosed thedoor tokeephersafe from

Rommel’sadvances(shouldhechooseevertomakeany)andwentbacktoshowmygrandmothertheringMichaelhadgivenme.

“Asyoucansee,”Isaid,“yourspiesgotitwrong.It’snotasapphire.”“GoodLord!” shecried.Ofcourse,while I’dbeenoutof the roomshe’d

putonher jeweler’s loupe toexamine thestone.“Thismustbesevencaratsatleast.Ididn’tknowrobotbuildersmadesomuchmoney.Ihaverenewedrespectfortheboy.”

Isnatchedmyhandawayfromher.“Michaelisn’taboy,he’saman.AndI’vetoldyourepeatedlyhedoesn’tbuildrobots,hedesignsroboticsurgicalarmsandnowprostheses.Andit’salab-growndiamond.”

Sheimmediatelydroppedmyhand.“It’sfake?ItakebackeverythingIsaidaboutrespectinghim.”

“Lab-growndiamondsaren’tfakelikecubiczirconia,Grandmère.They’reactual diamonds, they’re just grown in a laboratory instead of in a mine, sothere’snohuman-rightsorenvironmentalimpactinharvestingthem.”

GrandmèresighedlikeI’djusttoldherthatMichaelandIweremovingtoone of those adult gated communities where no one wears any clothes at thepublictenniscourtsbecausetheywantto“expresstheirtrueselves.”

“Idon’tsupposethisdaycouldgetanyworse,”shesaid.“Forme,”Isaid.“Iwashopingtospendthisdaypersonallysharingnewsof

myengagementwithallmylovedones,andnowI’mhavingtoexplaintothemwhythey’veheardaboutitviatextmessageorgossipnewssites.Sowhydon’twe talk about this matter of ‘national urgency’ that you keep sayingmade itnecessary foryou toputout apress release that I’mgettingmarried this July,which,by theway, I’mnot.And if thisnationalmatter is sourgent,why isn’tDadhere?”

She regardedmeunblinkingly throughher tattooed-on eyeliner. “BecausethenewsIhavetoimparttoyou,Amelia,isaboutyourfather.”

For the second time in seventy-two hours, my heart stopped. The onepersonIhadn’tspokento(orheardfrom)alldaywasDad.

“Grandmère!” I grabbed her veiny, many-ringed hand. “What happened?Was it his heart?Was it a protester?Where have they taken him? Can I seehim?”

“Pull yourself together!” I think Grandmère would have slappedme if I

hadn’t already been holding her hand (and there hadn’t been a cocktail in herotherone).“Yourfatherisfine.Thisisnotimeforhysterics.Haveadrink,likeanormalperson.”

InGrandmère’sday,peopledidn’ttakeantidepressantsorgoseetherapistswhentheyweredistressedaboutsomething.Theyhadsomesenseslappedintothem,ortheyhadadrink“likeanormalperson.”

Ihavetoadmit,thisdoessavealotoftime,unlessofcourseyouhappentobe an alcoholic, or what’s bothering you is that family members are alwaysslappingyou,whichnowadaysiscalled“abuse.”

Fortunatelybythattime“tea”hadarrived,sofingersandwichesand“tea”had been spread out over the antique marble coffee table (7,500 euros).Grandmèrewasalreadyarmedwithher traditionalsidecar, so Imademyselfavodka tonic because frankly I didn’t think I could takewhateverwas comingsober.

“IfDad’snotdead,whatisit,then?”Iasked,aftertakingafewfortifyinggulps.“Hedidn’tgetarrestedagain,didhe?”

“No,but that’showIdiscoveredallof this in thefirstplace.”Grandmèresatdownandbitintoanegg-saladsandwichonwhitebreadwiththecrustscutoff.“WhileIwassearchingthroughyourfather’sdesk,lookingforhischecking-accountnumbertoposthisbailafterhewasincarcerated.”

“Wait.YoupaidDad’sbailwithmoneyfromhisownaccount?”“Ofcourse.Itwashisfoolishnessthatlandedhiminjail.WhywouldIuse

myownmoneytobailhimout?”Thiswascold,evenforGrandmère.“Wow,”Isaid.“Remindmenottocall

youtopaytheransomifIevergetkidnapped.”“Oh,please,”Grandmèresaid.“That’swhywepayransominsurance.”“Well,” I said. The egg-salad sandwich looked good, so I took one, too,

eventhoughmystomachwaschurningwithanxiety.“Whateveryoufoundcan’tbe that bad.Hegot arrestedweeks ago, andyou’re only calling it amatter of‘nationalurgency’now?”

“IassignedamemberoftheRGGtolookintoitandhejustgotbacktomewithafullreportonthegravityofthematterthismorning.”

“Oh,well, theRGG!AndwhatcouldtheRoyalGenovianGuardpossiblyhavefoundinDad’spersonaleffectsthatwassoshockingitjustifiesforcingme

tohaveaweddingIhaven’tagreedto?”Grandmère cleared her throat very dramatically and said the last thing I

everexpected:“Amelia,youhaveasister.”FortunatelyI’dswallowedbeforeshemadethispronouncement,orI’dhave

choked.“I’msorry,what?”“You heard me. You are not your father’s only enfant naturel”—which

means“lovechild”inFrench.“Hehasanother.”StupidlyallIcouldthinkaboutatthatmomentwasthesceneinStarWars

EpisodeV:TheEmpireStrikesBackwhenObi-WansighsthatLukeistheirlasthopeandYodasays,“No.Thereisanother.”

Ofcourseyouhave towait for awholeothermovie to findout that “theother”isPrincessLeia,whohappenstobeLuke’ssecrettwin.

“Waitaminute.”Iwasn’tawarethatIhadallowedmysandwichtodanglefrommyfingersuntilIfeltRommel’ssharpteethnipthemashestoleit.“Ow!”I cried. Then I said, “That’s not possible, Grandmère. If I had a sister, Dadwouldhavetoldme.Besides,youknowperfectlywellDadcan’thaveanymorechildren because the chemo he had for his testicular cancer rendered himinfertile.That’swhyI’mtheheirtothethrone—”

“Of course,”Grandmère interrupted, rollingher eyes. “Andwhenhe toldyouthatprettylittlestorytwelveyearsago,hehadjustreceivedthatdevastatingnewsfromhisdoctors.Butasweallknow,doctorsaren’talwayscorrect.Youwill recall the time I was told to avoid smoking and alcohol because it wasbelievedIhadastomachtumor.Butitturnedoutonlytobeacidreflux.ItookafewTumsandIwasfine.”

“Grandmère,”Isaid,stillstunned.“Thatisnotthesamething.”“Well,” shesaid.“Be thatas itmay,youhavea sister.Shewasprobably

conceivedrightaroundthetimeyourfatherdeliveredthatquaintlittlespeechtoyou. But as it happened, he still had a few active swimmers left in the oldpipeline.”

“Eww!” I did some swiftmath inmy head,whichwasn’t easy, not onlybecause math has never been my strong suit but also because Grandmère’sverbal imagery had completely grossedme out. “Wait . . . so you’re saying Ihaveatwelve-year-oldlittlesister?”

“Yes,thatispreciselywhatI’msaying.”“Howdoyouknowthis?”Iaskedsuspiciously.“Whatexactlydidyoufind

inDad’sdesktoprovethis?Itwasn’tanotheroneofthosee-mails,wasit?”Mygrandmotherisoneofthemanypeoplewhofeelscompelledtohelpout

whateverdown-on-his-luckNigerianprince(becauseoneroyalshouldhelpoutanother royal)comesherway,andsheactuallybelieved theoneaboutacloserelative needing cash wired to them immediately because they’d been robbedandwerestrandedinMexico.Worse,shebelievedIwasthepersonwho’dbeenrobbed.Someonemanagedtofindmyprivatee-mailaddressanduseittoscammy grandmother out of $30,000 (which thankfully she could afford) beforeanyoneonthepalacestaffcouldfindoutwhatshewasdoingandstopher(notthatanyonewouldhavebeenableto.OnceGrandmèregetsanideainherhead,there’snotalkingheroutofit).

Grandmère was livid when she found out I was safely in class at SarahLawrence and nowhere near Mexico, and that there was a complete strangerrunningaroundMexico$30,000richer.

Theworst decisionwe evermadewas allowingmy grandmother to haveaccesstotheInternet(althoughsheadorescommentinganonymously.Sheistheworst troll ever. No one on Jezebel.com or Reddit knows that the DowagerPrincessofGenoviaisthepersonmakingallthemeancommentsabouthowthefatchildrenjustneedtousemoreself-controlandthey’llloseweight).

“Youknowwhatyousawwasprobablyjustanotherkindofscam,right?”Iaskedher.“Peoplecontactmeallthetimesayingthey’remylong-lostrelative—which, especially with all these genealogy websites, could even be true. Sixdegrees of separation, and all that. We’re all cousins, basically. But I wouldnever send thosepeople anymoney, or give any credence at all to their crazyclaims.Dadwouldn’teither.”

“Unfortunately, Amelia, this isn’t a scam,”Grandmère said haughtily. “Ican assure you that this persondoes, in fact, exist, and is, in fact, your sister.Otherwise, I highly doubt your father would have been making child-supportpaymentstoher—monthly—forthepasttwelveyears.Isawtheminhisprivatebank-accountbook.”

Mymindreeled.“Grandmère,that—thatcan’tbetrue.Thepaymentsmusthavebeenforsomethingelse.”

“NotaccordingtowhatJosésaysinhisreport.”“José?”Iwaspouringmyselfanotherdrink,thistimewithshakyfingers.

“José as in José de laRive, the director of theRoyalGenovianGuard,Lars’sboss?”

“Well, naturally, Amelia. Despite what you might think of me, I wasn’tsimplygoingtoassumethatwhatIsawinyourfather’sbankbookwastrue,notafterMexico...andnotwithoutsendingsomeonetocheckonit.AndJoséis,ofcourse, the very best, and quite experienced in this kind of thing.He used toworkforInterpol.Theterrorismunit.”ShegotafarawaylookinhereyesthatIrecognized.Itwasthesameoneshe’dwornaroundthetimeoftheJamesFrancoaffair.“Joséissurprisinglygentlemanlyforamanskilledintheuseoftorture.”

Thiswasgettingworseandworse.“Oh, Grandmère,” I said. “Please tell me you didn’t send José to

waterboardthislittlegirl’sfamily!”“Ofcoursenot,Amelia,”shesaidindisgust.“Whatdoyoutakemefor?I

sent José to Cranbrook, New Jersey, to collect DNA from the child for apaternitytest.”

“NewJersey?WhyNewJersey?”“Because that’s where your father’s been sending the monthly support

payments for nearly twelve years now, Amelia. Are you dense? I thought itwouldbenicetoknowhe’snotbeendoingsounnecessarily—”

“New Jersey?” I shouted. “Are you tellingme that I’ve had a half sisterlivingacrosstheriversinceIwasfourteenyearsold,andnooneevertoldme?”

“Us,Amelia,”Grandmère said, looking annoyed. “Your father never toldus.Andmustyoushoutso?It’shardlyregal.AndthatispreciselywhatIaskedJosétofindout,whichhedid.Hesaidhe’sshockedthatnoone—suchasyourinsufferablecousinIvan,orthatblackguardBrianFitzpatrick—haddiscovereditsooner. Your father has beenmaking the payments in his own name from anaccounthereatChaseManhattanBank.Thefool!”

Icouldn’tbelieveit.NotthepartaboutDadhavinghadasecretlove—he’saprince, after all,who’dnevermarried aftermymom refusedhis proposal incollege,choosinginsteadto“wandertheglobeinsearchofawomanwhomightbeabletoprovidethebalmtosoothehiswoundedheart,”asTinalikedtoputit(although really he’d simply had dozens of short-lived relationships with

supermodels, actresses, television news journalists, and the occasional highschoolEnglishteacher).

ItwasthepartaboutmyhavingalittlesisterthatIcouldn’tbelieve...andthefactthatmyfatherhadnevertoldmeaboutit.NottellingGrandmèreIcouldunderstand.Thoughunderneathherflamboyantexterior,shehasawarm(well,warmish)heart.Howelsehasshetoleratedherhorribledogalltheseyears?

But there is no doubt that she disapproves of nearly everything her onlychild(myfather)does.

This is most likely why he’d fallen for the one woman in the world hecouldn’t have—my mother, his own mother’s exact opposite (in completedefianceofDr.Moscovitz’stheoryabouthim).

ButI’dalwaysthoughtmyfatherandIwereclose.NowIrealizedIknewnothingabouthimatall.Thisstingsalittle.Actually,alot.I leaped to my feet. “Well, what are we waiting for?” I said to my

grandmother.“Haveyourdriverbringthecararound,andlet’sgomeether.”“Certainly not, Amelia,” my grandmother said. “According to Lazarres-

Reynolds, that’s theworst possible thingwecoulddo.Wecan’t riskexposingthisstorytothemedia,especiallyafterallthetroublewewenttotodayinordertoprovidetheperfectdistractionforthem,intheformofyourwedding.”

“Whatareyoutalkingabout?WhoonearthisLazarres-Reynolds?”“Thecrisismanagement firmIhired tohandle thisaffair,ofcourse.Why

doyouthinkIannouncedyourengagementthismorning?”I sank back down onto the couch, stunned. “I thought you did that to

distractthepressfromDad’sarrest.”“Well,ofcourseIdid,Amelia.Haveyouseenhismostrecentnumbersin

thepollsforprimeminister?He’sfivepointsbehindyourcousinIvan—whojusttodayannouncedthat,ifelected,he’llmakegeneticallymodifiedfruitillegalanddenyallhumanitarianentryvisasintoGenovia.Butifnewsofthislatestdebacleofyourfather’sgetsout—well,he’llbecrushedintheelection.Crushed.”

I shookmyhead. “Grandmère,” I said. “This littlegirl’s existence isn’t apoliticalscandalyoucanhireapublicityfirmtocoverup.She’sahumanbeing.She’sfamily.”

“I’mawareofthat,Amelia.ButLazarres-Reynoldsreallyisverygood.Do

yourememberthatincidentlastyearwiththesonoftheSultanofBruneiandthemonkey?”

“No.”“Exactly.Doyouknowwhyyoudon’trememberit?Twowords:Lazarres-

Reynolds.”“But,Grandmère,”Isaiddesperately,“doyoureallythinkifpeoplefound

outDadhadanotherkid,they’dthinkbadlyenoughofhimtovoteagainsthim?”“Forkeeping itasecretso long?Yes.Noone likesa liar.Thinkabout it,

Amelia.Howdoyoufeelaboutyourfatherrightnow?”“I...I...IguessIfeelalittleconfused.”She snorted. “Nonsense. What you feel right now, Amelia, is hurt.

Personally, I’d like tohackoffhis testicles—theonehehas left,anyway—butthatwouldonlygiveLazarres-Reynoldsanothercrisistomanage.Andtheymayhaveoneanyway,becauseaccording toJosé, thisunclewho’shelping to raiseherhasacceptedalucrativecontractingjoboverseasandisplanningonmovingthewholefamily—”

“What?” I didn’t care about Grandmère possibly cutting offmy father’sremaining testicle. I was more concerned about the welfare of my newlydiscovered sibling. “Why is the uncle helping to raise her? Where is hermother?”

“Hermother,ElizabethHarrison,passedawaytenyearsagoinatragicJetSkiaccident—”

“What?” I yelled. Every time my grandmother opened her mouth, itseemed,thenewsgotmoreterrible.

“If you would allow me to finish, Amelia, instead of constantlyinterrupting,you’dunderstand.Thegirl’smotherwasaprivatecharterjetpilot—that’s how your father met her. You know how he is about hopping on aprivateplaneeverytimethefancystrikeshim,andhecan’talwaysbebotheredtowaitfortheroyaljet.Anyway,apparentlytheywerequitehotandheavyforatime,butthenitfizzledoutandthewomandiedwhileonvacation.Ineverdidagreewithpersonalwatercraft,sodangerous,I’mgladwehadthembannedfromGenovianwaters.”

I sat there, completely shocked. My father had been in love—in loveenoughtohaveachildwithsomeoneotherthanmymother?Iwasgoingtohave

togobackandrereadeverypageofmydiariesfromthattimeperiodtoseehowI’d missed it. There must have been a clue, some indication of ElizabethHarrison’sexistence.Otherwise,myfatherwasthegreatestactorwhohadeverlived.

OrIwasacompletelyinsensitivedaughter.“Likeyourmother,”Grandmèrewasgoingon,“Elizabethpreferredthather

childberaisedinignoranceofherbirthright.Sheleftherinthecareofhersister,Catherine,who,byJosé’saccount,isperfectlyacceptable,buthasquestionabletasteinmen,sinceshe’smarriedwhatIbelieveiscommonlyreferredtotodayasa‘bohunk’whoownsaconstructionbusinessthat—”

I’d taken all I could take. “Grandmère, what is Dad thinking? I canunderstandwantingtokeepthisgirlasecretfromthemedia,buthowcouldhekeepherasecretfromus?”

Grandmère sniffed and poured herself another drink. “And have yourmotherfindoutandthinkillofhim?Notlikely!”

“ButwhywouldMom care?She fell in loveandhadakidwithsomeoneelse,too.”

“Thatisthepoint,Amelia.Yourfatherfanciesyourmotherwouldcare...asmuchashedidwhenshemarriedthatalgebrateacherofyours.Notthatshenoticed,cruelwomanthatsheis.”

“Mymotherisn’t—”“Here.”Grandmèrehandedmeadossier.Shelookedasself-satisfiedasFat

Louieafterhe’smanagedtostickhisheadinmycerealbowlandlapupallthemilk.“ThisisJosé’sreport,youcanreadallaboutit.There’squiteabitaboutthebohunk.It’sextremelyunsettling.He’saginger.”

Ifrownedather.Oneofthesignsofdementiainolderpeopleisalossofsocialinhibitions,andthat’scertainlytrueofmygrandmother,whobarelyevenbothers tohideherprejudicesanymore,especially theoneshehasagainst red-hairedmen.Despiteallevidence to thecontrary,Grandmèrebelieves thatRonWeasley,notVoldemort,isthevillainoftheHarryPotterseries.

I would totally have ratted her out to Dr. Delgado for this, except thatPrinceHarryofEnglandandA-listactresseswithauburntressesarecompletelyexemptfromherwrath.Sosheisn’tprejudicedagainstallredheads,onlythosesheconsiderssociallyinferiortoherself.

I’m completely demanding an autopsy on my grandmother’s brain whenshe’sdeadsoIcanseewhatI’minforasIage.

“I’msorry,Grandmère,”IsaidcrisplyasIflippedthroughtheneatlytypedpages, each stamped with the official seal of the Genovian Guard. “I canunderstandwhyitmightbedangerousforthegirlifthetruthgetsout—nooneshouldhavetogrowupwithbodyguardsandpresshoundingherthewayIdid.Buttheseareenlightenedtimes.Ireallybelieve,ifwehandleitproperly—evenwithoutthehelpofacrisismanagementteam—neitherthevotersnorthepressisgoingtomakeabigdealoutof...”

MyvoicetrailedoffbecauseI’dturnedtothepagewithmysister’sphotoonit.

“Oh,”Isaid.“Oh.”Grandmère nodded knowingly. “Yes,” she said. “Now do you see the

gravityoftheproblem,Amelia?”“Itisn’taproblem,”Isaid.“Exceptmaybetosomepeople,whomightbe

surprisedtoseethatshe’s...she’s...”“Black,”Grandmèresaid.Seriously,sometimesIcan’tevendealwithher.“AfricanAmerican,”Icorrectedher.“She’snotAfrican,”Grandmèresaid.“ShewasborninNewJersey,andher

fatherisGenovian.”“Yes,Grandmère,buttodaypeoplesay—”“That makes her American Genovian,” Grandmère went on, blithely

ignoring me. “I suppose you’ll argue that the proper term is biracial, but inEuropethey’llcallherblack,justasthey’dcallheruncleaginger.”

“No one but you would call her uncle that,” I said. “And hopefully inEuropetheywon’tcallheranythingbutOliviaGrace,whichaccordingtothisishername.”

“Doyoureallythinkthat’swhatyourcousinIvanisgoingtosaywhenhefindsout?”Grandmèreaskedacidly.“Ihighlydoubtit.”

Itwouldbenicetothinkshe’swrong,andthatweliveinaworldwherenoonenotices things likeskincolor(orhaircolor)andthatprejudiceandbigotrydon’texist.Certainlymanypeopleclaimthey“don’tsee”thesethings,andthatweliveina“post-racialsociety.”

ButIdon’tneedacrisismanagementteamtotellmethatthisisuntrue.“Yeah,” I said. “Well, inCousin Ivan’s case, itmighthavebeenbetter if

shewerearedhead—”“Biteyourtongue!”Grandmèrecried,horrified.Wedidn’tget to finishour talk, though,becauseat thatmomentweboth

heardloudmalevoicesfromthehallwayoutsideGrandmère’spenthousecondo.Curiously,theyappearedtobesingingapopularGenoviandrinkingsong,whichgoes,roughlytranslated:

Oh,forgiveme,Mother,forIamdrunkagain!Forgiveme,Mother,forIamdrunkagain!Forgiveme,Mother,forIamdrunk,Forgiveme,Mother,forIamdrunk,Forgiveme,Mother,forIamdrunkagain!(Repeat)

It is possibly the most annoying song of all time (besides Boris’s “AMillion Stars”), but its annoying qualities multiply times infinity when yourealizethat it’sbeingsungbyyourfather,whoyou’vejustfoundouthasbeenlying to you (by omission) about having another child, and who only a fewweeksearliergotarrestedforrecklesslyspeedinghisracecarinManhattan.

“What’shedoinghere?”Ihissed,hurriedlyclosingthedossier.“Oh, he’s been downstairs in his own suite this entire time,”Grandmère

said,“withyourfiancé.”“What?Michael?” Suddenly I recognized the secondmale voice. “When

didMichaelgethere?”“IbelievehearrivedwhileyouwereimprisoningRommel’sbride-to-bein

the kitchen,”Grandmère said drily, “to try, as he put it, to straighten out thisweddingnonsense.Isenthimtospeaktoyourfather.Itsoundslikethetwoofthemhavebeencelebratingyour impendingnuptials.Youcankeep that.”Shepointedtothedossier.“Ihavemyowncopy.ButIwouldn’tallowyourfathertoseeit.”

“Wait...Daddoesn’tknowyouknow?”“Ofcoursehedoesn’t.Youknowhowsensitiveheis.Eversincehewasa

littleboy,heneverlikedmeknowinghisbusiness.Irememberwhenhewasatschool,heusedtocollectcomicbooks—theonewhodressedasaspider,whatwashisname?Well,whateverhisnamewas,yourfatherlovedhim,butheneverwantedmetoknowaboutit.Whydoyouthinkyourfatherwouldbesoashamedoflovingaspiderman?”

“Idon’tknow,Grandmère,”Isaid,shovingthedossierintomybag,whichwasfortunatelylargeenoughtoholditsinceitwasmycarry-on.Ihadn’tyethadachance tounpackfrommytrip,so Iwasstillcarryingaroundallmyclothesandbottlesofsunscreen.“MaybebecausehesecretlywantedtobeSpider-Man.Anyway,wehavetotalkaboutthiswithhim.Hecan’tgoonkeepinghisowndaughterasecret.”

“Ofcoursehecan,”shesaidwithasniff.“Atleastuntilaftertheelection.He’sdoneitfortwelveyears,hecandoitforthreemoremonths.”

“Buthecan’tallowOliviatobetakenoverseas!”“Whynot?Thepresswillhaveamuchmoredifficulttimefindingherthere

thaninNewJersey.Andthisisthefamilysheknowsand,presumably,lovesandfeelscomfortablewith.”

“Butit’snotright,”Isaid.“We’reherfamily,too.Andwemayneverhaveachancetoseeheragain.Likeinthe1991docudramastarringSallyField,NotWithoutMyDaughter, based on the true story of the kidnapping ofAmericancitizenBettyMahmoody’sdaughterbyherownhusband,whorefusedtoreturnherfromIranafterhistwo-weekvisitation.”

Grandmèrefrownedatme.“Isaidoverseas,Amelia,notIran.Youdoknowthat I only shared this information with you so you would understand howessential it is that you provide a distraction in your role as royal bride thissummer,notsothatyoucouldturnit intotheplotofsometerriblemovieonlyyouhaveeverseen.”

“Thatmoviewasn’tterrible,”Isaidindignantly.“Itwasamovingportrayalofabravewomanwhofoughtagainstamisogynisticregimeforthereturnofherchild.”

“MayIremindyou,Amelia,thatthisisatimeofcrisis,notatimeforfilmreviews?Yourfatherneedsyou.Yourcountryneedsyou.”

“Well,Ithinkmysisterneedsme,andIintendtodosomethingaboutit.”“Youwill not. Youwill do as I tell you. And stop twitching atme. It’s

extremelyunbecoming.”Butbythenthedoortothepenthousehadalreadyburstopen,andDadhad

come staggering in, supported under one armbyMichael, so the conversation(princessesneverargue)hadcometoanend.Mygrandmothershovedme—withsurprising strength for such an elderly woman—toward them, crying, “Well,hello, gentlemen! How lovely to see you both. This happy news calls for acelebration,don’tyouthink?Whatwillyouhave?”

Dad is completely blotto—much too drunk to confront tonight—and I’msupposedtobeinheremakingcoffee(whichobviouslyIhaven’tbeen,becauseinsteadI’vebeenwritingthisalldown.Iorderedcoffeefromroomservice).

Everyoneisintoogoodamoodtonotice, though,evenGrandmère.EvenMichael.Hecameinandkissedme.

MichaelhasnothadasmuchtodrinkasDad,thoughhedidsaythatwhenhetriedtobroachthesubjectoftoningdownthewedding,Dadslappedhimontheshoulderandsaid,“Now,whywouldwedothat?GottokeepupwiththoseBrits!”thencrackedopenathousand-dollarbottleof2000DomainesBaronsdeRothschildChateauLafite.

Even the new dog seems happy: she’s currently curled into a littlewhiteballonmylap.

Everyoneseemstobebubblingoverwithjoy.Everyonebutme.WhatamIgoingtodo?

CHAPTER25

8:27p.m.,Monday,May4IntheHELVonthewaytotheconsulateRatetheRoyalsRating:1

Ignored Grandmère’s advice about not sharing personal baggage with anyonebutfamilyandtoldMichaeleverythinginthecarjustnowonthewayhome—whichmeansLarsheardit,too,butwhatever.ThefactthatIhaveasecretsisterispossiblyoneoftheshortest-keptsecretsofalltime.

ButI’mnotnotgoingtotellMichaelsomethinglikethis.We’reengaged.Michaelwassurprised,butnotassurprisedasIwouldbeifhe’dtoldmehis

dadhadasecret lovechildhe’dbeenhidinginNewJerseyforthepast twelveyears.

Isupposeit’seasiertobelievethisofthePrinceofGenoviathanitwouldbeofDr.Moscovitz,amarriedpsychoanalystwholivesontheUpperWestSideandlikestoreadnonfictionaboutthefalloftheThirdReichinhissparetime.

“Well,”Michael said, after he’d gotten over his initial shock. “What areyougoingtodoaboutit?”

Ididnottrytohidemybitterness.“GrandmèresaysI’mnotsupposedtodoanythingaboutit,forthegoodofthecountry.Notuntilaftertheelection.”

“Right.”Michael rolledhiseyes.“Again,whatareyougoing todoaboutit?”

“That’sthething.Idon’tknow.”Thisisverydistressing.Iusuallyalwaysknowwhattodo. . .oratleastI’mleaninginonedirectionoranother.Butinthiscase,Ihavenoidea.“Whatwouldyoudo?”

“IfIfoundoutIhada littlesistersomegingerbohunkwasthreateningtotakeoverseas,I’dgofindher,”Larsvolunteeredfromthefrontseat.“ThenI’d

putabulletthroughthebohunk’shead.Probablyanine-millimeter.Butpossiblyaforty-five,dependingonhowmuchIdislikedhim.”

Thanksfortheinput,Lars.“I’m not sure that’s the most diplomatic way to handle it,” I said. “Nor

woulditbethebestthingforatwelve-year-oldtosee.”“Iwouldn’tdoit infrontofher.”NowLars isdisgustedwithme.“AndI

knowenoughtomakeitlooklikeasuicide.”

•Notetoself:DonotgetonthebadsideoftheRGG.

Grandmèrewasright.Ishouldhavekeptmypersonalbaggagetomyself.

CHAPTER26



Reallymustsay“crap”eventhoughprincessesaren’tsupposedtoswear.Pulled up in front of the consulate just now, and half the block has been

takenoverbybluewoodenbarricadeswhichtheNYPD(workingintandemwiththe Royal Genovian Guard) has erected to keep back all news vans andphotojournalistscrowdedoutsidetheconsulatedoors.

Idon’twanttobethekindofgirlfriend/fiancée/wifewhosays“Itoldyouso,” but I did tell Michael this was going to happen. It’s official: Ourengagementmadethenationalnews.

AndI’mnolongerWhyWon’tHeMarryMia.I’mthePrincessBride.(Sounoriginal.Youcandobetter,BrianFitzpatrick.)

CHAPTER27



Doublecrap.Justpulledup infrontofMichael’sbuilding,and it’s surroundedbypress,too,waitingforus.

LarsiscallingJosétoaskhimwhatthehellwe’resupposedtodo.NYPDflaggedusover,andwhentheniceofficerlookedinsideandsawwhowewere,shesaid,“Dousafavor,wouldyou?”

Isaid,“Ofcourse,Officer.”Shesaid,“Don’tgetoutofthecar.”“ButIlivehere!”Michaelcried.“Iwouldseriouslyconsidermoving.”Sotired.AllIwanttodoiscrawlintobedandcrymyselftosleep.Butright

nowitappearsIhavenobedtocrawlinto.Ineverthoughthavingahappily-ever-afterwasgoingtobesocomplicated.ImissFatLouie.See,thisiswhatismakingmethinkIshouldn’tgorushingtoNewJerseyto

yankOliviaGraceawayfromherbohunkuncle.Whensomethingiskeepingyouaway from home—even if it’s only a temporary home, like the third-floorapartmentoftheGenovianconsulate—homeistheonlyplaceyouwanttobe.

CHAPTER28

12:22a.m.,Tuesday,May5

RegaltonHotelCentralParkSuiteRatetheRoyalsRating:1

ThisisnothowIexpectedtobespendingmyfirstnightbackinManhattanasanengagedwoman.

Not that I’m complaining, because I know there aremany,many peoplewho would trade places with me in an instant. And I am very, very contentseeing as how I, along with my fiancé, am currently checked into a premier“towersuite”attheRegalton(oneofManhattan’sfinestluxuryhotels)courtesyoftheGenovianconsulateunderthename“Mr.andMrs.JamesT.Kirk.”Iamnot exactly homeless or sleeping in my car under a bridge. I am very muchenjoyingmydiamondshoes.

Still,it’sabitdisturbingnottobeablesleepinmyownbed(orseemyowncat)becauseofthehordesofpressstakingoutourindividualdomiciles.

“Ifit’slikethisnow,”Michaelaskedearlierintheeveningwhilewewereenjoyingoursteakaupoivre(roomservice),“what’sitgoingtobelikeclosertotheactualwedding?”

“Don’tworry,”Dominique assured us cheerfully over the phone (I’d putheronspeaker).“I’msure therewillbeaweatherdisasterorcelebrityscandalsoon.”

But what if the celebrity scandal is my newly discovered little sister? Ithought (but didn’t ask aloud sinceDominique has not yet been let in on thesecret).

Idon’twantOliviahavingabunchofreporterspointingtelephotolensesather every door andwindow,wonderingwhen she’s cominghome so they cansnapaphotoofher,whether she’s ready for it ornot. (There’snothingworsethangettingyourphototakenwhenyou’renotexpectingit.IknowbecauseI’vehad countless photos taken ofme when I was chewing or sneezing or in mybathingsuit, thenpostedonlineandinmagazines,accompaniedbyunflatteringand unfair captions like Royal Rebel: drunk again! or Pity Pity Princess orCelluliteSurprise!).

WhatsaddensmeiswhenIaskyounggirls (andboys)at thecenterwhattheyhopetobewhentheygrowup(solame,Iknow,andasignthatI’mgetting

old, because only adults ask young people this question. Why do we do it?Becausewe’re looking for ideas! I’m twenty-sixand Istill don’tknowwhat IwanttobewhenIgrowup,exceptofcoursethatIwanttohelppeopleandbebrilliantly happy and with Michael Moscovitz, of course), all too often theyanswer,“WhenIgrowup,Iwanttobefamous,likeyou,PrincessMia!”

Atfirstthismademeverydepressed.Famous?Beingfamousisn’tajob!Then I realized that it is. Being famous is very hard work, but it’s also

empowering,becauseyouhaveinfluenceoveralargenumberofpeopleandcandoamazingthingswiththatpower.

Anditdoesn’tevenmatteranymorehowyouhappentocomebythatfame,singingordancingorpostingasextapeontheInternetorfindingoutthatyou’reaprincess.It’swhatyoudowithyourfamethatmatters.

So I began explaining to the children that they could become famous bydoing something helpful in their community, such as being a doctor, teacher,policeofficer,engineer,orarchitect.Thatcanbetotallyempowering,evenifitdoesn’tmakethem“famous”internationally.

Ofcoursenoneofthemhasfallenforit...yet.IthinkIhavetoworkonmydelivery.Itdefinitelyisn’tgoingtohelpifmyeyelidistwitchingasIsayit.

And Imust say I appreciate the complimentary bottle of champagne andboxofchocolate-coveredstrawberriesthattheconciergehasjustsentup,alongwithhercongratulationsandanotesayingthatifwelikeourroom,weshouldbesuretopostaboutitonourInstagramaccounts.

“Well,”MichaeljustsaidashecameoutoftheshowerinhisfluffywhiteRegalton bathrobe, smelling ofKiehl’s beauty products, his dark hair stickingdamplytothebackofhisneck(howIlovewhenthishappens).“Icouldgetusedto this.Did you see that there’s a television in themirror in there? Inside themirror.AccordingtoInsideEdition, thereasonwe’regettingmarriedinsucharush is because you’re carrying my unborn twins. Congratulations. At leastthey’renotPrinceHarry’sthistime.”

“I liked Sleepy Palm Cay better, where there were no TVs,” I said,“especiallynotinthebathroommirrors.”

“IneverinamillionyearsthoughtI’dhearyousaysuchathing.”Michaellay down on the bed beside me and lifted one of the chocolate-coveredstrawberries and dangled it over my mouth. “Open. We must keep you well

nourishedasyou’renoweatingforthree.”Ithoughtaboutrefusing,butwhocanrefuseadeliciouschocolate-covered

strawberry?Besides,Ihadn’tyetbrushedmyteeth.I’dbeenbusyreadingJosé’sdossier onOlivia (the news isn’t as bad as I thought.But it isn’t great either.Olivia doesn’t appear to be happy in her school, though she does make verygoodgrades).

“Don’t eat any more of those,” I warned Michael, after I’d swallowed.“They’re blackmail berries. They only gave them to us in exchange for usposting photos of ourselves eating them on our social media network, with ahashtag mentioning the Regalton. But if we do that, it will look like I’mpromotingafor-profitbusiness,andyouknowit’sRenaldoroyalfamilypolicynevertodothat.Weonlypromotenonprofits.”

“So?”Michaelliftedanotherstrawberry.“Youknowintheolddayspeoplesimplyused toacceptgiftsandenjoy themandnot feelguiltyabout failing tophotographthemselvesdoingit.”

Then he opened his robe to reveal that beneath it, he was wearingabsolutelynothing.Thenheputthechocolate-coveredstrawberryonaplaceI’mnotgoingtowritehere,butitwasquitenaughty,evenforavisitortothisplanetfromanothergalaxy,unaccustomedtoourwaysandhishumanoidbody.

AllIhavetosayis,thisprincessbridethingdefinitelyhasitsupside.

CHAPTER29

10:02a.m.,Tuesday,May5InHELVonwaytotheCommunityCenterRatetheRoyalsRating:1

MichaelletmesleepinandwasupandgonebeforeIeverevenopenedmyeyes.He left me a text (whatever happened to romantic, handwritten notes left onpillows,alongwithachocolate-coveredstrawberry?Oh,well,weate themall,andtextingismoreexpedient).

Goodmorning!There’sanE.colioutbreakinCaliforniadue to bags of allegedly prewashed salad mix. 213hospitalized.Also,thewifeoftheCrownPrinceofQalifisalive.Shetweetedthatshe’sveryangryaboutthisnewlawherhusbandhasissuedthatwomeninhiscountryarenotallowedtoswiminpublic.Soweareno longer the leadstory! I’matwork,call

mewhenyougetup(Ithoughtyou’dwanttosleepin,asyou seemed exhausted. I don’t know what could havetiredyouout;-).Loveyou.

Heincludedanemojiofacartoonalienbeingblastedthroughitsheartbyalasergun.

I really do need to talk to him about his emojis; he doesn’t seem tounderstandthepurposeofthematall.

Anyway,IknowexactlywhatitisIhavetodo.Ireadinamagazineoncethatsleephelpsresetthebrain,soifyouhavean

important decision to make you should put off making it until morning. Ashumanbeings,wemakesomanyimportantdecisionsthroughouttheday(suchaswhattoeatforlunch,whetherornottocrossagainstthelight,orwhethertofriendthispersonorthatperson)thatbyeveningourdecision-makingbraincellsareliterallydepleted.

Butbymorningthey’rerechargedandreadytogo.This must be why everything seems so clear to me this morning (well,

exceptfortheheadache).Obviously,Ican’tallowmyselftobepushedaroundlikethis.Iplantogo

toNewJerseytomeetmysister.Iknow thisgoesexplicitlyagainstherownmother’s (andgrandmother’s)

wishes, but likeLars said, no one is going to keepme frommeetingmyownsister—especiallynowthatIknowwehavethesamemiddlename(Mignonette—clearly ElizabethHarrison did that on purpose. Shemust havemeant us tomeetoneday).

Ofcourse,Mignonetteisalsomygrandmother’smiddlename(andasaucewithwhichrawoystersareserved).Butthismeansnothing.

Olivialovesanimals(likeme)andalsodrawingandmath(okay...unlikeme. But everyone has their individual talents andwe are all unique. Not likesnowflakes, though, because they’ve actually discovered that there AREsnowflakes that are alike. So we all need to stop saying that thing aboutsnowflakesbeingunique).

She also lives with her aunt and the “bohunk” uncle and his two olderchildrenfromapreviousmarriage.

SoIdon’twanttomakeherlifeharderthanitalreadyis.Maybeshewantstomoveoverseas.

•Notetoself:Findoutwhereoverseastheyaremoving.Maybeit’ssomeplacenice,suchastheSouthofFrance.Maybethey’llbenearGenovia!

Butwhereshelivesshouldbeuptoher.Sheshouldknowshehasachoice.AlthoughfirstIhavetoworkonhavingachoicetogiveher.

CHAPTER30

10:15a.m.,Tuesday,May5InHELVonthewaytotheCommunityCenterRatetheRoyalsRating:1

JustgotoffthephonewithMichael.Wehadaveryseriousconversationaboutwhatweweregoing todoaboutour livingsituation,andalsoaboutmysister,Olivia. (After some initial silliness about whether I was or was not wearingunderwear.)

Grandmère’s announcement of our wedding plans is forcing us to makedecisionsaboutthingswehadn’tyetdiscussedinalotofdetail,suchaswherewe’regoingto live.ObviouslyMichaelcan’tmoveinto theconsulate,becausetheapartmentthereistoosmallandalsohideous(thedécoriscirca1987),andnoonewhodoesn’tabsolutelyhavetoshouldbeforcedtoliveunderMadameAlain’ssanctimoniousgaze.

Of course Michael’s loft is wonderful but it’s in a nondoorman condobuilding,whichmeans:

•Thereisnoonetokeepstalkersfrombeingbuzzedin.

•Thereisnodeskforpackages,etc.,tobesignedin/scannedbytheRoyalGenovianGuard.

•Itdoesn’thaveproperwallsbetweenrooms(exceptforthebathrooms),whichisfineforusbutinappropriateifwe’regoingtobeplayingFireman(orSpaceAlien)whilealsoentertainingovernighthouseguests,suchasalittlesister(whomIhopetoentertainoneday).Whatifsheweretohearus?Itcouldpermanentlywarpherdevelopinglittlemind.

“Wait,” Michael said, when I mentioned this. “Are you thinking we’regoingtoadopther,orsomething?”

“Ofcoursenot!” I said. “We’regoing tobenewlyweds.Wecan’thaveatweengirl loungingaroundthehouse,doingtween-girl thingslikepaintinghernailsandFaceTimingwithherfriendsabouthernewteenheartthrob.”

“Isthatreallywhatyouthinktweengirlsdo?Haveyoubeenwatching13Goingon30again?”

“No.Iknowwhattweengirlsdo.Iwasatweenonce.”“IfIrecallcorrectly,whenyouwereatween,youwouldwalkaroundwith

acatstuffeddownyourpantswhilemysisterfilmedyouforherpublic-accessTVshow.”

“Thatisnotcorrect.”“From my observations, it is. I was there, remember? I don’t think you

reallyhaveasolidgrasponnormaltweenbehavior.”“Pleaselet’smoveon.It’snotlikeOliviacanlivewithmydad.He’dbethe

worstpersontoraiseatween.HestaysinahotelroomhereinNewYorkhalftheyear,andtherestofthetimehehangsaroundGenovia,pretendingtogovernit.”

“Yeah,”Michaelsaid.“That’strue,butIthoughtthewholepointwasthathermomdidn’twanthertoknowshe’sGenovianroyalty.”

“Right.But ifmygrandmother’s right, she’sgoing to findouteventually.So it’s better for me to be the one to tell her. I can do it gently andcompassionately.Andso itwillbenice ifwehadaroomforher tostay in,”Isaid.“Soshefeelswelcome.Ifshewantsto.”

“Okay,”Michaelsaid,soundingskeptical.“You’vedecidedyou’regoingtotellyourlong-lostsisterthatshe’sGenovianroyalty.Thatwillprobablygowell.Whenareyougoingtodothis?”

“Idon’tknow,”Isaid.“Ihaven’tdecided.Butsoon.Stopmakingitsoundweird. It’s no weirder than the fact that we had to stay in a hotel last nightbecauseourplaceswereswarmingwithpaparazzi.”

“It’salittleweirderthanthat,”Michaelsaid.“Butthatcopdidadvisemetogetanewapartment.IsupposeIcanjustbuyonewithasparebedroomforyoursister—”

“See?”Isaid.“That’sthespirit.”

Howamazingishe?Icanjustbuyanewplacewithasparebedroomforyoursister.I’mseriouslytheluckiestgirlintheworld.

•Notetoself:Rememberthisforgratitude-journalentry.

(Wow,it’ssadthatIhavetomakenotesinmyregularjournaltoremembertoputthingsinmygratitudejournal.)

“Why don’t I buy it with you?” I suggested. “Our first place together!Should it be uptown or downtown? Or what about a place looking out overCentralPark?Toobadeveryoneishavingembolismsabout thesafetyof thosecarriagehorses,Ibetmysisterhasneverhadoneofthose—”

“Why don’t I have my real-estate broker look into where the market isstrongest right now,”Michael interrupted, “andwe can buywherewe get themostsquarefootageforourmoney?”

For someone who came up with such a romantic wedding proposal,Michael is certainly practical when it comes to money matters—and withoutnecessarilyneeding tobe. (Fortunatelyhe laughedandsaidhe’dfindaway togetoverthedisappointmentwhenIadmittedtohimthatIdidnot,infact,inherit$100million incashonmy twenty-fifthbirthday,aswas reportedbyRate theRoyals.)

“Fine,”Isaid.“MaybeIshouldjustputonourweddinginvitationsthatinlieuofgiftspeopleshouldsendmoneytoanescrowaccountforus tobuyourfirsthome.”

“Now,that’sagreatidea.”“Michael, I was kidding. We could tell people to donate money to the

CommunityCenterorDoctorsWithoutBorders,though.”“Okay.Butlook,don’tyouthinkyoushoulddiscussthiswholethingabout

yoursisterwithyourdadfirst?”“No,Idonot.Allmydad’sdonelatelyisscrewthingsup.I’mnotgoingto

lethimscrewthisup,too.”Allthemagazines—andStarTrekmoviesstarringChrisPineasKirk—say

that in stressful situationswhereyoudon’t knowwhat todo, you just have tofollowyourgut.

What they don’t say is how you’re supposed to know what your gut istellingyou.Sometimesyourgutgivesconflictingadvice.Oftenyoudon’tknow

whichpath is the rightonebecauseall thepaths seem right, and in cases likethat,yourgutisnohelpatall.

Exceptthatinthiscase,whenMichaelsuggestedItalktomydad,Ihadasuddenandverystrongsignalfrommygut.Itsaid,No.

“Well,”Michaelsaid,soundingdubious.“Okay,Mia,butIreallythinkyoushouldreconsider.Yourdad’sgoingthroughatoughtimerightnow.”

“I’mawareofthat,Michael,andlookhowhe’sreactingtoit.He’samess.Ileft him a message yesterday, and he never called me back. Instead he gotdrunk.”

“Yeah,but—”“Ifhewantstotalktome,heknowshowtoreachme.Inthemeantime,I’m

goingtofigureoutwhattodoaboutOlivia,andmyownlife.Mydadhastotakecareofhisown life,even thoughIhave tosayso farhe’smessed itupprettybadly.Onemightevensayroyally.”

“Okay,”Michaelsaid.“ButmaybetreattheOliviathingcarefully.”“Thankyou,Michael,butIdohavealittleexperienceinbreakingnewsto

peoplethatthey’reprincesses,youknow.”

CHAPTER31

11:15a.m.,Tuesday,May5

FrankGianiniCommunityCenterRatetheRoyalsRating:1

Therewerealmostasmanypapshangingaroundoutside thecenter—themoreintelligent ones who actually knowme and figured I wouldn’t skip work fornearlyaweek—astherewereoutsideMichael’sapartmentbuildinglastnight.

I felt itwouldbebetter tostopandchatwith themforafewminutes thistime—aswellasgivethemafewphotos(it’salwaysgoodtohavephotostakenoutside the center because it reminds people about it and all the services itprovides)—thantoignorethem.DespiteDominique’sinsistence,ignoringthemhasn’tworked, and I didn’twant thempestering thekids, their parents, ormystaff.

SoIputonmysunglassestocovermytwitch—whichsadlystartedgoingstrongthemomentIsawthepaps—andsteppedoutontothecurb.

UnfortunatelyIdidn’tnoticethatoneofthemwasBrianFitzpatrickuntilitwastoolate.

Bythenhewasalreadyholdingadigitalrecorderuptomyfaceandasking,“Princess, can you tell the readers of Rate the Royals dot-com how you feelaboutyourengagement?”

WhatIwantedtosaywas,Goaway,Brian.Butsincethatwouldn’thavesoundedveryroyal,insteadIsaid,“I’mover

themoonaboutmyengagement,Brian,andthat’swhyIwanttoenjoyitforaslong as possible. No date for the wedding has actually been set.” (Ha!Sometimesbeingaworld-classliarcomesinhandy.)

ThenIshowedBriantheringandmadeahugepointoftellinghimthatitwas a lab-growndiamond andhowproud I am thatMichael is supporting theefforttocreateconflict-freediamonds.

Of courseBrian had to be a joy-killer and ask, “But if everyone followsyour example, Princess, and buys lab-grown diamonds, how will the poordiamondminersbeabletosupporttheirfamilies?”

“Well,hopefullygovernmentsthatearnrevenuesfromthediamond-miningindustry will get the message that consumers want diamonds that have beenminedinaccordancewithfair-tradeprinciplesandhuman-rightsconditions,and

thosegovernmentswillworktoinvestproductivelyintheirnaturalresources.”

•Notetoself:Bazinga!

Brian looked impressed as he checked tomake sure his handheld devicehadrecordedthis,thenaskedifhecouldgetaselfiewithmeforthesite.IguessPippagavehimonelasttimeshewasintown.

IknowLazarres-Reynoldswouldhavewantedmeto,sincewe’rein“crisismanagement”modeandsuckinguptothemediaisanimportantpartofthat,butIjustcouldn’tbringmyselftomovemyheadcloseenoughtoBrian’stoposeforaselfie.

I said, “Oh, sorry, Brian, I haven’t got time, I must get into work, I’mrunninglate.Maybenexttime,bye-yeee!”

ThenIlefthimstandingonthecurb.Idon’tevenfeelbadaboutit.Maybethiswillteachhimnottoratepeople

(even royal people) like they’re appliances on a home-improvement retailwebsite.


1.TheaviatorsunglassesTinaandIboughtsowecouldlookjustlikeConnieBritton,akaCoachTaylor’swifeonFridayNightLights,andwhichalsohidemytwitch.

2.Press-onnails,soBrianFitzpatrickcouldn’tseehowbadlyI’vebittenatmyrealnails.

3.Platformwedges,whichcausedmetotoweroverhim.

CHAPTER32

12:35p.m.,Tuesday,May5


Amattempting to rocket through allmywork here (not that I dislikemy job,moldingyoungmindsandsettingthemonapathtowardsuccessisenormouslysatisfying,andalsoimportant)soIcangetbusyonmyplanforOlivia,butI’mbeinghamperedateveryturnbythisweddingbusiness(which,ofcourse,isalsoveryimportant,butnotasimportantasmoldingyoungmindsorwhatI’mgoingtodoaboutmynewfoundsister).

Thekidsaresosweet, though!TheymademeanenormousbirthdaycardandsignedtheirnamestoitandLingSuhungitinmyoffice.Ittakesupmostofonewall.

Then yesterday, when they found out about the engagement, they madeanothercard,andhungitonmyotherwall.SomeofthekidsseemtohaveseenthereportonInsideEditionandhavewishedmeluck“withthebabies.”Afewof the girls have drawn startlingly tender portraits of “the babies.” I amsomewhatdisturbedbythis.

•Notetoself:Mustmakesurewemakescreeningsof16andPregnantandTeenMomaregularpartofourprogrammingbecauseIunderstandtheseshowshavehelpedtolowerteenbirthratesbydepictinghowdifficultitistoraiseachildwhenyouarenotyetemotionallyorfinanciallyready.

Michael texted that the doctors to whom he was supposed to give hisspeechlastnightarewillingtolethimrescheduleitfortonightandwouldImindifhe’s“home”late.

So sweet of him to ask!And almost like beingmarried already. I textedbackno,thatIwouldn’tmind,butthatI’dmisshim,andincludedanemojiofapairofkissinglips.

In returnhesentapictureofanexplodingvolcanoandsaid that’swhat Ishouldexpectwhenhegothome.

•Notetoself:Makesuresecurity-systemglitchhasbeenrepaired.Forgot

...Idon’thaveto!We’reengaged!Nomoresneakingaroundnecessary.

CHAPTER33



E-mail from Grandmère and her assistant, Rolanda, saying they want to puttogetheran itineraryformeformyweekandalsobegin theweddingplanningandsoneedsome input. Itappears I’m tohavesomesay inmyweddingafterall!Theyaskedmetofilloutandreturnthefollowing:

TheWeddingofPrincessAmeliaRenaldoofGenoviato

Mr.MichaelMoscovitz

GUESTLIST:MichaelandIwouldliketokeepitsmall,familyandfriendsonly.Iknowthisisaskingalot,butcanwekeepitunderfifty,please?Ahundred,tops.

WEDDINGPARTY:I don’t know who Michael is going to want, but as my bridesmaids I’ddefinitely like LillyMoscovitz, Tina Hakim Baba, Shameeka Taylor, PerinThomas,LingSuWong,andpossiblyLanaRockefellerandTrishaBush(néeHayes), but I’ll have to get back to you on that last one. I definitely wantRockyasaringbearer/groomsman,though.

DATE:Wecan’tpossiblyhaveitonJuly18.That’swaytoosoon.MaybeinJulyofnextyear.Thanks.

VENUE:MichaelandIdon’tmindhavingitat thepalacebutnotthechapel,becausewe don’t want a religious ceremony and not the throne room (lack ofintimacy).Outdoorswouldbenice.I’d lovetohaveabeachwedding!ButIrealize crowd control could be an issue. Plus there is always the danger ofdrones.

GOWN:MyfriendShameekaworksatVeraWang,sowealreadyhavean“in”there.Hergownsareclassicandbeautiful,anditwouldbenicetohaveadesignerwhoisawomanforachange.

But Iknowhowimportant it is touse localvendors, soprobablyweshoulduseaGenovian?

SinceIwantabeachoratleastanoutdoorwedding(fingerscrossed),I’dlikesomethingsimple,thatIcandancein!

ENTERTAINMENT:ObviouslyaDJ.

Michaelwantsour first song tobe“GirlUWant”byDevobecausehesaysit’soursong(sinceitperfectlydescribeshowheusedtothinkofmebackinhighschool ),butIknowthatwillneverworksinceit’smuchtoofast!

Sowe’llsettleforAlGreen’s“TakeMetotheRiver”or“TupeloHoney”byVan Morrison. See attached playlist for the songs we’d like during thereception.

FOOD:While I know how the palace chef feels about buffets, a lot of peoplenowadaysdohave food restrictions, so it’snice tobe sensitive to that.So Ithinkoffering a varietyof options, including a gluten-free and also a veganentrée,wouldbenice.

Mini grilled cheese sandwiches, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, mac andcheese,andbuild-your-owntaco/nachobarwouldalsobefun.

HONEYMOON:ItwouldbegreattogotoMykonos.Asyouknow,I’veneverbeenthere,andI’ve always wanted to take the royal yacht and visit it as well as thesurroundingislands.It’ssupposedtobethe“IbizaofGreece”!

CHAPTER34

1:15p.m.,Tuesday,May5Frank Gianini Community Center Rate the RoyalsRating:1

JustgotatextfromTinaHakimBaba:


Hi, hope things are going well with the weddingplanning, missing you! Anyway, Boris texted me thismorningtoaskifIthoughtyou’dwanthimtoperformatyour reception. He said he’s booked that day inCleveland, but he doesn’t mind disappointing theBorettesforyou.IsaidI’dask.Sodoyouwanthimto?

Icouldn’tbelieveit.Icalledinsteadoftextingherback,becauseIwassoupset.

“Tina,whyareyouevenstilltakingBoris’scalls?”Shewhispered,“Idon’tknow.”“Whyareyouwhispering?”“I have finals this week. I can’t study at home, there are too many

distractions,suchasmyrefrigeratorandNetflix,soI’minmystudycarrelatthelibrary.Theydon’tlikeitwhenwetalkonourcells.”

“Oh,sorry.Iforgot.Doyouwanttocallmeback?”“No.Iwantyoutotellmewhatitwaslike.”

“Whatwhatwaslike?”“Michael’sproposal!Wasitromantic?Didheputtheringinachampagne

glass? I told him that’s what you wanted. I know it’s kind of cliché, and Iexplained to him about your fear of choking, but he said he’dmake sure youdidn’t—”

“Itwastotallyromantic,”Isaid,smiling.Irealizedwhatsheneededtohearwassomethingtocheerherup.“Andnotatallcliché,andsupersweet,andhedidmakesureIdidn’tchoke.Heevengotdownononeknee—”

She squee-ed, something people often describe themselves doing on theInternet,butthatyourarelyhearinreallife.However,whatcameoutofTina’smouthwasanactualsqueesound.

“He did? Oh, Mia, how I wish one of those spy drones had gotten apicture!”

“Well,I’mgladonedidn’t,becauseitwasjustbetweenus.”“I guess that’s good,” Tina said with a sigh. “So have you picked out a

dress?Can I gowith you to help choose it, like on that showSay Yes to theDress,when thebride invitesallher friends to sit anddrinkchampagnewhileshetriesondifferentdresses,andthentheyallholdupsignswiththumbs-uporthumbs-downonthem?”

Ilaughed.“Itdoesn’tworkthatwaywhenyou’reaprincess.I’llbehavingaone-of-a-kindgownprofessionallydesigned.”

“Oh, please?” she begged. “I have nothing to look forward to since myboyfriendcheatedonme.Nothingexcepttakingmystupidfinals.ThenI’llgettospendthesummerwithmynosyfamily,whoarejustgoingtohoundmeabout‘puttingmyselfbackoutthere.’Idon’twanttoputmyselfbackoutthere,IjustwanttositaroundandeatDoritosandwatchbadmoviesonNetflix.”

“Tina,” Isaid, inawarningvoice.“Comeon.Youhavesomuch tooffertherightguy!”

“I found the right guy, remember?Then he tossedme aside like Iwas anothingmorethanaservingwenchtouseforhispleasure.Now,comeon,youtotallyowemeforhelpingMichaelgiveyoutheperfectproposal.”

I’mstartingtorealizewhyweddingsaresoimportant,andwhypeoplelikethem somuch, evenme:when our own lives aren’t going so great,weddingsgiveus something to feel happy about.Abride is taking a journey, amagical

journeytowardafutureofhappinessandjoy,andeventhoughwearen’ttakingthatjourneywithher,wewanttovicariouslyenjoytheride.

“Okay,”IsaidtoTina.“I’llseewhatIcando.Butyouhavetopromise,nomoretextingwithBoris.”

She sighed. “Fine, Ipromise,” and then said, “What?” to someonewho’dapparently opened the door to her study carrel. “Oh, sorry,” she said to theperson.Tome,shewhispered,“Sorry,thatwasHalim.HesaysthestudentinthecarrelnextdoorcomplainedI’mbeingtooloud.”

HalimisTina’snewbodyguard,bywhomshe’sfollowedaroundduetohermultimillionairesheikhfather’sconvictionthatshe’sgoingtobekidnapped.Heroldbodyguard,Waheem,startedhisownsecuritybusiness(nowthethirdlargestintheworld)afterhegotmarried.HetriedtolureLarsaway,butLarssaidheisn’t“themanagementtype.”

“Well,”Isaid.“Weshouldprobablytalklater,then.”“Yeah,”Tinasaid,soundingglum,andhungup.That’swhenIsawsomeonehadleftamessagewhilewe’dbeenspeaking.I

hopeditwasmydad—inspiteofeverything,Istillwouldn’tmindspeakingtohim—butitwasonlyGrandmère.Notsurprisingly,sheobjectedtomyrepliestoher“weddinglist.”

“Amelia,wehaveatremendousamounttodointhenextfewweeks,soIhopeyou’regoingtotakethisseriously.Nogranddaughterofmineisgoingtoservetacosatherweddingreception,muchlesssomethingcalledaminigrilledcheesesandwich.”

Saidthewomanwho’dneverhadaminigrilledcheesesandwichinherlife.“Now,Lazarres-Reynoldswants toknowwhenyoucanmeetwith them,”

Grandmèrewenton.“They’veassignedusareallytop-notchman—Iquitelikehim, he’s the nephew of one of the founders of the firm.He’s free for lunchtomorrow,soI’vehadDominiquemakereservationsinoneoftheprivateroomsattheFourSeasons.Youwillbethereatone.”

Oh,Iwill,willI?Iwasstartingtocatchontomyroleinthiswholething.I’m“thebride”—theunpaid star of the show,who showsupwhen she’s told,andalsodoeswhatshe’stold,butotherwisekeepshermouthshut.

Oh,well.Iguessthat’swhatbrides—kindoflikeprincesses—arefor.Wemightthinkwe’reincharge,butwhenallissaidanddone,ourmainpurposeis

togivepeoplesomethingtoadmire,andalsotomakethemfeelbetterabouttheworld.

“I don’t understand why you’re so fixated on this Vera Wang person.Obviously we have to use a local. Dominique’s managed to book us anemergency appointmentwith your cousinSebastiano.He’s becomeone of thepremierwedding-gowndesignersinEurope,andisalsoGenovian,soyouknowwhatpeoplewillsayifwedon’tusehim—thatyou’vesnubbedoneofyourownrelatives, andworse, a fellow countryman.He just happens to be in town thisweekandsayshehastimetomeetyou,somakesuretokeepallyourafternoonsclear.”

Ofcourse.AndItotallygetit.FarbeitfrommenottohireaGenoviantodesignmyweddinggown.

“And we’re going to have to start making a guest list. Find out fromMichael’sparentswho theywant to invite sowecanstart screening them,butplease emphasize fromme that they can’t havemore than twenty-five peoplebecausewe reallydoonlyhave room for fivehundredandmypersonal list isalreadyattwohundredandofcoursewehavetoincludeourownfamilyandIassumeyou’llwantafewfriends.”

Howniceofher.“Asfortheentertainment,ofcoursewearen’tgoingtohireadiscjockey,

norwillwehaveanyofthoseridiculoussongsyouaskedfor.Madonna?Don’tbeabsurd!YouknowsheandIarestillnotspeaking.AndwhywouldwehaveDorothy’sdogTotofromtheWizardofOzperformatyourwedding?We’llhavealive,humanentertainer.I’mhavingDominiquegetintouchwithsomeoneI’mtold is top-notch—I can’t think of his name offhand but I understand he’sextremelypopular,andmore importantly,verykeen toperformforus,and forno fee. I thinkhe’lldonicely, and I’mpositivehecan sing that songMichaellikes about the river, whatever it is, although I must say I’m surprised, as itsounds likeaChristianspiritual,and I thoughtyour intendedwasJewish—notthatImind,I’mveryopentoallfaiths,exceptyoga,asyouknow.Well,nevermind,Dominiqueisgoingtosendoveracopyofyouritinerary,socallmewhenyoureceiveitifyouhaveanyquestions.YouknowIdon’tknowwhyyouevenhaveamobilewhenyouneverpickitup.Good-bye.”

Ican’t.

Ican’teven.

ROYALGENOVIANPRESSOFFICE

HRHPRINCESSMIARENALDO

ItineraryforWeekofMay4CONTACT:DominiqueduBois

DirectorofRoyalGenovianPressRelationsandMarketingCELL:917-555-6840

OFFICE:212-555-3767WEDNESDAY,MAY69:00A.M LimotoescortHRHtodesignofficesofSebastiano

(119Mercer).9:30A.M. MeetwithSebastianotogooverWedding/Bridesmaid

GownDesigns12:00P.M. LimotoescortHRHMiatoFourSeasons12:15–2:00P.M. Lazarres-ReynoldsLuncheon.

Privateroom.Attendees:HRHMia,HRHDowagerPrincessClarisseRenaldo,representativesofLazarres-Reynolds.

2:15–2:45P.M. LimowillbewaitingoutsideFourSeasonstoescortHRHMiatoPlazaHotel.

2:45–5:00P.M. MeetingwithHRHDowagerPrincess,Dominique,andRolandatogoovercake,guestlist,entertainmentchoices.

5:00P.M. LimowillbewaitingtoescortHRHMiahometochange.

7:00P.M. LimotoescortHRHMiatotheWHotel.7:30–10:30P.M NationalHeartAssociationBenefitBalltoRaise

AwarenessforSuddenCardiacDeath.

Talkingpoints:

1.Heartdiseaseisleadingcauseofdeathintheworldforbothmenand

1.Heartdiseaseisleadingcauseofdeathintheworldforbothmenandwomen.

2.5–10minutesofrunningorbriskwalkingperdaycancutriskofstroke/heartattackinhalf.

3.Don’tsmoke.

10:30P.M. LimotoescortHRHMiahome.

THURSDAY,MAY74:30A.M. LimotoescortHRHMiaandMichaelMoscovitzto

WakeUpAmericastudios,RockefellerPlaza.5:00A.M. ArriveWakeUpAmericagreenroom.Paulowillmeet

HRHMiatodohair/makeup.7:24A.M. InterviewonWakeUpAmerica.Topic:Royal

Wedding/Genovia.

Talkingpoints:

1.SuddenCardiacDeath:Soterrible!2.WeddinginJuly:Sohappy!3.Genovia—popularsummertouristdestination,especiallyinJuly.Rentals/hotelroomsstillavailable!

4.Election—PrincePhillipe’splatform:Equalityforall!

8:15A.M. LimowillgreetHRHMiaatstagedoorandescortHRHMiatobreakfastatPlazaHotelwithDowagerPrincessClariceRenaldoandRolanda.

9:00A.M.– 12:00P.M. Meetingtosolidifyweddinginvitation,cake,guestlist,

gown,entertainmentchoices.12:15P.M. LimotoescortHRHMiatotheNoMadHotel.

—Renaldo/21stCenturyFoxLuncheon—

1:00–3:00P.M. TheParlour.Attendees:HRHMia,HRHDowagerPrincessClarisseRenaldo,Dominique,representativesfromLazarres-Reynoldsand21stCenturyFox.

fromLazarres-Reynoldsand21stCenturyFox.

Talkingpoints:

1.Discussionofgranting21stCenturyFoxexclusiveworldwiderightstofilmRoyalWedding.

3:00P.M. LimotoescortHRHMiahome.6:00P.M. LimotoescortHRHMiatoGramercyTavern.

—Renaldo-MoscovitzDinner—

6:30–8:30P.M. Frontroom:HRHMiaandMichaelMoscovitz,windowtable.Presswillbecontactedfor“impromptu”photoopofhappycouplediningtogether.

9:00P.M. LimotoescortHRHMiatogrocerystore.Purchase:catfood.“Royals:They’reJustLikeUs”photoshootforMajestyMagazine.

10:00P.M LimotoescortHRHMiahome.

FRIDAY,MAY89:30A.M. LimowillbewaitingtoescortHRHMiatoairport.11:00A.M. DepartTeterboroonboardprivatejet.10:00P.M.(GST) ArriveGenovia.

CHAPTER35



Perin must have heard me hyperventilating over the itinerary since she justpoppedherheadintomyofficeandasked,lookingallconcerned,“Mia?Areyouallright?”

I said, “Fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry, it’s not work-related. Just . . .somethingmygrandmothersentover.ButI’mgood.OrIwillbe,afterImakeafewphonecalls.”

Perinshookherheadandsaid,“Youknow,Mia,youdon’thavetostayatworktoday.Iknowhowbusyyoumustbewith,um,everythingyouhavetodowiththewedding,andthestuffyourdadhas,uh,goingon.Youcouldleave,ifyou want to. You don’t even have to work from home. Ling Su and I haveeverythingundercontrol.”

Itoldhernottoworry,Iplanoncomingineveryday,asnormal...well,asmuchasmyschedulewillallow.

Ineversawmyselfasoneofthosewomenwhoonlyworkeduntilshegotaringonherfinger,thenspenttherestofherlifebeingaprofessionalbride/wife(especially since I’m already a princess, which is basically a profession untoitself).I’mnotexactlyLanaWeinberger(Rockefeller).

But based on the itinerary Dominique has sent over, I can see how thathappensforsomepeople,especiallywhentheyhavepushyfamiliesorspouses-to-be or theirwedding is going to be internationally televised. There’s just somuchtodo!

Ifeelarenewedrespectforeveryroyalbridewhoeverexisted.Honestly,though,Ihavethebestfriends(andstaff)intheworld.Myfamily,I’mnotsosureabout.

CHAPTER36

1:55p.m.,Tuesday,May5HELVonthewaytotheConsulateRatetheRoyalsRating:1

Ugh.Also,damn.Andalso,eww.NowIrealizePerinwasn’tbeingsweetwhenshetoldmeIdidn’thaveto

stayatwork.Shewasbeingpractical.Andalsotryingtoprotectthecenter.. .andme.

I was trying to get Dominique on the phone to tell her that while Iappreciate the itinerary she sent over,we needed to tweak it a little—such asscheduling a meeting with my future in-laws and the fact that my brotherRocky’s birthday isMay 10, so I can’t exactly leave forGenovia before that,especially in lightof thefact thatI fully intendtobeforcingmyne’er-do-wellfathertobecoparentingmylong-lostlittlesisterbythen—whenLingSucamerunning intomyoffice tosay thatBrianFitzpatrickhad justbeenfoundin thecenter’s women’s restroom, standing on one of the toilets, trying to hide alipstickcameraandmicrophoneinthevent.

Of course Brian had another story. He claimed he found them in there,havingspiedthemwhilesittingonthetoilet,andthathe’dbeentryingtosaveusfromsufferinghumiliationbythem.

Butit’sobvioushewastheoneplantingthemsohecouldrecordmyprivateconversations.Whyelsewouldhehavebeeninthewomen’srestroom(letalonethebuilding)inthefirstplace?

Seriously.Thisismylife.Ling Su insisted we call the police (she is very feisty for such a tiny

person), but cooler-headed Perin suggested this would only bring more

unwantedpresstoboththecenterandtome.Sowe“escorted”Brianout(meaningLarsandPerinbasicallycarriedhim,

althoughtheydidn’tgettoroughBrianupasmuchasweallwouldhaveliked,sinceBrian is exactly the type to file amultimillion lawsuit, like the pap thatGrandmèrehitwithherBirkin).

AfterwardPerin toldmeBrianwasn’teventhefirst tohavepulledsuchastunttoday.ApparentlysinceI’vebeenatmydesk,severalpapswholookyoungenoughtopassasteenshavemanagedtosneakin—mainlybywearinghoodies,high-tops, and cross-body messenger bags—only to get caught when theyspecifically asked for help with their algebra homework from “PrincessMia”(our regularsknowI’mincompetentwhen itcomes toalgebra. IcanonlyhelpwithFrench,English,andpapersonEuropeancitrusproduction).

“Itmight be better,” Perin said, “if youworked fromhome again for thenext fewdays . . . just until the excitement over your engagement toMichaeldiesdown.”

Ididn’twant tomakeherfeelbadbytellingher that Ihavenohomeandthat this is the excitement dying down, thanks to the Crown Prince of QalifoutlawingswimmingforwomenandofcoursetheE.colioutbreak.

Instead I said, “Thank you, Perin. That’s a good idea,” and gatheredmybodyguardandleft.

I was feeling a bit depressed, but rallied after Lars and I grabbedsandwiches at Murray’s Shop (also Fritos, Butterfingers, and sodas from abodega,whereIsawthatonthecoverofthePostitsays:“MichaelMakesHisMove!” and there was a photo ofMichael kissing me in the backseat of theHELV. The accompanying article explained the tax breaks to which bothMichaelandhiscorporation,PavlovSurgical, Inc.,willbeentitledoncewe’vebeen married five years, since Genovian citizens—and companies—pay notaxes,anda“closefriend”ofMichael’sisspeculatingthatPavlovSurgicalwillsoonbereincorporatingonGenoviansoiltoavoidpayingAmericantaxes).

(Yes,Iboughtthepaperandreadthearticle.)Itmustbeaslownewsdayifthisisthemostscandalousreasontheycould

comeupwithforwhyMichael’sfinallyproposed.Thetaxbreak?I likeInsideEdition’stheory—thatI’mcarryinghistwins—better.

CHAPTER37

2:45p.m.,Tuesday,May5Third-FloorApartment


Gotamessagethatthecrowdoutsidetheconsulatehaddissipatedenoughformeto be smuggled in through the back service entrance, so I’m home (well,mytemporaryhome).SohappytoseeFatLouie.

HedidnotevenappeartonoticeI’dbeengone,havingapparentlyslepttheentiretime,judgingbythefurmattedontheleft-handcornerofmybedspread.

ButhepurredquitehappilywhenIpettedhim,andevenletmepickhimupand carry him around like a big fat baby (for about oneminute. Then he gotcrankyandgrowledand Ihad toputhimdownandgivehimachunkofhamfrommysandwich.Butitwasalovelyminute,untilhebitme).

Weirdly,MadameAlaingreetedmeevenmorewarmlythanFatLouie.AtfirstIdidn’tunderstandwhy,sinceI’veneverbeenherfavoriteperson,orevenseenhersmile.

Then I saw that she was packing all the things in her office into boxes.She’sbeingtransferredbacktoGenovia.

I completely forgot that I suggested she might be happier elsewhere.Apparentlysomeoneagreedwithme.

Fortunatelyshecouldn’tbemorepleased.She’salwayshatedherjobhere(andme)andnowshe’llneverhavetoseetheconsulate(orme)again.

Iwonderwhereshe’llbeworking.ButactuallyIdon’tcaresolongasit’swellawayfromme.

CHAPTER38



Sincewedidn’tbringourlaptopstotheExumas,Ihaven’tcheckedmye-mailinages.

Well,Ijustdid,andguesswhat?J.P.sentmehisdystopianYAnovel,LoveintheTimeofShadows.IhavesentitstraighttoTina.Ireadthesynopsis,andI’vedecidedI’mnotinaplacerightnowwhereI

want to know more about J.P.’s vision of the future, especially since in it:1.Onepercentofthepopulationownsallthewealthandpropertywhilebeingcateredtobytheimpoverished99percentwhohavenochanceofattaininganyof that wealth and property (except through armed rebellion or a randomizedlotterysystem).

2.Thepolicearemilitarized.

3.Everyonehasskincancer/radiationpoisoningbecausetheozonelayerisbeingdestroyedbyhumankind’sdisrespectoftheenvironment.

4.Themediaishighlybiasedandcensored.

5.Allanyonedoesiswatchrealitytelevisiontoescapetheirproblems.

6.Everyoneisoverweight(exceptofcoursethelitheheroineandhertwoloveinterests)becausehealthyfoodoptionsaresoexpensive/unavailable.

J.P.’s vision of the future seems eerily similar to the world we live inNOW!

WhywouldIwanttoreadthisbookinwhatlittlefreetimeIactuallyhave,considering the fact that it doesn’t seem to offer any realistic solutions to theproblemsitpresentsitscharacters,isverydepressing,andisalsowrittenbymyex-boyfriend?

That’swhyI’vesentittoTina.Maybeshewillfindsomethingtolikeaboutit.Oratleastfinditanicedistractionfromherex-boyfriend.

CHAPTER39



JustspentahalfhouronthephonearguingwithDominiqueovermyitinerary.Shesaysit’s“toolate”tochangeanythingonit,and“afterall,Princesse,youdowant to get married this summer, non? Well, then, we must get started, andthat’sgoing to require traveling toGenovia. I’m sureyour littlebrotherwon’tmindyourmissing’isbirthday.”

Uh,she isevidentlynotverywellacquaintedwithmanynine-soon-to-be-ten-year-oldboys. I loveRockyverymuch,buthe ischallenging.Mostofourconversations revolve around farts (his favorite subject) and dinosaurs (hissecondfavoritesubject).

“Howmuch did the dinosaurs fartwhen the giant asteroid that destroyedtheirhabitatstrucktheearth?”isoneofRocky’sfavoritequestions.

Heguessesquitealot,butIusuallysayprobablynotsomuchbecausetheyweresofrightened.

Mom worries Rocky might be held back because of his obsession withflatulence,butMichaelsaysit’squitenormalfornine-year-oldboys.

Forhisbirthday,Rockywantsadinosaur-themedcake,preferablyonewith“agiantasteroidsplattinginthemiddle.”WhenmymotherquestionedRockyastowhetherornotthisrequestwasserious,hefartedinresponse,andwassenttohisroomto“thinkaboutwhathe’ddone.”

I think itmightbequitenice tohavea female sibling to talk to.Not thatgirlsdon’t enjoydiscussing flatulenceanddinosaurs aswell, butOliviaGracelooksadorable.

IcouldtakehertotheAmericanGirlstoreandhavetea.Thatis,ifshelikesdolls.Theproblemis,she’stwelve.Twelveistoooldfordolls,isn’tit?

Ididn’twanttoadmititinfrontofMichael,butIhavenoideawhattwelve-year-oldgirls liketodothesedays.TheonesImeetat thecenterareallprettyfocusedontheirhomework,theirfamilies,fingernailpolish(obviously,I’mout),video games involving helping puppies find homes and reality stars pick outwhattowear,andseveralboybandsandskimpilycladfemalesingersI’veneverheardofwhoarepopular,buttheydon’tseemtometobeastalentedaseither

Adele,Taylor,orofcoursemysweet,sadBritney.

•Notetoself:AskTinawhatheryoungersiblingsenjoy,andwhy.

I have no memory of what I liked at age twelve. I’m spending thisafternooncombingthroughmyoldjournals,lookingforahintastotheexistenceofElizabethHarrison,butsofarIhaven’tfoundatrace,andunfortunatelyIonlystartedkeepingmydiariesattheageoffourteen.

Ofcourse,thethingaboutdiariesisthatthey’realwaysaboutyou,nototherpeople. It’s even worse if they’re the diary of an adolescent. It’s dreadfulrereadingthem,becausetheyseemso. . .egomaniacal.Howcouldonepersondroneonsomuchaboutherself?WasIblind?TheonlythingIeverwroteaboutwas:

1.Mygrades.

2.Myboobs(orlackthereof).

3.Grandmère.

4.Lillybeingincrediblyannoying.

5.JoshRichter(ACKKKKK).

6.Mythenarchnemesis,LanaWeinberger.

7.Michael.

My dad possibly conducting a secret love affair across the river is nevermentionedanywhere.

Ugh!Iamsodepressednow.AndeventhoughMarieRosestockedmykitchenwhileIwasgone,somy

refrigerator is fullofdelicious things toeat—suchasa tarragonchickensalad;wild-caughtAlaskansalmonpoachedinacourtbouillonwithacumindillsauce;crisp prosciutto, rocket, and mozzarella paninis; black truffle macaroni andcheese;lobster-clawkebabs;meringue;andGenovianorangecrèmebrûlée—all

I feel like eating is the second Butterfinger I bought at the bodega. I am notfollowingDr.Delgado’sadviceatall!

ButIhavetoadmit,theButterfingerishelping,asisthefactthatthere’sanIFoundtheGownmarathononTLC.

ItwouldbesomuchsimplerifIcouldjustdrivetoadiscountstorelikethegirlsonthatshowdoandfindtheperfectgown(for$400)!

But I have a sneaking suspicion that after all the Butterfingers I’ve justeaten, there’snogown inexistence (especially foronly$400)cleverlyenoughdesigned to hide the food baby I’ve developed and the press seems to feelcompelledtocommenton.

CHAPTER40


ConsulateGeneralofGenoviaRatetheRoyalsRating:7!

Okay,IthinkIjustdidsomethingreallystupid.Itprobablydoesn’thelpthatI’vetakenacoupleofnipsfromthebottleof

hundred-year-oldWilliams pear schnaps* thatMichael and I were sent as anengagement gift from the chancellor of Austria (it was already open anyway,since theRoyalGenovianGuardhad tomakesure itwasn’tpoisoned—notbythechancellor,obviously—whichtheydidbytastingitthemselves).

*Austrian schnaps is completely different from what Americans call schnapps. For one thing, if it’spreparedcorrectly,itactuallytasteslikesomethingotherthantoothpaste.

Iwas just feeling so bummed out about everything after reading parts ofLoveintheTimeofShadows(radiationpoisoningissodepressing!Whywouldanyonewriteaboutthis?UnlessitwasabookaboutHiroshima,ofcourse)andallmyowndiariesthatIwaslike,“Oh,whatever.It’sfiveo’clocksomewhere!Skol!”andhelpedmyselftoasip.Ormaybetwo.Idon’trememberanyway.

Andnot justbecausemy rankonRate theRoyalshas sunk fromnumberone(notthatIcare,sincethatwebsiteisastupidblightonhumanityandisbestignored)downtoseven.

I am now even less popular thanGeneral SheikhMohammed bin ZayedFaisal,theCrownPrinceofQalif!

And,apparently, theSultanofBrunei (theonewhodid somethingwithamonkey,thoughwe’llneverknowwhat,thankstoLazarres-Reynolds).

There is absolutely no reason for this to have happened other than myhaving kicked the founder of the website out of my community center forplanting listening devices in the women’s restroom (which I now regret nothavinghimarrestedfor.LingSuwasright).

Butevenworsethanthis, therewasapostfromRoyalRabbleRouser,whowas stalkingme all last year. He disappeared for a while, most likely due tohaving joined a cult or a radical terror group, or possibly the cast of a realityshow.Reality-showcastingagentsrecruit thesamekindofpeopleascultsandterrorgroupsdo,oneswhofeellikethereissomethingmissingfromtheirlives,veryoftenromanticlove.

And since the onlywaywoman-haters likemy stalker are going to get adateisiftheykidnaponeoroneisassignedtothembyacultleaderorcentralcasting,oftensuchpeople’sdecisiontojoinupprovestobeagoodone...untiltheygetblownuporkickedofftheshow.

ItmusthavebeenthelattersinceRoyalRabbleRouserhasshownupagain—probably due to the news that I’m getting married, at least based on hismessageaboutbeinggladthat“theprincessslut”isfinallyletting“Mike”make“anhonestwomanofher.”

“It’s about time, too,”writes RoyalRabbleRouser. “Maybe now she’ll lethimworkwhileshestayshomeandsqueezesouta fewpuppies, likeadecentwomanshould.Hopefullyshe’lllearntocook,too.Butprobablyshe’lljustkeeponmaking her asinine speeches about howwomen shouldwork,while lettingherservantsdothecooking.”

Um. . .yes.Yes,Iwill.Becausethat’s the jobforwhichIemploythem,and if I didn’t employ them, they would have no paycheck, and without apaycheck theywouldhavenoway to feed their families, and then theywouldstarve.It’scalledeconomics,RoyalRabbleRouser.Lookitup.

At the center we’re trying hard to provide teens with the mentoring,education,andjobtrainingtheyneedsothatwhentheyleaveschoolthey’llbeinvulnerabletothekindofthinkingRoyalRabbleRousersupports,butsometimesIworryit’snotenough.ObviouslytheFrankGianiniCommunityCenterneedstoexpandglobally.

I really have to start followingDominique’s advice and stop reading thisstuff.

But I can’t stop reading texts from Lana Weinberger (whose birthdaywishes I’d forgotten to return).She sent another, evenmorealarming than thelast:

<LanaWeinberger“TheRock” HRHMiaThermopolis“FtLouie”>

Bitch,howcouldyougetengagedandnoteventellme?Ihad to hear it from Trish who heard it from her momwhosawitonTMZ!Youareatwatandahalf!Butdon’tworry,youcanmakeituptomebymaking

meandTrishbridesmaids!Andwe’re not just going tobelamebridesmaidswhodonothingbut lookgoodandcarryyourtrain.We’reactuallygoingtodostuff.Seetheattached—we have your bachelorette party all plannedout!It’sgoingtobeataplaceinGenoviacalledCrazyIvan’s.You’llLOVEit!!!!

NowIhavetofigureouthowtoexplaintoLanathatIdonotcareforBJshots,nordoIparticularlywanttoknowwhatadicklickeris.

It’snotjustbecauseIdon’tcaretosupportbusinessesownedbyIvan.It’sbecause it’s almost one hundred percent guaranteed that someone is going tophotographmewearing penis party beads and then put the photograph on theInternet.I’llberakedoverthecoals...thoughofcourseit’shorriblethatpublicfigurescan’tgoout(orevenstayin)andhaveagoodtimeandbephotographeddoingitandnotbejudgedforit.

It’sonethingtosay,“Oh,haveasenseofhumoraboutit,”butthere’ssucha double standard. The populace does not have a sense of humor about it,especially if they feel you are somehow representing their country.WasKateMiddletoneverphotographedwearing“penispartybeads”?Ithinknot.

OfcourseIgetLana’spleathat“weallneedtospendmoretimetogetherbecauseBestFriendsAreForeverandhighschoolwasthebesttimeinourlives”(okay,well, Idon’tget thatpart.HighschoolmayhavebeenthebestyearsofLana’s life, but it was definitely notmine. Except thatAEHS iswhere ImetMichael).Yes,itwouldbefuntotakeonedayofffrombeingpoliticallycorrect,butthat’smucheasiersaidthandone,especiallywhentherearecamerasaround,and I’m guessing there are cameras everywhere at Crazy Ivan’s, consideringyou’rerequiredtotakeyourtopoffassoonasyouenter.

<LanaWeinberger“TheRock” HRHMiaThermopolis“FtLouie”>

Thisissosweetofyou,Lana!OfcourseI’dloveforyouandTrishatobebridesmaids.But I think Crazy Ivan’s may not work for a

number of reasons. Maybe we can settle for aprivatebachelorettepartyat thepalace.Wecoulddo it at the pool. You know Lars loves nothingbetter than an excuse to sit on the roof with hislong-range sniper rifle, looking for camera-equippeddronecopterstotakeout.

Fine!!!!YoucanmakeituptomebywritingIrisaletterof recommendation. You know, with a letter from thePrincessofGenoviashe’llbeashoo-in.

Sure,I’llbehappytodothis.Whatschoolareyoutryingtogetherinto?

Oh, the application isn’t for school! Iris has beenreferred as a possible candidate to the NationalAmerican Baby Awards in the four-to-six-month MissJuniorPrincessDivisionoftheirpageant!!!!

Lana.No.Notababybeautypageant.

Why?Thisonehasmorethan$1,500,000incash,prizes,andscholarships.ItsaysifIdon’tregisterher,Iwillbedenyinghertheopportunitytolearnvaluablenewskillsthatwillhelpempowerherandenablehertoaccomplishherfuturegoals.

Lana,youarebeingscammed.

No, I am not! Purple Iris is themost beautiful baby inher playgroup. Everyone says it. I’m sure someonespottedherthereandenteredhername.OrmaybefrommyInstagramorFacebookpageabouther.

Thenhowdidtheygetyourhomeaddress?

It’s public record. And anyway, the pageant is real, Ilookeditup.Thisisthetenthyearoftheprogram.Theyare dedicated to helping girls build character andappreciatetheirself-worth.

Your kid isn’t even one year old yet. How is thisgoingtobuildhercharacter?

It’sgoingtoteachherhowtoshowpoiseandconfidencein front of an audience, the way you do, Mia, whenyou’re giving one of your boring speeches. Only Irisdoesn’thave togivea speechbecause there’sno talentrequiredforthispageant.Thecontestantsarejudgedonconfidenceandcharisma.

Lana,didyoureadthefineprint?

Theentrancefeesaretooffsetthecostsofproducingthepageant.

Howmucharethey?

Itisaninvestmentinherfuture!

Lana,what’swrongwithyou?Youusedtobeableto see through obvious cons like this. Did yourbrain slip out through your vagina alongwith thebabywhenyougavebirth?

No,sinceIhadacesarean.Iwasn’tgoingtoletmyjoyholegetalloutofshapefromsqueezingthatthingoutofit. You’ve probably noticed she inherited Jason’sginormoushead.

Both your husband’s and your baby’s heads havealwayslookedaverage-sizedtome.

Well, they aren’t. Everyone on his dad’s side of thefamilyhasahugehead.AfterIsawtheultrasound,Itoldthedoctor if she thought Iwassqueezing that thingoutfrom my joy hole, she could just think again. Jason’smotherneverrecoveredfromhavingthreeboys.Shestillwalksfunny.

Ireallydonotknowwhattosayinreplytothat.

Are you going to help me or not??? There’s an essaypart of the application, and you knowwriting’s notmystrong suit, so I need your help, Mia. You’re the bestwriterIknow.

Iwillhelpyou,butIstronglydisapprove.

You’llfeeldifferentlywhenyouhaveababy.Thenyou’llseewhatit’slike!

Fine. E-mail the application to me, and I’ll help

you.Butjustthisonetime!Andonlyifyoupromisenosurprisebachelorette

partyatCrazyIvan’s!

Ipromise!Oh,thankyou!Youwon’tregretthis.

Ialreadydo.

BythetimeIwasdonehavingthisconversation,myeyewastwitchinglikecrazy.IhadnochoicebuttostretchoutonthecouchandwatchJudgeJudyyellatamannamedBudformoving inwithhisnewgirlfriend,Tiffany,and then,afterpromisinghe’dpayhalftherent,spendingallhisrentmoneyontattoos,anewCorvette,andatriptoAtlanticCitywithhisex-girlfriend.

The judge decided in favor of the plaintiff—Tiffany—in the amount of$5,000,butonlybecauseBudhadpaidhishalfof the rent foronemonth,andhadwritten on the canceled check theword rent, which showed statement ofintent.Casedismissed.

Itwasverysoothing.


1.Fairjudges.

2.Mymother,forneverenteringmeinababybeautypageant.

3.Austrianschnaps.

CHAPTER41



Ididn’tthinkthingscouldgetmuchworse,buteveryoneknowstheminuteyouthinkthis,theydo.It’slikesaying,“IthinkI’llgotothepooltoday.”Thesecondyousaythis,thesundisappearsbehindacloud.

IwasfillingoutbabyIris’sbeautypageantessaywhenmyphonerang.Itwasmyfather’soffice,wantingtoknowwhenwasthemostconvenient

timeformetomeetwith“thePrinceofGenoviaandhislawyers.”“Hislawyers?WhydoesDadneedmetomeetwithhislawyers?”Iasked.“I believe it’s to discuss your prenuptial agreement,YourHighness,” his

assistantsaid.“Whatdayisbestforyou?”“Prenup?Myfatherwantsmetogetmyfiancétosignaprenup?”“Why,yes.Yes,YourHighness,hedoes.”Icannotbelievethis.IsupposeIshouldn’tbeshocked,givenwhatIknowaboutmyfamily.But this is low, even for them.And frankly, the kind of thing I’d expect

fromGrandmère,notDad.ButMarielle,Dad’sassistant,assuredmethattheprinceisveryconcerned

about protecting my (and the family’s) “financial interests.” A prenup is“standard”inallGenovianroyalmarriages(oh,really?Becausetherehavebeensomany?)andarereallymeanttoprotecttheassetsofbothparties.

ButIknowwhatallthisactuallymeans:Itmeans that somewhere deep down inside,Dadmust believe the stupid

rumorstartedbythePost.AsifthatiswhyMichaelhasbeendatingmeonandoffsincetheninthgrade:becausehehasbeenplottingtotakeadvantageofme—likeBudtookadvantageofTiffanyonJudgeJudy.

OnlyinsteadofrefusingtopayhalftherentandtakingofftoAtlanticCitywith an ex-girlfriend in a new Corvette, Michael is only marrying me toreincorporatePavlovSurgicalinGenoviainordertoreduceitstaxburden.

ExceptthatIdon’tneedJudgeJudytoruleonhowstupidthisideais.ItoldMariellethatagoodtimeformetomeetwiththeprinceandhislawyersaboutmyprenupwouldbe“never.”

“Ibegyourpardon?”shesaid,soundingsurprised.“You heardme. Never. Also, please tellmy father to callme, as I have

somethingimportantI’dliketodiscusswithhim.”WhenMarielleaskedpolitelyifshecouldknow“thenatureofthematter”

I’dliketodiscusswithmyfather,Isaid:“Yes,pleasetellhimithastodowithOliviaGraceClarisseMignonetteHarrison.”

ThenIhungupthephone.Whatiswrongwithme?Idon’tknow.Ican’tevenblametheschnapsbecauseIonlyhadafewsips.

CHAPTER42



Iwas eating cheese popcornwhile checking onmy phone to see if there is aWiki-Howfor“HowtoDiscussYourDad’sSecretLoveChildwithHim”(thereis not. This seems like a missed opportunity) when the RGG buzzed up andannounced,“YourHighness,yourfatherishere.”

“Uh...sendhimup,”Isaidintotheintercom(afterI’dgotdonechoking).WhatelsewasIsupposedtodo?

Then I ran around really fast, getting rid of all evidence that I’d beendrinking,eventhoughofcourseIamanadult,andshouldbeable todrinkifIwantto.

WhenIopenedthedoor,Iwasshocked.Dadlooksawful.Imean,hehasn’tbeenlookingtoogoodanywaysincehisarrest,allpasty-facedandsortofgreenaround the gills (although that could have been partly due to the excessivecelebration in which he engaged last night over my engagement. Or possiblyhe’sbeeneatingprewashedlettucefromCalifornia).

ButthenIrealizedthatforsomereasonhe’dtakenitintohisheadtoshaveoff his mustache, which he’s had for quite some time now, and which hasbecomeasdistinctiveapartofhis lookashisbaldhead (thehaironhis scalpnever did grow back after the chemo, but he’s been rockin’ a ’stache sincegrowingoneforaSavetheChildrencharitydriveone“Mo”-vember,andweallsaidhowsportyhelookedinit).

It’sfrighteninghowhorriblehelookswithoutit!“Dad,whathappened?”Icouldn’thelpblurtingwhenIsawhim.“What happened? What do you mean, what happened?” he demanded.

“Youknowaboutyoursister,that’swhathappened.”Hebargedinpastme,andthenwenttoliedownonmycouchlikehewas

inhisanalyst’soffice,orsomething.“No,” I said, shutting the door. “I mean what happened to your face?

Where’syourmustache?”“Oh,that.”Hetouchedhisupperlip,whichforthefirsttimeIrealizedhe

doesn’t have—an upper lip, Imean. It’s been hidden under a patch of sandy-

coloredhairforsolong,Istoppednoticingheonlyhasalower,noupper,lip.“Ishaveditoff.Apparentlyonlymenwhoworkinthepornographyindustryhavemustachesanymore.”

“Dad,who toldyou that? It isn’t true.Youshouldgrowyoursback.Youlook—” I wanted to say naked without it, but thought that might hurt hisfeelings,soinsteadIsaid,“Lessdignifiedwithoutit.”

“YourcousinIvanmockedmymustacheinhislastad.Hesaiditmademelookold.Like‘anold,baldingRonBurgundy’werehisexactwords.Mia...”Helookedupatmehelplessly.“WhoisRonBurgundy?”

“Nevermind, Dad,” I said, feeling sad thatmy father was so unfamiliarwith the comic stylings ofWill Ferrell. “There’s nothingwrongwith lookinglikeRonBurgundy,andthat’sevenmorereasonnottoshaveitoff.Youneedtogrowitbackrightaway,toshowCousinIvanthathecan’tgettoyou.”

Hefoldedhisarmsoverhisfaceandsighed.“Buthehasgottentome,Mia.I’mafraidthatwasthelaststraw.Doyouhaveanythingtodrink?”

Itoldhimabouttheschnapsandhesaid,“Imeantanythinggood,”sothenIhadtoexplainthatitwasschnaps,notschnapps,soheagreedtohavesome.

He took the glass and then got mad because Fat Louie jumped onto hischest(whichisactuallyacompliment;FatLouiehasgrownmuchlessathleticinhisoldage,sowhenhejumpsontoanything,it’sonlybecausehe’sputalotofeffortandthoughtintoit).

SoImovedFatLouiebackintohislittlebedandthenDadbegantotalk...... andtalk,andtalk.Hetalkedallabouthowhe’dbeenwantingtotellmeaboutOliviaforever,

buthehadn’tknownhow,becausehewasterrifiedofwhatIwasgoingtothink.IguessIshouldn’tbesurprisedthatamanwhohas,uponoccasion,spelled

mynamewrongonmybirthdaycardswouldn’tknowI’dbedelightedtohavealittlesister,especiallyoneIcouldtakewithmetoeverysingleDisneymusicalon Broadway so people would no longer give me the side-eye for going bymyselfasanadult.

“Itwasn’tas if itwas justaone-night stand,”hewenton.“Iwas in lovewithElizabeth,but shedidn’twant to settledownanymore thanyourmothereverdid,letaloneraiseOliviainthestiflingenvironmentofapalace.Andthenshedied, and itwas so terrible.Whydo Ikeep falling forwomenwhoare so

afraidofcommitment,Mia?Why?”“Well,” I said, thinking aboutwhat theDrs.Moscovitz had said. Is there

everagoodtimetotellyourfatherthathisfutureson-in-law’sparentsthinkhehasanOedipuscomplex?No.Somethingsarebetterkepttoyourself.

“Naturally,Icanunderstandwhyanindependent,free-spiritedwomanlikeyourmother—orElizabeth—wouldn’twanttosettledownwithamanlikeme,whohasasmanyresponsibilitiesasIdo—”

“Iknowyoucan’thelpthatyouwerebornaprince,”Iinterrupted,“butnoone is forcing you to stay on the throne, or run for primeminister year afteryear.”

Helookedabitstartledatthis.“ButIhaveto.Forthegoodofthecountry.And what reasonable woman would want to live with my mother, even in apalaceontheMediterranean,inthemostbeautifulcountryintheworld?”

“None,”Isaid,thinkingaboutwhatmymotherhadsaidtomeonthephoneaboutDadwhenwe’ddiscussedMichael’sproposal.“ButGrandmèredoeshaveherownplace,youknow.Youcouldalwaysaskhertoactuallystaythere.”

Helookedevenmorealarmed.“Stayinthesummerpalace?Year-round?”“The summer palace isn’t exactly an outhouse, Dad. It has seventeen

bedrooms.”“Idon’tthinkyourgrandmotherwouldhearofit,”hesaid.“Dad!”Thisjustgoestoshowthatyoucanhaveallthemoneyintheworld

—evenacastleandacrown—anditstillcan’tbuyyouhappiness.Orcommonsense. “Listen to yourself. You sound like someone complaining that yourdiamondshoesaretootight.”

Helookedtakenaback.“Mywhat?”“Your diamond shoes. I know you don’t literally own a pair of diamond

shoes,butsomeonequitewisetoldmethatweneedtobemoreappreciativeofthethingswehave.Youhavetomakesacrificesforlove,youknow.”

“Bywearingoverpriced,uncomfortableshoes?”“No,Dad.”Itookadeepbreathandtriedtofindanotherwaytomakehim

understand. “It’s likewhatRobert Frost said in that poem about the road lesstraveled. It may not get you to where you were headed, but it will get yousomewhere,andthatplacemaybeevenbetterthanwhereyouthoughtyouweregoing.”

Dadglaredatme.“Youknow,Ipreferfollowingmaps,Mia.GPSisevenbetter.”

“Iknow.ButIdon’tthinkmapsorGPSareworkingforyouanymore,Dad.PrenupsandlivingwithGrandmèreandkeepingall thesesecretsandpromisesyoumade topeoplewhoaren’taroundanymore?Olivia’smomhasbeendeadfortenyearsnow.Ithinkthestatuteoflimitationsonyourpromisetoherisup.”

He nervously chewed his lower lip,whichwas upsetting, because then itlookedlikehehadnolipsatall,likeabird.Iwantedtotellhimtostop,butit’snotreallythekindofthingyoucansaytoyourparent.

“I . . . I don’t know,Mia. I’ve never been a father before.Not like this.Withyou,Ialwayshadyourmother.Iknewshe’dneverdothewrongthing.”

“Dad, being a single parentwas never easy forMom, even if to you shemighthavemadeitlookthatway.Doyouthinkshe’shavinganeasytimewithRocky?She’snot.Theschoolsenthimhomewithanote theotherdayaskingthatMom take him to a psychopharmacologist because of his obsession withfarting.”

Dadgotthefarawaylookinhiseyeshealwayshaswhenthesubjectturnstomymother.“That’snotyourmother’sfault.Theboyhasjustsufferedthelossofhisfather.Andbesides,thatschoolobviouslyisn’taverygoodoneifitcan’thandleayoungboy’sperfectlynormalinterestinflatulence.”

“Well,bethatasitmay,parentingisn’teasyforanyone.It’sthehardestjobin theworld, but I think you’d be good at it.You’ve always done prettywellwithme.”

“Yourmotherdidalltheheavyliftingwithyou.IthinkIcouldmakethingsmuch,muchworseforthatlittlegirl.”

“Worse than not being there at all?” I raisedmy eyebrows. “I don’t seehow.”

Ishouldn’thavesaidit.Ishouldhavesaidsomethingelse—pulledoutoneofmymanyplatitudes,orlies—orsimplyshutmymouthandsaidnothingatall.

ButIdidn’t,andtheresultwasthattearsfilledmyfather’seyes.It’sprettyhorribletowatchyourdadcry.I’mnotgoingtosayit’stheworst

thingintheworld,becausetherearedefinitelyworsethings,likethattimeIwenttoAfricatooverseetheinstallationofsomewaterwells.Seeingamandrivingahollowed-outSealyboxspringonwheelspulledbyadonkeydownthehighway,

hisfamilysittinginsideit(becausethatwastheonlyformoftransportationtheycouldafford),wasdefinitelyworsethanwatchingmydadcry.

But awkwardly patting my dad’s shoulder and telling him things weregoingtobeokaywhen, tobehonest, Iwasn’tsure theyweregoingtobe(justlikewithAfrica,evenafterinstallingthewells)wasupthereonmylistofworstthingsever.

Finally, Igotupandgrabbedmyphone tocheckout themenus theRGGhadprovidedmefromall therestaurants in theareathathadbeenapprovedtodelivertous.

“I’m going to order some dinner now,” I said. “Is there anything youparticularlyfeellikeeating?”

IthinkthissurprisedDadsomuchthatheforgotaboutcrying,whichwaspartlymyintention.“I...Idon’tknow,”hesaid,lookingshocked.Food?Whocanthinkaboutfoodatatimelikethis?Uh,MiaThermopoliscan.

“Well, you have to eat something. Hunger and dehydration can lead toimpaireddecisionmaking,andalsomoodswings.”AtleastaccordingtoiTriage,andalsoLingSu,whoalwaysmakessurethekidsat thecenterhaveplentyofhealthysnacks toeatwhiledoing theirhomework. It’s led toa lot lesscrying-while-doing-algebra. “Marie Rose left a lot of stuff in the fridge, but I reallydon’t thinkIcouldhandleblacktrufflemacandcheeserightnow.Whataboutyou?”

“Well...”Heblinkedafewtimes.“MaybeIcouldeatalittlesomething.It’sbeenawhilesinceI’vehadanythingotherthannutsatthebaratthehotel,andthere’ssomethingI’vealwayswantedtotry...butno,Icouldn’t.It’ssilly.”

“What,Dad?Justtellme.”“Well, I keep seeing advertisements on the television for something they

callcheesybread.I’vealwayswonderedwhatittasteslike.”Hesoundedwistful,likeKingArthurinthemusicalCamelotwhenheand

Guineverewonderwhatthesimplefolkdo.Peoplealwayslaughatthatpartoftheshow,becauseit’ssoridiculousthatroyalpeopledon’tknowwhat“simplefolk”do.

Butinmydad’scase,it’strue.Growingupallhislifeinapalace,hereallydoesn’t know. I think it’s another reason he probably found my mom—andOlivia’smom—soappealing.

“Fine,”Isaid,feelingalittlesorryforhim.“Cheesybreaditis.”I figured cheesy breadmight actually do him some good (it turns out he

hadn’teatensolidfoodindays,maybesincebeforehisarrest,he’dbeenfreakingoutsomuchovereverythingthat’sbeengoingon—andofcourseisfreakingouteven more now that I’d told him he actually needed to do something aboutOlivia), so this explained a lot about his current behavior, especially themustache.

SoIorderedsome...whichmeantIalsohadtoordersomefortheRGGandthepaparazzistationedoutside.

Butwhatever.Themorecheesybread,themerrier.Oh, God, I certainly hope this doesn’t become the legacy for which I,

PrincessMiaofGenovia,amremembered.

CHAPTER43



Dadate likeoneof thosestarvingchildrenyoualwayshearaboutonthenewswhosomehowgetseparatedfromtherestoftheirfamiliesandhavetospendafewnightswanderingaroundthewoodsalone,subsistingonnothingbutacornsandsnow,andthensomeonefindsthemrunningdownthehighwaydayslaterinnothingbut a diaper and it always turnsout they’re from Indiana andyougo,“Uh-huh,Iknewit.”

ThenhedozedoffonthecouchwhilewatchingahomerenovationshowonHGTV.Iwantedtoavoidanythingtoostressful,suchasthenewsoranyLaw&Orderrerunsthatmightremindhimofhisarrest,andofcoursetheelectionandhowhorriblehelookswithouthismustache.

Hechoseashowwhereacoupleisgivenachoiceofeither“loving”theirnewlyrenovatedhome,or“listing” it forsaleandbuyinganother.Hecouldn’tstayawakelongenoughtofindoutwhatdecisiontheymade(theylistedit).

WhenIwassurehewasreallyasleep,Iputablanketoverhim(giventomeasabirthdaypresentbytheQueenofDenmark),whichonlyactedasamagnetforFatLouietojumpbackontopofhimandcurluponhischest...buteventhat extra twenty pounds didn’t wake him up. Maybe his crying jag (or thecheesybread)hadbeencathartic.

I just texted a photo of the twoof them (Dad and cat) toMichael, alongwiththismessage:Hi,hopeyou’rehavingfuntellingthedoctorsaboutyourrobotlegs.YoumightwanttomakeotherplansforlatertonightsinceIdon’tknowhowinterestedyou’regoingtobeincomingoverforvolcanotimewithTHISonmycouch.XOXO

Michaeltextedback:

Whyhaveyouleftmeforamiddle-agedbandteacher?;-)Iunderstand.I’llseeyoutomorrow.Iloveyou.

Hesignedoffwithanemojiofameltingsnowman.PoorMichael.Sincegettingengagedtome,he’s:

1.Hadthefactthathewasgettingmarriedannouncedtohisparentsovertheradio.

2.Hadthesmall,family-and-friends-onlybeachweddingweplannedturnedintoamonsteraffairthatwillbeinternationallytelevisedandatwhichthereapparentlywon’tbeminigrilledcheesesandwichesoramashedpotatoorabuild-your-owntacobar.

3.Losthisapartmenttonewsvansandpaparazziandbeenforcedtoliveoutofahotel.

4.Discoveredhisfuturefather-in-lawhasasecretyoungerdaughter.

AsmuchasIadoreMichaelandthinkhe’sthetypewhocanweatheranystorm,Idon’tknowhowmuchmorehecantake.

Idon’tknowhowmuchmoreIcantakeeither.AfterItextedMichael,Itextedhissister:


Whatareyoudoing?

What am I always doing lately?Memorizing the blackletter rules. Thanks for having your wedding a weekbeforeNewYorkStateholdsitsbarexaminJuly,bytheway. That is not at all inconvenient for me, nor is itfreakingmeoutinanyway.

Sorry, it wasn’t my decision. So, has anyone toldyou the one about the princess who turns out to

havealong-lostsisterlivinginNewJersey?

IamcomingoverRIGHTNOW.

Youcan’t.

IsentherthephotoI’dtextedMichael.

WhyisthereadentistfromScottsdale,Arizona,sleepingonyourcouch?

He shaved.He’supset that I foundoutabout thatthingImentioned,andisbasicallyhavingamidlifecrisis.

Givemethe411aboutthatthingyoumentionedandI’llLexisNexisher.

English,please.

God,youaresuchaprincess.It’sthedatabaseweusetoaccess legal andbusinessdocumentsonline. I just needhernameandcityofbirth.

A “dossier” on her was already prepared by theRGG.

And I’m sure Grandma’s dossier was very thorough.Nowit’stimetoletBigLillytakecharge.

Lilly, theRGG is amilitary organization that hasbeeninexistencesincethe1200s.

Oh, yeah, and they’ve done a great job catching yourstalker.

Fine. Olivia Grace Clarisse Mignonette Harrison,Cranbrook,NJ.Deletethismessage.

Done.OnemomentpleasewhileIresearch.Hereissomesoothingmusicforwhileyouwait.“AMillionStars”byBorisP.

Notfunny.

Quietplease,processing.

YouknowTinaisstillinlovewithhim.

HA!Shewouldbe.

Shedoesn’thaveaheartmadeofstonelikeyoudo.

THERMOPOLIS!! YOU WERE SERIOUS!!! YOUHAVEA$!$T5R!

Yes,Iknow,Ijusttoldyouthat.

Well,whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?

Idon’tknow.

GOGETHER,LiamNeesoninTakenstyle.

She’sonly12andnotinanyknowndangerofbeingsoldintosexslavery.

Youneedtogettoknowherandinstructherinthewaysoftheprincessforce.

That’snotathing.

Itis,actually,I’veseenitinaction.Also,sheneedstobeyourflowergirlatyourweddingtomybrother.

How do you even know what one of those is? Ithoughtyouhatedweddings!

Onlyotherpeople’s, not yours tomybrother.Actually,she’stoooldtobeaflowergirl.

Wait, how do you know how old flower girls aresupposedtobe?

Nothing.Idon’t.

Lilly! Have you secretly been watching all thosebride shows on the Learning Channel on Fridaynightsliketherestofus?

No.Takemewithyouwhenyougotogether,though.Ihaveaparticularsetofskills...

Areyoudrunkstudyingagain?

...skillsIhaveacquiredoveraverylongcareer.

OK I’m going to bed now, I don’t have time forthis.

Skillsthatmakemeanightmareforpeoplelikeyou.

Lilly,thisisserious.

I know.We’re seriously doing this tomorrow. I’ll clearmyschedule.

Goodnight,Lilly.

;-)Goodnight,POG.*

*PrincessofGenovia.It’sbeenyearsandshestillwon’tstopcallingmethis.I’vegivenup.

Evenso,it’snicetoknowthatbeneaththathardoutershell,she’sstillgotthatsweetgooeymiddle.Allthelawschoolintheworldcan’tchangethat.

ThreemorethingsI’mgratefulfor:

1.Myfriends,whoreallyarewonderful(evenifthey’relunatics).

2.Mydad(eventhoughhecanbealunatic,too,attimes).

3.Cheesybread.

CHAPTER44

9:05a.m.,Wednesday,May6Third-FloorApartment


Dad’sgone.He’sleftQueenMargrethe’sblanketneatlyfoldedontheendofthecouch,alongwithanote.Thenotesays:

Mia,thankyouforthehospitality.Sorryaboutmybehaviorlastnight.Idon’tknowwhatcameoverme.Ifeelmuchbettertoday.Perhapsitwasthecheesybread.

In the light of day I feel that it is much better if we don’t pursue thesubject we discussed last night. It is, after all, an election year, and thatparticularsubjectcouldhurtmeinthepolls.Andasmentioned,Idon’tknowthatIhavethenecessaryqualificationsforthatparticularposition.

Thenthere’salwaysyourweddingtothinkof.Idon’twantsuchahappyoccasiontobemarredbyfoolishnessfrommypast.SoIthinkit’sbestthat,assoonasmylegalentanglementsareclearedup,IreturntoGenovia.

As for the other topic we discussed, on that I cannot budge. It’s theheightoffiscalfoolishnessforyounottoobtainaprenuptialagreement.YouaretheheiresstooneofthelargestfortunesinEurope,anditmakesnosenseforyoutoenteramarriagewithoutsomelegalprotection.Pleasereconsider.

Truthfully,Mia, Idon’t think I’m the type to travelwithout followingamap.

Sincerely,

YourfatherArturChristoffPhillipeGérardGrimaldiRenaldo

PrinceofGenovia

Icantellhemeansit,too,becausehe’susedallhisnamesintherightorder.He’salsotakenalltheleftovercheesybreadwithhim.Foolishness from my past? That’s how he’s chosen to refer to his own

progeny?Nice.Well, if he thinks he’s going to intimidate me into backing down about

Olivia—and the prenup—he’swrong. I’mnot giving up. I’m going to have arelationshipwithmylittlesister,andlikeMichaelsaidaboutmarryingme, it’sgoingtohappensoonerratherthanlater.

Apparentlynotatthisprecisemoment,however,becausethedeputyprimeministerwantsaconferencecall,andthenafterthat—accordingtomyitinerary,anyway—Ihavemyfirstwedding-gownfitting.

Seriously. This is my life, as if things weren’t bad enough. Last night IdreamedthatBruceWillistookmetotheballet,andwhen,duringintermission,he turned to askmewhat I thought of the performance, Iwasn’twearing anyclothes.IdreamedIwenttotheballetnakedwithBruceWillis.

In away I almostwishRoyalRabbleRouserwould try something—just avery minor assassination attempt (to get it over with so he could be arrestedalready; one that only slightly woundedme and of course didn’t hurt anyoneelse)—so I’d have to be hospitalized for a little while and not allowed anyvisitors.ThenIcoulddrinkSpriteandwatchtheFoodNetworkforadayortwoandhavetotalpeaceandquiet.

ButIrealizethisishardlyahealthyfantasy.Although certain reality stars seem to check themselves into the hospital

quite a bit for “exhaustion.” An assassination attempt would be a legitimateexcuse,atleast.

CHAPTER45

10:15a.m.,Wednesday,May6IntheHELVonthewaytoSebastiano’sRatetheRoyalsRating:7

Just had themost disturbing conversationwith SuzanneDupris, theGenoviandeputyprimeminister (who said she’sbeen trying to reachDad,buthewon’treturnhercalls.Honestly!IsDadsoscaredofwomenhecan’tevenreturntheirbusinesscalls?).

Apparentlythey’verunoutofcampbeds(and“sanitationstations,”whichisthepolitewordforportabletoilets)atthePortofPrincessClarisseforalltheQalifirefugeeswho’vefledthere.

Worse,severaloftherefugees’TBtestshavecomebackpositive.They’rebeingtreatedinthehospital,andareingoodcondition,butCousin

Ivan has lost no time using this as ammunition in his campaign. He is nowdeclaringthatDiversity=Disease.

Really!Thisishisnewcampaignslogan!And some of our citizens seem to believe it, not understanding the basic

facts that what actually causes disease is bacteria, or, put more plainly,overcrowding,poverty,lackofcleandrinkingwater,andidiotslikeCousinIvan.

SoMadameDupriswants to discuss other “options” for dealingwith therefugeecrisis.

Meanwhile, Cousin Ivan has threatened to ask Parliament to raiseGenovia’s “security threat level” to high, saying that the only reason therefugeeswanttocometoGenoviaatallisthattheywishtoattackus“withtheirgerms.” He wants to ask Parliament to allow the Genovian Navy to use“aggressivemilitarymaneuvers to blow the incoming refugeeboats out of the

water.”“Perhaps we should use the Genovian Navy’s aggressive military

maneuverstoblowmycousinIvanoutofthewater,”IsaidtoMadameDupris.“Iwouldlovethat,”shesaidwithasigh.“Perhapstheycouldalsouseiton

themega–cruiseshipshewantstoletin,too.”Ifonly.IpromisedherIwouldfindmydad,butthatevenifIcouldn’t,Iwouldget

backtoherwithananswerbytheendoftheday(Genoviantime).Butthatfirst—embarrassingly—Ihadtogotryonweddinggowns.

“Ah,”shesaid.“Commec’estromantique!”Ofcourseshe’snevertriedonweddinggownswithmygrandmotherinthe

room.Thereisnothing“romantique”aboutthat.

CHAPTER46

10:45a.m.,Wednesday,May6DressingRoom,Sebastiano’sDesignStudioRatetheRoyalsRating:7

Well, Tina got her wish. I did not get mine—of having Vera Wang as mywedding-gown designer—but I suppose I got the next best thing: my cousinSebastiano. (No. This is not the next best thing. It is not even close. ButSebastianoisGenovian,andalsofamily,andalsofree,soheiswhatIget.)

Tina’shere—alongwithShameeka,LingSu,Lana,Trisha,andmymom—towatchasItryonweddinggowns,andalsotohavetheirmeasurementstakenforbridesmaidgowns,whichSebastianowillalsobedesigning.

Apparently,thisdecisionwasunilaterallymadebyGrandmère.Shehadherassistant,Rolanda,sendoutinvitationstoallthewomenImentionedonmylistof potential bridesmaids, along with my mother. Only Perin did not accept,saying she could not attend, as she had towork—thiswas very smart of her.Lillysaidshewasgoingtobelate(Ishuddertothinkwhatthatmeans).

WhenIwalkedin,IwasshockedtoseethemallsittingontheslinkyblackleathercouchesSebastianohasalloverhisstudio,sippingmimosas.

“Surprise,bitch!”Lanasaidasmyjawdropped.Iwasalreadyhavingabadday,butIwasn’texpectingthingstogoquiteas

badlyasthis.“Wow,”Isaid,givingmymomahug.“I’msohappytoseeyouguys...I

guess.Areyoudrinkingalready?”“Duh,” Lana said. “Didn’t you know you can’t try on wedding gowns

sober?”“Ididnotknowthat,”Isaid.

“Itisn’ttrue,”Shameekaassuredme.“Don’tmakeherdrink if shedoesn’twant to,Lana,”mymomsaid inan

icytone.MymomhasneverbeenabletoforgetLana’smean-girlpast.“Yeah,IthinkI’llpass,”Isaid,rememberingthatlaterIwasgoingtohave

tomakeimportantdecisionswithMadameDuprisregardingtheQalifirefugees.“Don’tbeatwunt,”saidTrisha,andhandedmeachampagneflute.“Ibegyourpardon?”“Atwunt,”Trishasaidcheerfully.“That’sacrossbetweena—”“A lot of people don’t know the secret to a really good mimosa,” Lana

interrupted.“It’snotjustorangejuiceandchampagne.Yougottaputtriplesecinthere, too, to really bring out the flavor of the juice. I added vodka, too, forkick.”

ShesaidthisrightafterI’dtakenasip.“Princessa!”Sebastianohurriedovertoraiseoneofmyhandsandair-kiss

it. “Youarehere at last!Youdon’tknowhow long I’vebeenwaiting for thisday, all so that you can walk down the aisle in one of my gowns, like theprincess bride you were born to be. I have so many designs for you to try.Almostready,allofthem,theyjustneedforyoutosaysìandthenIwillputonthefintouch.Sowetrynow,yes?Whatdoyoulikebest,themer?Ortheball?”

Sebastiano’sgraspofEnglishhas alwaysbeen tenuous, even thoughhe’shadstudiosinbothNewYorkandEuropeforsometime.Hepreferstosayonlythefirstsyllableofmultisyllabicwords,sothatmermaid(asin,mermaidskirts)becomesmerorballgownbecomesball.

“Idon’tknow,Seb,”Isaidtohim.“Tobehonest,Idon’treallycare.”“Don’t care?” Grandmère looked like she’d been hitting themimosa (or

screwdriver) bar pretty hard herself, especially since she’d brought Rommelalongandhewasrunningaroundloose,humpingthelegsofallthecouchesandanyonewho’dstandstilllongenoughtolethim.

“Mia,” Tina said, sounding anxious. “You have to choose. It reallymatters.”

“Yeah.”Trishalookedappalled.“Don’twearasheath,likeIdid,that’stootight.Thenyoucan’tsitdown,evenindoubleSpanx.Andtrustme,itblowsnotto be able to sit down on your wedding day. Gettingmarried is really tiring.Therearesomanypeopleyouhavetosnubbynotsmilingatthem.”

Grandmère tipped her glass in Trisha’s direction in a silent little toast ofapproval.

“Miawilllookgreatinwhatevershewears,”Shameekasaidgenerously.“Itdoesn’tmatter.”

“But since she’s a princess, wouldn’t a princess ball gown be mostappropriate?”Tinaasked.

“Butthat’swhateveryone’sexpecting,”LingSusaidworriedly.“Sebastiano, what do you think looks best?” Shameeka asked. “I’m

thinkingmodifiedA-line.”I had no ideawhat anyonewas talking about, and I had, upon occasion,

watched those bridal shows on TLC on Friday night, on the rare occasions Ihadn’thadafunctiontoattendandMichaelhadn’tbeenovertodemandthatwechangethechannel.

“Of course, of course,” Sebastiano said, steeringme toward the dressingroom.“Ihaveitall.Yousithere,princessa.”Hestuckmeonthislittlecouchinaroomfarawayfromeveryone.“Ibringyoudresses.MyassistantCoCowillhelpyouchange.”

Thenheranout,andeversinceCoCohasbeencomingbackhereatregularintervals with gigantic garment bags containing half-finished one-of-a-kindSebastiano creationswhich she’s beenhelpingme try on, and inwhich I thenparade out into the studio to model for Sebastiano, my mother, Grandmère,Rolanda,Dominique,Tina,andtherestofthegirlstocommenton.

Truthfully,they’relovelydresses.Andeveryoneseemstolikeallofthem.Ihavethemostsupportivefriendsandfamily(andbodyguard)inthewholeworld(except forGrandmère,who said themermaid gownmademe look “like thatwoman who likes to show her backside, what is her name? Oh, yes, theKardashian”).

Butnoneofthemhavemademecatchmybreathandcry, likewomendoonthatoneshowwhentheyknowthey’ve“foundthegown.”

Maybe that only happens on TV? A lot of stuff, I’ve noticed, getsmanipulated by writers when it’s shown on television—even so-called realitytelevision—andmakesusthinkwe’resupposedtothinkandactandlookcertainways,whenthetruerealityistotallytheopposite.Oftenthere’sno“rightway”tolookorthinkoract,butbecausewe’vebeensoconditionedbythemediato

thinkso,weactuallymistrustourownbetterjudgment.LikeSebastiano,whojusttookmeasideandaskedworriedlyif“Everyall

right?”Heleftoutthewordthing.“Yes,Ithinkeverything’sallright,”Isaidtohim.“I’msorry,Sebastiano,

allyourgownsarebeautiful.Ijustcan’tpickone.”“Youneedfocus!”Sebastianourgedme.“Weddingdayismostimpdayof

yourwholelife!”Oh, God! The minute he said that, I wanted to throw up. It wasn’t the

screwdriver or that I don’twant tomarryMichael, or that I’m having secondthoughts.Notatall.

It’stheweddingitselfthat’scausingmeanxiety.HowcanIplanaweddingright now with all the other crazy things going on in my life, like my dadthinking he’s got to “follow the map,” or the fact that I have a little sister Ihaven’tmetyet,orhundredsifnotthousandsofrefugeespossiblyabouttobehitbystreamsofwaterfromGenoviannavalships?

Maybethisweddingthingishappeningalittletoofast.Or maybe there is no “one” perfect gown.Maybe I’m not the only liar:

maybe we’ve all been lied to our entire lives, not by the government as J.P.insistsinhisstupidbook,butbythe$51billionweddingindustry!Whydoesn’tsomeonewriteabookaboutthat?...

“Princessa?Areyouallright?”Sebastianohasbeguntosweatprofusely,sincehe’srunthroughallof the

one-of-a-kind bridal gowns in his collection, including the ones hemadewithmeinmind.“Princessa,Ican’tstartfromscratch.IhavenothI’llbeabletofinintime!I’mgotoberuin!”

I’vetoldhimit’sokay.“It’sjustadress.”Thiswas thewrong thing to say, apparently, since itmadehimcatch his

breathandgobackintothestudio,lookingasifhewereabouttocry.Dammit.Whatiswrongwithme?Whycouldn’tIliewhenIneededto?Andit’snotjustadress.Abridalgownisneverjustadress!It’sasymbol

ofhope, a sourceof inspiration, a thingofbeauty inaworldwhere there’s somuchsadnessanddespair!Whatiswrongwithme?

AndwhereisLilly?Iknowherstudyingforthebariswaymoreimportantthanmychoosingastupidweddingdress,butIsortofwishshewashereright

now,evenifitwasonlytotellmeto—

CHAPTER47

11:57a.m.,Wednesday,May6LimoinlineattheHollandTunnelRatetheRoyalsRating:7

Lilly camebarging into the dressing room just as Iwas giving up all hope offindingthe“one,”orofmaintainingmysanity.

“Look,”shesaid,shovingastackofpapersintomyface.“Where have you been?” I practically shrieked. “I can’t decide which is

TheOne!It’sreallyupsettingSebastiano.”“What is the one?” she asked. “Do you mean Keanu Reeves from The

Matrix?AndwhocaresaboutSebastiano?Heonlywantsyoutopickadresssohecangethisnameonallthefashionwebsites.You’rethebride,nothim.Tellhimtosuckyour[REDACTED].”

“No,notKeanuReeves.TheOne iswhatTinakeepscallingmyweddinggown.Anddoyouhavetoswearsomuch?I’mchoosingadresstomarryyourbrotherin,showalittleclass.”

“What’swrongwiththeoneyouhaveon?Youlookpretty[REDACTED]hot.”

I looked down at myself. “I don’t know. It’s a ball gown. Ling Su sayseveryone will be expecting me to wear a ball gown, because I’m royal, andeverything.”

I’dbeenstaringatmyselfindismayinthemirrorfortenminutes,afraidtogooutofthedressingroomsinceIknewLanaandTrishaweregoingtellmeIwasbeingboring(andalsothattherewasachanceGrandmèremighthaveheardaboutCousin Ivan’s threat to raise the security level, since thatwill adverselyaffecttourism,andI’dhavetohearaboutit).

Lana andTrishawantedme to gowith something backless or at least sosheeritbasicallylookedlikePrincessLeia’sgoldbikinifromReturnoftheJedi,onlyinwhite,whichIknewMichaelwouldlike,butIdefinitelydidnothavetheconfidencetowearoninternationaltelevision.

Boringas itmightbe, I likehavingabodicenoonecansee through (theone I had on happened to be embroidered with diamonds—or as Sebastianocalledthem,“realdimes”),andatulleskirtsowide,itwouldtakeuptheentireaisleofthethroneroom.Talkaboutraisingthethreatlevel.

“Ofcourseit’saballgown,”Lillysaid.“Asyoujustremindedme,you’reaprincess,stupid.Whywouldn’tyouwearaprincessballgown?Here.”

She scooped up a layer of the tulle and created what Sebastiano (who’dcomebacktostandbesideme,histearstemporarilystifled),clappinghishands,declareda“pickup.”

“Okay,”Lillysaid.“Ifthat’swhatyouwanttocallthem.Dooneoneitherside.LikeCinderella’sballgowninthecartoon.Doacoupleofthosethingies,outof thecrystalsyouhaveon thebodice.Thatmightmake it lessgrotesque,andIwon’twanttothrowupasmuch.”

Suddenly the gown tookon awhole new look.Not that I’ve ever been ahugefanofCinderella—althoughofalltheDisneyprincesses,she’soneofthemost relatable. She had to do domesticwork for a living, after all, and didn’tsimplyliearoundinacomawaitingforsomeonetokissherawake.

IcouldcompletelyseethisdressbeingTheOne.Igotshivery,Icouldseeitsomuch.Ievenwantedtocryalittle.

“Wow,”Isaid.“Iwanttothrowupless,too.”“Thiswonderful,”Sebastiano said, clappinghis hands in delight. “I’m so

gladImakeyounotwant to throwup!AndIknowexact the thing tomake itmostperfectofall.Stayhere,Princessa,Icomebackquick.”

“You do that,” Lilly said, eyeing him as he rushed out like a madman(whichheis,butreally,allcreativepeopleare,sobbingoverhowgreattheirownaccomplishmentsare,likethat’sperfectlyacceptablebehavior).“Here.”

ItookthestackofpapersLillyshovedatme.Theyweremostlylongrowsofnumbers.

“Uh,”IsaidtoLilly.“Mr.Gianiniwasagreatalgebrateacherandall,butyouknow theminute I graduated high school I never looked at a singlemath

problemagain,right?Isendeverythingwithnumbersonittomyaccountant,orImakeMichaeldealwithit.”

“Great.Spokenlikeatruefeminist,”Lillysaid.“I’msureyourmothermustbe soproud.Well, thosepagesholdbadnews about that bohunkyour sister’saunt married. He’s been using large amounts of the child support your dad’sbeen sending her to finance the business he owns with her aunt, O’TooleConstructionandHomeDesign.”

I sank down on the little bench in the dressing room, my tulle skirtballooningaroundmelikeahugefluffywhitecloud.“Ican’ttakeanymorebadnewstoday,Lilly.Ireallycan’t.”

“Well,I’msorry,butitgetsworse.”“Whatcouldpossiblybeworsethanthis?”“Uncle Richard’s planning on moving the whole family to the Middle

East.”“The Middle East? Where in the Middle East?” There are many lovely

places in theMiddleEast. I’vehadstatevisits toBahrainandJordanandAbuDhabi. I’vebeen toEgyptand IsraelandSaudiArabia.Allof themare lovelycountries (not without their challenges, but then, every country has itschallenges).

IcertainlydidnotexpectLillytoreply:“Qalif.”“Qalif?”Ifeltasifmyhearthadsunktothebottomofmytightlycorseted

bodice.“Why?”“O’Toole Construction’s been contracted to build a new mall there. It’s

goingtohavetheworld’slargest indoorwavemachineinit.Ormaybeit’stheworld’slargestindoorskislope.Oh,well,itdoesn’tmattersinceonlymencanuse itbecause thecrownprince there justbannedwomen fromswimmingandskiinginpublic.”

Myeyebegantotwitchlikemad.“Youfoundallthisoutthroughapublicrecordssearch?”

Lilly looked slightly guilty. “It’s possible I may have searched a fewrecordsthatweren’tsopublic.Butitisn’tmyfault.Peoplereallyshouldn’tusethewordpasswordastheirpassword.”

“Oh,God,”Ibreathed.“Thisisn’thappening.”“Iwishitweren’t,butitis.”

“So,essentially,”Isaid,feelinglikeIwasgoingtothrowupthesinglesipofscrewdriverI’dhad,“mydadispayingforanindoorskipark—orpool—tobebuilt inQalif, acountrywithsomeof theworsthuman-rightsviolations in theworldrightnow.”

“Don’t be stupid, he doesn’t pay thatmuch child support. She’s just onelittlekid.Buthe’spaidforsomeofthefrontloadersthatarebeingshippedtheretobuildit.Sorrytobethebearerofbadnews.”

I sat there in a big puddle of diamonds and tulle. “How come theRoyalGenovianGuarddidn’tfigurethisout?”

Lillyshrugged.“They’renotassmartasIam.”I could not deny this. No one is as smart as Lilly, with the possible

exception of her brother, but he isn’t as ruthless as Lilly, which makes Lillyslightlysmarter,butonlybecauseshealwaysseestheworstineveryone.

“Thekid’sphysicallyokay,”sheassuredme.“AtleastsofarasIcantell.Imean,they’refeedingherandstuff.IGoogle-searchedherhomeandschool,andshe lives in a nice place—well, obviously, her aunt’s listed as one of the topinteriordecoratorsinthearea—andgoestoaniceschool—”

“But how do we know?” I asked. Lilly’s deep suspicion of everyone iscatching, especially to someone who watches a lot ofNCIS. “They could bemakinghersleepinaclosetunderthestairs!”

“That seems unlikely. The house is a four bedroom on a cul-de-sac. It’scurrentlyonthemarket,listedforsaleatonepointfourmilliondollars.Iwouldimagine,withahomelikethat,ifthere’saclosetunderthestairs,it’sprobablywheretheykeepextrapapertowelsandsodaandstufftheyboughtatthelocalbigboxstore.”

“Iamnotokaywiththis,”Isaid.“Andifmydadwereinhisrightmind,hewouldn’tbeokaywithit,either!”

“Youdon’thavetoshout,”Lillygrumbled.“ButIwouldn’tbeokaywithiteitherifitweremykidsister.”

“Theproblemis,mydad’sbeeninnoconditionlatelytomakedecisions.”“Yeah,”Lillysaid.“Isawthemustache.OrshouldIsay,lackthereof.Your

dadneedstobekeptawayfromsharpobjectsandprobablyeverythingelserightnowexceptYouTubevideosaboutcutepuppies.”

That’s when I made a decision. I stood up and started taking off my

princessballgown.“Whatareyoudoing?”Lillyasked.“We’regoingtoCranbrook,NewJersey,”Isaid.“Helpmegetoutofthis

thing.”“Um,okay.”Lillystartedhelpingmeoutofmyweddingdress.“Whatare

wegoingtodoinCranbrook,NewJersey?”“We’regoingtodowhatyousaid—gogetmysister.”“Okay,”Lillysaid.“WhenIsaidthatlastnight,Imighthavehadafewtoo

manyenergydrinks,likeyou’dsuggested.Transportingminorsoverstatelineswithoutpermissionoftheirlegalguardianisafelony.”

“Idon’tcare,”Isaid.“I’maprincess.”“True. But do you maybe want to discuss other, less criminal ways we

coulddealwiththematterfirst?”“No.”“All right. Great. I kind of anticipated you’d have this reaction, to be

honest,whichiswhyItookthelibertyof—”“Lilly,justshutupforonceinyourlife,andunlaceme.”“Yes,YourHighHoliness.”Sonowwe’reonourwaytoCranbrook,NewJersey.(Lillykeepsyellingat

François, the driver, thatwe should have taken the bridge, but thatmakes nosense,we’dhavehadtogowayoutofourway.)

Of courseGrandmèrewas furiouswhen I cameout of the dressing roomwithnogownonandannouncedweweregoingtohavetorescheduleourlunchwithLazarres-Reynolds.

“Whatcouldpossiblybemoreimportant?”Ididn’ttellher,oranyone.Isimplysaidthatsomethingveryimportanthad

comeupandIwasgoingtohavetomeetthemanothertime.(DominiquetookmeasideandpointedoutoneofthereasonsGrandmèreis

so angry is that Lazarres-Reynolds is still going to bill us, and that they cost$500 an hour, or as she put it, “Five ’undred dollairs an hour.” So I said shecouldtellGrandmèretosendthebilltome.)

That’swhenGrandmèrecausedasceneandsaidshewastakingmyhybridelectricliveryvehicle—sheonlydidthistohurtme—leavingmeherobnoxiousblack stretch limo with the Genovian flags on it that she takes everywhere

becauseshedoesn’tbelieve in traveling inconspicuously like Ido (in thiswayGrandmèrehasalotincommonwithsomepopularrappers).

But the joke’sonher,because the limohasWi-Fiandalsoabar (thoughunlikeLilly,Iamstayingawayfromit).

Igavemymomalifthomeinit.Shewasonlygoingablockaway,backtotheloftonThompsonStreet.Still,itwasfuntoridewithmymominalimo—wedon’tgettodoitveryoften.

IthoughtaboutusingtheopportunitytotellMomaboutOlivia,butitdidn’tseemliketherighttime.Also,breakingthenewsthathehasachildbyanotherwomanisobviouslymyfather’sresponsibility.

ButwhenMom askedwhereLilly andTina and Iwere going (TinawasgoingbacktotheNYUlibrarytostudy,soIofferedheralifttoo,thensecretlytexted herwhatwas up,whichmight have been amistake because now she’ssitting on the jump seat looking very pale, mouthing I can’t believe this ishappening over and over), I couldn’t exactly lie, not only because I’ve beengettingworse andworse at it—not even countingmy twitching eye, I’ve stillnever learned to keepmy nostrils from flaringwhen I tell a fib—but becauseshe’s mymother. I knew she was going to be able to tell something was up(besidesGenovia’ssecuritythreatlevel).

SoIsaidweweregoingtoCranbrook,NewJersey.“Oh,really?”Momasked.“What’sinCranbrook,NewJersey?”Lillysmiledatmeexpectantlyfromoverher laptopandthewhiskeysour

she’dmixedforherselffromthemini-bar,clearlyenjoyingthesituation.Ihadtothinkofsomethingmymomtotallywouldn’twanttocomewithus

todo,becauseasanartisther schedule ispretty flexible (except forhaving topickupRockyfromafter-schoolkaratepractice,butshecouldeasilygetoneofherequallyartistic,flexibly-scheduledfriendstodothat).

“Um, we’re going to look at bridesmaid dresses to get inspiration forSebastiano,”Isaid.“There’sashopouttheresomeonetoldusabout.Iheartheyhaveamazingmother-of-the-bridedresses.Doyouwanttocome?”

Fortunatelythelightinginthelimoisprettydim,soMomdidn’tnoticemynostrilsoreyelid.AlsoIknewshe’dbesoturnedoffbythewords“shop”and“mother-of-the-bridedresses”therewasnowayonGod’sgreenearthshe’deverwanttojoinus.

“Oh, no, sweetheart, but thank you somuch for the invitation,” she said,smilingwarmly.“Ireallycan’taffordtotakeanymoretimeawayfromthenewpainting I’mdoing. I’m calling itWomanwith aWeedWacker. I’mhoping itwillbreaknewgroundinthebattleagainsttheMen’sRightsActivists.”

“Oh,noproblem,Mom,”Isaid.“Thenewpaintingsoundsamazing.Goodluckwithit.”

“Thanks, Mia. But send me some photos! I’d love to see what kind ofdressesyougirlsfind.”

Great. So nowwhenwe get toNew Jersey, we’re going to have to findsomestorethatsellsbridesmaiddressesandlookatthem,inordertotakephotostosendtomymom.

Although Lilly said there’s another way to accomplish this. She startedlookingupbridesmaiddressesonlinesowecansendthosetomymominstead.

“Oh, look,Mia.One shoulder empirewaist in electric green.Mia,pleasecanyougetSebastianotogowithoneshoulderempirewaistinelectricgreenasourbridesmaiddresses?I’mbeggingyou.”

Naturally, this got Tina upset. “Stop it, Lilly. Your best friend—who ismarryingyourbrother—hasmadealife-alteringdiscovery.Shehasasistersheneverknewexisted, a little girlwho’sgrownupwithout a fatheror amother,andyou’resittingtherejokingaboutelectricgreenbridesmaiddresses?Really?”

Lilly lookeda little ashamedofherself . . . at leastuntilTinawenton toadd, “Besides, you know I look terrible in green. That cream color thatSebastianopickedoutforusthismorningisgoingtobereallyflatteringonallofourskintones,evenifit’sderivativeofwhatKate,DuchessofCambridge,chosefor the bridesmaids in herwedding toPrinceWilliam, and I thinkweneed tostick to it. EvenTrisha liked it, and you know she hates everything that isn’tmadeoutofblacklacestretchlycra—”

I’m seriously going to check myself into a rehab center for stress andanxietyafterthis,IsweartoGod.

“Can we please stick to the subject?” I demanded. “Once we get toCranbrook,here’swhatI’dliketodo:gotoOlivia’suncle’sbusinesstotalktohim—and the aunt—like normal, rational adults about mymeetingmy sister.Nothing accusatory, nothing confrontational. Just ‘Hi, hello, I’m MiaThermopolis.WoulditbeokaywithyouifImeetyourniece?’Thenwecango

fromthere.”“Oh,”Lilly said. “Okay. That seems like a great idea, especiallywithout

any sort of advanced planning or consulting your lawyers or your dad oranythingfirst.”

“Itwillbefine,”Iassuredher.“It’snotlikeIhaven’tbeentrainedintheartofdiplomacy.”

“Right!”Lilly laughedoverherwhiskeysour.“Byyourgrandmother, thequeenoftact!”

“We’retwoseparategenerations,”Isaid.“Wemightdothingsdifferently,butwestillgetthingsdone.”

“And the auntmight not even be aware her husband is using her niece’smoney to buy bulldozers to send to Qalif,” Tina pointed out. “She could beperfectlyinnocentinthewholething.”

“Exactly,Tina.”Lilly laughed somemore. “Oh,myGod.You two are so naïve. It’s like

watchingBambiandThumpergoafterTonySoprano.”Lillyissuchapessimist.Oh,great,thecarisfinallymoving.

CHAPTER48

12:37p.m.,Wednesday,May6SomewhereonInterstate295RatetheRoyalsRating:7

Tina is reading aloud from J.P.’s dystopian YA novel, Love in the Time ofShadows,whichshedownloadedtoherphone.

Lillyislaughingsohardshesaysshe’sgoingtowetherpants.I’mnotfindingitveryamusing,particularlyastheheroine,“Amalia,”has

lightgrayeyesand longsandyblondhair,whichgetswhippedarounda lot intheunforgivingdesertwind.

ButIsupposehearingJ.P.’sbookreadaloudisbetter thanthealternative,whichwaslisteningtoTinaplayallofthevoicemailsBorishasleftherrecently,swearingthathewasneverunfaithful,andbegginghertotakehimback.Someofthemwereaccompaniedbylongviolinsolos.

Lillysaidifshehadtohearonemore,shewasgoingtoflingherselffromthelimoandintooncomingtraffic.

I’mstartingtothinkTinashouldtakeBorisbackjustsowedon’thavetohearabouthimanymore.

I’veleftfourmessagesformydad,includingtwoonhisprivatecell,buthehasnotreturnedthem.HisassistantMariellesaysshehasnoideawherehe is,butassoonasshehearsfromhim,she’lllethimknowI’vecalled.

Except thatwhereverhe’sgone,hehas tohave takenhisbodyguards.SotheRGGknowswhereheis.

Buttheyaren’ttalking,either.Thisisnotagoodsign.NoonetoldmeittakesanhourandahalftogettoCranbrook,NewJersey,

duringperiodsofhightraffic.Thiscouldbeaverylongtrip.Butmyresolveisnotflagging.

CHAPTER49

1:05p.m.,Wednesday,May6StillonInterstate295RatetheRoyalsRating:7

Peoplearehonkingatthelimoastheydriveby.It’slikethey’veneverseenonebefore,whichisridiculous.I’vewatchedtheshowJerseyShore,andtheyrodeinlimosallthetime.

Well,notoneswithGenovianflagsflyingfromthem,butstill.IsupposeIshould get François to pull over sowe can remove the flags and not draw somuchattentiontoourselves,butI’drathersavethetimeandgetthere,already.

Tina is continuing to read.The two rivals forAmalia’s affection, “Mick”and “Jared,” come from enemy factions. Jared is blond and warmly creative,whereasMickhasdarkhairand ismorecoldlyanalytical.Amaliaseems tobeleaningmoretowardJared.

Butnoneofitreallymatterssincethey’realldyingofradiationpoisoning.Lillyjustsaidshe’sgoingtogiveLoveintheTimeofShadows“amillion

starsassoonasJ.P.self-publishesitsomewhere.”ThiscausedTinatolookteary-eyed.“AMillionStars,”sheechoed,witha

sigh.“Oh,forGod’ssake,”Lillysaid indisgust.“IfyoumissBoris thatmuch,

whydon’tyoutakehimback?”“HowcanI?”Tinaasked.“Hebetrayedmytrust.”“Did he?” Lilly asked. “Or did you destroy it by believing some bimbo

blogger’swordoveryourboyfriend’s?”Iwidenedmyeyes.“Lilly!”“Well,it’strue,”Lillysaid,asTinaappearedstricken.“Look,asalawyer,

you know I’m obligated to look at the facts, andweigh everyone’s testimonyimpartially,regardlessoftheirsex.Butasafeminist,I’mfarmorelikelytoshowsolidarityformysisters,andbelieveawoman’swordoveraman’s.Hosbeforebros,andallthat.”

Isuckedinmybreath,glancingatLarsandHalim,whofortunatelyweren’tpayingtheslightestbitofattention.“Lilly.Sistersbeforemisters.”

“Butinthisparticularcase,Ijustcan’t,”shewenton,ignoringme,asusual.“I know Boris too well. He’s the type of man who, if he did cheat, wouldimmediatelyconfesstoit,becausehewouldn’tbeabletobeartheguiltforonesecond.Sothefactthathekeepssayinghedidn’tdoitmakesmethinkhereally,honest to God, didn’t do it, and in this one individual case, we have got tobelievethisparticularbrooverthisparticularho.”

Ibitmy lip.“Ihate tosay this,Tina,butLillyhasapoint.Foramusicalgenius,Borisisprettyuncomplicated.”

Tinacontinuedtolookupset.“Iknow,okay?Butphotosdon’tlie.Unless. . .doyouthinkit’spossiblethatgirldruggedhim,orsomething?Maybeshe—”

“Okay,let’snotgetcarriedaway,”Lillyinterrupted.“Hedefinitelywasn’tdrugged.Heseemedpretty...alert.”

Tinaglaredather.“Youlooked?Youlookedatthephotos?Ican’tbelieveyoulooked!Ihaven’tevenlookedatthephotos!”

“Hey,”Lillysaidwithashrug.“I’msingle.Ihavetohavesomefun.”“Ican’tbelieveyou,”Tinadeclared,hotly.“Iknowyouusedtogooutwith

him,Lilly,butthat’saviolationof—”“Uh,Tina,”Iinterrupted,guiltily.“Ilooked,too.Imean,itwasbymistake,

and I clicked away as soon as I realized what they were. But Lilly’sexaggerating,asusual.” Iglaredather.“Theywereonly from thewaistupsoyoucouldn’treallyseeanything.Infact,theywereactuallykindofinnocent—”

“Ican’tbelieveyou!”Tinacried.“Youguysaredisgusting!”“Howdidyouclickonthembymistake?”Lilly,grinning,kickedmeinthe

leg.“Shut up.” I kicked her back. “Tina, don’t be mad. I’m telling you, the

photos aren’t anything like what people are making them out to be. In fact,they’rekindof sweet, and the lighting’s surprisinglygood.Maybeyou should

lookatthem,becausethemoreIthinkaboutit,themoreIwonderifBoriscouldbetellingthetruthaboutthembeingPhotoshopped—atleastpartly—andifLillyisrightaboutthebrothing,whichIthinksheis,maybethatgirlreallyissomekindofeditinggeniuswho—”

“No!”Tina looked as if shewere feeling sick to her stomach. “I’ll neverlookat them.And I thinkwe should change the subject now.Let’s talk aboutwhatyou’regoingtosaytoyourlittlesisterwhenyoumeether.”

Iagreed,butonlyoutofpityforher.This turnedout tobeahugemistake. Inaddition tobeingknowledgeable

aboutfingernailpolish, itappears that if I’mgoingtogetalongwitha twelve-year-old,I’malsosupposedto:

•Havereadallthelatestsemi-eroticboybandfanfictiononsomethingcalledWattpad.

•KnowhowtoSnapchat.

•FollowallthehaulvideostarsonYouTube.

•AndbeuponallthegossipaboutanactressI’veneverheardof.

I’mdead.

CHAPTER50

1:25p.m.,Wednesday,May6StillonInterstate295RatetheRoyalsRating:7

Michael/Mickjusttexted.


WhyareyouinNewJersey?

WhosaysI’minNewJersey?

Someone just Instagramed a photo of you eating at aplace called ‘Lou’s Lucky Deli.’ You’re with twowomen who look suspiciously like my sister and TinaHakim Baba along with three men who, unless I’mmistaken, are Lars, Halim, and your grandmother’schauffeur.

Oh! Ha. Yes.We stopped for sandwiches becausewewerestarving.

That’s a long way to go for deli. What’s wrong with

Katz’s?

We’relookingatbridesmaiddresses.

IthoughtyouwerestickingwithGenoviandesigners.

TheyhavethoseinNewJersey.

Iknowthere’sonlyonereasonyou’dgotoNewJerseythesedays,Mia,anditisn’tforbridesmaiddresses.

I’m sorry!We’re pulling into her town now. Tellyouaboutitlater?

Fine. But this means when I tell you what Boris hasplanned,youcan’tgetmad.

Wait . . . what? What does Boris have planned?Michael,seriously,no.Tinaistoofragilerightnow.

NotforTina.Forme.

WhywouldBorishavesomethingplannedforyou?

It’s called a bachelor party. You’ve probably heard ofthem.

No.

No,you’veneverheardofabachelorparty?

No, you are not having one. Especially given byBoris.

We’ll talk about it, and your trip toNew Jersey,whenyougethome.

No, we won’t, because when I get home we havethat benefit for SuddenCardiacDeathAwarenesstonight at the W. And anyway, Boris P. is notthrowingyouabachelorparty. Ican’tbelieveyouevenWANTone.

EvenonewhereBorisischarteringaprivatejettoflymeandsomeofourotherclosestWorldofWarcraftfriendstoBuenosAirestoeatgiganticsteaks?

Nevermind.

What?Youdon’twanttocome?

Thank you, no. It sounds like a delightful outing,butI’llpass.TakeLarswithyou,though.I’msurehe’denjoyit.

YouonlywantmetotakeLarswithmesohewon’tbewithYOUatyourbachelorettepartyatCrazyIvan’s.

Dammit!Whotoldyouaboutthat?

TinatoldBoris,whotoldme.Hesaysyougirlsshouldn’tbe the only ones who have fun. Something about“dicklickers”?

I’mgoingtokillher...

He replied with an emoji of what I believe to be a house with flamescomingoutof thewindowsand thewords, “Whenyougethomeexpect tobeseverelyreprimandedbythefiremarshal.”

!J.P.iscompletelywrong.Michaelistheoppositeofcoldandanalytical.

CHAPTER51

2:45p.m.,Wednesday,May6LimooutsideOlivia’sschoolCranbrook,NewJerseyRatetheRoyalsRating:7

Well,thatdidnotgoaswellasI’dhoped.When we pulled up outside Olivia’s aunt’s house—which was a lovely

split-level—I saw that, along with a perfectly respectable Mercedes minivan,therewas a yellowFerrari parked in the driveway that had a vanity plate thatsaidHersonit.

“AFerrari?”Ishookmyhead.“Idon’tevenhaveaFerrari.”“Younevergotyourlicense,”Tinapointedout.“I’m helping to stimulate the economy,” I explained, “by keeping

professionaldriversemployed.”“There’s another Ferrari that matches that one exactly sitting in the

manager’sparkingspace in frontofO’TooleConstructionandHomeDesign,”Lillysaid.“Didyouguysnotice?ButitsaysHisonthevanityplate.”

I had not noticed.We’d gone to theO’Tooles’ place of business first, asplanned, only to be told by the wide-eyed receptionist (she’d been reading acopyofOK!,somighthaverecognizedme,asIfrequentlyappearonthecoverofOK!) thatMrs.O’Toolewas“workingfromhometoday,”andMr.O’Toolewas“atasite.”

He’devidentlytakenadifferentcartothe“site.”“TwoFerraris?”Icried.“Theyhavetwo?”“Ofcourseit’sentirelypossiblethatOlivia’suncle’sconstructionbusiness

isdoingsowellfinanciallythatheboughtthoseFerrariswiththeirownmoneyandnotthechildsupportmoneyyourfathermeantforyoursister,”Tinasaid.

It’samazinghowshecanseethebestineveryone,includingherboyfriend(thefactthathemayhavecheatedonheraside).

“Isawtheirtaxreturnsfromthelastfiveyears,”Lillysaid.“Thebusinessisdoingwell,butnotthatwell.”

IgotoutofthelimowithoutevenwaitingforFrançoistoopenthecardoorforme,thenstalkeduptoOlivia’saunt’sfrontdoorandrangthebell.

Afteramomentortwo,anice-lookingladyinyogapantsandacowlnecksweateropenedthedoorandsaid,“Yes?”expectantly.

Itonlytookasecondforhereyestoopenverywideassherecognizedmeandthennoticedthelimo.

“Oh,myGod,”shesaid,inanentirelydifferent,muchlesswelcomingtone.She’devidentlyseentheOK!magazineswithmeonthecover,too.

“Hi,”Isaid,puttingonmybestsmileandholdingoutmyrighthand.“AreyouCatherine?YoucancallmeMia.I’mheretoseeyourniece,Olivia.Issheathome?Orisshestillatschool?”

CatherineO’Tooledidn’treachouttoshakemyhand.Instead,shetriedtoslamthedoorinmyface.

I,however,hadlearnedathingortwoinmyyearsworkingonLilly’scableaccess TV show, Lilly Tells It Like It Is (and also volunteering for variouspoliticalcampaigns,bothhereintheU.S.andbackinGenovia),andthatisthatifyoudon’twantsomeone toslamadooronyou,youshould insertyour footbetweenthejambandthedoortheyareattemptingtoswingshut.Thismakesitimpossibleforthemtocloseitalltheway.

What I had forgotten is that you should only do this if you are wearingcombatbootswithreinforcedtoes,notfaux-suedeplatformMaryJanes.

“Ow!”IyelledasCatherineO’Tooleslammedherdooronmyfoot.“Sorry,” Catherine O’Toole cried. “There’s no one here by the name

Olivia!”“Help,” I cried, certainmany ofmymetatarsalswere being broken or at

leastsprained.“Help,help!”“Oh,myGod,”IheardCatherinesayagain,probablybecauseshe’dgotten

an eyeful of Lars,whowas already hurling himself at uswith a considerable

amountofspeed.Larscanlookintimidatinglylargetopeoplewho’veneverseenhimbefore,

evenwhenhe’sadozenyardsaway.Heiswelloversixfeettallandweighstwohundred pounds (“most of itmuscle,” as he is fond of saying).He can benchpressmyweightseveraltimesover(heclaims.I’vebeensparedthesightofhimdoingthis,thanktheLord).

Buthurtlingtowardyouatcloserange,withhisfacecontortedinrage,he’sanevenmoreintimidatingsight,sortoflikeabullchargingatananthill.

ThenextthingIknew,LarshadcrashedthroughtheO’Tooles’frontdoorandpinnedOlivia’sauntCatherinetooneofherlivingroomwalls.

“Princess was attacked, but suspect subdued,” I overheard Lars murmurintohisheadset.Ihadnoideawhohewastalkingto.ProbablyRoyalGenovianGuard headquarters back at the consulate. “Repeat, princesswas attacked, butsuspecthasbeensubdued.”

“Lars,”Isaid,asIhoppedaround,holdingmyinjuredfootinonehand.“Iwashardlyattacked.”

Icouldn’thelpthinking,though,thatifI’dactuallybeenwearingdiamondshoes,myfootwouldbehurtingalotless.

Meanwhile, Lilly was standing there with a large grin on her face, hercameraphoneupandon,havingfilmedthewholething.

“Don’tworry,”shesaid,whenshesawmydisapprovingexpression.“I’mnotgoingtopostitanywhere.Thisisformypersonalcollection.”

Oh,God.“What’sgoingon?”TinawascrossingthelawnwithHalimintow,bothof

themlookingbewildered.“Mia,areyouallright?”“I’m fine,” I said, even though my right foot was throbbing with pain.

“Therewasjustalittlemisunderstanding.”“Therewasnomisunderstanding,”Larssaidfirmly.“No.”Lillycontinuedtofilm.“Therewasdefinitelynomisunderstanding.”“Please.”CatherineO’Toole’s voicewasmuffled.Thiswas becauseLars

was still pressing her against the ornately plastered wall. “I’m sorry. I didn’tmeanit.Oliviadoeslivehere.Pleasejusttellthis...mantoletmego.”

Ifeltsorryforher,eventhoughIwasprettysureshehadbrokenoratleastsprainedmyfoot.

“Lars,thisisridiculous.Pleasereleaseher.”Lars released her, and Catherine O’Toole came away from the wall and

adjusted thenecklineofher fancysweater, thenoneofher fakeeyelashes thathadcomeloosewhenherfacehadbeenpressedupagainsttheVenetianplaster.Then she said, “Excuseme, Your Royal Highness, what I meant to say was,won’tyoupleasecomein?MayIofferyouandyourfriendssomerefreshment?”

“Yes,”Isaid.“Thatwouldbelovely.”SoIhobbledovertoherwhitecouch(everythinginherhouseiswhite.The

marble floors. The Venetian plaster. The furniture. Everything. It’s hard tobelieve she has three kids—or at least, one niece and two stepkids—andmanagestokeepeverythingsoclean.Theymustbeverywelltrained,orshehasanamazingcleaningservice).

“I’m very sorry to have alarmed you,Mrs. O’Toole,” I said, after she’dbroughtusicedteaintallhighballglassesthatwereetchedwiththelettersCandR . . . in white, of course. Lars had accompanied her to the kitchen on thepretense of “helping” (but really he’d gone to make sure she didn’t call thepolice,press,orherhusband),andhe’dbroughtoutalittlebowlofmixednuts.The bowlwas alsowhite. “But all I want is to talk to you about your niece,Olivia.Ithinkyou’reawarethatshe’smyhalfsister.”

Mrs. O’Toole blinked atme through her crooked eyelash and said, “Oh.Yes. Yes, of course. Actually, I thought your father would be the onewho’dshowup.Ineverexpectedyou.”

I had no idea how to respond to that despite my earlier claim toextraordinarypowersofprincessdiplomacy.

SoitwasprobablyagoodthingLillyleapedinandintroducedherself.“LillyMoscovitz,Mrs.O’Toole,”Lillysaid, settingher iced teadownon

the pricey—white—coffee table, and sticking out her hand. “Columbia LawSchool,RoyalAttorney-at-LawtothePrincessofGenovia—”

I elbowed Lilly in the gut, causing her to lower her hand with a cough,becauseMrs.O’Toolehadbeguntoblinkveryquicklyatthewordattorney.

“Nevermindher,Mrs.O’Toole,”Isaid,hastily.“I’mherebecause,inspiteof your sister’s wish that her daughter Olivia never know about her royallineage,I’dverymuchliketomeether.Havingbeenluckyenoughtohavehadasisteryourself,youcanprobablyunderstandthat.”

Catherineblinkedevenmore,rapidly,andIrealizedshewasonlytryingtoadjusther looseeyelash. “I suppose I can,” she said. “ThoughElizabethand Ididn’t have all that much in common. I’ve never understood why she didn’tmarryyourdadwhenheasked.I’dhavelovedbeingaprincess.”

Tina nearly dropped her iced tea. Her dark eyes had widened toapproximately twice their normal size. “Prince Phillipe asked your sister tomarryhim?”

“Well,yes,”Catherine said.She’dgothereyelashbackon, andwasnowblinkingatTinalikeshe’donlyjustgottenagoodlookather,andrealizedhowgorgeoussheis.Tinahasherfather’sdarkcoloringandsoftroundness,buthermother’sBritishsupermodelbonestructureandfashionsense,whichhadcausedSebastianotomoonoverherearlierinamannerthatmademesuspecthewishedsheweretheroyalbride.

“ButElizabethalwayssaidshewasn’t theroyalweddingtype,”Catherinewenton.“Shelikedflyingthosestupidjets.Idon’tsupposethey’dhaveletherkeepdoingthatifshewasaprincess.”

“No,”Iagreed.“ThatwouldbetoodangerousacareerforthewifeofthePrinceofGenovia.”

“Ithoughtso,”Catherinesaid,knowingly.Tinaswungherbewilderedgaze towardme. Icould tellshewascrushed.

Shewanted tobelievemyfatherhadonlyever lovedmymother forhisentirelife.

But it’s possible for people to have more than one soul mate . . . eventhoughifIeverloseMichael,I’llprobablydonallblackandsitaroundforeverinmourninglikeQueenVictoriadidaftershelostherbelovedPrinceAlbert.

“Yoursistersoundslikeawonderfulwoman,”IsaidtoCatherine.“IwishIcouldhaveknownher.ButsinceIneverhadtheopportunity,I’dliketoget toknowyou,andofcoursemysister,beforeyouandyourfamilymovetoQalif—”

CatherineO’Toolelookedrelieved.“Oh.Sothat’sreallyallyoucameherefor?”

IexchangedglanceswithTinaandLilly.“Uh,yes.Why?”“Noreason.”Ha.Shetotallysuspectedanotherreasonformyvisit . . . thatwe’dfound

outthetruthaboutherandherbohunkhusbandstealingallmysister’smoney!

But of course I hadnoproof of this . . . yet.And asTina kept insisting,maybeitwasn’teventrue.

“Well,maybeoneotherthing,”Iadded,wickedly.Wasitmyimagination,ordidsheappearflustered?“Yes?”“There’s actually a warning out from the State Department right now

advisingAmericansnottotraveltoQalifduetothecivilunrest—”Catherine O’Toole made a pooh-poohing gesture with one of her long-

nailedhands.“Oh,that.I talkedtoagirlattheembassy,shesaidit’sallbeingoverexaggerated. It’s perfectly safe so long as you stay in the Americancompounds.”

“Uh,” I said, watching as Tina’s eyes got rounder and rounder withastonishment. “Okay. Well, if it’s all right with you, my father and I werewonderingifOliviacouldstaywithusforawhile—”Iwaslyingleftandrightnow,somanyliesIcouldhardlykeeptrackof them.“Maybeforafewweeksthissummerwhileyouandyourfamilygetsettledinto,uh,yournewhomeinQalif?Howdoesthatsound?”

CatherineO’Toolebither lower lip. “Oh,well, Idon’tknow. I’dhave todiscussitwithRick....”

“Oh,youdon’thavetoworryabouttheoranges,”Lillyleapedin,breezily.“Therumorsabouttheratsaren’ttrue.”

I glared at her, then said to Olivia’s aunt, “I really would so value thisopportunity,Mrs.O’Toole.”

“Oh,pleasecallmeCatherine.”“Catherine.”“Well,”shesaid,hesitating.Tinaleanedforwardandlaidahandsoothinglyonherknee.“Itwouldbe

such a kindness. Olivia’s the only memory you have left of your sister, butPrincess Mia’s never had a sister at all, so think what a chance this wouldprovideher.”

LillyshotTinaalookthatsaid,Layingitonalittlethick,aren’tyou?whichTinaignored.

“Oh,my,”Catherinesaid.“It’snotthatIwouldn’tlovetohelpyou.It’sjustthat Rick already paid the deposit for Olivia’s new school in Qalif. It’s year

roundthere,sotheyhaveiteveninthesummer.Extendedlearning,theycallit—anditwasn’tcheap.Anditwasalsononrefundable.”

Tinalookedconfused.“Wait.Areyousaying—?”LillyleanedforwardtopluckTina’shandfromtheolderwoman’sknee.“I think I knowexactlywhatMrs.O’Toole is saying,”Lilly said. “Don’t

you,Mia?”Iwas already reaching insidemy bag formy checkbook. “Absolutely,” I

said. The thing is, you can’t hang around the beaches of the Riviera withoutnoticingall thegrifters,and then learning torecognizeashakedownwhenyouseeone.“Whydon’tyouletmepayyoubackforOlivia’ssummerterm,sinceitlookslikeshemightbestayingwithus?”

“But—” Tina sputtered. She still didn’t understand what was happening.“What?”

“Oh,thatwouldbelovely,”Catherinesaid,smoothassilk.“Youcanmakethecheckout tomepersonally.That’sCatherinewithaC.”Shementionedanastonishinglylargesumofmoneythat,whenTinaheardit,causedhertomakeasqueakingnoise.

Larscalmlypassedherthebowlfromthecoffeetable.“Nuts?”heasked.“No,I’mnothun—”Lilly jammedahandfulofnuts intoherpalmandsignaledforTinatoeat

them, which she did, still wide-eyed, but only after Lilly gave her a warningglare.

“That’sgreat,”Lillysaid,watchingasImadeout thecheck.“Andifyou,Catherine,wouldjustlookoverthiscontractItookthelibertyofdrawingupthismorning”—shepulledastapledsheafofpapersfromhermessengerbag—“thensignit,Ithinkwecanbeonourway.”

CatherinetookthepagesfromherandthumbedthroughthemwhileIgaveLillyasurprisedlook.Acontract?

AndLillyhadmadesuchafussaboutuscominghereunprepared.But LillyMoscovitz was never unprepared for anything.Well, not since

tenthgradeorso,anyway.“Standard language, really,” Lilly went on, more to me than to Olivia’s

aunt,“abouthowyoudon’tintendtoshareanyinformationaboutthismeetingoryourniece’sparentagewiththepress,andanaddendumonthebackgivingMia

permission to pick her up from school today so they can have sister-bondingtime.Soundgood?”

“Thatsoundsfine,”Catherinesaid,andturnedtothebackpage,whereLillyhad placed a little pink sticky arrow. She signed with a pen Lars gallantlyofferedfromthefrontpocketofhissuitjacket.

Olivia’sauntseemedtobeinamuchbettermoodwhenweleft.Shewaved,the check I’d written her fluttering in her hand, from the front porch as wewalkedbacktothelimo.

“You guys,” I said undermy breath aswe crossed the lawn on ourwaybacktothelimo.“Sheisseriouslyhidingsomething.Also,Ithinkshebrokemyfoot.”

“I know, right?”Tinawaspractically hyperventilating. “I totally saw thisonceonaLifetimemoviestarringKirstieAlley.Andsheendedupinprison!”

“Nobody’s going to prison,”Lilly said. “That contract her aunt signed isbinding.”

“Youdon’tevenhavealawdegree!”Iremindedher.“Itwaswitnessedbyfivepeople,”Lillysaid.“Itwillholdupincourt,once

Igetallofyoutoco-signit.Nowlet’sgogetMia’ssister.”“Didyoucheckoutherroom?”Iasked.“What are you talking about?” Lilly looked annoyed with all of us as

Françoispoppedoutofthecartoopenthedoorforher,asshewasfirsttoreachit.

“When I asked to use their bathroom, I checked out all the bedrooms,” Isaid.Iwastryingnottoshowit,butIneededhelpwalking,andwasleaningonLarsforsupport.Myfootwaskillingme.Ithadbeenhardtosneakaroundthehouse, but obviously it had needed to be done. “The two other kids—Rick’sfromhisfirstmarriage—hadgiantflatscreenTVsintheirrooms,butnotOlivia.Her room was the smallest, and didn’t have anything fun in it, not even acomputer.”

“I saw that, too,” Tina said. “But I thought maybe she doesn’t like TV.Maybeshedoesn’tlikecomputers.”

“She’s related toMia,” Lilly said flatly. “Do you really think that’s thecase?”

“Maybe,” Tina said, still struggling to find an explanation other than the

onlyglaringlyobviousone, thatOliviawas theCinderellaof the family, takenadvantageofandforcedtosleepinthemodernequivalentofagarret,“itwasthemaid’sroom.”

“TherewasasignrightonthedoorthathadthenameOliviaonit,”Isaid.“Ithinkshemadeitherself.ItwasinMagicMarkerandhadlittledrawingsofbirdsandcatsonit.ThedossiertheRGGmadesaysshelikestodraw.”

There was silence as we sat in the cool air-conditioning of the limo,absorbingthis.

“Well,”Lillysaidfinally.“Atleastitwasn’taclosetunderthestairs.”I narrowed my eyes at her, then said, “François, the Cranbrook Middle

School,please.”“Yes,YourHighness,”hesaid.Sonowwe’resittingoutsideit,waitingforthebelltoring.Whenmysister

comesout, I’llopen thedoorand tellherwhoIamandaskher tocomeforaride.

Tina says this is theworst plan in the entire universebecausekids aren’tsupposed to accept rideswith strangers, even strangerswho areworld-famousprincessessittinginlimosparkedoutsidetheirschoolclaimingtobetheirlong-lost sister, and that I should do somethingmore subtle, because I’m probablygoingtoscarherforlife.

Butmyfoothurts,andI’mupsetabouttheaunt(andthebedroom),andthefact that my father should be here with me doing this, but that wouldn’t be“followingthemap.”

OnlyIcan’tthinkofanythingmoresubtlerightnow.Tina noticedmy limping beforewe got in the car andmademe takemy

shoe off and is examiningmy foot andmakingme pressmy toes against herhand.ShesaysnothingseemsbrokenbutI’mprobablygoingtohaveaverybadbruiseandIshouldseemyownphysician.

He’d probably only tell me to journal about it, though, and I’m alreadydoingthat.

Oh,God—the bell just rang, and children have begun pouring out of theschool.

Theresheis.

CHAPTER52

3:50p.m.,Wednesday,May6LimobacktoNewYorkCityRatetheRoyalsRating:7

Well,I’vejustruinedmysister’slife,foreverandcompletely.ObviouslythatwasnotmygoalincomingtoCranbrook,NewJersey.My

goalincomingtoCranbrookwastoimprovemysister’slife.ButinsteadI’veinexorablywreckedit.Idon’tknowwhyafter all this time I continue to listen to anythingLilly

says.ObviouslyIshouldhaveconsultedwithourfamilylawyersorDominiqueorsomeoneotherthanmylunaticbestfriendbeforecomingouthereandcausingcatastrophic and irreparable damage to the life of a little girl, a life that(probably)wasn’tsobadandthatnowshe’llnevergetback,thankstome,eventhoughshedoesn’tseemtobeawareofit.Sheissittinginthelimobesideme,happilydoinghomeworkthatshethinksshe’sgoingtoturnintomorrow.

Ha!Bytomorrownewsof thefact thatshe’sPrincePhillipeofGenovia’sillegitimatelovechildwillbeonthefrontpageofeverynewspaperintheworld(I’msurpriseditisnotalreadythetoptrendingtopiconTwitter).

There is no possible way Olivia will be able to go back to CranbrookMiddleSchooltomorrow,orever.

•Notetoself:Iamnotqualifiedtohavechildren.Cancelweddingandsecederighttoinheritthrone?Orjusthavemytubestied?

Ontheotherhand...Oliviadoesappeartobeenjoyingherself.ItturnsoutIneedn’thaveworriedaboutlearningeverythingIcouldaboutapopularstarlet

sinceOliviaismuchmoreinterestedinme...andridinginalimoanddrinkingsodawithactualsugarinit.

MaybeIhaven’tcompletely ruinedher life.MaybeI’veonlychangedherlife.Forthebetter!

This is what I set out to do this morning—what I set out to do everymorning,leavetheworldabetterplacethanIfoundit,andthat’showIshouldchoose to thinkofwhat justhappened.Olivia’s life isgoing tobebetternow,much,muchbetter.Howcoulditnotbe?ShehasCokeandmeinitnow(andsoon her father and grandmother, whenever they get around to returning mymessages...)

OK,whodoIthinkI’mfooling?I’veruinedherlife.DominiquejustcalledmebackbecauseItextedherwhathappened(Hey,Dominique,it’sme!So,notsure if you heard, but my dad has another kid and I may have inadvertentlyexposedherexistencetothemedia...callme!)andallIcouldhearontheotherendofthephonewasscreaming.

Anyway,TinaistheonewhospottedOliviafirst.“Theresheis!”shecried,jabbingherfingeragainstthetintedglasswindow

ofthelimo.I sawOlivia standing in the center of a group of uniformed kids by the

school’sflagpole.Shelookedso...little.Iknewshewasgoingtobebecauseinthedossier,itlistedherheightand

weight,andofcoursetherewerephotos(theRGGisnothingifnotprecise).Butphotosareverydifferentfromreallife.Inreallife,OliviaGraceisall

adorableknock-kneesandbonyelbowsandshinybracesandbrightblueglassesandcurlyhairdoneupinbraids.

WasIeverthattiny?Imusthavebeen,butitneverfeltlikeit.Ialwaysfeltenormous,toobigformybody,andsoawkwardandungainly(muchtoomuchsoforanyone,particularlyamemberoftheoppositesex,toadmire).

FromthefirstmomentIsawher,IwantedtosnatchherupanddrivebacktoNewYorkandthrowherinfrontofmydadandsay,“This!Thisiswhatyouaresoafraidofandhavebeenrunningfromforthepasttwelveyears.Thistinylittlegirlinpigtails.You,sir,arearoyaljackass.”

ButIrefrained,obviously.Atleastatthatparticularmoment.

“Aw,”Tinasaid.“She’ssosweet.”This, at least, confirmed that Iwasn’t the only onewho found her to be

completelyadorable.“Look,she’swearinghigh-topswithherschooluniform,justlikeyouused

towearcombatboots!”Tinawenton.“Oh,wait...issheintrouble?”Itwas true.Aswe sat therewatching, a little blondgirl (who lookednot

unlike a mini–Lana Weinberger circa thirteen years ago) marched up to mysister,putherhandsonherhips,andsaidsomething.Wecouldn’thearwhatitwas,because thebullet-proofwindowswere rolledup,and therewassomuchnoise all around us,whatwith the shouting of excited children getting out ofschool for theday,and thewhistleof theveryangryvolunteerparentwhodidnotwantusparkedwherewewereparked(eventhoughtheenginewasrunning)andalloftheschoolbusenginesandthecarsofalltheotherparents.

ButIcouldtellbytheexpressionoftheblondgirl—andmysister’sface—that it was something rude. I recognized the way Olivia looked, hurt andcrestfallen and a little afraid. Itwas theway I’d always looked (I imagine—Icouldn’t have seenmyself)when confrontedbyLanaWeinberger, back in thedaysbeforeshe’dmellowedwithage.

Suddenlyagroupofkidsgatheredaroundthetwogirls,blockingthemfromourview.

“Whatinthewideworldof[REDACTED]?”musedLilly.“Ibelieve,”Larssaid,“whatweareobservingiswhatisknowninAmerica

asathrowdown.”Itwastrue!Throughagapinthecirclethechildrenhadformedaroundmy

sisterandherfrenemy,IcouldseethattheblondgirllookedlikeshewasabouttoripOlivia’shairout.

However much they’re paying teachers these days, it is not enough.Middle-schoolersareanimals.(Idon’tmeanmysister,ofcourse.Sheisasweetperfectangel.Well,almost.)

Larsreachedinstinctivelyforhisankleholster.“Lars,no!”Icried.“Theyarechildren,notGenovianex-patsprotestingthe

useofGMOsintheirorangejuice.Iwillhandlethis.”Becausereally,whenyourlong-lostlittlesisterisabouttogetbeatupright

infrontofyouontheplayground,youhavenochoicebuttocometoherrescue.

WhatelsewasIsupposedtodo?Idon’tseehowanyonecanblameme.Butofcoursewithmypossiblybrokenfootitwasabithardtogetoutof

thelimo,especiallygiventhatmybodyguardistrainednotonlytokeepmefrombeingthevictimofassassinations,buttokeepmefrompreventingotherpeoplefrombeingassassinated.

“Princess,” Lars said, grabbing my arm as I dove for the closest doorhandle.“Really.Youmustallowmeto—”

“Lars,youalreadysmashedtheauntagainstawall.Letmetakecareoftheniece.”

“Andendupwithanotherbrokenfoot?”“They’rechildren.”He pointed out that the girls on the popular television showPretty Little

Liarsarechildrentoo,whichrevealed:

•LarswatchesPrettyLittleLiars.

•HumanRightsWatchshouldprobablybekeepinganeyeonpublicandprivateschoolsalloverAmericabecausetheyseemtobebreedingenoughchildmurderersthatseveralpopulartelevisionshowshavebeenbasedonthesubject.There’salsooneonLifetimecalledChildKillers,nottomentionMTV’sTeenWolfandCW’sVampireDiaries(althoughadmittedlythelattertwofeatureparanormalentities).

Meanwhile,Tinawaswailing,“Thereareparentseverywhere.Whyaren’ttheydoinganythingtocontroltheirchildren?”

It was true. All these moms in yoga pants and Tory Burch slides werechattingwith one anotherwhile sipping lattes grandes, their gazes focused—Ihatetoadmit—onthelongblackstretchlimowiththetinyGenovianflagsflyingfromit(why,oh,whydidn’tIremovethemwhenIfirstthoughtofit?),insteadofwhatwashappeningbeneaththeirnoses.

NowthatIthinkbackonit,onlyLillyhadthecommonsensetosay,“Uh,Mia,doyoureallythinkyoushouldgooutthere?Ifyoudo,someone’sgoingtosnapaphotoofitandpostittosocialmedia,andthenthenextthingyouknow,everyoneinthewholeworldisgoingtoknowthat—”

Butlikeafool, I left thecarwithout listeningto therest.Becausebythat

time,thelittleblondgirlhadholdofmysister’sleftbraid,andtherewasnowayIwasgoingtostandforthatkindofnonsense.

Ithrewopenmycardoorandcamestridingacrosstheschoolyard,callingOlivia’s name. It took aminute for any of the children to noticeme, becausetheyweretoobusychantingthewordsFight,fight,fight.

But one by one they all did, andwhen they did, they stoppedwhat theyweredoing,includingtheblondgirl,whoreleasedOlivia’shairandstaredatme,dumb-founded.

It’snoteveryday,Isuppose,thatthePrincessofGenoviagetsoutofalimoinfrontofyourschool.

“Olivia?”Isaid,whenIfinallyreachedher.She staredup atme through the thick lensesof herglasses. Itwaspretty

clearshe,alongwiththelittleblondgirlandmostofthekidsinthecirclearoundthem, knewwho Iwas. I have to say,much as I complain about it, there arecertainadvantagessometimestobeingroyal.

“Oh,”Olivia said in a very polite voice, releasing the front of the blondgirl’sblouseandadjustinghernowverymessedupbraid.“Hi.Yes,that’sme.”

“Er,”Isaid.Whatdoyousaytoyourlonglostsisteruponmeetingherforthefirsttime?SuddenlyIbecameawareofallthegazes—andcellphonecameralenses—

thatwere suddenlyuponus. Itwasonly then that I realizedLillywas right: ithadbeenaverybadideaformetogetoutofthecar.IshouldhavesentLillytobreakupthefight.OrTina.Tinaknewmuchmoreabouttweengirlsthananyofus,andwasalsonearlyadoctor,orhadatleaststudiedchildpsychology.

“Hi,” I said, feeling anervous sweatbreakoutbeneathmyhairline, eventhough,forsuchasunnydayinMay,itwasnotparticularlywarm.“I’m,uh,MiaThermopolis.” Ihadnever felt souncomfortablesayingmyname inmyentirelife.“YourauntCatherinesaiditwouldbeallrightformetopickyouupfromschooltoday.”

Thelittlegirleyedmedubiouslythroughherglasses.Icouldseewhyshemightfindthisentirescenarioalittleontheshadyside.

“Oh,”Isaid,suddenlyremembering.“Here’sanoteshesigned,sayingso.”IwasgladLillyhad thoughtof thisat the lastminute,andaskedOlivia’s

aunttosignit,aswell.Thereareadvantagestohavingabestfriendwhowants

tobealawyer,evenonewhowantstogointosomethingasboringascontractlaw, thoughLillysayscontract lawisnotboring,but thebackboneofall legalpractice, the way mystery novels are the backbone of all literature. Murderbreaksacontractwithsociety,whichonlyjusticecansetrightagain.

“Wouldyouliketocomewithme?”IaskedasIhandedOliviathenote.Olivia didn’t exactly jump at the chance to climb in the Princess of

Genovia’slimo,eventogetawayfromsomeonewhowasthreateningtobeatthecrap out of her. Perhaps Olivia had not been in as dire circumstances as I’dthought.Withdignifiedcalm,sheunfoldedthenoteandreaditcarefully.

There was complete silence from the kids all around us as she did this,although I could hear several of thembreathing, including a fewwho tried tocrowdclosetoreadthenoteoverOlivia’sshoulder(andmine—well,reallymyelbows,sincethechildrenweresoshort).Itriedgentlytoshovethemaway,buttheywouldnotbudge.

Most childrenare lovely,butupclose someof themarenot at all tidy (Idon’tmeanmysister,ofcourse).

“Thankyou,”Oliviasaid,gravely folding thenotebackupand tucking itintoherbackpack.“I’dliketogowithyouverymuch.”

Scooooooooore!“Great!” I said, and snatched up her hand to turn around andwalk back

towardthelimobeforeshecouldchangehermind.BythattimebothLarsandHalimhadcaughtupwithme,andhadsqueezedthroughthecrowdtoflankuson either side, busily scanning the school yard forRoyalRabbleRouser or anyotherenemiesofstatewhomighthaveheardofmysuddenarrivalinCranbrookandshownuptoridtheworldofme.“Let’sgo.”

I knewwhatever I’d interrupted between her and the little blond girl hadbeenmega-intense,butIwasn’tgoingtoaskaboutituntilweweresafelyinsidethecarandmanymilesaway, ifever.The last thing Iexpectedwas theblondgirl—who’dbeguntrailingafterus,alongwiththerestofthekids—todoso.

“Excuseme,” she said, in ahigh-pitchedvoice, “but is it true thatyou’reOlivia’ssister?”

IwassoshockedInearlywalkedrightintoLars,whowasbarking,“Makeahole!”atall thecuriousmomswho’dgatheredaroundtostare.Howcouldthislittlegirlpossiblyhavefoundoutsuchan intimatefamilysecret?Andsofast?

Had Aunt Catherine been making calls, despite the nondisclosure agreementLillyhadmadehersign?Isthatwhatallthoseyoga-pant-wearingmothersweretalkingaboutwithoneanotherbehindthelidsoftheirlattesgrandes?ThatIwasrelatedtooneoftheirkids’classmates?

Ifso,Iwascompletelycancelingthatchecktheminutewegotintothecar.“Uh,”Isaid,yankingonOlivia’shandtoquickenherpace.ButofcourseI

was the one who was slowing us down by all my limping. “Who are you,exactly?”

“That’sAnnabelle,”Oliviasaidwithaworld-wearysigh.“Myfatherisheruncle’slawyer,”Annabelleexplainedinasnottytone,as

ifIwereamoronfornotknowingit.ApparentlyeveryoneinCranbrook,NewJersey,knewthatAnnabelle’s fatherwasOlivia’suncle’s lawyer,andIshouldhave, too. “He’s the highest-ranked personal-injury lawyer in Cranbrook.MyfathersaysOliviaisrelatedtoyou.Ididn’tbelieveitatfirst,ofcourse,butnowthatyou’rehere...”

Hervoicetrailedoffsuggestively.Now that I was there, whatever Annabelle had been told had been

confirmed.Anddespite theconfidentialityagreementLillyhad justhadOlivia’saunt

sign,thenewswouldsoonbespreadalloverthelittletownofCranbrook,NewJersey, and a short time after that, theworld. Every cell-phone camera in theentiredrop-offareaoftheschoolwastrainedonOliviaandme,includingonesbelongingto thebusdrivers.Eventhemeanladywith thewhistlehadstoppedblowingitandwasnowpointingheriPhoneatus.

That’swhenIknew.IshouldhavestayedinthecarinsteadofperformingawonderfullyselflessactofsisterlycharitybysavingOliviamyself.Ishouldhavedonewhatmydadhadbeendoingalltheseyears,and“followedthemap.”

Whyhadn’tIbeenagoodlittleprincessbrideandgoneto lunchwith thecrisismanagementteamlikeithadsaidtoontheitinerary?Iwasonlycreatingabiggercrisisforthemtocleanup,andruiningmysister’slife.Nothingwasevergoingtobethesameforher,justasnothinghadeverbeenthesameformeafterthatdaymyfatherhadtakenmetolunchatthePlazaHotelandtoldmeIwastheheir to the throneofGenovia, anda short time later thenewshadbecomepublic and I’d been required to be followed by a security team everywhere I

went.On the other hand, things haven’t exactly turned out that terribly forme

either.


1.IgettodowhatIlove—maketheworldabetterplacebydrawingattentiontocausesthatmattertome(well,onagoodday.Todaywouldnotbeanexampleofthat).

2.Ihavewonderfulfriends,whoarealwaystheretosupportandhelpmewhenIneedthem.

3.I’mmarryingthemanIlove.

Oh, I’ve thought of a fourth one! I’ve already stopped my sister fromgettingpunchedintheface(Ithink.Shehasn’tquiteexplainedexactlywhatwasgoingonthere.I’mhopingwe’llgettothatsoon).

Hopefully,Imightbeabletocontinuetomakeotherthingsbetterforher,too.

“I’m sorry, Annabelle,” I said to Olivia’s little nemesis in my mostprincessytone.“Butthisisaprivatefamilymatter.I’mafraidIdon’thavetimetochattoday.Good-bye.”

ThenIsqueezedmysister’shandandtriedtoquickenourpace, thoughitwasdifficult,givenmyprobablybroken(butmostlikelyonlysprained)foot.

Ihavetosay,itwasquitesatisfyingtoseeAnnabelle’sstunnedexpressionatmyreply,butmuchmoresotoseeOlivia’striumphantone.

ButIdidn’tgettoenjoyitlong,sinceLarswassoontappingtheBluetoothheadsethekeepsinhisearatalltimes,andsaying,“Er,Princess,”overthetopofOlivia’sheadsoshecouldn’thear.“Police.”

“Someone called the police?” My eye began twitching even more thanusual.“Butwhy?Wehaven’tdoneanythingwrong.”

“Well,”LarssaidasHalimhurriedforwardtoopenthepassengerdoorforus.“Thatwouldbeamatterofopinion.Incitingariot.Makingapublicnuisance.Theunclemightfeeldifferentlythanhiswifeaboutustakingthegirl,whohas

beenasignificantsourceofincomeforsometime...”Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.Oliviamusthaveoverheard—orfelt thecompulsivetighteningofmygrip

on her hand—since she looked upwith concern and asked, “Is everything allright?”

“Everythingisfine!”Ipracticallyyelled.“Wejustneedtogonow.”ThenIbeganpullingherwithrenewedenergytowardthelimo,whichmusthavebeenhumiliatingforhersincesheis,infact,twelveandevenRockyobjectstohavinghishandheld,andhe’snine.

“Back,please,”Larswasbarkingateveryonewhowastryingtocrowdtooclosetous,attemptingtosnapselfieswiththemselvesandeithermeorOlivia.“Pleasegivetheprincessroom.No,nophotos,sorry—noselfies—”

Itwasterrifying,andnotjustbecauseIrecentlyreadonlinethattheleadingcauseoflicetransmissionisselfies,fromkidsleaningtheirheadsagainstotherkids’heads,providingaperfecthighwayofhaironwhichthelicecantransportthemselves.

IimagineditwasevenmoreterrifyingforpoorOlivia,whoisn’tusedtoit.Even the ladywith thewhistle lowered it longenough to lifthercellphone tosay,inanasalvoice,“CanIhaveaphotowiththetwoofyou?”

Larsflungoutarock-solidarm.“No,”hesaid,nearlyknockingthephonefromherhands.“Well!”thewomancried,offended.“SeeifIevercometovisitGenovia!”“Noonewantsyouthere,”Larsinformedher(Ithoughtthisabitharsh).Oncewewere all safely inside the limo, though, andLarshadpulled the

door closed behind him,Olivia lookedmore thrilled than upset. She bouncedaroundontheseats,lookingoutatthechildrenwhowereplasteringthemselvesagainstthetintedwindows(wecouldseeout,buttheycouldnotseein).Itwasabitlikesomethingoutofaboy-banddocumentary.

François gunned the engine and tried to pull out, but a roar of protesteruptedfromthechildren(notunlike thesoundIonceheardseveralyearsagowhile visiting Iceland, and a volcano there exploded).Olivia’s classmates stillhadtheirhandsandfacespressedagainstallthewindows,flatteningthemselvesagainstthelimoinanefforttokeepusfromleaving.

“Whataretheydoing?”Icried,horrified.

Oliviashrugged.“Nothing.They’rejustexcited.NotmanycelebritiesvisitCranbrookMiddleSchool.Actually,you’rethefirst.”

“Oh.Isee.”IftheenormityofwhatI’djustdonehadnotsunkinbefore,itdidthen.Fortunately,wewere able to escapewithout further incident by François

applying a special horn Grandmère had had installed against the wishes andadvice of everyone—it plays the first chords of theGenovian anthem at near-deafening decibels. It caused the children to unpeel themselves from the limoandscamperawayinalarm.

ButLordonlyknowswhat thepolicefoundin theschoolyardwhentheyarrived after we’d gone (we heard the sirens, but in the distance, after we’dalreadymadeourescapetotheexitramptothehighway,thankGod).

“Olivia,”Isaid,afterwe’dhadachancetocatchourbreath.“I’mvery,verysorryabout this. Ididnotmean foryou to findout thisway thatyou’re—thatwe’re—”

“It’sokay,”Olivia said.Shedidn’t look the least bit upset.Hergazehadbeenrovingaroundtheinteriorofthecar,lightingupasitlandedontheminibar,wheretherewerefullcansofsodaondisplayasmixersforGrandmère’salcohol,not to mention bags of chips and other assorted favorite snacks of mygrandmother’s.“Ialreadyknew.Annabelletoldme.”

“Yes,Irealizethat.Butthat’swhatImean.Itshouldn’thavehappenedthatway.I’mverysorryaboutthat.”

“That’sokay,”Oliviasaid.“Thisisfun.”“Fun?” I glanced uneasily at my adult companions.What had been fun

aboutanyofwhatjusthappened?“Really?”“Yes,”Oliviasaid.“Thisismyfirsttimeinalimo.Dothosegoon?”She

pointedat the fiber-optic lighting in the limousine’s ceiling,whichGrandmèrehadhadinstalledbecausesheenjoyedbeingbathedinthemostflatteringcolorsatalltimes.

“Yes,”Isaid.“Thosedogoon.”Likemagic,wewereallsuddenlybathedinarosyhuefromboththesides

androofofthecar.“Cool!” Olivia cried, smiling broadly, especially as François, who’d

overheardus,hadchosenthe“twinkle”effect,sotherosecolorbegantoturnto

purple,thentoblue.When you ride in limos all the time, it’s hard to remember that to some

people—especially a twelve-year-old—it’s a new, exciting experience. That’sthegreatthingaboutbeingtwelve.

“So,”IsaidtoOlivia,“I’msureyoumusthavealotofquestions—”“Yes,Ido.”Shelookedatmeveryintently.“Isitreallytrue?”“Thatwe’re sisters?Yes, it’s really true. I’m so sorry you foundout this

way,butit’svery,verytrue—”“No, is it true what that paper you showedme said? That you havemy

aunt’spermissiontotakemetoanydestinationofmychoosing?”I threw Lilly a startled look. The truthwas, I hadn’t read the agreement

Olivia’saunthadsigned.“Er,yes,”Isaid,whenIsawthatLillywasnodding.“Yes,it’sreallytrue.

Why?Istheresomewhereyou’dliketogo?”“Yes,”shesaid,herdarkeyessparkling.“Tomeetmydad.”I’mnotsurewhatI’dexpectedhertosay,butnotthat.Idon’tknowwhy,

sinceitshouldhavebeenobvious.Those four littlewords, however,momentarily robbedme of breathwith

theirsweetsimplicity.Ofcourse.Ofcourseshewantedtomeetherdad.HowcouldIhavebeenso

stupid?Whatelsewasalittlegirlwho’dneverknownherfather—neverreallyhadaparentatall—goingtowant?

“Oh.Right,”Isaid,myheartrollingoverinmychest.Upuntilthatsecond,I hadn’t even thought about where we were going.Away, was all I’d said toFrançois. Just takeus away . . . away from that awful school and that terribleAnnabelle and all those kids throwing themselves against the car and AuntCatherineandCranbrook.

Butclearly Ineeded to takeher tomeether father,and right that second,beforeIdidanotherthing.

Iwasn’tsureDadwasgoingtoagree,butIdidn’tcare.“Ofcourse.François?NewYorkCity,please.”Henodded.“Yes,YourHighness.”Olivialookedalittlenervousatthisdevelopment.“Wait. . .mydadisin

NewYorkCity?”

“Heis,”Lillysaid,leaningforwardtothrustherrighthandtowardOlivia.“Only sixty-four miles away, and you never even knew it, did you? LillyMoscovitz,by theway,butyoucancallmeAuntLilly. I’myour sister’scoolfriend.”

“Hey!”Tinaprotested.“Lilly’s teasing you,” I explained to Olivia as she politely shook Lilly’s

hand.“Allmyfriendsarecool.”“Nottrue,”LillysaidasshecontinuedtopumpOlivia’shand.“I’mtheone

you’regoingtowanttocometowithallyourquestionsaboutboys—”“No.”Ireachedoutanddisengagedtheirhands,layingOlivia’sbackinher

lap.“Donotgotoher.”“Come to me,” Tina said firmly. “I’m your aunt Tina. I’m in medical

school.”“Okay,”Oliviasaidfaintly.“ButI’monlytwelve.”Hoping to distract her—andmyself, since I’d been feeling a little teary-

eyed since she’daskedaboutmeetingher father—IaskedOlivia, “Wouldyoulike a soda?” Itwas the only thing I could think of to say.Whowouldn’t bethirstyafteranordealliketheonewe’djustgonethroughintheparkinglot?

“Yes, please,” Olivia said, looking bewildered by her exchangewithmyfriends . . . and nowonder, since they’re psychotic. “Sowe’re going toNewYorkCityrightnow?”

“Yes,”IsaidasIwaspouringhersoda.“That’snotaproblem,isit?”Sheshookherhead,herbraidsflying.“Iguessnot.Dadalwayssaidwewouldmeetsomeday,butnotuntilIwas

mucholder.”Inearlyspilledthesoda.“Hedid?Whendidhesaythat?”“In his letters,” she informed me matter-of-factly. “We’ve been writing

letterstoeachotherforalongtime.”Icouldn’tbelieve it.Mydad,who’dbeenso freakedout thenightbefore

aboutbeingOlivia’ssoleparent,hadbeenincommunicationwithherthisentiretime?Well,writtencommunication,butcommunicationjustthesame.He’dledme to think horrible things about him—that he’d allowed this child to live intotalignoranceofhisexistence—thatweren’teventrue!

“Hegivesmeallkindsofadvice,”Oliviaprattledon,acceptingthesodaI

passedher.Shecertainlyisn’tshy,whichisdefinitelyapositiveifyou’regoingtobethrustintotheinternationalspotlight.“Likehesaiditwasgoodtokeepadiary. He told me it really helps to write down your feelings when you getoverwhelmed.”

“Gee,Iwonderwherehegotthatidea,”Imurmured.“Whatdoyoumean?”sheaskedcuriously.Ihadn’tmeantforhertooverhearme.“Oh, nothing. My mom told me to do the same thing—write down my

feelings in a diary when I thought I was getting overwhelmed—when I wasaboutyourage.”

“Really?Yourmomisstillalive?”“Yes.ShelivesinNewYorkCity,too.”“Withourdad?”My heart, which had been on the verge of melting all afternoon, turned

liquid, especiallywhen I glanced at her face and saw that her expression hadsuddenlybecomeguarded.IhadnoideawhatDadhadtoldherinhisletters,butobviouslynothingaboutme,andclearlyverylittleabouthimself.

“No,Olivia,”Isaid.“Ourdadandmymomsplitupalongtimeago—rightafterIwasborn.Dadissingle.Hedoesn’tlivewithanyone.”

“Excepthismother,”Lillyaddeddarkly.Oliviadidn’tseemtohearher,however.Shesaid,staringoutthewindowat

the trees whizzing by along I-95, “It makes sense that he doesn’t live withanyone.Probably thedeathofmymother,whowasverybeautiful, stillhauntshim to this day. That’s most likely why he never wanted to see me before,because I look somuch like her, and the sight ofmewould be too painful areminderofhislostlove.”

Iwas soastonishedby this, Ididn’tknowhow to reply. Idon’t think I’dever seen Lilly clap a hand over her mouth so quickly to keep herself fromburstingintolaughter.

“Oh!”Tinawhispered.“Thesweetthing.Thesweetlittlething!”Olivia looked away from the window and back toward us, completely

oblivious to the fact that she’d sent one of us into near-hysterical gales oflaughterandtheotherintonear-tears.Iwastornbetweenboth.

Olivia’s expression was stormy. “I understand now why Aunt Catherine

saidI’mnotallowedtogothere.”“Gowhere?”Iasked.“Tomeetyourfather?YourauntandItalkedabout

that,Olivia,andwedecidedthatitwasokay.”Well,notinsomanywords,butwhatever.

“No,go toNewYork,” she said.She took abig swallowof soda. Itwasclearshelikedthestuff.Wehadsomuchincommonalready.“MyauntalwayssaidNewYorkis toodirtyanddangerousforkids.ButIcanseenowthatsheprobablyneverwantedmetogotherebecauseImightrunintomydad,andthenI’d find out I’m really a princess, and seeing me would probably cause himemotionaldamage.”

I thoughtitbest toavoidthis last topic—especiallysinceitsentLillyintopealsoflaughterthatshedidn’tevenbothertohide—andinsteadaskedherwhatshewanted to bewhen she grew up (whichwas both ridiculous and pathetic,because obviously now she’s going to be a princess, and I’ve told myself amilliontimestostopaskingkidswhattheywanttobewhentheygrowupandhereIwasdoingittomyownsister).

ButOliviawas all toohappy to showme, flipping throughher “diary”—actually a notebook—where she’d sketched many cats, horses, and—forunknownreasons—kangaroos.

“Iwanttobeawildlifeillustrator,”shesaid,explainingthatthiswasoneofthe reasons she’dalwayswanted togo toNewYorkCity. “They’re the artistswhodrawalltheanimalsontheplaquesoutsidetheexhibitsatthezoosandonwebsitesandinbooksandstuff.It’sadyingindustry,thankstophotography,butI’mprettysure Icanmake itbecauseI’vealwaysgottenreallygoodgrades inart.MyteachersaysI’vejustgottokeeppracticing.”

“Well,”Isaid,impressed.Imean,really,howmanyothertwelve-year-oldgirls want to be wildlife illustrators?My little sister is obviously superior. “Ithink it’s about time you got to go toNewYorkCity, then, becausewe needmorewildlifeillustratorsinthisworld.”

“Wereallydo,”Tinaburstoutexcitedly.“Definitely,”Lilly agreed. “Youcanmeetyourgrandmother, too. I know

she’s going to be very excited to meet you, and hear all about wildlifeillustration.”

I shot her awarning look, but itwas too late.Oliviawas already asking

what kind of cooking our grandmother enjoys. “My best friend Nishi’sgrandmother makes authentic Indian samosas and chicken tikkamasala everySundaynight.”

Lilly chokedon the cocktail she’dprepared forherself. “Yeah,Mia,” shesaid.“Tellyoursisteraboutthehome-cookedmealsyourgrandmalovestomakeonSundaynight.What’sherfavoriteingredientagain?Bourbon?”

“No,”Isaid,moretoLillythantoOlivia.“Ourgrandmotherdoesn’tcook.Butshehasmanyothertalents.She’svery...”

HowtodescribeGrandmère?Foronce,wordsfailedme.Andthat’ssayingalot,becausebesidesfillingpagesandpagesofdiarieslikethisone,IgotA’soneveryessay test I tookincollege,andoccasionally theyweredescribedbymyprofessorsasexamplesof“exemplarywork.”Well,okay,once.

“Yourgrandmotherisveryknowledgeable,”Tinasaid,finally.Well,that’scertainlytrue.“That sounds good,” Olivia said, pulling a sheet of paper from her

backpack,which seemed to be filledwith endless amounts of them. “Becausewe’ve been doing genealogy inmybiology class, and I had to leave all thesespacesblankonmyworksheetbecauseIdidn’tknowtheanswers.IwasgoingtowritetoDadtoask,butIknewbythetimeIheardback,theworksheetwouldbeoverdue.Maybemygrandmothercouldhelpmefillthemout?”

I looked down at thework sheet. “WhoAm I?” it read across the top inboldlettering.

Lotsofpeoplegothroughlifenothavingtheslightestideawhatnamestoputintheblanksontheir“WhoAmI?”worksheets,andtheyaren’tbotheredintheleastbyit.Whatdoesitevenmatter,anyway?Youcangetyourbloodtestednowandfindoutwhatyouhavethegenetictendencyfor.

Butitseemedterriblethatmyownsistershouldn’tknow.“And the truth is,” Oliviawas going on, prattlingwith perfect ease, like

she’dknownmeherentirelife,“Isortofwouldliketoknowafewthingsformyownpersonalinterest,likeifdiabetesrunsinmyfamily,andheartdisease.AuntCatherineneverwouldtellmeanythingaboutmydad,justthathewastoobusytotakecareofmebecausehisworkwassoimportant.Iunderstandthatnow,hehas to run a whole country. But maybe”—Olivia had dug a pen from herbackpack,alongwith thework sheet—“youknowsomeof theseanswers? It’s

duetomorrow,andit’sworthtwenty-fivepercentofmytotalgrade.”“Oh,God,”IheardTinawhisper. I thinkabout theauntsaying“Dadwas

toobusy”totakecareofOlivia,whichcausedmyhearttobreakalittleaswell.Lilly, however, only shookherhead and said, “Yep.She’syour sister all

right,Thermopolis,”probablyasaresultofOlivia’sconcernaboutthepossiblediseasesshemighthaveinheritedfromtheRenaldosideofthefamily,whichIfrowned at her for, both becauseOlivia’sworries arewell founded (who isn’tworried about diabetes?) and also because I am not that much of ahypochondriac.

•Notetoself:RemembertolookuplateroniTriagewhatcouldbecausingmyboobstohurtsomuch.They’vebeenkillingmefordays.Coulditbeasideeffectofallthemagnesium?

“Well,fortunatelyI’mheretohelpyounow,”IsaidtoOlivia.“Shallwegetstarted?”

“Yes!”OliviasmiledsobroadlythatIonlyjustnoticedthebrightturquoisebandsshehasonherbackteeth.“Thatwouldbegreat!”

Sothat’sthehomeworkwe’redoing.Fillinginallthemissinginformationonher“WhoAmI?”worksheetasFrançoisdrivesusbacktoNewYorksothatOliviacanmeetherfather(andgrandmother),andmaybeevengototheCentralParkZootoseesomeofthewildlifeillustrationsthere,ifthere’stime.

•Notetoself:Arethereevenillustrationsontheplaquesthere?I’vespentalotoftimeatthezoo,butI’venevernoticed—becauseIwasalwaystoobusyfeelingtraumatizedfromfindingoutIwasaprincess(ordealingwithvariousothercrises)—thesignage.

I’mlettingOliviaeatallthejunkfoodshewantsoutoftheminibar,andnotjustbecauseshesaid,“AuntCatherinedoesn’tletmehavesugar.”

(Tina disapproves, since “sugar really isn’t that good for children, oranyone,”butasLillyputit,“Howoftendoyoufindoutyou’reaprincess?Thekidoughttocelebratewhileshecan,sinceIimagineherentireworldisabouttofallapartvery,verysoon.”)

This,liketherestoftheday—thiswholeweek,actually—isprobablygoing

tobeadisaster.Butoh,well.Whatelseisnew?

CHAPTER53

4:35p.m.,Wednesday,May6LimobacktoNewYorkCityRatetheRoyalsRating:7

Michaeljustphoned.Ithasn’ttakenlongatallforthe[REDACTED]tohitthefan.

Well,Isortofsuspectedthatalready,sinceDominiquestoppedscreaminglongenoughwhenshephonedearliertosay:“Iwilltakecareofeverything.Donotspeaktoanyone.Donotstopthecartoeat,oreventogotothetoilettes.Donotansweryourtelephoneunlesseeteezsomeoneyouknow.”

“Uh...”I’dsaid.“IsthereanythingIcandotohelp?”“No,youhavedonequiteenough,”Dominiquesaidcrisply,andhungup.Publicistsarea lot likecats:super lovableuntilyoucross them.Then the

clawscomeout.Michael’stheonewholetmeknowwhatwasgoingon:“Are you aware that someoneposted a photo of youwith a child they’re

calling‘PrincessMia’sillegitimatesister’onsocialmediaalittlewhileago,andthe post has been picked up by just about every news outlet in the westernhemisphere?”

“Ugh,”Isaid.Icouldn’tshowtoomuchemotionaboutitwithOliviasittingtherebesideme.We’dfinishedher“WhoAmI?”worksheetandhadbegunhermathhomework(or rather,Oliviahasbegun it,withLillyandTinagivingheroccasional help when she asks. I have no idea how to multiply and dividefractions.Whydotheyevenmakechildrenlearnthiswhentherearecalculators?Althoughsomeofthem—likeOlivia,apparently—wanttodoit).

“Oh,well,”Iwenton.“Itwasboundtohappensoonerorlater.”

“Mia,IjusthadtwoagentsfromtheRGGshowupinmyoffice,”Michaelsaid.“TheysayI’vebeenassignedextrasecurityduetoanonymousthreatsfrompeoplewhodon’t approveof interracial relationships that result in illegitimateprincesses.”

“Well,thatisjustridiculous.”IglancedoveratLarsbutsawthat, likeanyhighly trainedbodyguard,he

was already in contactwith theoffice,murmuring swiftly inFrench about thedangerpublic.

“Mia,Iknowit’sridiculous,that’snotwhyI’mcalling.I’mworriedaboutyou.Whereareyou?”

“Michael,I’mfine,I’mstillinthecar.I’mso,sosorryaboutallthis—”“Don’tbesorry.Obviouslyitisn’tyourfault.Butwhereareyougoing?”“Home.”I tried tokeepmytonebreezysoasnot toalarmanyoneelse in

thecar.“Oliviawantstomeetherfather.”Olivialookedupatthesoundofhernameandsmiledatme.Ismiledback.Breezy.Everythingwasbreezy.

“Her father?”Michael echoed. “Do you even knowwhere your father isrightnow?”

“No,asamatteroffactIdon’t.I’vebeentryingtoreachhimallday,buthewon’tpickupmycallsorreturnmymessages—”

“Of course not, cell phones are prohibited in the courthouse. Everyoneknowsthat.Haven’tyoueverservedonjuryduty?”

“No,”Isaid,alittledefensively.“Remember?IwantedtobuttheywaivedmysummonsbecausetheywereafraiditwouldbetoomuchofamediacircusifIshowedup—wait,he’sincourt?”

“Yes,youdidn’tknow?IjustsawaclipofhimonNewYorkOne,headedupthecourthousestepswithhislawyers.Hiscasewasfinallycalledtoday.Heworehisceremonialdressuniform,includinghissword.Theyconfiscatedit,ofcourse.”

ObviouslyIdidn’tknow.Nooneevertellsmeanything.I signaled to Lilly to check her phone. She did so, casually keeping the

screenfromOlivia’sview.Oliviahadinformedus thatherauntCatherinesaidshe isn’t “allowed to have a phone,” though her stepcousins, Justin and Sara,eachhaveone,aswellasatabletandlaptop.

(ThelistofitemsOliviaisnotallowed,besidessugar,cellphones,andtrips

toNewYorkCity, is longand somewhat curious, andmakesmequestionheraunt’sparentingskillssomewhat,althoughIrealize,nothavingchildren,Ihavenorighttojudge.Thelistincludes:Nopiercedears.

Nobedtimeanylaterthan9:30p.m.,“evenonweekends.”

Nobooksaboveasixth-gradereadinglevel,whichisproblematicsinceOlivia“isreadingataneighth-gradelevel,”orsosheproudlyinformedus.

Nopetsofanykind,as“UncleRickisallergic.”

Noshoesinsidethehouse.

Nofriendsover,as“theymightbotherUncleRick.”

Nogoingonline,exceptforhomework.

Novideogames—tooviolent.

Nogluten—althoughneitherOlivianoranyoneelseintheO’Toolehouseholdhasbeendiagnosedwithceliacdiseaseoraglutenintolerance.

Notelevisionshowsthathaven’tbeenratedokayforkidselevenorunder.

NoBorisP.“Toosexy.”)

Tinawassoprofoundlyupsetbythislist(especiallythepartaboutnoadultbooksandBorisbeingconsidered“toosexy”)thatshehandedOliviaherphone,which was encrusted with pink crystals, and of course loaded with Boris P.videos.

“Here,”Tinasaid.“Youcanhavethisuntilyougetyourown.”Oliviawasdelightedlyshocked,andcried,“Thankyou,AuntTina!”Iwasshocked,too,butprobablynotforthesamereasonasmysister.“Tina,”Ihissed.“Youdon’thavetogiveheryourphone.We’llgetherone.

Besides,whatareyougoingtouse?”Tina pulled another phone from her enormous Tiffany-blue tote. “Don’t

worryaboutit.That’smygameandmusicphone.Thisismyrealphone.”ThisonewasBedazzledinzebra-stripecrystals.

Lilly turnedherownphone towardme.She’s tryinghardnot to swear inmylittlesister’spresence,soallshesaidwas,“Zoinks.”

ThemainpagetoTMZ(nownolongeroneofthenation’sleadinggossipsites, but its leading breaking-news site) had split its screen so that one halfshowed a photo ofmy dad outside theManhattan courthouse, and the other aphoto of me taken outside CranbrookMiddle School, surrounded by Olivia’sclassmates.

“PrinceMeetstheJudge,”screamedmydad’shalf.“PrincessMeetsHerSister?”screamedmine.Myheartdropped.“Mia?Areyoustillthere?”Michaelaskedinmyear.“OfcourseI’mstillhere,”Isaid.“Haveyouandyourfathereverconsideredcoordinatingyourefforts?”he

asked.“Becauseifyouteamedup,youmightpossiblybeabletotakeovertheworld.”

A little harsh, but not totally off base. “Point taken. Inmy own defense,though,Inevermeantinamillionyearsforanyofthistohappen—”

“Of course you didn’t,” he said, his tone softening. “You never do. So,what’sshelike?”

I glanced at Olivia, who was still bent over her fractions, the tip of hertonguestickingoutslightlyfrombetweenherteeth.

“Amazing,”Isaidwarmly.“Good.Whydon’t I try tomakea fewphonecallsandsee if Ican reach

your dad? There’s a guy who playsWorld ofWarcraft who works in the ITdepartmentatthecourthouse.IthinkIcangetyourmessagedelivered.”

“OhmyGod,couldyou?Thatwouldbegreat—”MyheartgottherosyglowinitthatitalwaysdidwhenMichaeldidorsaid

something particularly wonderful—or even when he simply walked into theroom.Hereallyisthemostspectacularmanonearth.

ThenIrememberedsomething.“Oh, but if you do reach his lawyers and they ask you about signing a

prenup,”Iaddedinawhisper,“justignorethem.Itoldthemweweren’tdoing

that.”“Iwill do no such thing,” he said, sounding offended. “A prenupmakes

goodfiscalsense.”“Michael!”“What?It’sagoodideaforbothofustoprotectourpersonalassets.”“Oh,God.” I droppedmyhead intooneofmyhands. “Yourmotherwas

right.”“Mymother?Aboutwhat?”“Shesaidwemarryourparents.‘Agoodideaforustoprotectourpersonal

assets?’Yousoundexactlylikemydad.”“Well, your dad’s not alwayswrong,Mia.And youare always trying to

helppeople.Whodoesthatsoundlike?”IflungaglanceacrossthelengthofthelimoatLilly,whowasnowbathed

in sapphire blue from the fiber-optic lights while she bent over Olivia’shomework.

“Notyoursister,”Iwhisperedinahorrifiedvoice.“No,younut,”hesaid.“Myparents,whoarepsychotherapists,oneofthe

ultimatehelpingprofessions.Youalwayswanttohelpeveryone.It’soneofthemanyreasonsIfellinlovewithyou,butalsooneofthereasonsyou’realwaysgettingyourselfintotrouble.”

“Well,Icanassureyou,”Isaid,“aftertoday,I’mquitting.”“I’ll believe that when I see it. Look, I’ll text you as soon as I hear

anything. In themeantime, if you get pulled over by the cops, don’t let Larsshowoffhisguntothem.”

“Obviously,”Isaid.Afterwe’dhungupandIcreptbacktomyoriginalseat,Tinalookedatme

worriedlyandmouthed,“Everythingokay?”Igaveherareassuringsmile.Ofcourseeverything’sokay.It’sme!When

hasn’teverythingbeenokay?

•FoundoutI’maprincessofacountrynoone’severheardof,buteveryonewantstomoveto?Check!

•Gettingmarriedinlessthanthreemonthsonliveinternationaltelevisionanddon’tyethaveadress,oranythingelseready?Check!

•DiscoveredIhavealong-lostsister?Check!

•Exposedheridentitytotheentireworldbyshowingupatthewrongtime,gettingmypicturepostedoneverywebsiteintheworld,andruiningherlife?Check,check,andcheck!

CHAPTER54

5:32p.m.,Wednesday,May6TrafficjamonHoustonStreetRatetheRoyalsRating:1

WhenIphonedjustnowtosaythatIwasonmywaytoherapartmentwithherlong-lost grandchild, Grandmère’s reaction was unsurprising but still notsatisfactory.

“But I don’t even have my eyebrows on! I can’t meet my only othergrandchildwithnoeyebrows.”

I told her thatwe still have to drop offTina andLilly at their respectivedomiciles,whichshouldgiveherplentyoftimetodrawonhereyebrows.

Olivia,who’dbeeneavesdropping,askedbrightly,“Ourgrandmotherlikestodraw,too?That’ssogreat!”andhelduphernotebook.“Wehavesomethingincommonalready!”

WhenshefindsoutallGrandmèrelikestodrawareeyebrows(andfromherSwissbankaccount,ofcourse),she’sgoingtobecrushed,butI tried tosoundencouraging.“Yeah!It’sgreat!”

“Is that her?”Grandmère demanded. “I cannot believe you’ve done this,Amelia.It’sgoingtoruinallmycarefulplans.”

“Yes,it’sher,”Isaid,thenswitchedtoFrench.NeverinamillionyearsdiditoccurtomeI’dbeusingmyabilitytospeakFrench—learnedoverthemanysummers I spent visiting my grandmother, then perfected with MademoiselleKleininhighschool—tokeepmysecretsisterfromknowingwhatIwassayingaboutheroverthephonetoourgrandmother.“Andthat’saniceattitudetotakeabout your grandchild. Why don’t you have your eyebrows on? It’s cocktailtime.”

“I, er, had an afternoon visitor, and somehow they must have becomesmudged—”

“Oh,sure,somehow.Whowasitthistime?Pleasedon’tsayChrisMartin.Youhavegottoleavethatpoormanalone.”

“JosédelaRive,ifyoumustknow,thoughIdon’tseewhyyou—”“You weremaking love with the director of the Royal Genovian Guard

whileyoursonwasincourt?”“Amelia,mustyoubesocoarse?Josémerelystoppedbytosharewithme

thevery interesting resultsofhiscontinuing investigation intoOlivia’suncle’spersonalfinances,andIsupposeonethingledtoanother,andbeforeIknewit,we’d—”

“Continuing?Ididn’tknowhe’dbegunasecretinvestigationintoOlivia’suncle’spersonalfinances.”

“WhatdoyouthinkthedirectoroftheRoyalGenovianGuarddoesallday,Amelia, besides check for bombs alongmy shopping routes? In any case, hediscoveredsomethingelseveryimportant.AreyouawarethatIvan’sgrandfather—myown sweetCount Igor—owned a controlling interest inMonarch of theSeasCruiseLines,oneofthelargestcruise-shipcompaniesintheworld?”

“Uh,no.”“AndthatwhenIgorpassed,helefthiscontrollinginterestinthecompany

tohisonlygrandson,Ivan?”Iwasaghast.“But,Grandmère,thatwouldmean—”“Ofcourse.Heneverdisclosedthatconflictofinterest,didhe?Andwhile

runningonaplatformofeconomicreformthatincludedapromisetodredgetheharbortoallowforlarger—andmore—cruiseships.Naughty,naughtyboy.”

Iwasstunned.“Butthat’scriminal!”“Of course it is, Amelia,” Grandmère purred. “That’s why José’s on his

way to the airport right now to catch a flight back toGenovia andmeetwithCountIvan.He’sgoingtoaskthecountwhetherhepreferstoquietlywithdrawfrom the race—for medical reasons, I think—or face public humiliation andarrest.”

“Don’t tell me. José’s going to cause the reasons for Ivan’s medicalwithdrawalifhedoesn’tagreetogoquietly,isn’the?”

“Don’tbesocynical,Amelia,itisn’tbecominginayoungbride.Nowtell

meaboutmygranddaughter.Whatisshelike?Willshemakeatrainableflowergirl? I already asked someof your second cousins to fill that role, but as youknow they’re not particularly telegenic, having inherited your grandfather’stroublingjawline.Youweresofortunatetohaveinheritedmine,Amelia.Whataboutyoursister?Isherjawshapednormally?”

“Grandmère,stop.WhataboutDad?Haveyouheardanythingfromhim?”“Yourfather’sonhiswayhere.Hewasonlygivenafinebythejudge.And

theyreturnedhissword.”“Grandmère,that’swonderful!”“Yes.Youwouldthinkthat—plusthenewsaboutIvan—wouldmakehima

veryhappyman.ButI’mafraidhewasquiteabruptwithmeonthetelephone.Isupposeyouranticstodayhavespoiledhiscelebratorymoodabit.”

“Myantics?Morelikehisanticstwelveyearsago.”“What was that, Amelia?” she demanded. “I’ve told you before not to

mumble,it’sunbecoming.”“Nothing.He’snotseriouslyupsetwithme,ishe?Becauseifso,heknows

wheretoreachme.”“He’sfar toobusyfieldingcallsfromthedeputyprimeministerabouthis

illegitimate daughter. Why that woman can’t deal with the press herself isbeyondme.”

“Um,maybe because Olivia isDad’s daughter, and they’re questions heshouldbeanswering?”

Grandmère sniffed. “Well, she shouldn’t have chosen to be deputy primeministerofGenoviaifshecan’ttaketheheat.Shecouldn’trunabookclub,letaloneacountry.”

“That’s far from true, Grandmère, she graduated first in her class at theSorbonne.Andwhatdoyouknowaboutbookclubs,anyway?AllyoueverreadanymoreistheentertainmentnewsfromBuzzFeed.”

“Which is how I know someone spoke to that horrible Brian FitzpatrickfromRatetheRoyalsaboutallthis.He’ssayingterriblethingsaboutyourfatherwhilemakingyououttobesomekindofsaint.”

“Well, I don’t have any publically unacknowledged children in NewJersey.”Still, itwas surprising thatBrianFitzpatrickhad anythingnice to sayaboutmeconsideringthewayI’dtreatedhimtheotherday.

“Don’tbefresh,Amelia, it isn’tattractive.AndnowLazarres-ReynoldsissayingthebestwaytohandlethesituationisforyoutobringthechildinsteadofMichaelwhenyougoonWakeUpAmericatomorrowmorning.Theydon’twantyou to talkabout theweddinganymore, theyonlywantyou to talkabouther.Theysayitwillbethebestwayto,uh,howdidtheyputit?Oh,yes...comeoutaheadofthestory.”

“Well,youcantellLazarres-Reynoldsfrommethat thatwillonlyhappenovermydeadbody,”Isaid,throwingaquick,protectivelookatOlivia,whowasnowonherthirdbagofminichocolatecookiesandshowingTinahowtodrawagiraffe.

“I’lldonosuchthing,”Grandmèrehissedinherscariestvoice.“Andyou’regoingtothisbenefittoraiseheart-attackawarenesstonight,aswell.We’vegottoshowtheworldthatnothingisamiss.Dominiquecansendsomeonetofetchagownforyoutochangeinto.”

“Uh,” I said. I’d totally forgotten the event at theW. “No,Grandmère. Irealize sudden cardiac death is an important issue, and moreover, it was mychoice to bring awareness to it after Mr. Gianini passed away from it, butconsidering today’sevents, I feel thebest thing todo is cancel and stayhomewith—”

ShecutmeofffasterthanIanZieringcutssharkswithchainsawsmidair.“No one is interested in your feelings, Amelia. Lazarres-Reynolds is

sending a representative over right now—one here, and one to the bohunkuncle’shouse—tostartplanningtheoffensive.”

“Whatoffensive?”“On the media! What on earth did you expect, Amelia? This revelation

about your father was bound to bring him worldwide attention, and not thepleasantkindeither!”

Shewas shouting so loudly Ihad tohold thephoneaway frommyear. Icouldtelleveryoneelseinthecarcouldhearher,becausetheyalllookedoveratmeinquiringly.Fortunately,shewasshoutinginhernativeFrench,soOlivia,atleast,couldn’tunderstand.Igaveheranembarrassedshrug.

“Grandmothers,” Imouthed, andOlivia smiled, but itwas clear fromherslightlytroubledexpressionthatsheknewsomething,atleast,wasup.

“Now do you understand why Genovia so desperately needs a large

weddingrightnow,fullofpageantryandeleganceandcannonfire?”Grandmèrecontinuedtoshout.“Betweenthisandtherefugeecrisis,Idon’tknowhowelsewe’regoingtogetoutofit,Amelia.Thisisourannushorribilis.Beingabride,particularlyaprincessbride,youcanturnitallaroundbybecomingasymbolofhopeandbeautyandjoy.”

“Yes,” I said,wincing a little at the shrillness of her tone. “I understand.But in themeantime I can’t allowmy little sister to be paraded around like aprizewinningshowdog.Ithoughtthewholepointoftheweddingwastodistractthepublicfromherexistence—”

“Itwas,untilyouthrustherintothespotlight,”Grandmèresaid.“I didn’t mean to do that, but at least someone did the right thing and

steppedupand—”“Excuseme.”IpausedasavoiceIrecognizedchimedin.OnlyitwasmysisterOlivia’s

voice,anditwasspeakingperfectFrench,anditshouldn’thavebeen.Islowlyturnedmyheadtofindherlookingatmeexpectantly.

“Pardonme,”shesaid,againinperfectFrench.“Idon’tmeantointerrupt,butmayImakeasuggestion?”

Mynormallyshapedjawdropped.“Whoisthat?”Grandmèredemanded.“Whoisthatspeaking,Amelia?”“Your other granddaughter,” I said. “You better get your eyebrows on.

You’re going to need them.” I hung up on her, then stared somemore atmysister.“I’msorry,whatdidyousay?”

“The refugees,” Olivia said, this time in English. “I’m sorry to haveinterrupted,but Icouldn’thelpoverhearingGrandma talkingabout them?Andthecruiseships?Well,Ihaveanideathatmighthelp.”

Ishookmyheadinastonishment.“Howcouldyouhaveunderstoodanyofthat?”

“Oh,Idon’tknow,Mia,”Lillysaid.SheheldupthenotebookOliviahadbeen doodling in. “Maybe because of the language class Olivia is taking.French.” Then shemouthed thewords youmoron over the top ofmy sister’shead.

Ifeltsicktomystomach.“Oh,wow.SoyouunderstoodeverythingIwassayingtoGrand,er,ma,Olivia?”

“Notallofit,”Oliviaadmitted.“Youguystalkprettyfast.ButIunderstoodalotofit.Definitelythepartabouttheguyandthecruiseships.Andthat’swhenIstarted thinking,whydon’tyou let the refugees liveon thecruiseshipsuntilyoucanfindthemsomebetterplacetostay?That’swhattheydidforrefugeesofHurricaneJulio.Wesawadocumentaryaboutitinschool.”

I staredather somemore. I’veheard theexpressionoutof themouthsofbabeshundredsoftimes,butI’dneverreallyunderstoodituntilthatmoment.

“Oh,Olivia,” I cried, joyously throwingmy arms around her to hug her.“Wherehaveyoubeenallmylife?”

“Um,”shesaid,abitstartled,buthuggingmeback.“NewJersey?”Idon’tthinkI’velaughedquitethathardinalongtime.Itfeltgood.Almost

goodenoughtomakemeforget the throbbingpain inmyfoot,whereheraunthadsmasheditwithadoor.

AfterIreleasedher,Oliviareacheduptopushherglassesbackintoplace.“Whatwasthatfor?”shewantedtoknow,meaningthehug.“Youjustsolvedabigroyalheadache,”Itoldher.“I did?” she asked. A pleased smile crept across her face. “That’s great.

How?”“Thinking outside the box,” Lilly told her, since I’d gotten back on the

phone,thistimetotextMadameDupris.“Finishyourhomework.”“I wasn’t thinking outside any box,” Olivia said. “Sometimes I color

outsidethelines,though.”“Keepdoingit,kid,”Lillyadvised.“You’llgoplaces.”

HRHMiaThermopolis“FtLouie”toDeputyPrimeMinisterMadameCécileDupris“LeGrandFromage”

Madame,you’regoingtohearsomenewsfromMonsieurleDirecteurJosédelaRive(aboutwhichIcannotgointodetailatthistime)thatwillbequitestartling,butwelcome.Whenyouhearit,theproposalI’mabouttowritewillmakeperfectsense:

Whenthetimeisright(youwillknowwhen),askIvanRenaldotodonatethreecruiseshipsfortheuseoftheGenoviangovernmentsothattheymayhousetheQalifirefugeesforatimeperiodofnolessthansixmonths.

Ifherefuses,tellhimthateverythingtheRenaldofamilyknowsabouthimwillbemadepublic.

Thisshould,Itrust,alleviatetherefugeecrisisforthepresenttime,untilwecancomeupwithamorepermanentsolution.

XOXO

M

DeputyPrimeMinisterMadameCécileDupris“LeGrandFromage,”toHRHMiaThermopolis“FtLouie”

!!!Iam,astheAmericanssay,verygunghoaboutthisanddyingtoknowwhatit’sallabout,butfornowwillproceedasrequested.

Iwasquitestartled,Princess,tohearthenewsaboutyoursister,butamquitegunghoaboutthisaswell.Anyadditiontothefamilyisalwayspleasant,isitnot?

XOXO

C

I’mnotentirelysureMadameDuprisknowswhatgunghomeans,butit’sreassuringthatwehaveonenormal,intelligentpersonontheteam,anyway,andmightpossiblypullthiswholethingoff,afterall.

CHAPTER55

7:05p.m.,Wednesday,May6

ThePlazaHotelRatetheRoyalsRating:1

I don’t know how I could have been so stupid. All the signs were there. IsupposeIwasignoringthembecauseIdidn’twanttohavetofacethetruth.

But I can’t ignore them anymore, especially after I hobbled intoGrandmère’scondoalittlewhileagoandtherestoodJ.P.Reynolds-AbernathyIV.

Well,hedidsaythatafterhislatestmoviewasaflop,he’dhadtotakeajobworkingforhisuncle.

It’smyown fault fornotaskingwhatkindof job,or recognizing that theReynoldsinLazarres-ReynoldsisthesameReynoldsasinReynolds-AbernathyIV.

Isn’t this another kind of conflict of interest, though, not unlike CousinIvan’s?J.P.reallyshouldhaveturneddownthisassignmentwhenitwasofferedto him.“Oh, no, she’s my ex-girlfriend from high school. I couldn’t possiblyworkforherfamily.”

Butno.Todothat,J.P.wouldhavetohavedevelopedsomeempathy,andwhywould thathavehappened?All the signspoint tohimhavingonlygottenmore manipulative since high school. He’s already cornered me once inGrandmère’skitchen(whereIhobbledtogetsomeiceformyfoot.Ididn’twanttobotheranyonebyaskingforsome),wherehesaidinthiscompletelysincere(fake)voice:

“Mia,Ihopeitdoesn’tbotheryouthatI’mhere.Ithoughtaboutmessagingyoutoletyouknow,butthenIrealizedhowinsultingthatwouldbe,sincewe’reboth mature adults and what we had was so long ago—I mean, it was highschool,afterall.Andyou’reengagedtoMichaelnow,soitseemedhardlyworthmentioning.”

“Haha!”Isaidbreezily.“Ofcourse!Exactly.”“Sonoworries,then,”J.P.said.“Waterunderthebridge.”Meanwhile, I’m not even sure his uncle’s firm is competent at crisis

managing.WhenFrançoispulleduptothehotel,theentrancewasamadhouse.Presswaseverywhere,tryingtoelbowtheirwaytoaprimespotinfrontofthe

redcarpet(therereallyisaredcarpetleadingupthestepstothefrontdoorsofthePlazaHotel,Iguesstomakeguestsfeellikecelebrities,whichisallalotofpeoplewantanymore).

“Ready?” Lars asked us, as François opened the door to the side of thelimo.“One,two,three.”

For Olivia’s first time walking a red carpet, she did pretty well—muchbetter than Iwouldhave at her age.Shehadher owncockygracedespite theflashes—which do blind you a bit—and the deafening noise, smiling andwaving.

“Olivia,howdoesit feel to findoutyouwereabandonedatbirthbyyourrichwhitefather?”

“Olivia,areyougoingtobeinyoursister’sroyalwedding?”“Olivia,lookoverhere!”“Olivia, do you think they didn’t acknowledge you before now because

you’reblack?”“Olivia,couldyousignmycast?”“Olivia,what’sthefirstthingyou’regoingtobuywithallthemoneyyou’re

goingtohave?”“Olivia,overhere,honey!”ButIkeptherhandinminesoshewouldn’tbescared...AlthoughIdon’t thinksheactuallywas.Whenshereached the topof the

stairs,shedidthelastthinganyofuswereexpecting,whichwastoturntotakeaquickphoto(withthecellphonethatTinahadgivenher)ofallthepressthatwasphotographingher.

“Well,” Olivia explained, when we got inside and I looked at herquestioningly,“Iwanttorememberthis.”

Idon’tthinkshequiterealizesthatthisisn’tallgoingtovanishtomorrow.It’sgoingtogoonandon,forever.Ofcourseshewantstorememberit...

...unlikeme,who’dgiveanythingtoforgetit.Infact,I’dbedrinkingrightnowtonumbthepain(andmymemory),exceptthatmyfoothurtstoomuchtogetupandgototheliquorcabinet,andI’mcertainlynotgoingtoaskJ.P.togetmeadrink,eventhoughhe’saskedthreetimesifhecan“getmeanything.”

Yes,youcan,J.P.Youcangetawayfromme.Ihaven’thadthenerveto tellMichael thatJ.P. ishere(Michael textedto

sayhe’sonhisway.HisHELVisstuckinallthetrafficoutside,andtheRGGwon’tallowhimtogetoutandwalkdueto“safety”concerns).

J.P. has never been one of Michael’s favorite people. Michael eventhreatenedtopunchhimonce,butmanagedtorestrainhimself.Idon’tknowifhe’ll have that kind of self-control now, seeing as how J.P. has grown amustache(thoughnotasniceastheonemydadusedtohave)andwearsskinnyjeans.

Shudder.Ofcoursethere’sonepartofallthisIdowanttoremember,andthat’sthe

lookonGrandmère’sfacewhenshefirstopenedthedoortohercondoandsawheronlyothergrandchild(besidesme).

Icouldtellshewastouched,thoughshewastryinghardnottoshowit.Hermouth was squeezed into a tiny frown (some of the muscles in her face arepermanentlyfrozenfromall theBotoxshe’shadshot into them,butshe’sstillabletomovemostofhermouthtovaryingdegrees).

“So this is she?”Grandmèreaskedgrammaticallycorrectly, ifnotexactlywarmly.

“Thisisshe,Grandmère,”Isaid,pokingOliviaintheback.I’dcoachedherinthecaronwhattodoandsaywhenshemethergrandmother,andshepulleditoffperfectly...almost.

“It’ssonicetomeetyou,Grandmoth—isthataminiaturepoodle?”Olivia’scurtsywasn’tverygraceful tobeginwith,but shepractically fell

over herself when she saw the little white powder puff peeking aroundGrandmère’sstillshapelyankle(Grandmèreisinordinatelyproudofthefactthatherlegshaven’tgone).

“I lovepoodles!”Oliviacried.“They’rethemost intelligentbreedofdog.Andthey’realsoveryexcellentswimmers.”

Ihadn’tcoachedhertosaythat.ThetinyfrownonGrandmère’sfacecurledeversoslightlyintoasmile.“Yes,”shesaid,tryingbutfailingtosoundcold.It’sverydifficulttospeak

coldly to a child expounding on the virtues of your favorite breed of dog.“Poodlesareveryintelligent,aren’tthey?”

Then the two of them stood there going on about poodles. I’m not evenkidding.ItwaslikewatchingacoupleofannouncersattheWestminsterKennel

Dog show, only one was a nine-hundred-year-old dowager princess from theRiviera,andtheotherwasatwelve-year-oldfromNewJersey.

“My other granddaughter only likes cats,” Grandmère said, finallyrememberingIwasstandingthere,andgivingmetheevileye.

“Idon’tonlylikecats,”Iprotested.“I’veonlyeverhadacat.Grandmère,couldwecomeinnow?Ihurtmyfootearlierand it’sveryuncomfortableandI’dreallyliketositdown—”

GrandmèreopenedthedoortohercondotoallowOliviatoenter,whichshedid, hurrying after the dog, who had evidently taken a liking to her since itturnedaroundandbegantorompalongsideher,itstonguelollingoutexcitedly.. .notsurprising,sinceitsonlyothercompanionsweremygrandmother,whodoesn’tdomuchromping,andofcourseRommel,whoonlyhumps,notromps.

“Well?” I asked Grandmère as I hobbled past. “Does she pass muster?”LikeIevenneededtoask.Thetwoofthemwereclearlymadlyinlove.

“Shehasacertaingaminecharm,”Grandmèresaid,pretendingnottocare.“Yourhairwasmuchworseatherage.Itstillis.Isupposeyouinheriteditfromyourfather.He’sluckyhisallfellout.Perhapsyourswill,too.Thenyoucouldsimplystartwearingwigs.”

“Thankyousomuch.SpeakingofDad,ishehere?”“Yes,he’sinthe—”Shewascutoffbyascream.Olivia’sscream,tobeexact.Butnotbecause thegirlhad injuredherselfonanyof theadmittedlyodd

collectibles Grandmère keeps around her New York apartment, such as acompletefifteenth-centurysuitofarmorandamountednarwhaltusk.

It turned out to be because she’d found Dad standing in the library andrecognized him instantly (apparently she’d done a little research on Tina’sphone, sincehe’dnever sent her anyphotosduring the courseof theirwrittencorrespondence). Not a shy child, she’d shrieked and thrown herself into hisarms.By the timeGrandmère and I got there to seewhatwas going on, theywerehuggingasiftheyneverwantedtoleteachothergo.

I don’t think it was just a trick of the non-energy-saving lightbulbsGrandmèreinsistsonusingthattherewasaglimmeroftearsinallofoureyes.

Now Dad and Olivia and Grandmère are chatting in the library—theyappeartohaveorderedeverythingontheeveningroom-servicemenu,sinceit’s

spread in front of them on the coffee table—while J.P.’s uncle and Dad’slawyersareinthestudymakingcallstoseewhattheycandotowinfullcustody.

Oh,Lord,nowsomeone’spoundingonthedoor.Whoonearthwouldtheyevenletuphere?Itcan’tbeMichael.Thehotelstafflethimrightup,andalltheagentsontheRGGstaffknowhim...

CHAPTER56

7:20p.m.,Wednesday,May6ThePlazaHotelRatetheRoyalsRating:1

OMG.It’smymother.Andsheisnothappy.

CHAPTER57

7:45p.m.,Wednesday,May6

ThePlazaHotelRatetheRoyalsRating:1

Grandmère’sstaffdidn’trecognizemymombecauseshenevercomeshere,sothat’swhytheywouldn’tletherupatfirst.

Ican’treallyblamethem,sinceshedoesn’tlookanythinglikehernormalself (even herself in her ID photos). She’s still wearing her clothes from thestudio—paint-spattered overalls and aman’sT-shirt—and she’d piled her hairontopofherheadwithabungeecord.

Iwasthefirstonetoreachthedoor,despitemylimp,andthecrazedlookinhereyestartledevenme.

“Doyouknowthiswoman?”theRoyalGenovianGuardswhohadherbythearmsasked.

“Mia,”Momsaidacidly.“Tellthemyouknowme.”“OfcourseIknowher,”Isaid,shocked.“She’smymother.”Besideher,Rockysaid,“Hi,Mia.Mom’sreallymad.”“Mom,” I said, opening the door wider to allow them both to come in,

“what’swrong?”Ishouldhaveknown,ofcourse.“Oh, nothing,” she said. Therewere tears sparkling at the corners of her

largedarkeyes.“Ijustheardontheradiothatyouhaveahalfsister,that’sall.GodforbidIshouldhaveheardthisnewsfromyourfatherhimself.Oryou.YouwenttoNewJerseytolookatbridesmaiddressestoday,Mia?Really?”

Uh-oh. I guessNational PublicNews does occasionally report things notnecessarilyofnationalorculturalimportance.

“Mom,”Isaid,myeyelidbeginningto throbuncontrollably.“Look.Icanexplain—”

“Oh,don’tworry,”Momsaid.“You’renottheoneI’mangrywith.Noneofthis is your fault.He’s the one I’m going to kill for leaving that poor childparentlessinNewJersey.”

“Shewasn’t parentless,” I said, even though of course I’d been thinkingprettymuchthesamethingeversinceI’dfoundout.“Shehasanaunt—”

“Mia,”Momsaid,hermouthshrinkingtothesizeofadime,asuresignshe

wasabouttoblow.“YouknowwhatImean.”“Helen,”mydadsaid,suddenlyappearinginthefoyer.Iguesshe’dheard

alltheknockingandfinallycometoinvestigate.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”“What do you think I’m doing here?”Momdemanded, her eyes flashing

wetly.“Howcouldyou,Phillipe?Howcouldyou?”Sheshoutedthiswithsuchexplosiveforce that thedoor to thestudyflew

open, and J.P. and his uncle, along with the Royal Genovian legal team, allsteppedoutintothefoyerinalarm.

(FortunatelyGrandmèreandOliviaweretooconsumedbywhateverthey’redoinginthelibrary—probablytrainingthepoodlestodocircustricks—thattheydidn’tseemtohear.)

Mydadtookit likeamensch.HeheldupahandtostoptheRGGagentsfrom throwing my mother out on the spot and said, “No, no, gentlemen. I’llhandlethis.”

Thenhetookherbythearmandsteeredheroutontothebalcony,whereIsupposehe thinksnoneofus canhear themassive argument they’re currentlyhaving.

Butofcoursewecan.(Well, probably not Grandmère, Olivia, and Rocky, whoDominique just

shutupinthelibraryaswell.)ButIcan.Iknowit’sprobablywrongofmetorecordwhatthey’resayingonmycell

phone,buthowelseamIgoingtopreserveittoplaybackforTinalater?She’sgoingtowanttoknoweverydetail,andthey’retalkingtoofastformetowriteitalldown.

Besides,Ikeephearingmynamementioned.HowcanInotlisten?

Mom:“Phillipe,whatcouldyouhavebeenthinking?Idon’tcarewhathermothersaid,ofcourseyoushouldhavestayedincontactwithher.She’syourchild.”

Dad:“Ididstayintouchwithher.Wewriteonceamonth.Helen,MiatoldmeaboutRocky.”

Mom:“Rocky?WhataboutRocky?”

Dad:“Thathe’shavingtroubleinschool.”

Mom:“Whatdoesthathavetodowithanyofthis?Phillipe,we’retalkingaboutyou,notme.Writingonceamonthisnotthesameasbeingthereforachildphysicallyandemotionally.You’reagrownman,howcouldyounotknowthis?”

Dad:“Iwasthinkingthatsinceyou’recomingtoGenoviainJulyanywayforMia’swedding,perhapsyoucouldtakeatouroftheschoolI’mthinkingofsendingOliviato—”

Mom:“SendingOliviato?Ithoughtsheliveswithheraunt!”

Dad:“ButI’mworkingrightnowtogetlegalguardianship,becauseofcourseherplaceiswithme.Andthisschoolhasanexcellentprogramforgiftedchildren,justlikeOliviaandRocky.”

Mom:“Gifted?Rocky’snotgifted,Phillipe.He’sintroubleatschoolbecauseofhisobsessionwithfarting,that’sall.Fartinganddinosaurs.Ijustcaughthimbuildingsomethinginhisroomtodayoutofcardboardboxesthatheclaimsisaspaceshippoweredbyhisownfarts.”

Dad:“Suchabrilliantmind,justlikehismother.Youmustbefeelingoverwhelmedraisingsuchacleverchildonyourown.”

Mom:“No,I’mnot,Phillipe,becauseIalreadyraisedachildonmyown.YourdaughterMia,remember?”

Dad:“Yes,butyouhadsummersoffwhenshecametolivewithme.”

Mom:“Shecametolivewithyouandyourmother.Whoyoustilllivewith.”

Dad:“Yes,butnotforlong.Thingsaregoingtobedifferentnow.Didyouknowtherearemorethanseventeenbedroomsinthesummerpalace?”

I’mtheonewhotoldhimthat!

Mom:“Sowhat,Phillipe?”

Dad:“SoI’msayingapersoncouldbeperfectlyhappylivingthereyear-round.”

Mom:“Phillipe,you’renotmakinganysense.”

Dad:“TheGenovianartsceneneedssomeonelikeyou,Helen,someonevitalandreal.Vulgargicléeprintsofnudewomenridingdolphinsintothesunsetsellfortensofthousandofeurosthere.Won’tyouatleastconsider—?”

Mom:“But,Phillipe,accordingtoNPR,thatlittlegirl’sunclesays—”

Dad:“Iswearallofthatisgoingtobeworkedout,Helen.Butfirstthere’ssomethingIneedtotellyou,anditisn’tonlyaboutOlivia.It’ssomethingIcametorealizetodaywhileIwasstandingincourtinfrontofthatjudge.Thetruthis,Helen,I—”

“Princess?”It’sDominique.She’sblockingmyviewofmyparents.Icandimlymake

themoutthroughthegauzywhitecurtainsoverthepanesintheFrenchdoorstothebalcony.

“Yes?”I’mtryingtoseearoundher.“Mr.Moscovitzis’ere,butI’msorrytosay’e’sinthe’allway,beatingMr.

Reynolds-Abernathy—”

CHAPTER58

2:05a.m.,Thursday,May7Third-FloorApartment


Anydaythatbeginswithtryingonweddingdressesandendswithyourfiancébeatingupyourex-boyfriendisagoodone,right?

Especially if, in between, you manage to introduce your long-lost littlesistertoherfather,andnooneendsupinjail.

Okay,well,maybenot.Maybethat’swhyIcan’tsleep.Probablyalsobecausemyfootisthrobbinglikecrazy,nomatterhowmany

bagsoffrozenChinesedumplingsIkeeponit.AndalsoMichael is stillup, tap-tappingawayathiskeyboard inmybed

(conspicuouslyshirtless).Hedoesn’tthinkhedidanythingwrong,ofcourse.Hissideofthestoryis:“I walked into your grandmother’s condo, completely minding my own

business,andthenextthingIknow,outintothehallcomesyourex-boyfriend,andhedoesn’tseeme,buthe’sonhiscellphone,andhe’ssaying,‘Oh,yeah,Icanscoreyouticketstotheroyalwedding.Ihaveacompletein.She’sstillintome.Sohowmanydoyouwant?’SoIjumpedhim.WhatelsewasIsupposedtodo?”

“Oh,Idon’tknow,”Isaid.“Dealwithitdiplomatically,likeaprince.”“Ah,” he said, raising one of those thick dark eyebrows. “But I’m not a

princeyet.Soitseemedmorelogicaltokickhisass.”“Oh,yes,Michael,whatyoudidwasverylogical.Veryunemotional, just

likeMr.SpockfromStarTrek.Thetwoofyouhavesomuchincommon.Now,thankstoyou,ourowncrisismanagementfirmissuingus,andIhavenoideahowthingsturnedoutwithmymomanddad.ShetookRockyandleftrightaftertheRGGbrokeupyourlittlefight.AndIalsodon’tknowwhat’sgoingonwithOlivia, since Grandmère kicked us out, too. She says you behaved like ahooligan,andIshouldgivebackyourringandmarrythatniceex-boyfriendofTaylorSwift’sinstead.”

“A hooligan!” Michael grinned. “No one’s ever called me a hooliganbefore.Ilikeit.Butyoumightwanttonoticesomething.”Heheldouthisjaw.“Notascratchonme.Dudedidn’tevengetclose.”

“Wow,” I said sarcastically. “You’remore physically intimidating than aguy who wrote a screenplay and a dystopian YA novel. You must be veryproud.”

“Hey,”heprotested.“Hetriedtobiteme!”“Howupsettingforyou.Doyouhaveanyidea,Michael,howhardIhadto

workonGrandmère to convinceher to likeyou?Andyou ruined it all inonenight.Wemightaswellcancelthewedding.She’snevergoingtoapprove.”

Michaelclosedhislaptopandputitonthenightstand,thenflippedbackthecomforteronmysideof thebed.“Well,maybenowwecanhavetheweddingwewanted.Whydoyouneedherapproval,anyway?Comeoverhereandlet’sdiscussit.”

Hegrinnedandpattedthecleanwhitesheetbesidehim.“Seriously,Michael,” I said. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?

Afteradayliketoday?”“I thought I’m supposed tobe thealienvisitor to thisplanet.But it looks

likeyou’retheoneinneedofgentlehumanizingrightnow.Sogetoverhere.”Well,Iguessit’sworthatry.

CHAPTER59

2:35a.m.,Thursday,May7Third-Floor Apartment Consulate General of GenoviaRatetheRoyalsRating:1

I’mreallyfeelingquiteabitbetternow.Evenmyfoothurtsabitless.Wait...whatwasitIwasworryingaboutagain?I’msosleepyIforgot...Oh,well.


1.FatLouie(whoiscurledupbesideme,purring).

2.Littlesisters.

3.Michael.Michael.Michael.

CHAPTER60

8:45a.m.,Thursday,May7InsidetheHELVonthewaytotheDoctor’sOfficeRatetheRoyalsRating:1

When I got up and tried to walk this morning, I nearly fell down. The footOlivia’sauntslammedinthedooristwiceitsnormalsize.

Michaeltookonelookandsaid,“That’sit.We’retakingyoutothedoctorforanX-ray,”eventhoughIprotestedthatIfeltfine,really.

(Iwastryingtosoundbrave.Idon’tfeelfine.I’mprettysuremyfoot’snotbrokenbecauseIalreadycheckedoniTriageandIcanputmyweightonit—thenearly-falling-downthingaside—andthatmeansit’sprobablyonlybruised.It’sdefinitelyturnedahideousblueandgreeninsomeareas.Andit’ssoswollenmyonly shoes that fit aremyUGGs,which isbad,becauseprincesses can’twearUGGsinpublic.Itisn’tDONE.Exceptonskislopes.)

Sonowwe’re in theHELVon theway toDr.Delgado’soffice. I’dhavemadehimcome to the consulate, butweonlyhavemetaldetectors, notX-raytechnology.

Inspiteofmyownpain—which isn’t really thatbad,but thenagain, I’vetakenaTylenol—Ican’t helpwonderinghowOlivia isdoing.Dad texted thatshe spent last night at Grandmère’s. After the news broke about her trueparentage,itwasdeemedtoounsafetotakeherbacktoCranbrook.

That’sallhe texted, though.NothingaboutMom,orwhetherornotshe’sforgivenhim.

AndofcourseallMomhadtosayaboutthesituation(inavoicemailshe

leftinresponsetoallmyvoicemails,probablywhileIwasintheshower)was:

“Mia,please,stopworryingaboutme.I’mfine.JustalittleembarrassedatthesceneImadeinfrontofeveryonelastnight.IsupposeIjustneverrealizedbeforehow...complexamanyourfatheris,deepdowninside.Anyway,I’llcallyoulater.Haveagoodday,sweetie.”

IforwardedthismessagetoTina,towhomI’dalsoforwardedtherecordingofmymomanddad’sconversationthenightbefore(althoughmostofitturnedout fairlymuffled—I am not exactly Carrie fromHomeland, though I like topretendI’dbeasgoodatherjobattheCIAassheis—andI’dendeduphavingtotranscribealotofitanyway).

Tinatextedbackpromptly:

Yourdaddidit!Hefinallyimpressedyourmom!Andhedidn’thavetoinjurehimselfinahigh-risksporttodoit!

Yeah,right.AllDadendeduphaving todo towinmymom’sadmirationwasalienatehisowncountry’spopulacebyhidingalovechildfortwelveyearsinasmalltownjustofftheNewJerseyTurnpike.Easy!

He’sscrewedthingsforussoroyally,theconsulateevenhadtocancelourappearanceonWakeUpAmerica(notthatIwouldhavegoneanyway)duetothe“unprecedentedamountofdeaththreats”they’dreceived.

TheRGG says not toworry, though, the death threats aren’t serious (nomore than usual, anyway). In addition to the usual antiroyalists, anarchists,misogynists,andgeneralwackos,we’venowacquiredafewwhitesupremacistsandevensomeanti-Semites(Michaelsayshe’sveryproudhewasfinallyabletobringsomethingtothefamily,evenifit’sonlyahategroup).

I instructed Dad that under no circumstances is he to leave Olivia alonewithhismother for aperiodofmore than twohours.There isno tellingwhatthatwomanmightdo.Ihaveasneakingsuspicionamakeovermightbe in theworks.Whilethisdidnotendupbeingtheworstthingintheworldforme,thereis no reason togiveOliviaone.She’sonly twelve, andbesideswhichdoesn’t

sufferfromthemanystylemaladiesthatplaguedmeatagefourteen(suchasthe“badhair”GrandmèreremindedmelastnightIinheritedfromDad).

Meanwhile, thenewsfrom the tabloidpresscouldn’tbeworse.Ofcoursethey’re making much of the “scandal” of a newly discovered illegitimateprincess (though I fail to see how this is any big deal, since everyone’s beenthere,donethatwithme),butsomeofthemoresensationalistsites/networksaretrying to suggest thatmy father took advantageof an innocentwatercraft tourguide (since Olivia’s mother died in a Jet Ski accident), not a sophisticatedwomanwhoactuallypilotedmultimillion-dollarLearjets.

Istherenolowtowhichthemediawon’tsinkinitsquestforhits/ratings?Oh,we’vereachedDr.Delgado’soffice—

CHAPTER61

9:55a.m.,Thursday,May7

BackinsidetheHELVRatetheRoyalsRating:1

Iamintotalandcompleteshock.SuchtotalandcompleteshockthatIcanbarelyevenwrite,myhandisshakingsobadly.

But I have to write this, because—as Olivia reminded me yesterday—sometimes when you’re overwhelmed, the only way you can make sense ofwhat’shappeningistowriteitalldown.

Sohere’swhathappening:Firstofall,theweddingisn’tcanceled.Ithinkthedateisgoingtohaveto

bemovedup,actually.Also,myfootisn’tbroken.Well,wedon’tknowifit’sbroken,becauseDr.Delgadowouldn’tgiveme

anX-ray.He said he couldn’t giveme anX-ray.He seemed very surprised Ididn’tknowwhy.Hecamebustlinginto theroomwhere thenurseusheredus,having directedMichael onto a chair andme onto the examination table, andtook off his glasses and said, “Oh, there you are. I see you finally got mymessage.”

Isaid,“No,whatmessage?Icalledyou.”And then I showed him my foot, holding it in the air as I lay on the

examinationtable(fullyclothed,Imightadd,eventhoughthenursehadtoldmeto undress and gaveme a paper gown,which I’d thoughtwas extremely odd.Whywouldyouputonapapergownwhenall thatwaswrongwithyouwasapossible broken foot?Michael had found it odd, too, so obviously, I had notundressed,exceptfortakingoffmysockandUGG).

“ThemessageIleftforyouonyourphonedaysago,”Dr.Delgadosaid.“IleftamessagetellingyouI’dreceivedtheresultsofthebloodandurineteststhatItookthelasttimeIexaminedyou.”

“Oh.”IglancedhelplesslyatMichael,who’dputawayhisphoneandwasstaringatDr.Delgadoasuncomprehendinglyas Iwas.“Well, Iguess Ididn’tgetyourmessage.Igetalotofmessages.Likeathousandaday.Ihavepeoplewhoaresupposed tosort through them,buta lotofstuffhashappenedsinceIlastsawyou.Youmighthaveheardaboutitonthenews—”

“News?”Dr.Delgado looked impatient. “I don’t have time to follow thenews.It’stoodepressing.”

“Ihavetoagreewithyouthere,”Michaelsaid.“Well,notallofit,”Isaid,annoyed.Thosetwohadnevermetbefore,and

there theywere, instantaneously bonding over how the news is so depressing.“Someofthenewsisgood,likethatI’mgettingmarried.Dr.Delgado,thisismyfiancé,MichaelMoscovitz.Remember,Itoldyouabouthim?”

Dr.Delgado smiled and reached to shakeMichael’s hand, saying, “Well,thatisgoodnews.Verynicetomeetyou.”

“Nicetomeetyou,too,”Michaelsaid.“Sorryaboutmissingyourmessage.Wewentawayfortheweekend.”

“Well,that’sfine,”Dr.Delgadosaid,stillsmiling,“justfine.Alwaysgoodtogetoutof thecity forabit.”Hereachedformymedical fileandopened it.“Well,Iguessit’sbetterthisway.”

“What’sbetterthisway?”Iasked.“Icantellyouinperson,”hesaid,puttinghisglassesbackonsohecould

readthefile.“Tellmewhatinperson?”ButIknew.OratleastIthoughtIknew:Ihadafatalblooddisease.Itmadecompletesense.OfcourseIwouldfinallygetengagedtothelove

ofmylife,onlytodiscoverI’mdying.Butitwasallgoingtobefine,becausemydadhadOlivia,sothethrone’s

successionwas secure. Itwouldn’t go to anyofmy alarmingly odd cousins. IcoulddieknowingI’dgivenmybestformycountry.

Butitwasn’tentirelyfair,becausetherewerestillsomanythingsIwantedtodo,suchasdancewithMichaelunderthestarsonourweddingnight;tourtheGreek islandswith himonmy honeymoon; and possibly have children ofmyownsomeday,andteachthemtobesaneandcarefulleadersofthecountryI’dcometolovesomuch.

Howcouldthisbehappening,especiallynow,whenIwasfinallysoclosetogettingeverythingIhadeverwanted?

“You’repregnant,of course,”Dr.Delgado said, still lookingdownatmychart.“AndaccordingtoyourHCGlevels,youarevery,verypregnantindeed.”

Inearly felloff theexam table. In fact, ifMichaelhadn’t reachedupand

graspedmywrist—hecouldn’tgrabmyhand,becauseIwasclutchingthewhitepaperliningtheexamtabletootightly—Iprobablywouldhavehitthefloor.

“Uh,”Isaid.“No,thatisnotpossible.Therehastohavebeensomekindofmistake.”

“Oh,no,”Dr.Delgadosaid.“There’sdefinitelynomistake.Bothurineandbloodworkconfirmit.Butwecandoanultrasoundrightnowifyoulike,justtomakesure.”

Dr.Delgado’soffice isonEightiethandPark,quitefarfromanysubway,anddefinitelynotonageologicalfault.

ButIwassureIfelttheexaminationtableswayunderneathme,anyway,asifthere’dbeenanearthquake,oratrainpassingbeneathme.

“Dr.Delgado,thatisimpossible,becauseIamonthepill,andInevermissone.Itakethemveryresponsibly.”

“Shedoes,”Michael said somberly. “At the same time, everynight, rightbeforesheputsinhermouthguard.”

“That’s very interesting,”Dr.Delgado said, closingmy file. “Andyou’retelling me you’re experiencing no pregnancy symptoms whatsoever? Nomorningsickness?”

“Ofcoursenot,”Iscoffed.“Nofatigue?”“Well, Imean, I’m tiredall the time, sure,butwhowouldn’tbewithmy

schedule?It’sinhuman.”“Nochangesinappetiteorunusualfoodcravings?”“Well,yes,I’mstarvingallthetime,butthat’snormal,givenallthestress

I’vebeenunderlately.Ilovesaltythingslikecheesepopcorn,andwhodoesn’tlove Butterfingers? Those are very, very delicious. Andwasabi peas . . . andchocolatecakefrosting.”

InoticedboththedoctorandMichaellookingatmeoddly.“Nonippletenderness?”thedoctorasked.“Bloating?”“Well,yes,but—”Iclampedmymouthshut,beginningtorealizewhythey

were lookingatmesostrangely.“That’scompletelynormal. It’sprobably justthattimeofthemonth.”

“Ofcourse,”thedoctorsaidgently.“Speakingofwhich,whendidyouhaveyourlastperiod?”

“Well,that’seasy.Itwas...um.”Panicbegantosweepoverme.“Beingabusycareerwoman,Idon’thavetimetomesswiththingslikecramps,soI’monthat extended cycle pill, the one where you get your period only every fourmonths,soit’sbeenawhile,andwitheverythinggoingon,Ican’trememberoffthetopofmyhead,butIknowit’sbeen...”

“Youhaven’thaditsinceChristmas,”Michaelsaidfirmly.“Youshouldbehavingitnow.Butyou’renot.”

“Well,that’snottrue,”Isaid.“Howwouldyouevenknow?”“Believeme,”hesaid.“Iknow.”“Well,you’remistaken.Letmesee,Istartedmylastpillpackon...”AndthenIrealizedIhadnoidea.Which is theworst,mostembarrassing thing forahypochondriac (orany

responsiblehumanbeingwholivesinthemodernage)tohavetoadmit.“Iwouldhavetogohomeandcheck,”Isaid.“ButI’msureI’vetakenthem

allexactlyasprescribed.Ihaven’tmissedone.”“Yes,”Dr.Delgado said, in a bored voice, looking atmy chart. “So you

said. You do realize that most studies show that birth control pills are onlyninety-one to ninety-nine percent effective against preventing pregnancy, evenwhenusedcorrectly.”

Iswallowed.“Well,Imean,yes,Iknowthat,but—”“And you are a woman at peak fertility,Ms. Thermopolis,” hewent on,

“whotravelsfrequentlybetweentimezones.”“Well,”Isaid.“Yes,butIstillalwaystrytotakemymedicationatthesame

—”“PlusIwouldimagineyouandyourfiancéhavefrequentintercourse.”IwantedtodiewhenMichaelsaid,“Asfrequentaspossible.”Idon’tthink

themagnitudeofwhatwashappeninghadquitehithimatthatpoint.“So it is not unreasonable to suppose that there was perhaps a systems

failureatsomepoint,”Dr.Delgadosaid.“Mazeltov.You’regoingtobeparents.Now,whatdoyousaytoanultrasound?”

That’swhen I realized I’mone of those people:One of thosewomenonthat show I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant, which Tina and I love to watchtogetherandmock.Especiallywhenthewomengocamping,andthensuddenlythey’relike“Iwassittingonthetoiletintheouthouse,andthenplop!Outcame

ababy!”TinaandIalwayssworewe’dneverbeoneofthosewomen,becausewho

issooutofitthattheydon’tknowthey’repregnant?Me!That’swho.Iam!Iamthatoutofit!Icouldbeonthatshow!Hi,I’m

PrincessMiaofGenovia,andIdidn’tknowIwaspregnant.WhatkindofmonsteramI?ThinkofalltheweirdthingsI’vebeenputting

intomybodylately,suchas:

•Austrianschnaps.

•Two-hundred-year-oldNapoleonbrandystolenfromtheconsulategeneral’soffice.

•ChampagneintheExumas.

•TylenolPM!

•Chocolate-coveredstrawberries.

•Bagafterbagofcheesepopcorn.

•ElevenbillioncupsofGenoviantea(whichisNOTherbal).

•Nottomentionapproximatelyamillionpoundsofmagnesium,Butterfingercandybars,wasabipeas,screwdrivers(courtesyofLanaWeinbergerRockefeller),andmore.

“Ihighlydoubtyouateamillionpoundsofanything,”Dr.Delgadosaidina calm voice after I’d hysterically confessed my shameful Food-and-Drink-a-Log.“AndIhaveneverheardofadevelopingfetusbeingharmedbyGenoviantea, nor an occasional shot ofAustrian schnaps or a fewTylenol PM.Studiesshowthatmoderatedrinkingearlyinapregnancyrarelydoesanyharm.Infact,Ibelieve it’s safer for apregnantwoman tohave aglassofwinenowand thenthanoneofthosehorribleprewashedsalads—”

Heisclearlyderanged.“Michael,”Isaidtomyfiancé.“I’msorry.Butourbaby’sgoingtobeborn

withthreeheads.”Dr.Delgadocoughed.“Ithinkit’simportanttorememberthatpeoplefrom

mygenerationwereborntomotherswhodrankalcoholandcaffeine—andevensmoked—whilepregnant,andmostofusturnedoutjustfine.NotthatI inanywayadvocatethatwomensmokeorconsumealcoholwhilepregnant.I’monlysayingthatthere’snoreasontopanicjustyet.We’lldotheultrasoundtobesureyourchilddoesn’thave,er,threeheads.”

After Dr. Delgado left the room to go get the nurse and the ultrasoundmachine,Michaelpattedmeontheleg.

“Well,” he said, “you Renaldos are almost as good as the Lannisters atmakingweddingsinteresting.”

Iturnedmytearfulgazeuponhim,onlytofindthathewassmiling.“Michael,”Icried,shocked.“Howcanyoubelaughingatatimelikethis?”Heshrugged,stillsmiling.“Youhavetoadmit,it’skindoffunny.”“Howisanyofthisfunny?”“Oh,Michael,nothing like thatcouldeverhappen tome,because I’mso

proactiveaboutmyhealth,”he said, inwhat Iguessedwassupposed tobeanimitationofmyvoice,since itwas ina falsetto.“That’swhatyousaidwhenIproposedtoyou.”

Iglaredathim.“That’smean.Andlikeyoureallyhelpedthesituation.”“Hey,”hesaid,leaningbackinhischairandspreadinghislegswide.“I’m

morethanwillingtochangemylastnameandgiveupmycitizenshipforyou.I’llevenwalktwostepsbehindyouinpublicafterwe’remarried,likeaproperprince consort. But the birth control thing is going to have to be up to you,becauseobviouslynothingcancontainwhatthesebadboysarepacking.”

“Didyouseriouslyjustrefertoyourtesticlesas‘badboys’?”“Idid.It’snotasifyoudidn’thavewarning,Mia.Ashasbeenpreviously

stated—by that bastion of fine reporting, InTouch, no less—I am the world’sgreatestlover.”

“Moreliketheworld’sgreatestidiot.”Hegotupfromhischair,leanedagainsttheexamtable,andkissedme.“Comeon.”Hepressedhisforeheadagainstmine,grinning.“You’rehappy

aboutthis.Icantell.Itwasn’texactlywhatwehadplanned,butit’sasurprise,notadisaster.Asurpriseisagoodthing.Right?”

ThefrustratingthingaboutbeinginlovewithMichaelMoscovitzisthatit’simpossible tostayangrywithhim,especiallywhenhe’sgothishandwrappedaroundthebackofyourneckandhe’srestinghisforeheadagainstyoursandthatcleanMichaelsmellofhisisfillingyoursenses.

Thenallyouwant todo is throwyourarmsaroundhimandsay,“Oh,allright,Igiveup,I’lldowhateveryouwant.Whatdoesitmatter?”

He’sveryhardtoresist.“IfthatultrasoundshowsthatI’mhavingtwins,”Isnarled,“Iwillkillyou.”“If that ultrasound shows that you’re having twins”— he grinned back

—“youhavemypermissiontokillme.”Andthen—asiffromourlipstoGod’sears—that’sexactlywhatshowedup

ontheultrasound.“Iwouldsayyou’rearoundeightweeksalong,”Dr.Delgadosaid,looking

pleased, as I wavered between wanting to laugh, cry, and throw up (but notbecauseofmorningsickness.BecausetheultrasoundshowedthatIwashavingtwins).“Everythinglooksfine...timestwo.Congratulations.”

Congratulations?Congratulations?No,notcongratulations!“Thanks!”Michaelsaid,lookingcompletelydelighted.“Whencanwestart

tellingpeople?”I’dneverseenhimlookingsopleased . . .well,except fora fewminutes

earlier. He’d been proud of himself for having defied all laws of nature andscienceby impregnatingmewithone babywhileusingbirth control.The factthathe’dmanagedtoknockmeupwithtwohadsenthimovertheedge.

(Infact,he’sstillgrinningeartoearnexttomehereinthecar.)“Well,”Dr.Delgadosaid,“mostcoupleswaittwelveweeksbeforesharing

thenews.”Michael’ssmiledisappeared.“Oh.Evenwiththeirparents,whoaregetting

olderandhavebeenlookingforwardtograndchildrenforyearsalready?”“Well, that’suptotheindividual,”Dr.Delgadosaid,whichbroughtsome

ofthewattagebackintoMichael’ssmile.“Wait,” I said.“Thiscan’tbe right. Ican’tbehaving twobabies. I’mnot

readytohaveonebaby.”IlookedatMichael,whowasstillgrinningeartoear,and belatedly remembered everything Lana had told me about her childbirthexperience.“Iwantasecondopinion.”

“Well, you can get one, of course,” Dr. Delgado said, mildly. “But youaren’t going to hear anything different. You’re very definitely carrying twoeight-week fetuses.Ofcourse, sinceyoudon’thave regularperiods, I supposetheycouldbetenweeks...”

“Ten!”“My receptionist has some literature she can give you on how to begin

preparingyourhomeforyournewarrival.Orarrivals,Ishouldsay.”“That’sall right,Doctor,”Michaelsaid.“We’regoing tobemovingsoon

anyway.”“That’sright,”thedoctorsaid.“ToGenovia?”Michaellookedatmequestioningly.“Thatprobablyisn’tabadidea.We’re

going toneeda lotof roomfor thebabies.Andwhatyoupay inNewYork isridiculouscomparedtowhatyou’dgetelsewhereforthesamemoney.”

“It’s really true,” Dr. Delgado agreed. “That’s why my wife and I arelookingforaplaceupstate.”

“Oh,”Michaelsaid.“That’sagreatidea.Thecity’swaytoooverpriced.”Ithoughtmyheadmightbeexploding.“No,”Icried.“WearenotmovingtoGenovia.”Michael looked thoughtful. “It’s something to think about,” he said. “It

wouldbe safer,both foryouand thebabies, especiallyconsideringeverythingDominiquesaidthismorningaboutthosenewthreats.”

Babies?Babies?WhatkindofalternativerealitywasInowlivingin,wheresuddenlymyboyfriendistalkingaboutbabies?

Then Dr. Delgado (who is only an internist, after all, not an ob-gyn)glancedatmyfootandsaiditwasbruised,notbroken,toldmestayoffitforthenext few days, gave me the name of an ob-gyn (for “future appointments”),loadedmedownwithprenatalvitaminsandinformation,toldmeeverythingwasgoingtobeallright,andsentusbothalongourway,cheerfullywishingmeluckwiththe“babies.”

•Notetoself:Donotsignupwithanymorephysicianswhoaremale.Femalephysiciansonly,fromnowon.Malephysicianscannotrelate,anddonotunderstand.

CHAPTER62

10:05a.m.,Thursday,May7

InsidetheHELV

WhatamIgoingtotellSebastiano?He’sgoingtokillme.ThedesignIpickedoutformyweddinggownisnevergoingtoworknow.

Wait, what am I thinking?Wedding gown?Who cares about a weddinggown.Therearehumanlivesgrowinginsideme.

Butseriously,thatdressisgoingtolookhideous.

CHAPTER63

10:10a.m.,Thursday,May7InsidetheHELVRatetheRoyalsRating:1

I guess I’m still in a state of shock because all I can think about is not my“babies,”buthowhungryIam.

Butwhatarewomenwhoarepregnantevenallowedtoeat?

CHAPTER64

10:15a.m.,Thursday,May7Hi-LifeRestaurant

UpperEastSide

Itturnsoutwomenwhoarepregnantcaneatwhatevertheywant,unlessit’sraw,unwashed,orundercooked,seafood,hascaffeineoralcohol,isunpasteurized,orcontains the word herbal, because there’s no data on what “herbs” do todevelopingfetuses.

(Michaelhasalreadydownloadedsevenpregnancybookstohisphone.)Weirdly,Idon’tfeellikereadinganyofthepregnancybooks(eventhough

hereallywantsmeto)ortheliteratureDr.Delgadogaveme.I’dratherjusteatmyeggs(thoroughlyscrambled,becauseundercookedeggscancontainbacteria)withwhole-wheattoast.

IfigureIshouldeatasmuchaspossiblenow,beforethemorningsicknesshits (although, according to one of the books Michael has downloaded, noteveryonegets this.Maybe I’ll beoneof the luckyones.Exceptmyboobsarekillingme,soIdon’tknow).

I think Michael’s going to make a good dad. Not that I ever thoughtotherwise, but it’s been only an hour since he found out, and he’s alreadycanceled allmy appointments for the day (informingDominique vaguely thatI’m “under theweather”) and has the names picked out.Adam for a boy andLeahforagirl.It’sentertainingtowatch.

“Oh,really?Whatifit’stwoboys?”Iasked.“Ortwogirls?”Now he’s looking frantically through the baby-name app he just

downloaded.“Crap.Ineverthoughtofthat.”“Also,” I added, “ifwehaveagirl,wecan’t callherLeah.Because then

she’sgoingtobePrincessLeah.”“Oh my God.” His eyes lit up. “I didn’t think of that. Princess Leia of

Genovia?That’sfantastic.”“No,it’snot.Ofcourse,wecouldnametheotheroneLukeifit’saboy—”Hesuckedinhisbreath,hiseyeslightingupevenmore.“Michael, I was kidding,” I said. “We can’t name our twins Luke and

Leia.”“Well,wecould—”“No, we can’t. And don’t you think it’s a little early to be picking out

names?Wehavealotofbiggerproblems.”

“I’malreadyonit,”hesaid,growingserious.“Icalledmyreal-estatebrokerandtoldherwenowneedaclassicsix—”Three-bedroom,three-bathapartment,with a separate living and dining room in a prewar building, very difficult tocomebyinNewYork.“She’sgotfourviewingslinedup.”

“That’snotwhatImean,Michael.Imeant—”“Oh,Iknowwhatyoumeant.IthinkweshouldmovetoGenovia,andbe

settled therebefore thebabiesareborn. I think it’s importantwehaveaplaceheresoourkidscangettoknowthecitythewaywedidwhenweweregrowingup,buttherestofthetimetheyshouldliveinGenoviasotheycangooutsidetoplay and not have to worry about being stalked by the paparazzi or somepsychopathwaitingforthemoutsidethedoor.”

Every time he says the word babies I feel a little nauseous. (Could Iactually havemorning sickness after all? Probably it’s only themaple syrup Ikeepsmellingfromthetablenexttoours.)

“Michael,Itotallyagreewithallofthat.Butwecan’tjustdropeverythingandmove toGenovia.What aboutmy community center?What aboutPavlovSurgical?”

Heshrugged.“Itoldyouwhenwewentoutoftown:PerinandLingSucanrunthatcenterblindfolded.That’swhyyouhiredthem.They’reamazing.AndIcanrunmycompanyfromanywhere.EventuallyIplannedonreincorporatingitinGenoviaanyway,likeeveryonewasaccusingmeofwantingtodo.”

I gave amock scowl. “I knewyouwere onlymarryingme so you couldtakeadvantageofGenovia’slowtaxrates.”

He reached for my hand across the diner table, then squeezed it, gazinglovinglyintomyeyes.“Thatwasmyschemeallalong,baby.Toknockyouupwithtwinssoyou’dneverbeabletogetaway,thenturntothedarkside.Imean,significantlylowermyoverhead.”

“IshouldhaverunthemomentIfirstsawyou.”“You couldn’t,” he said. “Vice Principal Gupta would have given you

detentionforleavingschoolpropertyduringclass.”Now he’s poring back over his books, looking so worried, I’ve almost

forgivenhimforgettingmeintothissituation.AlthoughIdorealizethereweretwoofusthere,andI’mtheonewhoinventedthewholefire-marshalthing.

It couldn’t have been Space Alien. I only came up with that one last

weekend.It’sverystrangehowthingsthatusedtoreallymattertomealreadydon’t

matter anymore. Like it doesn’tmatter tome thatMichael says he’s going totakeovercleaningFatLouie’slitterboxfromnowonbecauseoftheriskofmygetting toxoplasmosis and transmitting it to the babies. I’m not even going toarguewithhimthatonlycatswhohuntandkillrodents—orarefedrawmeatbytheirowners—getinfectedwiththisdisease,andthat it’smuchmorelikelyI’dget it fromgardening(ha!Like I’veevergardened)oreatingrawmeatmyselfthanfromFatLouie.He’sneverfedrawmeatand,asanancientindoorcat,hasnevercaughtamouseinhislife(thoughheusedtositonthewindowsill—backwhenhecouldfitonit—andstarewistfullyatthepigeonsonthefireescape).

Idon’tevencarewhatmyrankingisanymoreonRatetheRoyals.NotthatIevercared,butIseriouslydonotcarenow.IcanactuallyseeBrianFitzpatrickstandingoutsidethewindowofthisdinergesturingfranticallytome(how?HowdopaparazzialwaysknowwhereIam?)anditisn’tbotheringmeatall.

It’slikeagreatcalmhascomeoverme.IknowexactlywhatI’vegottodo.And that is go home withMichael, put up my bruised foot, then binge-

watch every single episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in a row withoutstopping(exceptformeals)untilI’mdone.

Thenmaybe—justmaybe—I’llfeelpreparedforparenthood.I can’t, though.We have toomany other thingswe have to do. Such as

breakthenewstoourparents.Andgrandparents.I knowGrandmère is going to love the news that days after finding out

she’satwo-timegrandmother,she’snowalsoagreat-grandmother(no.No,sheisnotgoingtolovefindingthisout).

I don’twant to do this.Lookwhat happenedwhenGrandmère foundoutMichaelandIweregettingmarried.

Butwedon’thaveachoice.Becausethis,unlikearoyalengagement,isn’texactlysomethingyoucanhide,especiallysincebythetimetheweddingrollsaround—unlesswechangethedate—I’llbeshowing.EvenSebastianoisnotaskilledenoughdesignertodisguisethebellybumpofawomanwhoiseighteenweekspregnantwithtwins.

Oh,God!Icanbarelytakecareofmyself.HowamIgoingtotakecareofababy,letalonetwo?

Oh,Iforgot.I’maprincess.Ihavestaff.And if we move to the palace, we’ll have evenmore staff. Dad always

complains that when he was a kid, he had a night nanny, a day nanny, andvarioustutors,andthiswasinadditiontoallhisridingandfencingandlanguageinstructors. He said he saw his parents only twice a day, at breakfast and atteatime,andhethoughtthiswasnormalandhowallchildrenliveduntilhewassentawaytoboardingschoolandtheotherboysimmediatelystuckhisheadinatoilet.

ThankGod forMichael.When I pointed all this out to him just now, hesaid,“Well,thatwon’thappentoourchildrenbecausewe’renevergoingtosendthemtoboardingschoolandthey’regoingtohaveonlyonenanny,who’llbealovablerobotliketheoneonTheJetsons.I’mworkinguptheplansnow.”

“Michael,”Isaid,laughing,“beserious.”“Iambeingserious.”“Ifyouinventarobotnanny,thenI’llhavetodealwiththeensuingsocial

unrest that inevitably comes when automaton technology puts humans out ofwork.Thanksalot.”

Helookedcontrite.“Sorry.Ididn’tthinkofthat.MaybeI’llholdoffontherobot-nannyplan.”

Thenheordered threeextra-largeblueberrymuffins, ina to-gobag, fromtheserver.

“Whoarethesefor?”Iaskedbewilderedly.“Lars?Youknowhedoesn’teatmuffins.Hecallsthemfattinsbecausehethinksthey’renothingbutfat.”

“No,they’renotforLars,”hesaid,lookingatmelikeIwascrazy.“They’reforyouandthebabies,incaseyougethungrylater.”

He’sgoingtobethebestdad.

CHAPTER65

3:00p.m.,Thursday,May7Grandmère’sLimo

Haven’tgottenachancetobreakanythingtoanyoneyet.That’sbecausewhenMichaelandIwalkedoutofthediner,Brianpounced,

and for some reason—possibly hormones—I was feeling magnanimous, so Iactuallystoppedtolistentohimforonce.

“Princess, Iknowyoumustbeveryupset about thevile lies someofmycolleaguesarespreadingaboutyourfather,”hesaidveryrapidly.He’sobviouslybeenrehearsing.“WouldyouliketotakeamomentandgivethereadersofRatetheRoyalsachancetoknowthetruth?”

And though I knew Dominique would disapprove, since Brian isn’taffiliated with a major (or even cable) network—and of course he’d donesomething completely unethical in the ladies’ restroom at the center the otherday—IdecidedthatwhileIdidn’thavetoforgivehim,Icouldstillusehimtomyadvantage.

(That’saveryimportantdistinction,andoneoftenpointedoutinGameofThrones,MadMen,andvariousothertelevisionshows.Youdon’thavetolikeorforgivesomeonetoworkwiththem.)

“Yes,Brian,”Isaid,noticingthathe’dsteppeditupanotchinrecentdaysandhadactuallyhiredacameraperson—well,awomanwhowasrecordingourconversationwithacamcorder.“Iwouldlikeeveryonetoknowthatmyfather,thePrinceofGenovia,isthefirsttoadmitthathe’smademanymistakesinhislife,buthisdaughterOliviaisnotoneofthem.Infact,heconsidersheroneofhisproudestaccomplishments—andIagree.Theonlyreasonyou’veneverheardaboutherbeforenowisthathermother,whosadlypassedawayadecadeago,

verywiselyaskedthatsheberaisedoutoftheglareofthemedia.Assomeonewho’s experienced what it’s like to be a teen princess in the spotlight, I candefinitelyunderstandherconcerns.Butnowthattheinformationisoutthere—forwhichItakefullresponsibility—IonlyaskthatOliviabegiventhespaceandtimesheneedstoadjusttohernewsituation,andgettoknowhernewfamily.”

WhenIwasthrough,Brianappeareddumbfoundedwithjoy.“Oh,Princess,”hebreathedintohisrecorder.“Thatwas...thatwas...”“Was that enough?” I asked him as Michael tugged on my hand. Other

paparazzi, havingheard through theirmysterious paparazzi underground that Iwasgiving interviews,were rushingover to shoutquestionsof their own, andthe scene outside the dinerwas getting a little chaotic. Larswas beginning toloseit.Hedoesn’tlikeuncontrolledvenues.

“More than enough,” Brian gushed. “I’ll post it right away. Thank you.Thankyou!”

“No, thankyou,”Isaid,andallowedmyself toberushed into thewaitingcar.

Brianwasasgoodashisword.Hedidposttheinterviewaboutahalfhourlater.Andless thanfifteenminutesafter that, itwaspickedupbyeverymajornewsoutlet,whereit’sreceivedoverallpositivefeedback(thoughDominiqueisupsetthatIdidn’tclearit,ormytalkingpoints,throughherfirst).

That’s the good news. The bad news is, when I finally located mygrandmother,myworstfearswereconfirmed:

Shewastryingtogivemylittlesisteramakeover.Maybeit’sthehormones(IguessI’llbesayingthatalotforthenextfew

months),butsuddenlyIfoundmyselfrunningaroundPaolo’ssalon,screaming,“There’snothingwrongwithmysister’shair!”

Everyonestaredatmeincompleteshock,especiallyPaolo.“Principessa,” he said, holding a hair dryer over a smocked Olivia’s

soaking-wethead.“Calmdown.Ionlygivehertheblowout.YouwantIlethercatchthecoldgoingaroundwiththedamphair?”

Okay,maybeIoverreacted.Oliviaobviouslyloveshernewbluenailsandspiralcurls(andGrandmère,andIdon’tthinkit’sonlybecauseGrandmèrehasallowedhertonamethenewpoodleSnowball,ofallthings).

ButsometimesIthinktheentireworldhasgonemad.

That’swhenMichael realized he’d forgotten an importantmeeting at theofficeandleft.

•Notetoself:IsitpossibleMichaelleftonlybecausehecouldn’thandlealltheestrogenintheroomfromthree—possiblymore,ifeitherofthebabiesisagirl—femaleRenaldos?Checkwithhisassistanttoseeifhereallyhadameeting.No,don’t.Donotbethisperson.

After everyone had calmed down a bit, Grandmère and Olivia and“Snowball”andRommelandIwenttolunchattheFourSeasons(for“bonding”time),where I ordered every dessert on themenu becauseOlivia didn’t seemparticularly enthusiastic about anything else, and that’swhat I felt like eatinganyway.

(AlthoughGrandmèreremarkedabouthowIoughttobe“slimming”beforethewedding,nottryingtoincreasemycaloricintakeasmuchaspossible.HA!Waituntilshefindsoutthetruth.)

Nowwe’regoingback to thehotel becauseGrandmère says that’swhereDadisandhe’sgoingto“hearabout”myappallingbehavior.

He’sgoingto“hearabout”alotmorethanthat.

Thingstodo:

1.Makeappointmentwithob-gyn.

2.BreakthenewstoMomthatshe’sgoingtobeagrandmother.Makesuresheknowsnoneofherfriendscanhavetheplacentafortheirweirdartprojects!

3.TellLillyshe’sgoingtobeanaunt.Askhertobegodmother?Butnofairyjokes.

4.Startinterviewingnannies.Norobots.

5.AskLanawhatlaborfeelslikeNo,betternotaskLanaanything

6.AskthevethowtoprepareFatLouieforanewbaby.Willhebejealous?

7.WhatifMichaelwantsBoristobegodfather?NO.

CHAPTER66

7:00p.m.,Thursday,May7Third-FloorApartment


Everythingisadisaster.WhenIgottoGrandmère’sthisafternoonandwentintothelibrarytospeak

tomydad,Iinterruptedameetinghewashaving.AmeetingwithOlivia’sauntanduncleandtheirlawyer,BillJenkins,Annabelle’sdad.

Actually, I didn’t know itwasOlivia’s uncle because I’dnever seenhimbefore(exceptinthesurveillancephotosJoséhadtaken),buthehadredhairandwaswearingalightgraysuitwithashirtthatwasopenatthecollartoshowalotof gold necklaces. So naturally I assumed he was Grandmère’s nemesis, the“bohunkginger.”

Annabelle’s dad looked exactly like her, only much larger, male, andwearingasuitandtieinsteadofaschoolgirluniform.

Itturnedoutneitherofmyguesseswerewrong.“What it boils down to, Your Highness,” Mr. Jenkins was saying as I

walkedin,“isthatmyclientisnotwillingatthistimetogiveupher—”“Oh,”Isaid,startled.“Ibegyourpardon.”“It’s all right,” my father said, looking weary. “You might as well hear

this.”“Hearwhat?”Iasked.I instantlyhadaverybadfeelingaboutwhatIwas

abouttohear.Unfortunately, Iwasn’t aware thatOlivia had followedme into the room

(aslittlesisters,andpoodlepuppies,apparentlyhaveatendencytodo).Whenherunclesawher,heleapedfromhischairandsaid,“Finally.There

sheis.Olivia,getyourthings,you’regoinghomerightnow.”Iwasappalled.Ithoughtwe’dhadthevisitationthingallworkedout.Butevidentlynot.True,intypicalGenovianfashion,wehadkindofleftituptoarecentlaw

schoolgradwhohasn’tyetpassedthebar,aNewYorklawfirmemployedbytheroyalfamilyofGenovia,andacrisismanagementteambelongingtomyex-boyfriend’suncle,whoisnowsuingus.Thisprobablyhadn’tbeenthebestidea.

SothatmadeitevenworsewhenIheardOliviasay,inthesweetestvoicepossible,“Oh,IknowImissedschooltoday,UncleRick,butitwasanexcusedabsence.Grandmatotallyphonedin—”

“Idon’tcare,”herunclesaid,without theslightesthintofsympathy.“Goandgetyourthings.”

Ihadn’tevenofficiallymethim,butalreadyIstronglydislikedhim.AndIcouldtellfromthedangerousglintinmydad’seyethatIwasn’ttheonlyone.

“Rick,”Catherinesaid.Shelookedasifshe’dbeencrying.“Mustyou—?”That’swhenIheardOlivia’sunclesnapathiswifetoshutup,andinform

her that everything was all her fault in the first place for having been stupidenoughtohaveallowedOliviatoleaveCranbrookwithmeinthefirstplace.

Whenmy dad rose so quickly from his desk that his chair fell over andbarked,“Wouldyou like to say thatagain,Mr.O’Toole, this time to someoneyourownsize?”Iwhirledaroundtoseizemysister’shand.

“Let’sgointotheotherroom,”Iwhisperedtoher.Irealizedthelibrarywasnot a particularly safe atmosphere for either Olivia ormyself to be in at thatmoment.

AsIwasdraggingheroutontothebalconyonwhichmyfatherandmotherhadstoodthenightbeforeandpossiblyrekindledtheir love,Michaelcameup,smiling, having returned fromhis fictional officemeeting.Hewas completelyoblivioustoeverythingthatwasgoingon.

“Didyoutell—?”“Notyet,” I saidquickly, cuttinghimoff. “Bad timing.” I tiltedmyhead

toward the library. He looked inside the door, saw what was going on, andquicklylostthesmile.

“Gotit,”hesaid,andslippedinsidethelibrarytohelpmydad.Ihopedthishelpwouldcomeintheformofremindinghimtowaitforhislegaladviserstogetherebeforemakinganyrashmoves,andnot thekindof“help”he’dgivenJ.P.lastnight.

“Soooo,” I said toOlivia in as cheerful a voice as possible (which I alsotriedtomakeasloudaspossiblesoitwoulddrownoutwhatwasgoingoninthelibrary).“Youcanseea lotofstufffromuphere,can’tyou?There’s thepark,and the placewheremy boyfriend,Michael, once tookme on a carriage ridebeforeeveryonedecideditwasbettertobancarriagehorserides,andifyoulookreally, reallyhard,youcanalmost see thezoo,where theyhave thosewildlifeillustrationsyouweretalkingabout—”

“No,youcan’t,”Oliviasaid.“It’stoofaraway.AmIintrouble?”

“You?”Iwassurprised.“Oh,Olivia,ofcoursenot!Whywouldyoubeintrouble?”

“ThenwhyismyuncleRicksomad?”sheasked.“AndwhyisMr.Jenkinshere?IthoughtAuntCatherinetoldyouitwasallrightformetocomewithyoutoNewYork.”

“She did,” I said, with a sigh. “But things have gotten a bit more . . .complicatedsincethen.”

ItwasonlywhenIsaw theanxiety inhereyes that I realizednothingI’dsaidhadbeentheleastbitcomforting.WhatwasIdoing,tellingherthingswerecomplicated?Sheknewthatalready!

Andmytellinghernottoworrywasnouse.Children’sfearsareperfectlylegitimate,anddeserve tobevalidated,notdismissed,especiallywhen, like inthiscase,theywereoversomethingthatverydirectlyconcernedher.

WhatkindofbigsisterwasIbeingtoherbynotansweringherquestions?What kindofmotherwas I going to be tomyownchildren if, in an effort toprotect them, I tried to shield them from everything that might possibly hurtthem?Shielding themfrombullets, thewayPrinceAlberthad shieldedQueenVictoria,wasonething.

Butkidswhoseparentsshieldthemfromthetruth—censoringtheirreadingmaterial,lyingtothemaboutwhotheirparentsreallyare,cushioningthemfromeverypossibleblow—aretheoneswhotendtogethurttheworstoncetheygetout into the realworld . . .notbecause the truth is soawful,butbecause theyhaven’tbeentaughttheskillstheyneedtohandleit.

And suddenly it hit me—with even more force than Dr. Delgado’sannouncementafewhoursearlier—thatthisiswhatmygrandmother’sprincesslessons, tedious as they’d seemed, had been about all along. Not standing upstraight, or using the correct fork, but preparing me for the real world. Thewonderful,amazing,butoccasionallydistastefulandsometimesevenhorrifyingworld where most people are incredibly decent and well meaning, butoccasionallyyoudoencountersomeonewhoisgoingtotrytouseyou,orevenabuseyou,andwhenthathappens,thereisn’talwaysgoingtobeabodyguard—oraparent—aroundtorescueyou.

Grandmère never cushioned a single blow, and this is why: I needed toknowthetruth,justlikeOlivia,becauseaprincessneedsthoseskillstosurvive.

Well, Iwasn’tgoing tobequiteasbrutalwithOliviaasourgrandmotherhadbeenwithme,butIwasn’tgoingtosugarcoatiteither.

“There’ssomestuffaboutyourunclethatwerecentlyfoundout—it’swhyIcameout toCranbrook in the first place to get you, aside from the fact that Iwantedtoknowyou,becauseyou’remysister,”Iexplainedtoher,pullingherdown beside me on the wrought-iron bench as, below us, taxi horns honked.“Nothing’s been proven yet, since the Royal Genovian Guard is stillinvestigating.Butwebelieveyourauntandunclehavebeenusingmoneymeantforyoutofundtheirbusiness—”

Oliviadidn’tlookparticularlysurprisedtohearanyofthis.Infact,italmostseemedasifshe’dsuspecteditherself.

“Oh,”shesaid.“Igetit.Theydon’twanttogivemeupbecausetheydon’twanttogiveupthemoneyDadsendsformeeverymonth.”

“No,”Isaidquickly.“Wedon’tknowthatatall.I’msureyourauntlovesyouverymuch.”

Seeingtheskepticallooksheshotme,Iadded,wanly,“Inherownway.”“Then why,” Olivia demanded, “did they bring Annabelle’s dad with

them?”“Well,” I said, “your aunt has legal guardianship of you. So if she’s

changed her mind and doesn’t want you to stay with us any longer, there’snothingwecando...atleastfornow.”Seeingthelookofgrowingdismayonherface,Iadded,wrappinganarmaroundhershoulders,“But,Olivia,IpromisethatDadwillnever restuntilhegetspermanentcustodyofyou, if that’swhatyouwant.Itjustmighttakealittle—”

“Noooooo!”ThisiswhatOliviacriedassheleapedfromthebenchandranbackinside,

Snowball boundingafterher. It tookmecompletelyoffguard, since itwas sototallyunlikeher.Shewasaquirkykid,butnormallyprettycalm...

Untilshewasn’t.Ihurriedafterher to seewhere she’dgone,andwas relievedwhen I saw

that she’donly rushedback into the library . . . to throwher armsaroundherfather.

He,ofcourse, lookedassurprisedasme,butwasrunningahandthroughhernewspiralcurls,saying,“Shush,Olivia,it’sgoingtobeallright.”

“Iwon’t!”sheyelled,quiteloudlyforsuchatinything.“Iwon’tgobackwiththemtoNewJersey!”

Mydadleaneddowntowhispersomethinginherear.Ihavenoideawhatitwas,but it causedher to loosenherholdonhima littleandappear somewhatmorecomposed,thoughshewasstillgivingherauntandunclethestinkeye.

Icouldseethenthatshe’dinheritedmorethanaloveofpoodlesfromherpaternal grandmother’s side of the family. She’d also inherited Grandmère’sabilitytodresssomeonedownwithasinglelook.

“Well,” her aunt Catherine said nervously. “We’d better be going if wewanttobeatthetraffic.”

FromthelookinDad’seye,Icouldtellhewantedtobeatsomething,too,butitwasn’tthetraffic.Hewasnoblyholdinghimselfback,however.

Grandmère appeared in the foyer as Olivia was leaving, Snowball on asparklingrhinestoneleash.

“Do not forget this,” she said with regal calm, and handed her youngergranddaughtertheendofthelead.

“Grandmère,Ican’t!”Oliviacried.“Snowballisyourdog.”“Notanymore,”Grandmèresaid,andrefusedtohearanymoreaboutit.ThisseemedtocheerOliviaupalittle,thoughUncleRickdidn’tlooktoo

happyaboutit.HestartedtosaysomethingabouthisallergiesuntilGrandmère,too,gavehimoneofherpatentedevilstares.

I’veneverseenanyoneshuthismouthfaster.“Listen,”IwhisperedtomylittlesisterasIhuggedhergood-bye.“I’llsee

yousoon,okay?Thanksforthehelpwiththecruiseships.Andkeepwritinginthatdiary.”

Shenodded,asteary-eyedasIwas.“You,too,”shewhispered.Aftertheyleft,weallfeltlowanddispirited,evenRommel,whoretiredto

hisFrencheggbaskettolickoffwhatlittleremainingfurhehadleft.Dadtriedtomakehimselffeelbetterbygettingonthephoneandshoutingathislawyersforbeingincompetent.

I sidledup toGrandmère and—inmynewcapacity as amother-to-be, inwhichIfeltInowunderstoodnotonlyher,butwhat’sactuallyimportantintheuniverse—whispered,“Isawwhatyoudidthere.”

Grandmère had lit a cigarette—not even a vapor one,which is a sign of

howupsetshewas.“Ihaven’ttheslightestideawhatyouareblatheringabout,Amelia.”

“Yes, you do. Itwas very kind of you to give up your new little dog. ItmeantalottoOlivia.Andthankyou,Grandmère,foralwaystellingmethetruth,andpreparingmefortherealworld.Ishouldhavethankedyoubefore,but...well, Ineverrealizedbeforenowwhatanincredible impactyou’vehadonmylife.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised when she turned and blew a stream ofsmokerightatmyface.

“Ineverwantedthatbitchinthefirstplace.ShenippedRommeleverytimehecamenearher.”

IassumedshewasreferringtoSnowball,nother long-lostgranddaughter,but it was hard to be sure. I was coughing too hard, trying to make sure nosmokegotintomylungsandthreatenedmyunbornfetuses.

“Whyareyoujuststandingthere?”GrandmèrewentonasMichaelhurriedovertomakesureIwasallright.“Makeyourselfuseful,andgetmeadrink.”

“Iseverythingokay?”Michaelasked,concerned,ashedraggedmeoutofthelineofsecondhandsmoke.

“Yes,”Iwhispered,gagging.“Idon’tknowwhatIwasthinking,tryingtohaveatendermomentwithher.Ihopesomedayshegetswhatshedeserves.”

“I think she’s going to,” hewhispered back. “She’s going to be a great-grandmother.Totwins.”

I looked up at him and smiled. “HA! Thanks for rescuing me, FireMarshal.”

Hesmiledback.“Anytime.”Dad was saying, in an exhausted voice, after having hung up with the

lawyers,“Theythinkwe’llhaveOliviabackbytomorrowafternoon.”Michaelraisedaskepticaleyebrow.“Really?”Tomygrandmotherhesaid,

“Andshouldyoureallybesmokingthatinhere?Ithoughtyourdoctorsaid—”“I need a drink as well.” Dad grabbed a whiskey decanter from the bar

shapedlikeaglobewheremygrandmotherhidesallherbesthooch,andbeganpouring. “Well, who wouldn’t, after something that unpleasant? Who’s withme?”

Dadassumedeveryonewaswithhim,sincehepouredfourglasses.Michael

andIexchangedglances.I triedtogethimtoreadmymind.Notnow.Wearenottellingthemnow.Nowisnotthetime.

Icouldn’ttellwhetherornotI’dsucceeded.“Uh,”IsaidasDadpassedmeaglass.Thefumesfrominsideitmademy

eyeswater.“Noneforme,thanks.I’mnotreallyinthemood.”“Well, you should be,” my father continued. “Because it’s not all bad

news.”Heraisedhisglass.“Asofa fewhoursago,Cousin IvanhasofficiallywithdrawnfromtheelectionforprimeministerofGenovia.”

IkeptmyglassintheairasMichaelandGrandmèresaid“Cheers”andtookasip.“Oh,wow,Dad.That’sgreat.”

“Itisgreat,”myfathersaid.“ForDeputyMinisterDupris.”“Wait...”Iloweredmyglass.“Whyisitgreatforher?”“Because I’ve decided to withdraw from the race as well,” Dad said. I

noticedhedidn’tmakeeyecontactwithhismotherashesaidthis.“AndwhenIdo,thatwillmakehertheonlyviablecandidate.”

Iheardthesoundofsmashingglass.WhenIturned,IsawthatGrandmèrehad thrown herwhiskey into themarble fireplace. Shewas shaking almost asmuchasRommelusuallydid,onlyfromrage,notfromhavingnofur.

“Iknew it!”shecried,herfaceamaskoffury.“Iknew it! It’sbecauseofthatwoman,isn’tit?”

Stunned at this outburst, I swung my astonished gaze back toward myfather.Amazingly, he looked calm . . . and almost cheerful.Certainly happierthan he should have been, given what had happened moments before withOlivia,andthefactthathe’djustannouncedhewasgivinguponacampaignonwhichhe’dspentmillionsofhisownmoney.

“Yes,itis,Mother,”hesaidhappily.“I’vedecidedtotaketheadviceofmydaughter,andstopfollowingthemap.”

“Map?”Grandmèrecried.“Whatmap?Whatkindofnonsenseisthat?”“The kind I should have listened to a long time ago,” Dad said, setting

downhiswhiskeyglassandheadingtowardthefoyer.“I’mtakingtheroadlesstraveled. Itmaynotgetmewhere I thought Iwasgoing,but it could takemesomewhereevenbetter.Right,Mia?”

“Sure,” I said asMichael and I followed him. He’d reached for his suitjacket,andashedid,Inoticedthat therewasstubbleonhisupperlip.Hewas

growinghismustacheback.“Youneverknow.Whereareyougoing?”“TohavedinnerwithHelenThermopolis,”hesaid.ToGrandmèrehesaid,

“Mother,donotwaitupforme.”“HelenThermopolis?”Grandmèrelookedapoplectic.“Amelia’smother?”“Yes,”Dadsaid.“We’regoingtoanewvegetarianrestaurantthat’sopened

aroundthecornerfromherplace.Helensaysthebabaghanoushisexcellent.”“Babaghanoush?”Grandmèrelookedasifshewereabouttohaveastroke.

“You’regoingtoeatbabaghanoush?”“Yes,Mother.”Dadstoppedinfrontofthefloor-lengthmirrorGrandmère

hadhungnexttothefrontdoortohercondosothatshecancheckherselfbeforeshegoesoutinordertomakesurehereyebrowsaren’tdrawnonunevenly.Headjusted his tie, then smoothed down the imaginary hairs on his bald head.“Helenhasdecidedtogivemeanotherchance.AndIamgoingtowinherback,nomatterwhatIhavetodo,evenifit’seatbabaghanoush.”Heglancedatus,thenaddeddeliberately,“Orstepdownfromthethrone.”

Grandmèrewassoshocked,thecigarettedroppedfromherlimpfingerstothemarblefloor.Michaelsteppedforwardandquicklystampeditout.

“Abdicate?”mygrandmothercried.“B-butwhatwouldyoudoinsteadofrule?”

Dadgaveheralookthatwasasstony-eyedasanyshe’devergivenme.“Live,Mother,”hesaidsoftly.Itwasthesoftnessinhistone, infact, that

caused the chill to creep up the backs of my arms. If he’d said it loudly, itwouldn’thavesoundedhalfasconvincing.“I’mgoingtolive.”

Thenhe left thepenthouse, closing thedoorbehindhimas softlyashe’dspoken.

In the ensuing silence, all I could hear was Rommel’s panting. When Iriskedaglanceatmygrandmother,Isawthatherfacehadgonethesamecolorasmybruisedfoot...asortofpurplishgray.

WhenshenoticedIwaslookingather,shesnapped,“Well,Ihopeyou’rehappynow,Amelia.Ifheabdicates,you’regoingtohavetotakehisplaceonthethrone.Anditwillallbeyourownfault.”

“Howisitmyfault?”Idemanded.“JustbecauseItoldhimhedidn’thavetofollowthemap?”

“Yes, whatever that nonsense even means. You know perfectly well

sacrifices have to be made when one inherits a throne. Well, now thatresponsibilityisgoingtofallonyou,younglady.Enjoyplanningyourweddingwhile also planning a coronation!Enjoy the honeymoon, because as soonyougetback,you’llbeprincessofacountrythat’sfallingapart!”

“Youforgottoaddpregnant,”Isaid.“Withtwins.”Shestaredatme.“Whatdidyousay?”“Ababy.”Ipulledthecopyoftheultrasoundfrommypocketandstuckit

tothesuitofarmornexttothebabygrand.“I’mhavingone.Timestwo.”Grandmèrewandered toward the suit of armor to stare at the ultrasound,

Rommel trotting along behind her. “Baby?” she murmured. For once, I’dmanagedtorenderherspeechless.Well,almost.“Two?”

“Yes,” I said. “And I’m going to do just fine ruling Genovia. Thewedding’sgoingtobefine,too.Thoughwe’regoingtoneedabiggerdress—”

“Okay.”Michaelcrossedthefoyertotakemebythearm.“That’sit.We’regoinghomenow.We’llseeyoulater,Clarisse.”

“Pregnant?” She stood there murmuring, still staring at the ultrasound.“Twins?”

Idon’tknowwhatshedidafterthatbecauseMichaelshutthedoorbehindus.Hedoesn’treallyapproveofthewayIbrokethenewstomyparents(well,paternalgrandparent).

ButIthinkIdidthebestIcouldunderthecircumstances,whichadmittedlywerenotideal.

Now I’m in bedwithmy foot up (finally), eatingRockyRoad ice cream(I’mtotallygoingtosetupanappointmentwithanutritionistlikeMichaelwantsusto,butuntilthen,I’mjustgoingtofinishthisicecream)andwatchingBuffytheVampireSlayerwithFatLouieandMichaelbesideme.

Isuspect tomorrowisgoing tobeabadday—like,epicallybad—sorightnowI’mgoingtotakeDr.Delgado’sadviceandpracticegratitude.


1.ThatI’msafeinbedwiththeperson(andcat)Icareaboutmostintheworld,watchingthisawesomeTVshow.

2.ThatIhaveasister,eventhoughIdon’tknowhowshe’sdoing.Ihopeshe’s

okay.Shehasn’trespondedtoanyofmytextmessages.

3.ThatIsenttheRGGtositoutsideherhouseandmonitorhermovements,includingwhenshe’satschooltomorrow,becauseIdon’ttrustthatAnnabelleJenkinsgirl.

And I don’t carewhat anyone says: it’snot spying, or intrusive. It’ssimplymakingsuremylittlesisterissafe,andbeingwelllookedafter.

4.ThatunlikeOlivia,Ihaveamom,eventhoughIcan’tnecessarilycalltotellhermynews,becauseit’snotreallythekindofthingyoushouldtellsomeoneoverthephone,especiallywhentheyliveinthesamecityasyoudo...Hello,Mom?I’mhavingtwins!

Itwouldbenicejusttohearhervoice.ButIknowshe’swithDadrightnow,dealingwithwhateverit is thetwoofthemaredealingwith.Idon’tevenwanttoknow,really.Ijusthopethey’rehappy.

5.Andthatit’stheepisodewhereBuffy’sclassgivesherthespecialawardofanumbrella,tothankherforprotectingthem,whichshewasn’texpecting,becauseshedidn’tknowtheyknewthatshewastheSlayer,andthatshewasprotectingthemthewholetime.Buttheydid,andthey’regrateful.Itmakesmecryeverytime.

Hmm,that’smorethanthreethings.Ihavesomuchtobegratefulfor.IfeellikeImightburst.

CHAPTER67




Whydoyoukeepcallingme? I’mstudying.Unless theconsulateisunderattackbyprotestersagainandLarsiseatingGMOorangeswhole,Idonotwanttoknow.

Sorry.I justhavesomething importanttotellyou.Butit’snotaboutLars.

I saw your statement on the news about your sister. Itwasgood.

Thanks.Itdidn’tdoanygood.HerauntcameandtookherbacktoNewJersey.

What?Wehadanagreement!

She has legal guardianship, therefore youragreementwasnotvalid.Butshemayhaveviolatedtermsofsaidguardianship.Dad’slawyersaregoingto be up all night working on it. Anyway, what Iwanted to tell you before you hear it somewhereelseis1Mpr3gnt.

Ha ha ha, I know, I read it on the covers of like three

tabloidsthisweek.It’stwins.

No,forreal,Iam,anditis.

Is my brother telling the truth about administering a“mouthfuloffist”toJ.P.atyourgrandma’splace?

Yes, it’s true,Michael did.Although he didn’t hithiminthemouth.AndIdon’tknowhowthepressfiguredoutaboutthetwinsbeforeIdid.Maybeit’sbecausetheywatchme24hrsadayandnoticedmyveryslightweightgain.

Youreallyneedtocutbackonthemeds,Thermopolis.Iknowyou’reunderalotofstress,butthisiscrazy.

I’mnotonanymeds.Ijustthoughtyou’dwanttoknowsinceyou’regoingtobeanauntforreal,butifyoudon’twanttobelieveme,that’sfine,too.I’dsay ask your brother, but he’s asleep next to thenow-emptycartonofRockyRoad.

Okay,nowIKNOWyou’rehallucinating.It’sokay,wedid a case about this in class once, over 30 percent ofpeople experience hallucinations right before or afterwakingandtheycanfeelveryconvincing...

Okay,well, I look forward to your abject apology

whenIturnouttoberightaboutallthisstuffandyou’rewrong,especiallysinceithappenssorarely.

Okay.Good night, POG. Try not to operate any heavymachinery.

Goodnight,AuntieLilly!

CHAPTER68



ApparentlyGrandmère isn’t one of those peoplewho believe that you shouldtreatpregnantwomen—evenwomenwhoarepregnantwithtwins—liketheyaredelicateflowers.

(Michaelisn’teither,buthe’sdecidedtoworkfromhomeanyway—atleastthismorning,sincehehasameetingthisafternoon—becauseI’msupposedtoberesting my foot. He brought me breakfast in bed.) Although I think he’sregretting thisdecision,becauseGrandmère’sbeencalling the apartment sincenine,demandingthatIcomebacktothePlazaimmediatelytoexplainmyself.

Obviously I’mnotpickingup. Idecided to textherbecause I reallycan’tbringmyselftospeaktoherrightnow,andalsoI’menjoyingmyeggsandtoasttoomuch.

<DowagerPrincessClarisseofGenovia“ElDiablo”HRHMiaThermopolis“FtLouie”>

IthoughtIexplainedmyselfprettythoroughlylastnight.Ileftmyexplanationonyoursuitofarmor.

Amelia, you are being obtuse. Have you spoken to yourfatheryet thismorning?Because Ihave,anddoyouknowwhat he told me? He said in addition to giving up hisposition as prime minister, he’s officially stepping downas regent. He and your mother are “in love,” whateverthat means. Abdicating, Amelia! He’s officiallyabdicating!

AndIhavejustofficiallyhadmyfirstroundofmorningsickness.

CHAPTER69



Ormaybeitwasonlyvomitingatthethoughtthatinafewmonths,I’mnotonlygettingmarried...I’malsogoingtohavetoruleacountry.

(Innameonly,sinceit’saconstitutionalmonarchy,andMadameDuprisisgoing to be the one actually running it. But still.) Poor Michael! The lovelybreakfasthemademe!Allgone.

AndnowI’mstarvingagain.

CHAPTER70



Well,thatwasawkward.AsIwasscarfingdownthesecondbreakfastMichaelmademe,therewasknockonthedoor,andwhoshouldwalkinbutmyparents.Together!

Idon’tsupposeIshouldhavebeentoosurprised,sinceDadisstillofficiallythePrinceofGenoviaandIliveintheGenovianconsulate,butstill.

Theysaidtheywantedtotellme“thebignews”inperson.Of course I had to act likeGrandmèrehadn’t already spoiled it, and also

like I hadn’t just been vomiting in the half bath, and also like my boyfriendhadn’tjustspentthenight,whichobviouslytheymustknowhedoessometimes,sinceMichaelandIhavebeengoingoutforever,areengaged,Dadreceivesfullreportsonmyactivities—I’monlyguessing—fromtheRGG,andIwaswearingpajamabottomsandaVISITBEAUTIFULGENOVIA!T-shirtwhilesprawledwithonefootupinthecompletelyunmadebed.

Butitwasembarrassingnonetheless.“Well,Mia,”Dad said, smilingmore broadly than I’d seen him smile in

years...maybeever.“YourmotherandIhavesomethingtotellyou.”“Great,”Michaelsaid,rushingoverwithcoffeeforbothofthem.Heloves

playinghost.“MiaandIhavesomethingtellyoutwo,too.”“Oh,yougofirst,”Momsaid.Shewaswalkingaround,pokingnosilyinto

allmystuff.Thisiswhatshedoes.Shedoesn’tmeananythingbyit.“No,”Dadsaid.“Ithinkweshouldgofirst,actually,Helen.”“Letthekidsgofirst,Phillipe,”Momsaid.“Don’tbesuchaspoilsport.”Dadseemedalittlesurprisedatbeingcalledaspoilsport,butafterthinking

aboutitaminute,hesaid,“Well,allright,”withperfectequanimity.Icouldtellthiswashowhislifewasgoingtogofromnowon:Momwas

going tobosshimaround, andhewasgoing to love it.He’sused tohavingawoman boss him around—Grandmère—butMom is much better looking andalsonothismother.

Michaelwalkedovertothebedandtookmyhand.“Well,goon,”hesaid,givingmyfingersanencouragingsqueeze.“You’re

goingtohavetotellthemsometime.”Thiswas embarrassing. It’s one thing to tell yourgrandmother in a fit of

piquethatyou’repregnantwithtwins...It’squiteanothertoannounceittoyourmotherandfather,especiallyafter

you’ve foundout that they’vegottenback together after twenty-sixyears, andthatyourfatherwasgivinguphisthronetomakeithappen.

Also, I’venoticed thatonline there’s this trendwhereyoungcouples filmtheir parents unwrapping a box containing baby clothes, or whatever, thenannounce,asthesweetbutpuzzledoldfogiesholdupasetofbooties,“We’rehavingyourgrandchild!”

Thisusuallymakesthegrandma-to-beburstintotears.IwishMichaelandIhadpreparedsomethingthiscreative.Oh,well,maybe

fortheDrs.Moscovitz.InsteadIdecidedtogowiththetruth.“Well,”Isaid,“IwenttothedoctoryesterdaytogetanX-rayofmyfoot,

becauseOlivia’sauntslammeditinherdoor,anditturnsoutI’mpregnantwithtwins.Sowe’reprobablygoingtoneedtomoveuptheweddingdate.Ihopethiswon’tbeabigproblem.”

Iwishwe had thought to film their reaction, because itwas pretty great.Theybothburst into tears,whichwasprettygratifying,andstartedhuggingusandweepingandtellingushowhappytheywere.

Exceptthatastheywerehuggingusandweepingandtellingushowhappytheywere,Dadgotalittletooemotional.WhenItoldhimtothrowoutthemap,Ididn’tmeanforhimtothrowoutallhisfilters,too.HetoldmethatMomhadmadehim thehappiestmanonearth, andnow Iwasmakinghim thehappiestman in thegalaxy, and all heneededwas for the lawyers to comeupwith anagreementsothathecouldgetatleastpartialcustodyofOlivia,andhe’dbethehappiestmanintheuniverse.

“YourmomandRockyaremovingtoGenovia thissummer,yousee,”hetoldme,“justassoonasIcanrenovate thesummerpalace.Hopefullyby thenI’llhavethingsstraightenedoutwithOlivia,andyou’llbemarried,andI’llhaveabdicated,andwecanallbeonehappyfamily.”

“Hold on,” I said. “Renovate the summer palace? If you and Mom andRocky and Olivia are—hopefully—going to live in the summer palace, thenwhere’sGrandmèregoingtolive?”

“In the main palace,” Dad said, squeezing me tightly. “With you and

Michael.Shecanhelpyouwiththebabies.Itwillbewonderful.”Wonderful for who? Not wonderful for me. Not wonderful for my new

husband, to have to live with his grandmother-in-law. It’s nice that Dad’s sohappy, and great that Mom’s happy, too, and yes, I realize I’m complainingabouthaving to live inapalace,which is likecomplainingaboutmydiamondshoes being too tight, but it’s a palace withGrandmère, who likes to smokeindoorswhileperusingthemorningpaper...andthenthewholerestofthedayuntilsheremovesherfalseeyelashesandturnsoutthelighttogotosleep.

CHAPTER71



DeputyPrimeMinisterDupris just called to congratulatemeonbecoming thenew reigning monarch. I congratulated her back on becoming the new primeminister.

Ofcourse,noneofthisisgoingtobeformallyannounceduntilnextweek,whichisgood,sincebythenhopefullywe’llhaveOlivia’sguardianshipsortedout. Dad is on the phone with the lawyers now. Apparently, some sort ofheadwayisbeingmade.

Before hanging up with the deputy primeminister, I asked what CousinIvanhad said aboutdonating threeofhis company’s cruise ships tohouse theQalifirefugees.

She said, “He was perfectly agreeable to the idea!” to which I replied,“Great.”

She said she thought we were going to make an amazing pair. I said Iagreed.

Ihope shecouldn’t tell that thewhole time Iwas talking, Ihadmyheadrestingonthebathroomfloor.

CHAPTER72

1:52p.m.,Friday,May8HELVtoCranbrook,NewJersey

The lawyers haveworked out an agreementwithBill Jenkins (and, allegedly,Olivia’sauntanduncle).

Thedetailsareconfidential—IcouldfindoutifIasked,butIhaven’tasked.I’massumingit’seitherasizabledepositintoRickO’Toole’sbankaccount,orapromisenottohavehimarrestedforchild-supportfraud.

In any case, I’monmywayback toCranbrook—this timewithDad—topickupOlivia.

Hopefully. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that nothing’s going to gowrong.Thingshavebeengoingalittletoowelltodayformetogetmyhopesup—asidefromthepartwhereIfoundoutMichaelandImayhavetolivewithmygrandmother,andthemorningsickness,orwhateveritis.

I’mfeelingalittlebetter.Gingeralehelps.Grandmère’s always insisting that the secret to aging gracefully is

remainingwellhydrated,butIsometimeswonderifthisisn’tactuallythesecrettolifeitself.

Dad is obviously following this advice. Either that, or it’s simple, old-fashionedloooove.Allhiscolorisbacktonormal,andIcanseeafainthintofshadow on his upper lip (he didn’t shave there this morning. He’s alreadylookingbetter).He’schatteringawayamileaminuteaboutMom,andhowgreatsheis,andhowgreathefeelsnowthatshe’slettinghimbackintoherlife,andwhatagreatmothershe’sgoingtobetoOlivia(althoughwebothfeltitwouldbe better if Mom—and Grandmère—stayed home for this trip. Theirpersonalitiesareabitstrong).

AndnowthatI’vegottenovertheinitialshockofit—kindofliketheinitialshock of having twins—I think I’m going to be awesome at ruling.MadameDupris,Olivia,andthe twinsandImightactuallymakesomethingof that tinylittleprincipalityon the sea. IfLillypasses thebar, Imight seewhat I candoabout getting her hired as attorney general. And Tina, if she ever finishesmedicalschool,tobesurgeongeneral.

(Although we really ought to hire locals. But there aren’t that manyGenovians who are interested in pursuing careers in the legal or medicalprofessions, due to the distractions provided by the crystal beaches andmanycasinos.)Truthfully,I’mnoteventhatworriedaboutGrandmère.Shehasotherpalaces that she inherited from theGrimaldi side of the family, just a stone’sthrowfromtheruedelaPrincesseClarisseinGenovia.Oncethetwinscome,Ihaveafeelingshe’sgoingtowanttomoveintooneofthem,especiallyifshe’sgoingtobeentertainingromanticguests,likeMonsieurdelaRive.

SoI’mlettingDadprattleaway,tellingmehowrightIwasallalongaboutthrowing away themap, and how if he’d only “gone for it” sooner, he couldhavesavedhimselfalotofheartache.

I’m even restraining myself from pointing out that if he’d “gone for itsooner” withMom, he’d never have met Elizabeth Harrison, and then Oliviawouldn’thavebeenborn.I’mfairlycertainhe’llworkthisoneoutforhimself,eventually.

Oooh,Tina’stexting:

<Tina“TruRomantic” HRHMiaThermopolis“FtLouie”>

Hi,how’sitgoing?Sorrytobotheryou,butIwantedtosay I loved the piece you didwithBrian F.!Your hairlooked reallygood!Also, you’re still goingwith creamfor the bridesmaids, right? Because I saw this dressonlinethat’sreallypretty,maybeS.couldlookatit?Orwould suggestions make him upset? I know howdesigners can be. At least on TV and of course inDanielleSteelnovels.

Thanks! Go ahead and send me the dress. I’llforward to S. He’s going to have a lot of designchallengesonthisprojectanywayforotherreasons.

Really?Why?Don’ttellmeyourgrandmotherismakingyouchangeeverythingyouwantedtodoagain...Mia,it’snotfair,it’sYOURwedding!Youshouldbeabletohaveanachobaratthereceptionifyouwantto!It’sabitunorthodoxbutit’snotlikeit’sneverbeendone.

It’snotthenachobar.1mp3gnant.

Tina, I think there’s something wrong with yourphone,thelast3textsyousentmedidn’thaveanywritinginthem.

No,IaccidentallyhitsendbeforeIcouldwriteanything,I’msoexcited!Oh,Mia!!!!!

But are you sure? Because you know you thought youhaddenguefeverlastmonth.

No, a blood test and ultrasound confirmed it. Butnowthatyoumentionit,IthinkIknownowwhyIthoughtIhaddenguelastmonth.

WHATDIDMICHAELSAY?????

He’sveryproudofhimself.

Himself?Why?WhatdidHEhavetodowithit?Imeanbesidestheobvious?

Ihavetotellyoulaterwhenwecantalkinperson.RightnowI’minthecarwithmydad.We’regoingtopickupOlivia.

Oh,Mia!!!ButwhataboutyourGOWN?????

Yes,exactly.Priorities.

YouknowwhatImean.Whatareyougoingtodo????

Workaroundit.HaveyoutalkedtoLanalately?

No.WhywouldIhavetalkedtoLana?

Stop it, T.! I know you guys are planning a“surprise” bachelorette party for me at CrazyIvan’sinGenovia.

Oh,no!Howdidyoufindout?

Lanaalreadyaskedmeaboutit.ThenBorisspilledthebeansaboutittoMichael.Whichmeansyou’vebeentalkingtoLanaANDBoris.

Well . . . we wanted to do something special for youboth!

I don’t need anything special. I already have youguys!Andthere’snopointinthrowingmeacrazybachelorettepartywhenIcan’tevendrink.Anditwould be more fun to do something all together.MaybeweshouldgowiththeboystoBuenosAirestoeatsteaks.

Butitwon’tbeabachelorpartyifWEgo!

None of them are really bachelors, though, arethey? At least Michael isn’t, he’s going to be the

fatheroftwins.

TWINS??????

Oops,Tina, I’vegot togo,we’reat theO’Tooles’.Later!

WAIT!TWINS?????

CHAPTER73

5:45p.m.,Friday,May8WaitingRoom,CranbrookMemorialHospital

Well,thatcertainlydidnotgothewayIwasexpectingitto.Although thepeoplehere in thewaitingroomat theCranbrookMemorial

Hospitalarebeingverypleasant,whichismorethanIcansayforOlivia’sauntanduncle.

Actually,Catherinedidtrytobegraciousatfirst,invitingusinandservingcoffee, which of course I didn’t actually drink, but no other refreshment wasoffered.

Butherhusbandacted like a sullen schoolboy, saying, “Really, it’sup toOlivia todecidewhere shewants to live,and Ican tellyou, shewants to stayhere.Sheknowsshe’sbetteroffmovingtoQalifwithdown-to-earthpeoplesheknowsthantoGenoviawithabunchofroyalsshenevermetuntilacoupledaysago.”

Seriously?Inwhatuniverse?Iwantedtoask.Icouldn’ttellifhewasanglingformoremoneyorsimplybeingobtuse(to

quote a favorite phrase of Grandmère’s). It seemed pretty obvious tome thatOliviawantedtolivewithherfather,especiallyaftertheheartrendingwayshe’dcriedNoooo!whenshe’dlearnedherauntandunclehadarrivedinNewYorktotakeherbacktoNewJersey.

ButIsaid,exercisingsomeofmydiplomacyskills,“Well,whenOliviagetshomefromschool,we’llseewhatshehastosay.Untilthen,let’ssitandenjoythisdeliciouscoffeeandtheselovelygluten-freecookies.”Note:Theywerenotlovely.“Whateverherdecisionis,that’swhatwe’llabideby.”

Daddidnotlikemysayingthisonebit,Icouldtell,sincehekeptshifting

onthewhitecouchandlookingathisRolex.But what were we supposed to do? We’d arrived too early, and Olivia

wasn’thomeyet,andinanycase,itwasherdecision,nomatterwhatthecourtssaid.Iknewmydadwouldneverwanttomakeherunhappy,andhe’dcertainlydoeverythinghecouldtokeepanysortoflegalbattlewithheraunt—andRickO’Toole—outofcourtaswell.

IwasmakingsmalltalkwithCatherineO’TooleaboutherweddingtoRick—theyhad avery largephotoof their outdoorbeach ceremonyon thewall—when the front door opened and in walked my sister, the front of her whiteschooluniformblousecoveredinblood.

Idon’tthinkI’veeverscreamedsoloudinmylife.Then I jumped from the couch and ran over toOlivia, crying her name,

tryingtofigureoutwherethebloodwascomingfrom.It’sstrangehowdifferentlypeoplereactintimesofcrisis.Daddidtheexact

same thing I did, minus the screaming. Lars, who’d been slouched against achair, sprang up as if he’d been electrified and began calling the units of theRGG I’d asked to be sent to protectmy sister, demanding to knowwhat hadhappened.

ButhowdidOlivia’sauntandunclereact?Thetwoofthemdidn’tevengetupoffthecouch!NotuntilIspilledmycoffee(whenIjumpedup).

OnlythendidAuntCatherineleaptoherfeet.Andthenitwasonlytocleanherpreciouswhitecarpet.

“Olivia.”Dadwasrunninghisfingersupanddownhisyoungerdaughter’sarms, looking for broken bones. “Where are you hurt? Where is the bloodcomingfrom?Whodidthistoyou?Whodidthistoyou?”

“I’mokay,”Oliviasaid,throughsomecottontowelingshewasholdingtoherface.“It’sonlymynose.”

“She’s fine,” we were assured by a red-haired girl who’d come into thehousebehindher.“AnnabelleJenkinsjustpunchedherintheface.”

AllIcouldsayinresponsetothiswas“ThankGod.”Thatmay sound horrible, but what Imeant was,ThankGod it was only

Annabelle Jenkins and her fist, and not RoyalRabbleRouser with a gun, or aknife,oracid.Itcouldhavebeenso,somuchworse.Ifeltsorelieved.

But a split second later, I got angry. Not because I’d been wrong, but

because my little sister had been punched in the face, and apparently somepeople—like the school, and her uncle Rick’s two kids,who’d come slinkinginsidealongwithher,andwerestandingaround,smirkingatme—hadallowedittohappen.

Obviouslyyoucan’tprotectkidsfromeverything—likeIsaidearlier—butthere should be some reasonable protections, especially if you’re paying forthem,whichP.S.,Iam.

“WherewastheRoyalGenovianGuard?”Idemanded,glaringatLars,whowasstillonthephone.“Isentthemtoshadowherallday.Whydidn’ttheystopAnnabelle?”

“Annabelle’sdadsaidhewouldsuethem,”Oliviasaid,throughthecottontoweling.“AndtheentireCranbrookschooldistrict,iftheylaidonefingeronhisdaughter. They said they called to tell you, but you were in a meeting andcouldn’tbedisturbed.Ididn’tknowthemeetingwashere,aboutme.”

UncleRicklaughedfromhisplaceonthecouch.“Haha.ThatJenkins.Yougottaadmit,theguy’sgood.”

That’swhenDadlostit.Ithinkheactuallymighthavedonesomepunchingof his own if I hadn’t intervened and said, “Okay, that’s enough. I’m takingOliviatoadoctorrightnow.”

“Oh, please, you don’t have to do that,” Catherine said, lookingembarrassed. I couldn’thelpnoticing that throughout thewhole thingbetweenmydadandherhusband—whichhadgottenabitugly—shehadn’toncestoppedscrubbing at the coffee stain I’d left on her carpeting. “I’m sure it’s nothingserious,butourpediatricianisperfectlycapable—”

“You should notify your pediatrician that our doctor will be requestingOlivia’s records.” I tookmysister’shand.“Because Ibelieve this incidenthasmore thanadequatelyproved that this isn’tasafe—orstable—environmentforhertolivein.Ifyoudisagree,youmayhaveyourlawyercontactours.Comeon,Olivia.Let’sgogetyourthings.”

Ibegantuggingmysistertowardthestairssowecouldstartpackingupherstuff.Iwasreallymad.

But even though she was in obvious physical discomfort—something Iunderstood; my foot wasn’t feeling too great either—she lingered a little,wantingtoseewhatwasgoingtohappennext.

WhathappenednextwasthatourfatherstoppedglaringatheruncleRickandsaid,“Yes.Yes,ofcourse,Mia,you’reright.Let’sgo.”

AndhebentdowntopickupSnowball—who’dbecomeveryfascinatedbythecoffeestain,aswell—andfollowedustothestairs.

Butofcoursetheauntcouldn’tletitgo.“Butwhat about the promise Imade tomy sister?” she asked, coldly. “I

promisedherthatIwouldraiseherchildtobeasnormalaspossible—”“Youand Ibothknow,Catherine,”Dadsaid, inascrushinga toneas I’d

everheardhimuse,eveninParliament,“thatwhatElizabethwantedmostofallwas forherchild tobe loved.And fromwhat I’ve seen so far, that’s far fromwhat’shappeninghere.”

IsawOlivia’sauntanduncleexchangealook.Imighthavebeenreadingmoreintothatlookthanwasactuallythere,butIthoughtIsawguilt—guiltandmaybeevenalittleshame—intheireyes.

The next thing I knew, Olivia had been pulled from my grasp, andCatherinewaskneelingdownbeforeher.

“Olivia,”shesaid,inatearfulvoice.“Youknowperfectlywellthatweloveyou.Iknowwedidn’texactlyspoilyou,butthat’sbecausemysisterwantedyoutoknowwhatit’sliketoliveamongthecommonpeople.Shedidn’twantyoutogrowup tobesomesnobby, richprincesswhoonlycaresabouther looksandgettingonthecoversofmagazines.”

Shehadthenervetonarrowhereyesatme.What?Iwasthesnobbyrichprincessshewastalkingabout?

“That’snotwhatyouwant,isit,Olivia?”Catherineasked.“Togrowuptobesomerich,snobbyprincess?”

“No,”Oliviacried,lookinghorrified.“Ofcoursenot!”Catherine smiled.Her grip onOlivia’s arms loosened a little. “Oh, thank

goodness,”shesaid.“Youhadmeworried.”“Idon’twanttolivewithyoubecauseallyoucaredaboutwhenIwalkedin

wasgetting the stainoutofyour stupid carpet.”Oliviapointedatmydadandme.“Theycaredaboutwhathappenedtome.That’swhyIwanttogolivewiththem.Now,could someonepleasegiveme some ice?Becausemynose reallyhurts.”

If the twins turnouthalf aswonderful asOlivia, I’mgoing to feel like a

completesuccessasamother.Not,ofcourse,thatI’vehadanythingtodowithhowOlivia’sturnedout.

AssoonaswegettheX-rayresultstoletusknowforsurewhetherornothernoseisbroken(ifitis,we’regoingtohaveaconsultwithaplasticsurgeon),wecanallgohome.

Which, inOlivia’s case, is going tobeManhattan, and from there—mostlikelytomorrow,viatheroyaljet—Genovia.

No offense to my sister’s birthplace, but if I never see Cranbrook, NewJersey,again,Iwillbevery,veryhappy.

Oh,Michael’stexting:


Why is TMZ posting photos of you in an ER in NewJersey?Iseverythingallright???

LOL, everything is fine.Well,withme.O., on theother hand, got punched in the face by the schoolbully.She’sgoingtobeOKthough.

Good.That scaredme. I thought somethingwaswrongwithyou.Orthebabies.

Everythingisfinewithmeandthebabies.ExceptIamstarvingandthereisnothingtoeathere.

Come.Home.

Iamcominghome.Butfirstwe’retakingmysisterto her favorite restaurant as a special reward for

beingsobrave.

I’mafraidtoask.

Youshouldbe.It’sCheesecakeFactory.

WhenyougethomeI’mgoingtohaveaspecialrewardwaitingforYOUforbeingsobrave.

Oooh,isthatapromise?

Betterthanapromise.It’savow.

CHAPTER74

2:05p.m.,Saturday,June20

RoyalBedroom

PalaisdeGenoviaPrincipalitédeGenovia

Reader,Imarriedhim.Ha!I’vealwayswantedtowritethat!It’ssoperfect, IwishI’dmadeitup.ButIcan’t takethecredit: it’sfrom

JaneEyre,whichIhavetoconfessI’veneverreadinitsentirety(eventhoughit’s one of my favorite books) because I’ve never been able to handle thedepressingbitsatthebeginningwhereshe’sstuckintheorphanage.

And I’m certainly not going to read the depressing bits now. I’m underdoctor’sorderstoreadonlylovely,cheerful,nonstressfulthings,whichevenmymother—who is one of the people who forcedme to come up here to “rest”betweentheceremonyandreception,thoughItoldthemI’mnottired—saysisgoodadvice.

“IreadJ.R.R.Tolkien’sLordoftheRingsserieswhenIwaspregnantwithyou,” she admitted. “I’ve alwayswondered if that’s the reasonyou turnedoutthewayyouhave.”

Iassumedshemeantanatural-bornleader,likeAragorn,andnotananxioustroll-creature,likeGollum,whoisalwaysgoingaroundspeakinginalispabouthis“precious.”

Ididn’task,becausefrankly,Idon’twanttoknow.Toomanypeoplefrommy past have toldme toomany things I do not want to know lately. This isprobablyonly tobeexpectedwhenyougeta largegroupofpeople fromyourpast together all at the same time, but it’s still a little disheartening. Thebachelorette party was bad enough—though it turned out exactly the way Iwanted,justusgirlsatthepoolhereatthepalace.NotripstoCrazyIvan’s!

Except,ofcourse,LanahadtoshowusBabyIris’sbeauty-pageantportfolio(literally.Lanaengagedaprofessionalphotographerandhadheadshotstakenofherbaby).

ThenLilly had to cause a scandal in theRGGby being seen on securitycameras emerging from their barracks at 0600 (that is six o’clock in themorning) wearing only a secret smile and beach cover-up (and obviouslynothingunderneathit).

She’sdyingtotelluswhat(andwho)shewasdoinginthere,buteverytime

shestartsto,Iputmyfingersinmyearsandgo,“La,la,la,la,la.”Idonotwanttoknow(thoughofcourseIalreadydo).Mygoalwastohaveasdrama-freeaweddingasIcould.But this, I’ve discovered, is nearly impossible if you’re trying to put one

togetherinalittleoveramonth(Grandmèreinsistedwemoveupthedate,justas I suspected she would, so I wouldn’t be “showing in front of the entireworld”), especiallyone towhich two thousandguests are invited, and that theentireworldwillbewatching.

ThisispartlywhyIhaven’thadtimetoupdatethisjournalinsolong:it’snojokemovingyourself—andyourboyfriend—toaforeigncountry,planningaroyalwedding,gettingyourlittlesistersettledintohernewschool,andhavingmorningsicknessallatthesametime.

•Notetoself:Remembertocheckifmotion-sicknessmedicationissafeforpregnantwomen.Thedoctor(andTina)saiditwas,butdouble-checkwithiTriage.NowthatI’vefinallystoppedvomiting,Idon’twanttostartagainonmyhoneymoon,justbecausewe’respendingitonayacht.

Thenofcoursetherewas“theincident.”I’mnotsureIwanttobringituponsuchajoyousday,especiallysinceit

was really just a blip onmy happiness radar. Iwouldn’t even know anythingabout it myself if Michael hadn’t canceled his bachelor-party trip to BuenosAires.

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said when I asked him why, ascasually as if hewere saying, I’m going to go take a swim in the royal pool,which he does quite frequently. I often watch him from the balcony off ourbedroom.It’sanamazingsight.

“Michael,thatmakesnosense.I’mneveralone.Iliveinapalacewithmygrandmother,ahundredemployees—manyofwhomaretrainedinKravMaga,theartofIsraelicontactcombat—andmymother,father,halfbrother,andhalfsister,whoarestayinghereuntiltheirownpalaceisfinishedbeingrenovated.Inevergetaminute tomyself.GoandhavefuneatingdeadanimalswithBorisandyourlittleonlinefriends.”

Sothenhetriedtosayhedidn’t“wantabachelorparty,”anddidn’t“feellike” going toBuenosAires anyway,which Iknewwas a lie, because I often

caught him looking up “Best SteakRestaurants inArgentina” online (thewayotherpeoplecatchtheirsignificantotherslookingatporn).

SoreallyIhadnochoicebut tosichissisteronhim.Ihadtoknowwhatwasreallygoingon.Truthfully,IaskedLillytolookintoitmoreforTinathanforme,because Iwasbeginning tosuspect therewassomethingevencreepiergoing on with Boris than that he’d cheated on her with that single blogger.MaybeMichael had found out Boris was running an underage teen prostitutering,orsomething,with theBorettes,andhewanted tosteeras farawayfromhimaspossible(understandable).

ButLillysoonhadtherealstory,andthiswasfarfromit.IthadnothingatalltodowithBoris:

MichaelhaddiscoveredthetrueidentityofRoyalRabbleRouser. . .anditwassomeoneweknew!Someonefrommypast.

Someonesounlikely,I’dneverevenconsideredhimasasuspect.LillywasstillinNewYork,andIwashere,inGenovia,soshehadtocall

me.Shedidn’teventext.Orlookatthetimedifferencebeforedialing.“It’sJ.P.,”shesaid,beforeevensayinghello.“What?Who’sJ.P.?Whatareyoutalkingabout?Didyouknowit’sonein

themorninghere?Iwasasleep.”“Sorry. But RoyalRabbleRouser is J.P. I just got off the phone with

Michael,whoconfirmedit.”“Michael?Michael is downstairs in the billiard room, playing pool with

Lars.”“Yeah,heisnow.Beforethat,hewastalkingtome.Andhesaidnottotell

you,butwhenhepunched J.P. thatone time inyourgrandma’s apartment, healsostolehisphone,becausehewantedtoseewhoelsehe’dbeentryingtoselltickets to your wedding to. And that’s when he saw all J.P.’s posts asRoyalRabbleRouser,yourstalker.”

I’dgasped.“OhmyGod!”Lookingback,itmakesperfectsense.Idon’tknowwhyIdidn’tseeitright

away.It’sjustsounbelievablethatsomeoneIknowwouldbesoangrywithme,andmakesomanyhurtfulremarksaboutmeandmyfamily.

But who else would have so much reason to? Or perceived reason to,anyway, since ever since Imet him, J.P.’s alwayswanted to useme, for one

reasonoranother,andIwasneverwillingtogoalongwithanyofthem.NowallIcanthinkaboutishowmanyhourshewastedsittingthereinfront

ofthosevariouscomputers,loggedinassomeoneelse,spewinghatred,whenhecouldhavespent themdoingsomethingpositiveforhimselfandtheworld.Hehadthe talent—hisbookwasn’tmycupof tea,buta lotofpeoplewouldhavelovedit.Whattwistedpathwashefollowing?

Thewrongone,obviously.“Whydidn’tMichaeltellme?”IaskedLilly.“Because the next day you found out you were pregnant with twins,

dummy.Hedidn’twanttoupsetyou.Anyway,hesaysthere’snothingtoworryabout,becauseit’salltakencareof.”

“Whatdoesthatmean,it’salltakencareof?”I’ddemanded.“Howisitalltakencareof?”

“Well,haveyouheardfromRoyalRabbleRouserlately?”“No.”Itwastrue,whenIthoughtaboutit.Therehadn’tbeenasinglepost

or threat since that night I’d seen J.P. at Grandmère’s. But that wasn’tnecessarilyagoodthing.“OhmyGod,Lilly!WhatdidMichaeldotoJ.P.?”

“Michaeldidn’tdoanythingtohim.Don’tbestupid.HeturnedthephoneintotheRGG.”

“Oh,no,”Igroaned.“Oh, right,” Lilly scoffed. “You think J.P. is locked up in a holding cell

somewhereunderthepalacelikethepresidentdidtoOliviaPope’sboyfriendonScandal?”

“No,” I said. “Grandmère’snewboyfriendused toworkat Interpol. Ibetthat’swherethey’vegotJ.P.”

“Well,” Lilly said, “good. Then I guess his douchey dystopian novel isnevergoingtogetpublished.AndJ.P.haslearnedavaluablelesson:don’tmesswiththePrincessofGenovia.”

Obviously, none of this explained why Michael didn’t want to go toArgentina, so I had to confront him about it as soon as he returned to ourbedroom.

But he only expressed dismay about his sister’s betraying his confidenceandsaidnottoworry:LarshadtoldhimthatJ.P.had“volunteered”togoworkonaRussianicebreakerinorderto“clearhishead,”andwouldn’tbebacktothe

UnitedStatesforseveralmonths,possiblyyears.“Michael,”Isaidskeptically.“Volunteered?Thatdoesn’tsoundlikeJ.P.at

all.Hehatesphysicallabor.Andnoneofthisexplainswhyyoudon’twanttogotoArgentinaforyourbachelorparty.”

“Ialready toldyou,”he said, climbing intobed. “Idon’twant abachelorparty.IfIgotoBuenosAirestohavesteak,it’sonlygoingtobewithyou.”

Itwashardtoarguewiththat.Oh,speak—orwrite—ofthedevil:Michael’sjustcomeintocheckonme.

Helookssohandsomeinhismorningsuit!WhenIwascomingdowntheaisleand saw him standing there, looking so nervous—partly because of themanycamera people buzzing all around us, shining their extremely bright lightsdirectlyintooureyes—Icouldhardlybelievemyluck.

Butof course luckhadnothing todowith it.Webothhaveworkedveryhard—andhavebeenthroughalot—togettothisday.Weshouldgetsomesortofhazardpay just forputtingupwithGrandmère thesepast fewweeks.TherewereseveraltimesIthoughtImightactuallypackupandrunofftoBoraBoratoliveunderanassumedidentitytoescapeher.

Aftertonight,though,itwillbeallover.At least for twoweeks, while we’re on the yacht, andwe don’t have to

listentoherconstantyammeringabouthoweverysinglesolitarythingwedoiswrong...

“Whyaren’tyouresting?”Michaelwantstoknow.“Iamresting.”“Writinginyourdiaryisnotresting.”“Really?You’regoingtocriticizeme,too?”Onceyoubecomepregnant—especiallywithtwins,apparently—allanyone

cares about anymore (including your partner, sometimes) is what is growinginside your uterus, especially if you’re a person of royal heritage. Once theyrealize the tabloidswere right all along, and you really are carrying twins, allanyonewantstoknowis:

•Whatsexyourbabiesare.(MichaelandIdon’tevenknow.We’verequestedtobesurprised.)

•Whatyou’renamingthem(andtheywillhaveplentyofsuggestions,even

thoughyoudidn’task.Wehaveourownideasfornames,evenbetteronesthanLukeandLeia,suchasFrankandArthurandHelenandElizabeth.Butofcourseeveryonewillhatethese,sowe’rekeepingthemsecret).

•Touchingyourstomach,eitherforluckorjustbecauseyou’rethenew“People’sPrincess”...whichIguesswillmakethetwinsthe“People’sBabies,”whichisgood.Butseriously.Boundaries.Boundaries!

•Offeringadvice,fromparentingtipstohowmuchyououghttoberesting,whatyououghttobeeatingornoteating,drinking,doing,wearing,etc.

Butit’sgoodtobeliked,Iguess.Michaelgrinnedand satdownbesidemeon thebed, slightly jostlingFat

Louie.“I’mnotcriticizing,”hesaid.“I’mtakingcareofyou.That’smynewjob,

besidesfollowingtwostepsbehindyouatalltimes,protectingyouwithmylife,andcallingyou‘ma’am.’ ”

“Youdon’tactuallyhavetocallme‘ma’am’untilafter thecoronation,”Isaid,reachingouttogivehishandasqueeze.“Howaretheydoingdownthere?”

Henoddedtowardtheopenbalconydoors,throughwhichIcouldhearourparents and siblings, all the groomsmen, bridesmaids, visiting dignitaries, andotherweddingguests—butmostespeciallyGrandmère—raucouslylaughingandenjoying their champagne and mini grilled cheese sandwiches (I did win onthose.But there’s no tacoor nachobar.We are, however, having lobstermacandcheeselaterthisevening)intheroyalgardensbelow.

“You can’t tell by that racket?” he said. “They’re having a terrible time.Justawful.Theceremonywasadisaster.”

“No,itwasn’t,”Isaid.“I’vebeenwatchingit.”Ihelduptheremote.“It’srecorded.TheyshoweditonCNN.Doyouwanttosee?”

Hegroaned.“No.WhywouldIwanttoseemyenormousheadonCNN?”“Yourheadisn’tenormous.Lana’shusband’sheadisenormous.”Michael’seyeswidened.“Iknow!Haveyouseenthatguy?What’swrong

withhim?”

“Idon’tknow,butifourbabieshaveheadsthatbig,I’mgettingaC-sectionfor sure. I totally understandnowwhatLanawas talking aboutwhen shewastellingmewhyshegotone.”

“That iscold,”Michael said. “Whatelsedogirls talkabout,besides theirhusbands’enormousheads?Wow,Ijustheardthatcomeoutofmymouth,anditsoundedwaydirtierthanImeantitto.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I do know I’m starting to feel infantilized.WhenamIgoingtobeallowedtobustoutofhereandrejointheparty?”

“Whatdidthedoctorsay?”“Thedoctorsaidtwohours.Tinasaidthedoctorwasbeingreactionary.”“Oh, and Tina has her medical degree, so we should definitely listen to

her.”“Well,IthinkTinaisfeelingabitbetterthanshehasinawhile.”“Yes,I thinkyoucouldsay that,”Michaelagreedwithagrin,buthewas

toomuchofagentlemantoadd,Itoldyouso.Tinawasnot theonlyonewho’dbeensurprised todiscoverBorisP.was

the “top-notch live entertainment” Grandmère had lined up for the receptioninsteadoftheDJMichaelandIhadrequested.

Iwasalittlemiffedatfirst.WasItogetnothingIwantedatmywedding?Well, except a groomwho’s theman ofmy dreams, of course. Andmy

parents,happilytogetherforthefirsttimeinmymemory.Andanewlittlesister,andallofmybestfriendsshowingup,aswellaswhat’sturnedouttobeatrulygorgeous gown, Sebastiano having de-emphasized my belly by raising thewaistline a little, and adding diamondMs—forMichael andMia—instead ofbowsasthe“pickups”Lillyhadsuggested.Theynotonly“pickup”thefulltulleskirt,theypickupthelightandglitteroutrageously!

ButevenBorisbeingherehas turnedoutall right,becausehe’sagreed tosing every single song onMichael’s playlist, and also—quite dramatically, atlastnight’s rehearsaldinner in thegrand receptionhall, no less—showedTinathat thephotosofhimandthatbloggerwere, indeed,Photoshopped,ashehadinsistedallalong.

“Look,they’reofyouandme,”heinsisted(which,ifshe’deverbotheredtolook at them, like Lilly and I had encouraged her to do, she’d have known).“Remember the oneswe took that weekend inAsheville? She cut and pasted

copies of her own head over yours. I don’t know how she got hold of them.Hackedmyphone,Iguess.YoualwaystoldmeIneededabetterpasswordthantheoneIuse...Tina.”Heblushed.“Iguessitwasn’tthathardforhertofigureout.”

This,ofcourse,mortifiedTina—shedidn’twantanyofusknowingsheandBorishadnudephotosofeachother.

ButIthoughtitwassweet...anditalsoallowedmetobeabletosagelypointout,“Lethe—orshe—whodoesnothaveasetofnudephotoscastthefirststone.”

(ThisdidnotamuseGrandmère,however,especiallysinceIsaiditinfrontofthepope.ButIthinkitmusthaveamusedhim,sinceit’scurrentlyoneofthetopquotesonsocialmedia,Inoticedawhileago.)

“Maybethenextweddingwegoto,”Isaid,reachinguptoadjustMichael’spalegraytie,“willbeTina’stoBoris.”

Heconsideredthis.“Maybe...Ithinkit’smorelikelytobeyourdad’stoyourmom.”

“Another royal wedding?” I tried to raise my arms over my head in adramaticgesturetoshowmyfrustration,butdoingsocausedthebodiceofmyweddinggowntoslip,exposingmoreofmycleavagethanIintended.

That’swhenMichaelstoodupandbeganremovinghisjacket.“Excuseme,”Isaid.“Whatareyoudoing?”“Makingmyselfmorecomfortable,”hereplied.“Aren’tIsupposedtowear

somethingdifferenttonight,anyway?”“Yes.Atux.Butthat’sinlikefourhours.”“Thisisn’tatux?”“No.It’samorningsuit.”He shook his head. “I’m never going to get used to this royal thing. So

manyrules.Toomany...that’swhatyoursistersays.”“Whendidshesaythat?”“Earlier,whenyourgrandmothertoldhertobelessliberalinherthrowing

oftheflowerpetalsfromherbasket.”Igroanedsomemore.“Shewasn’tevensupposedtobeaflowergirl!She’s

tooold.Shewassupposedtobeabridesmaid.”“Itdoesn’tmatter.Ithinkshewasreallyhappytoday,”hesaid,drapinghis

jacketover thebackof a chair. “She toldme just now that she loveshernewschool.She’stakingartlessons.”

“Well,that’sgood.”I’m the only one who isn’t wild about the Royal Academy, and that’s

becauseMadameAlain,fromtheconsulate,istheheadmistress,whichistotallymyownfault.I’mtheonewhoaskedforhertobetransferredbacktoGenovia.

Howwas I supposed to know it was going to be as headmistress of theschoolmylong-lostlittlesisterwasgoingtobeattending?

NowIstillhavetoseeMadameAlainallthetime,likewheneverOliviahasaschoolconcertorhorse-ridingcompetition.

Butwhatever.Olivia’shappy,andthat’swhatmatters.Michaelbeganstrippingoffhistie,andthenhisshirt.“Michael,” I said curiously, leaning up on my elbows. “What are you

doing?”“Joiningyou.”Oncehewasdowntohisboxerbriefs,heboundedontothe

bedbesideme,greatlydisturbingFatLouie,whogavehimanoffendedstareandretreatedtotheoppositesideofthemattress.“Ifyouhavetorest,sowillI.”

“But,Michael—you’llmisstheparty.”“No,Iwon’t,”hesaid,liftingmylefthandandkissingthenewringonmy

weddingfinger—thisonehavingoncegracedthefingerofmyroyalancestressPrincessMathilda. “Theactual receptiondoesn’t start for fourhours.You justtoldmethat.Andtheonlyrealpartyiswhereveryouare,anyway.”

“Aw,Michael,”Isaid,myeyesfillingwithtearsathissweetness.But then of course nearly everything makes me cry these days, even

commercials for Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwiches, and of course when allthosesweet littleQalifichildrenheldthat teapartyformeonthedeckof theircruiseship,tosaythankyouforfindingtheirfamiliesahome(evenifit’sonlyatemporary one, untilwe can locate housing for themon dry land) and also towishmeluckasbothabrideandthenewreigningmonarchofGenovia.

EvenPaolomademecryearlier,whenhedidmyhairbeforethewedding,and leaneddown toask, “Sohow thosediamond shoes fitting today?Still tootight?”

I’dliftedmyskirttoshowhim.“Swarovskicrystals,”Isaid,smiling.“Butthey’refeelingprettygood,thanksforasking.”

Michaeldroppedhislipstomyshoulder,whichhappenedtobebare,asthebodiceofmydresskeptdippinglowerandlowereverytimeIgestured,whichIhappentodoalot.

“Isn’t there some royal rule that thebrideandgroomhave to showproofthatthey’veconsummatedthemarriage?”

“Michael,”Isaid,myvoiceslightlymuffled,ashe’dloweredhislipstomymouth. “That’s not necessary. First of all, it’s the twenty-first century. Andsecondofall,I’malreadypregnant.”

“Oh.”He looked down atme, his adorable dark eyebrows furrowedwithdisappointment. “Well, I thinkwe should do it anyway, just to be on the safeside.”

“Oh,youdo?”“Yes,Ido.”Igrinnedathim.“Whodoyouthinkyouare,anyway,bossingmearound

likethat,aprince,orsomething?”“Why,yes,Mrs.Moscovitz,”hesaid,andkissedme.“Ido.”

ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

Meg Cabot was born in Bloomington, Indiana. In addition to her adultcontemporary fiction she is the author of the bestselling young-adult fictionseriesThePrincessDiaries.Morethantwenty-fivemillioncopiesofhernovelsfor children and adults have soldworldwide.Meg lives inKeyWest, Florida,withherhusband.

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