by Meg Cabot
Even my grandmother has a boyfriend.
Anyway, she and Dad just showed up out of the blue, and you should have seen my mom’s face. She looked about ready to heave. Especially when Grandmère started bossing her around about how messy the loft is (I’ve been too busy lately to clean).
To distract Grandmère from my mom, I told her I’d walk her back to her limo, and on the way I told her all about Josh, and she was way interested, since the story had everything in it that she likes, reporters and cute boys and people getting their hearts totally stomped on and stuff like that.
Anyway, while we were standing on the corner saying good-bye until next week ( YES! No princess lessons for a whole week! She shoots; she scores!) the Blind Guy walked by, tapping his cane. He stopped at the corner and stood there, waiting for his next victim to come along and help him cross the street. Grandmère saw this and totally fell for it. She was like, "Amelia, go and help that poor young man."
But, of course, I knew better. I said, "No way."
"Amelia!" Grandmère was shocked. "One of the most important traits in a princess is her unfailing kindess to strangers. Now, go and help that young man cross the street."
I said, "No way, Grandmère. If you think he needs help so much, you do it."
So Grandmère, all bent out of shape—and I guess intent on showing me how unfailingly kind she is—went up to the Blind Guy and said in this fakey voice, "Let me help you, young man. . . . "
The Blind Guy grabbed Grandmère by the arm. I guess he liked what he felt, because the next thing I knew, he was going, "Oh, thank you so much, ma’am," and he and Grandmère were crossing Spring Street.
I didn’t think the Blind Guy was going to try to feel up my grandmother. I really didn’t, or I wouldn’t have let her help him. I mean, Grandmère is no spring chicken, if you know what I mean. I couldn’t imagine any guy, even a blind one, feeling her up.
But next thing I knew, Grandmère was yelling her head off, and both her driver and our neighbor who used to be a man came running out to help her.
But Grandmère didn’t need any help. She whacked the Blind Guy across the face with her purse so hard his sunglasses went flying off. After that there was no doubt about it: The Blind Guy can see.
And let me tell you something: I don’t think he’ll be taking any more trips down our street for a while.
After all that yelling, it was almost a blessing to go inside and work on my Algebra homework for the rest of the day. I needed some peace and quiet.
About the Author
Meg Cabot has lived in Indiana, California, and France, and has worked as an assistant dorm manager at a large urban university, an illustrator, and a writer of historical romance novels (under a different name). She is still waiting for her real parents, the king and queen, to come and restore her to her rightful throne. She currently resides in New York City with her husband and a one-eyed cat named Henrietta.
Visit Meg’s website at: www.megcabot.com
About this Title
This eBook was created using ReaderWorks®Publisher 2.0, produced by OverDrive, Inc.
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Document ID: 029c75e3-0899-4a10-a7d0-c93755b6222e
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 18.4.2011
Created using: calibre 0.7.52 software
Document authors :
Meg Cabot
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