Princess in Pink (20 page)

Friday, May 9, 7:04 p.m.

Success! Finally, I can hear myself think.

Michael just emailed to let me know that he and the band would probably be up all night practising for their first big gig. But it

is fully all right for the GUY to show up at the prom with dark circles under his eyes (look at that guy who ended up at the

Time Zone dance with Melissa Joan Hart in Drive Me Crazy}. It's just not OK for the GIRL to look less than petal smooth and daisy fresh.

The guys in the band aren't exactly stoked about the whole playing-at-the-prom thing. In fact, rumour has it Trevor even said, 'Oh, man, can't we just stick forks in our eyes, instead?'

But Michael says he told him a gig is a gig, and that beggars can't be choosers.

Michael signed off on his email with this:

See you tomorrow night. Love, M

Tomorrow night. Oh yes. Tomorrow night, my love, when I enter the prom on your arm, and see the jealous gazes of all of

my peers. Well, just Lana, because she's the only freshman besides me who is going. Except for Shameeka. Only she would never look at me jealously, because she is my friend.

Oh, and Tina. Because it turns out Tina is going to the prom, too. Because of course Boris is in Michael's band, and since he

is going to be there, he is allowed to bring one guest, and he chose Tina, because she, as he put it at lunch today, 'is my new muse, and sole reason for living.'

Oh, how thrilled Tina looked to hear those words uttered from the lips of her new love! I swear, she practically choked on her Fruitopia. She beamed across the table at Boris, and though I never thought I would write these words, I swear they are true:

Boris almost looked handsome as he basked beneath the hearthglow of her affection.

Seriously. Like, even his underbite didn't look that pronounced. And his chest kind of puffed out.

Either that, or he's been working out or something.

AHHHHH! The phone! Oh please God let it be my dad to say the strike is over and he's sending the limo down to pick Grandmere up ...

Friday, May 9, 7:10 p.m.

It wasn't my dad. It was Michael, to ask if I agree with the line-up of songs Skinner Box plans on playing tomorrow. It

includes many old prom standbys, such as The Moldy Peaches' 'Who's got the Crack' and Switchblade Kittens' 'All Cheerleaders Die', in addition to edgier stuff such as 'Mary Kay' by Jill Sobule and 'Call the Doctor' by Sleater-Kinney.

This is not to mention Skinner Box's original songs, such as 'Rock Throwing Youths' and 'Princess of my Heart'.

I did feel compelled to suggest Michael substitute 'Rock Throwing Youths' with something a little less controversial, like

'When It's Over' by Sugar Ray or 'She Bangs' by Ricky Martin, but he said he would sooner show up in the middle of Times Square wearing nothing but a cowboy hat (oh, how I wish he would!). So I suggested some old school Spoon or White

Stripes instead.

Then Michael went, 'What is all that shouting in the background?'

'Oh,' I said airily. 'That's just Grandmere and my mom arguing. Grandmere keeps insisting that my mom let her smoke in the Loft, but Mom says it's not good for me, or for the baby. Grandmere just accused my mother of being a fascist. She says

when she had Hitler and Mussolini over to the palace for tea at the height of World War Two, they both let her smoke, and

if it was good for those guys, it should be good enough for my mom.'

'Uh, Mia,' Michael said. 'You do realize that your grandmother just turned sixty-five.'

'Yeah,' I said, remembering Grandmere's birthday with all too much clarity: she had insisted on me going back to Genovia

with her to celebrate it, only I had had midterms
(THANK GOD) and so was unable to. Don't think I didn't hear about

THAT ad nauseam for weeks.

'Well, Mia,' Michael said. 'I know maths is not your strong point, but you do know that your grandmother could only have

been about five years old during the height of World War Two. Right? I mean, she couldn't have had Hitler and Mussolini for tea at the Genovian Palace, because she wouldn't have even been living there yet, unless she married your grandfather when

she was like, four.'

I was stunned into total and complete silence by that one. I mean, can you believe it? My own grandmother has been lying

to me MY WHOLE LIFE. All Grandmere ever tells me about is how she saved the palace from being shelled by the Nazi hordes by having Hitler over for soup or something. All this time, I've thought about how brave she was, and what a diplomat, stopping the imminent military incursion into Genovia with SOUP and her charming (well, back then, maybe) smile.

AND NOW I FIND OUT IT'S NOT EVEN TRUE????????????????????????

Oh, my God. She's good. Really good.

Although - and I never thought I would say this - it's sort of hard to be mad at her.

Because . . . well. . .

She did save the prom.

Friday, May 9, 7:30 p.m.

Tina just called. She is kevelen over getting to go to the prom. It is, she says, like a dream come true. I told her I couldn't

agree more. She asked me how I thought we'd come to be so lucky.

I told her: Because we are both kind and pure of heart.

Friday, May 9, 8:00 p.m.

Oh, my God. I never thought I would say this, but poor Lilly.

Poor, poor Lilly.

She just found out that Boris is taking Tina to the prom. She overheard Michael and I talking a little while ago. Lilly is on

the phone with me now, barely able to speak, she is trying so hard to hold back her tears.

'M-Mia,' she keeps choking. 'W-What have I d-done?'

Well, it is very clear what Lilly's done: ruined her life, that's all.

But of course I can't tell her that.

So instead I went on about how a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle and about how Lilly will learn to love again, blah blah blah. Basically all the same stuff Lilly and I said to Tina back when she got dumped by Dave Farouq El-Abar.

Except of course that Boris didn't dump Lilly: SHE dumped him.

But I can't point this out to Lilly, as it would be like kicking her when she was already down.

It is sort of hard dealing with Lilly's personal crisis when a) I am so happy, and b) my mom and Grandmere are still fighting

in the background.

I just had to excuse myself for a moment and put the phone down. Then I went out into the living room and shrieked, 'Grandmere, for the love of God, would you please call Les Hautes Manger and ask them to hire Jangbu back so you

can go return to your suite at the Plaza and leave us in PEACE?'

But Mr. Gianini, who was sitting at the kitchen table, pretending to be reading the paper, went, 'I think it's going to take

a little more than young Mr. Pinasa getting his job back to end this strike, Mia.'

Which I must say is extremely disappointing to hear. Because I can barely find anything in my room, due to the fact that Grandmere's stuff is strewn everywhere. It is a little demoralizing to be looking around in my underwear drawer for a pair of Queen Amidala panties only to find the BLACK SILK AND LACE THONGS Grandmere wears. My grandma has sexier underwear than me. This is fully disturbing. I will probably be in therapy for years because of it, too.

But no one seems to worry about the mental health of the children, do they? So when I came back into my room just now

and picked up the phone, Lilly was still going on about Boris. Really. It's like she doesn't even know I was gone.'. . . but I

just never appreciated what we had together until it was gone,' she's saying.

'Uh-huh,' I go.

'And now I am going to grow old and die a spinster with maybe some cats or something. Not that there is anything wrong

with that, because, of course, I don't need a man to be fulfilled as a human being, but still, I always pictured myself with a

live-in lover at the very least. . .'

'Uh-huh,' I go. I just now noticed to my extreme annoyance that Rommel has decided to use my backpack as his own

personal bed. Also that Grandmere has very cavalierly draped her sleep mask over one of my Disney Princess snowglobes.

'And I know that I took him for granted and never even let him get to second base, but seriously, he can't really think Tina is going to let him, can he? I mean, she is fully the type of girl who will demand a marriage proposal at the very least before she even lets him look under her shirt. . .'

Ooooh. This conversation suddenly got very interesting. 'Really? You and Boris never got to second base?'

'Well, it never really came up,' Lilly said, sounding very forlorn.

'What about you and Jangbu?'

Silence on the other end of the phone. Guilty silence, though. I could tell.

Still, it's good to know she and Boris never engaged in any full-frontal chestal activities. I mean, it will make Tina happy ... as soon as I can get off the phone with Lilly and tell her, I mean.

I wonder if Michael and I will get to second base tomorrow night... after all, I'll be wearing my first strapless gown.

And it IS the prom . . .

Saturday, May 10, 7 a,m.

One would think that a PRINCESS would get to sleep in on the day of her first PROM.

BUT OH NO.

Instead of being wakened to the sound of birdsong, like princesses in books, I was wakened to the sound of Rommel

shrieking as Fat Louie beat him senseless for getting into his bowl of Fancy Feast.

I am having a hard time summoning up any real sympathy for Rommel. After all, if it weren't for his behaviour on my birthday, he wouldn't be in this position right now. Although it is wrong to think Rommel could really have behaved any differently. He didn't exactly ASK Grandmere to bring him along to my birthday dinner. And it is clear to me now, having lived with him for several days, diat Rommel, more than anyone I know, suffers from Asperger's syndrome.

Oh, God. I can hear the Gorgon stirring even now . . .

Maybe if I go grab my prom dress and run out of the door now, I can hightail it uptown to Tina's and prepare for my Big Night in the relative privacy of her place . . .

Oh, my God. That's it. That's exactly what I'll do! Why didn't I think of it before? I hate to leave my mom and Mr G alone with Grandmere all day again, but really, what choice do I have? THIS IS THE PROM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If ever there was a time for emergency action, this is it.

Saturday, May 10, 2 p.m.

Well, I did it. I escaped from Casa Horrifico.

Tina and I are safely ensconced in her room, having our pores unclogged by heat-action mud masks. We just had our nails done at Miz Nail down the street (well, I basically just had my cuticles done, since I don't really have any nails) and, in a little while, Mrs. Hakim Baba's hairdresser is coming over to do our coiffures.

This is so how you are supposed to spend your Prom Day: beautifying yourself instead of listening to your mother and your grandmother bicker over who drank the last of the PediaLyte (Grandmere, it turns out, likes it with a splash of vodka).

Of course, I feel badly that my mother doesn't get to share in this very important day in my formative development as a

woman. However, she has more important things to worry about. Such as gestating. And doing her breathing exercises, to keep herself from killing Grandmere.

Reports from the strike negotiations are not promising. Last time we turned on New York One, the Mayor was urging all

New Yorkers to stock up on staples such as bread and milk, since we were no longer going to be able to turn to our local Chinese restaurants or pizzerias for sustenance.

Really, I don't know what Mr. G and Mom and Grandmere are going to eat without delivery from Number One Noodle Son. They'd better hope they can pick up some prepared food at Jefferson Market. . .

Not that any of that is my concern. Not today. Because today, the only thing I am going to worry about is looking beautiful for the prom.

Because today, I am just like any other girl on her prom day. Today, I am a

PROM

PRINCESS
!!!!!

Saturday, May 10, 8 p.m., in the limo on the way to the prom

Oh, my God, I am so excited I can barely contain myself. Tina and I look FABULOUS, even if I do say so myself. When

the boys see us — we are meeting them at the prom, as they had to go early to set up - they are going to PLOTZ. Of course,

it does suck a little that Tina and I, instead of just having adorable little beaded clutches at our sides, have to bring along a couple of bodyguards. Seriously. They never mention this in the Seventeen Magazine prom issue. You know: How to Accessorize Your Bodyguard.

You should have heard Lars and Wahim grousing about having to get into tuxes. But then I reminded them that Mademoiselle Klein was going to be there, and that to my certain knowledge she was going to be wearing a dress with a slit up the side.

That seemed to spark their interest, and they didn't even complain when Tina and I pinned on their matching boutonnieres.

They look so cute together . . . kind of like Siegfried and Roy. Minus the tigers, and fake tans and all.

I didn't mention that Mr. Wheeton was going to be there, too . . . and that, in fact, he'd be escorting Mademoiselle Klein. Somehow, I didn't think that information would be very well received.

Oh, my God, I am so nervous, I am actually SWEATING. I am telling you, fifteen is turning out to be the best age EVER.

I mean, already I have got to play my first game of Seven Minutes in Heaven AND I'm going to my first ever prom ... I truly

am the luckiest girl in the world. Oh, my gosh. WE'RE HERE!!!!!!!!!!!

May 10, 9 p.m., The Empire State Building Observation Deck

I never thought I would say this, but Grandmere rules.

Seriously. I am SO glad she brought Rommel to my birthday dinner, and that he escaped, and that Jangbu Pinasa tripped

over him, and that Les Hautes Manger fired him, and that Lilly adopted his cause and created a city-wide hotel, restaurant,