by Meg Cabot
would have kept such a detailed record of another person's complaints about their gastritis.
I told Dr. Gonzales that it was no bigdeal, that I write down everything, really. Then he said the funniest
thing. He said: "That's quite a skill."
Wow! It almost made me think maybe being able to write isn't such a bad talent, after all! I mean, it isn't
as cool as being able to use a nail gun, and all. But hey, it might not be totally useless.
Then Dr. Gonzales turned to Michael and said, "We're out of hot-dog buns for the celebration barbecue
tonight. If I stay here with Mitchell and Stefano, do you think you could go into town and pick some up?"
and he handed Michael the keys to his Dodge Chevy!
And it turns out Michael can drive! He has a driver's license and everything! He learned two summers
ago at his parents' country house inAlbany .
There are very few boys who live inManhattan who know how to drive, on account of hardly anyone
owning a car inNew York City .
So Michael said, "Sure, Dr. Gonzales."
For a minute I thought a Spring Break miracle had occurred...you know, that Michael and I would be
alone, in a motor vehicle, miles from anybody else, and would finally get a chance to feel our two hearts
beat as one...
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That is, if I could get cleaned up fast enough.
But I needn't have worried. Because no sooner did Michael get those keys in his hands than we were
descended upon by the rest of our group, who all demanded to join us. I tried not to look too depressed
as Lars, Lilly, Boris, Tina, and PeterTsu piled into the truck with us. Their enthusiasm was a little bit
infectious, I have to admit.
Town was big disappointment, though. I'd forgotten that Mrs.Harmeyer had said there was nothing to
do in it. There is not even a single Chinese restaurant where you can go for cold sesame noodles. We
went to the grocery store and got the hot-dog buns, and Lilly was all, "Finally, I can get a bagel!" but
they didn't even have any, not even the Lender's kind in a bag.
So then we were all kind of depresses on account of the no-bagel-and-no-cold-sesame-noodle thing.
But when we got back in the truck, Michael went, "Well, there's one thingWest Virginia has
thatManhattan doesn't," and he started driving.
I thought Michael was talking about theMothman , you know, from that movie, and I couldn't think what
was so great about that because all theMothman does is call people on the phone and say in a scary
voice, "Stay away from the chemical plant!", which isn't really useful information to anyone.
But it turns out Michael wasn't talking about theMothman . He was talking about Dairy Queen! Yes! It
turns out there was a Dairy Queen right outside Hominy Knob! There are no Dairy Queens inManhattan
, except for a gross one nobody but tourists ever goes to in Penn Station.
We were soexcited, we piled out of the truck and rushed up to the girl in the window. Everybody got
something different. Lars got a cherry slush. Lilly got a peanut buster parfait. Boris got a Heath Bar bite
blizzard. PeterTsu gota Coke slush. Tina got a low-cal yogurt on account of the fact that PeterTsu was
looking. Michael got an Oreo cookie blizzard. I got a chocolate-dipped vanilla soft serve.
And it was SO good! After all our hand work, and the sleeping in tents and the Port-O-Lets and the wet
wipes and slathering on cherryChapStick for nothing and finding out that I actually have a useful talent
after all, that chocolate-dipped vanilla cone was really the most delicious thing I had eaten in my whole
life.
We were all enjoying our ice cream, leaning against the side of the Dodge Chevy in the soft pre-spring
sunshine, when a large black limo slithered into the Dairy Queen parking lot. I swear I nearly dropped my
vanilla cone as the chauffeur came around to open the rear passenger door, and out popped
"Grandmère!"I cried, barely able to believe my eyes.
"Amelia,"Grandmère said, looking around in distaste. She was dressed in a big feathered purple velvet
coat, withRommel in one arm and a purse in the other. All the residents of Hominy Knob who happened
to be in the vicinity could not take their eyes off her. "You're looking ...fit."
"Grandmère," I said. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going toPalm Springs ."
"I do go there. I thought I would stop by to see you on my way home. I've been to your,er , work site."
"Really?"I was still shocked to seeGrandmère in Hominy Knob. "Did you see the house we built?"
"I did,"Grandmère said. "I must admit, when you told me this is what you wanted to do with your
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Spring Break, I thought you were mad. But I met Dr. Gonzales, and he seems like a very nice man. And
your house is... adequate. That is not, however, why I am here. I've taken rooms at the Hampton Inn
sadly, the finest quarters I was able to procure. I thought perhaps you all might like to come back with
me and shower before your little celebration dinner, to which Dr. Gonzales has very kindly invited me. I
understand the bathing conditions at the camp are on the primitive side, and all of you have a very long
bus ride ahead of you tomorrow."
We piled back into the truck without another word. Take a shower? No one needed to ask us twice.
The thought that we might, at long last, be able to scrape four days of sweat and dew from our bodies
was even better than ice cream even better, I must admit, than the prospect of uninterrupted kissing.
So we all followedGrandmère's limo to the motel, where she'd taken seven rooms for herself and
Rommel , her bodyguards, her personal maid, her assistant, her chauffeur, and her clothes. Everybody
got to fully submerge themselves under nice hot water and use some clean towels for a change. I myself
borrowed some ofGrandmère'sChanel No. 5 and fullyspritzed my clothes with it. Bliss!!!! Now there
was NO WAY my boyfriend would be able to resist me.
Although when I presented myself to him, in all of my squeaky-clean glory, by the ice machine in the
Hampton Inn hallway, any attempt Michael might have made to kiss me was cruelly thwarted by
Grandmère's maid, who came strolling by withRommel on a leash, because it was time for "walkies".
After we had all finished washing away the sawdust and dew, we politely thankedGrandmère and said
we had to be going back to camp in order to deliver the hot-dog buns. When we got there, we found out
that Mrs.Harmeyer had given birth to a healthy six-pound-five-ounce baby girl. Butwhat REALLY blew
me away was when Dr. Gonzales said, "And, Mia, theHarmeyers said to tell you that they named her
after you."
"Really?"I was flattered. "They named their baby Mia?"
Dr. Gonzales looked uncomfortable. "Uh," he said."Not exactly. They named her Princess."
PrincessHarmeyer . Oh, well. It's still nice to know I have left my mark on Hominy Knob.Sort of.
After the celebration dinner which was really nice; they seemed to have run out of corn products Dr.
Gonzales built a campfire and we roasted marshmallows. Michael got out his guitar and we all sang that "
Kumbaya" song, the one that makes me feel like crying every time I hear it.
Then to show our West Virginia hosts some New York City "flava," Lilly, and Tina, and I sang our
version of Destiny's Child's "Survivor," which we d
o very well (Lilly even let me beBeyoncé for a
change).Grandmère clapped like crazy, even though Lars laughed so hard that he almost choked on a
s'more and Mrs. Hill had to smack him on the back.
Then the host families sang aWest Virginia song that was very sad, about a girl who may have been born
poor white trash, but Fancy was her name. It was all about how Fancy used her talents to get ahead in
life. She never complained about having the WRONG KIND of talents, she just used what God gave
her. That, I realized, it was what I needed to start doing: stop wishing for better talents, and just learn to
use the one I have to the best of my ability.
I sighed pretty hard when I thought of this, and Michael must have thought I was sad or something, since
he put his arm around me. YES!!!!!!!! The guy was finally starting to come around.
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Then we had some nice passionate moments making out near his tent while he was supposed to be
putting his guitar away.
All I can say is....thank you. THANK YOU, GRANDMÈRE!!!!Because without her and the use of her
shower, Michael and I might never have developed the very great appreciation for the theology of the
hammer that we have right now.
Wednesday, March 16, 10 p.m., the loft
I amhome!!!!!AT LAST!!!!!!!!
The bus ride back fromWest Virginia was SO much better than the bus ride there. For one thing,
Principal Gupta made sure Boris was good and dosed with Dramamine before she left him anywhere
near the parking lot. And then everybody was so tired, they all fell asleep before we even got onto
Highway 64.
When the bus finally pulled up in front ofAlbertEinsteinHigh School and everyone started piling off to
collect their bags from Charlie, there was a lot of hugging and "See you Monday" going on from people
who before the trip hadn't been friends. Like between us and PeterTsu .
The funniest part was, Dr. Gonzales came up to me, looking all embarrassed and went, "Princess Mia,
please tell your grandmother that I enjoyed meeting her very much. She is truly a dynamic woman."
Whoa. Looks like I'm not the only Renaldo who turns out to have a secret talent.
I am so happy to be home, I ran around kissing everything I'd missed, including Fat Louie, the mattress
on my bed, my bathtub, the refrigerator, and the TV.
But most of all I kissed my mom, and told her that even thoughWest Virginia is all right and everything, it
is really true what Dorothy says in The Wizard of Oz, about there being no place like home.
"Even if you're on Spring Break?" my mom wanted to know.
"Even if you're on Spring Break," I said.
"Even if you're a princess?" my mom asked.
"Especially if you're a princess," I said.
And them I picked up the phone and called Number One Noodle Son and ordered us all some cold
sesame noodles for dinner.
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FB2 document info
Document ID: 0692e9f6-9a0f-49ec-bf0c-85df87bca44b
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 18.4.2011
Created using: calibre 0.7.52 software
Document authors :
Meg Cabot
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