by Meg Cabot
Luisa said, ‘Kee-yow, Your Highness,’ and started laughing.
So then I took out my notebook and said nothing. She is so annoying!
That’s when Queen Amina leaned over to ask me, ‘How long have you been drawing, Princess Olivia? You’re quite good at it.’
I couldn’t believe it! I was freaking out. Not only is Queen Amina a queen, and very beautiful, but she’s a high school boarding student, and very tall. She is about six foot two and on the RGA football team (which is co-ed). According to the rumours, she scored twenty-seven points against The Royal Academy in Switzerland (TRAIS), the RGA’s fiercest rival.
‘I’ve been drawing all my life,’ I squeaked. ‘Thank you so much, Your Royal Majesty!’
In the dining room we’re supposed to address one another by proper title. But they’re all so hard to remember:
King or Queen – Your Majesty
Prince or Princess – Your Highness
Duke or Duchess – Your Grace
Earl or Countess – Lord or Lady
Baron or Baroness – also Lord or Lady
Everyone else – Sir or Ma’am
‘May I show your drawing to the rest of the table?’ Queen Amina asked.
I nearly choked. ‘Yes, Your Majesty, you may.’
I couldn’t believe it! A queen liked my drawing enough to show it to other people!!!
‘Cool drawing,’ said several of them.
All except Luisa. She looked mad, probably because her boring story got cut off.
‘Excuse me,’ Luisa said. ‘Did I happen to mention that the gown I’m changing into for the reception is by Claudio, the hottest designer in Rome, and that it has a long skirt that is detachable, so it turns into a minidress when the dancing starts?’
‘Wow,’ I said. I felt a little bad, because I only have one dress for the entire wedding, and I’m the sister of the bride. Plus, the skirt doesn’t detach.
‘I know,’ Luisa said, and ate some of her lobster tail, since our food had finally been served. ‘It truly is on the cutting edge.’
‘Pardon me, but may I see that?’ Prince Khalil asked. He wasn’t even sitting at our table. He was sitting at the table next to our table. But he was looking at my notebook, which the queen was still holding up. ‘Is that an iguana?’
‘Uh,’ I said, embarrassed for him that he couldn’t tell a kangaroo from an iguana. One is a mammal, and the other is a reptile. ‘No. It’s a kangaroo.’
‘No, on the other side.’
Sure enough, it turned out there was a sketch of Carlos on the next page, the one turned towards him. I’d totally forgotten about it.
Then I felt embarrassed for myself.
‘Oh,’ I said, blushing. ‘Yes, that’s an iguana.’
‘You like iguanas?’
I didn’t want to say no, since he seemed so excited, so instead I said, ‘Well . . . some of them.’
This wasn’t a lie. I do like one iguana . . . Carlos. Sometimes I leave him strawberries I save from my breakfast plate, with the stems cut off.
‘Did you know iguanas are amongst the most endangered species in the world?’ Prince Khalil asked.
‘No,’ I said, surprised. ‘I did not know that. We have a lot of them at the palace.’
‘You do?’ Prince Khalil looked amazed. ‘They’re not native to this area.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I know. My dad says someone probably released a pair near the Royal Genovian Gardens, and now they, um . . .’ I decided it was probably better not to go into detail about all the iguana babies.
But it turned out I didn’t have to, since Prince Khalil already knew. He nodded excitedly. ‘Iguanas make excellent pets, because they’re very social, laid-back, and can live for up to twenty years.’
‘Wow,’ I said. ‘That’s a long time. We actually have so many that we’d like to get rid of them.’
‘Well,’ he said, still looking excited, ‘I could probably—’
‘Khalil, please!’ Luisa cried. Her nostrils were getting very pinched. My pony Chrissy’s nostrils flare when she’s nervous or upset, but Luisa’s nostrils get smaller when she feels this way. ‘No one wants to hear facts about lizards while they’re trying to eat their lunch!’
‘Um,’ I said. ‘I don’t mind, Luisa. It’s kind of interesting – OW!’
The OW was because Luisa had kicked me under the table.
‘No, it’s not interesting, Princess Olivia,’ she said.
‘Oh,’ I said. My ankle throbbed. Luisa wears very high-heeled shoes. ‘I guess it’s not interesting.’
‘I find it interesting,’ Queen Amina said.
Luisa looked like she’d bitten into a lemon or something all of a sudden. Her eyes got squinty and her mouth shrivelled up into the size of a grape.
‘I’m so sorry, Your Majesty,’ she said politely. ‘Of course. Lizards are very interesting.’
Ha! HA HA HA HA HA!
But then one of the waiters arrived with the dessert cart . . . really, a trolley piled high with all different kinds of desserts, from which we get to pick whatever we want. There’s pretty much every sort of dessert you can think of, from cream puffs to chocolate layer cake, plus delicious ripe fruit, too, if you want to be healthy.
So everyone forgot what we were talking about and concentrated on picking out what they wanted for dessert. I picked out the chocolate mousse because that’s my favourite.
I guess the RGA isn’t really that bad, except for the singing. And the dancing. And some of the people, particularly the Flexer, who is still flexing. I haven’t thought of a way to make him stop. I’m starting to lose all feeling in my fingers.
This could become a problem for my future career as a wildlife illustrator. It’s hard to draw when you have no feeling in your fingertips.
Tuesday 16 June 8.30 p.m.
Royal Genovian Bedroom
Nishi finally texted me back. But it wasn’t a very nice text.
< NishiGirl
My mom wants to know if she should bring her tennis racket or if you have extra ones at the palace that she can use. Write back soon, we’re almost done packing.
I hope you’re not too princessy now to remember your old friends.
Why is she accusing me of being princessy? I’m the least princessy person I know! I’m way less princessy than the other girls at the Royal Genovian Academy (besides Komiko, who hardly ever talks, so it’s nearly impossible to tell what she’s like).
And why is being princessy even a bad thing? My sister is a princess, and she’s great! She found housing for all the war refugees who’ve come here, and Genovia is the smallest country in Europe!
(And OK, the housing is on cruise ships. But that’s only temporary. Who wouldn’t want to live on a cruise ship? I would. Cruise ships have huge swimming pools with slides.)
Of course, we still don’t have room for all the wedding guests who’ve said they’re coming. At dinner tonight we got the latest count from Vivianne, the director of Palace Affairs, and she said that even though we only sent out 500 invitations, we’ve had over 550 replies saying yes!
That’s more than the maximum number of people allowed in the ballroom! The fire marshal isn’t going to be very happy.
‘It’s all the fault of that Bianca Ferrari,’ Grandmère said. ‘She must be making copies of the reception tickets, then handing them out to all her friends.’
‘She can’t,’ Michael said. ‘I made sure the tickets were printed with special holograms so they couldn’t be reproduced . . . unless of course Bianca Ferrari has a 3-D holographic printer.’
‘I wouldn’t put anything past that woman!’ Grandmère sniffed.
Mia’s friend Lilly, who is also Michael’s sister, said, ‘Who cares? Just throw some extra tables and chairs in the garden. People can always grab a cocktail and a plate of appetizers and mingle around the pool.’
Grandmère looked horrified. ‘Mingle? At a formal royal wedding reception banquet?’
‘I thin
k it will be fine,’ said Mia’s mom. ‘At the weddings I go to in Brooklyn, the feeling is always the more the merrier.’
‘This is Genovia, my dear,’ Grandmère said, looking horrified. ‘Not Brooklyn.’
‘But have these extra people been vetted by the Royal Genovian Guard?’ Mia’s other friend Tina asked worriedly.
Dad looked up from his mobile. ‘Good question. Have they?’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ Mia’s mom said, laying a hand on Dad’s arm. ‘It’s going to be fine. Just fine.’ The job of the mother of the bride is to tell everyone that everything is going to be just fine. Helen Thermopolis is very good at this.
‘Of course, Your Highness,’ Vivianne said. ‘Security is our utmost concern. Everything will be taken care of.’
That’s what she said.
But only because Mia was there, and you’re not supposed to stress out a royal bride who has just taken over the throne and is pregnant with twins.
In reality, nothing is taken care of! And when my sister isn’t around, everyone is FREAKING OUT.
The contractor who is installing the stage where Boris P, the internationally famous rock star, is supposed to play for the reception says there are not enough plugs for all the equipment Boris P and his band are bringing with them, and that the whole thing is so rickety, it’s going to collapse as soon as Boris P steps on to it.
Mia’s friends Lilly and Lana say this is OK because Boris P used to go out with Tina, but he cheated on her with another girl. So now Lilly and Lana hate him and think it would be great if the stage collapsed while he was performing on it.
But Shameeka and Ling Su, Mia’s other friends (and her other bridesmaids), say this wouldn’t be great because Boris P (and others) could be seriously hurt, plus it would ruin the reception. And also there’s reason to believe that Boris P didn’t actually cheat. It could all simply be a misunderstanding.
So now the bridesmaids are arguing – only quietly, amongst themselves, since none of them want Mia to find out, because she’s ‘stressed’ enough.
Except for Mia’s friend Perin. She says she is staying out of it.
And Tina, of course, since she doesn’t know about it.
Chef Bernard says it’s going to be humanly impossible to find enough European spiny lobsters for everyone at such short notice.
The king of Lesotho wants to bring his new pet monkey with him, because it needs round-the-clock feeding, and the housekeeping staff is not too happy about that.
There was a typo on the commemorative stamps, and instead of saying HRH Prince Michael, they say HRH Prince Michele, so now they all have to be destroyed and reprinted.
Grandmère’s the only one not freaking out (except about the possibility of guests having to mingle outside). She showed me the new purple napkins that just arrived today, and they’re much better than the boring cream-coloured ones my sister asked for. She’s going to be so surprised.
‘Nice job, Grandmère,’ I said. We have to meet in secret in my bedroom so Mia won’t overhear and have the surprise ruined. ‘Also, just to let you know, I found out today that iguanas are endangered.’
‘Not in my garden, they aren’t!’
‘I know. But you can’t shoot at them, even to frighten them into moving to Bianca Ferrari’s garden. You can’t make your problem someone else’s responsibility.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘From you, Grandmère. You said that’s what Dad is doing by making Mia take on the throne, when ruling is supposed to be his responsibility.’
Grandmère coughed. ‘Oh. Well, perhaps you’re right. But we’re going to have to do something about those hideous creatures, Olivia. With all of those people coming, someone is bound to trip over one of them and end up in the pool.’
I thought about it. ‘I know. But we still have a few days.’
‘Four. Four days.’
‘That’s a long time,’ I said. ‘A lot can happen in four days. I started out an average girl one day, and I was a princess by the end of it.’
Grandmère looked at the ceiling. ‘Very well. Goodnight, Olivia.’
‘Goodnight, Grandmère.’
I just wrote Nishi back:
OlivGrace >
We have lots of tennis rackets your mom can use, but since we’re sending the private plane for you, I don’t see why she can’t bring hers. There’s tons of room.
And stop calling me princessy! I’m a princess, and proud to be one, but I’m not snobby. If princessy is supposed to be an insult, it isn’t a very good one, because princesses are awesome. Can’t wait to see you and show you around the palace. XOXOXOX
The majordomo is upset again. Today while I was at school, he caught Snowball on top of the gift table, eating a gingerbread castle given to Mia and Michael as a wedding present by some schoolchildren in Germany. Snowball had licked most of the gumdrop windows off.
She is out of control! I don’t know what to do about it, other than locking her in my room all day.
But that seems cruel. She loves visiting with the staff and doing tricks for the tourists.
If only I could keep her away from the kitchen. And my sister’s wedding gifts.
Here is my worst nightmare:
Wednesday 17 June 9.25 a.m.
Royal Genovian Academy Madame Alain’s Office
I just made a huge mistake.
No, not huge. HUMONGOUS.
But it’s my own fault, I guess. I have no one to blame but myself.
It started when I walked into class this morning and saw that there was a folded-up note sitting on my desk. I knew it was for me because on the outside it said:
To HRH Olivia Grace
HRH means Her Royal Highness.
‘Oooh, Olivia,’ Marguerite teased. ‘A love letter!’
Obviously she was joking. No one would leave a love letter on my desk (except maybe as a prank).
And it turns out I was right. When I opened up the note, I saw that inside was a drawing of a girl . . .
But not just any girl!
Me!
I could tell because she had glasses and big, curly hair pulled back by a headband. Only the headband had been made into a tiara (which I do not wear to school). Plus the girl in the drawing was wearing an RGA school uniform with shorts, just like mine.
But unlike me, the girl in the drawing had a really, really big butt.
That was my first clue that the ‘artist’ (I am using quotes around the word artist because I don’t think the person who drew it is really an artist) was Prince Gunther, or at least someone pretending to be Prince Gunther, who is known for giving the people in his drawings, like Madame Alain, large butts.
Except that coming out of the mouth of the girl in the drawing on my desk was a text bubble that said:
Hi, I’m the princess of Genovia, my sister is getting married and I think I’m so great, but I can’t dance and I look stupid and I smell. Ha ha ha kee-yow LOL!
Only personally I didn’t think there was anything to ‘laugh out loud’ about at all. In fact, when I saw the drawing, I got so mad, I could feel my face turning red, although I tried not to let how angry I was show in front of everyone else.
But it didn’t work, since Marguerite asked, ‘What’s wrong? What does it say, Olivia?’
‘Nothing,’ I said, and quickly shoved the note in my backpack.
Only I wasn’t quick enough, because Marguerite snatched the note out of my hand.
Then the next thing I knew, she was looking at it and saying, ‘Oh, whoa! This is really rude. What does “kee-yow” mean?’
‘Nothing!’ I yelled. ‘Never mind! Give it back!’
‘Oh, I think it means something,’ Luisa said with a laugh.
She would know.
I tried to snatch the note back, but of course Marguerite wouldn’t give it up, because Victorine and the other girls were crying, ‘Let me see! Let me see!’
And then the worst thing ever ha
ppened.
And that is that Prince Khalil came over and snatched the drawing out of Marguerite’s hand and held it high over all our heads, which he could do easily because he’s so tall.
‘Noooo!’ Luisa yelled. ‘Don’t look at it, Your Highness!’
Saying that had the opposite result Luisa was hoping for, though. Because once you tell someone not to do something, it automatically makes them want to do it more . . . like telling Rocky not to throw things down the stairs from the fourth floor. He simply can’t help it. And neither could Prince Khalil.
As soon as his gaze fell on the page, he frowned.
‘ “Kee-yow”?’ he said. ‘That’s not a word.’
Then he turned the note around for everyone to see!
‘Who drew this?’ he asked. ‘It isn’t very nice. Gunther, this looks like one of your drawings. Did you do it?’
When everyone else saw it, they started to laugh . . . not in a mean way, exactly. I don’t think they were laughing at me. They were laughing at the drawing and how dumb it was. I don’t think anyone here really thinks I smell or have a humongous butt.
Except my cousin Luisa. Probably.
But I’m starting to think the same of her.
Gunther yelled, ‘No! This I did not do! I draw much better than this!’
Which is actually a kind of funny thing to say, if you think about it.
‘Oh, Gunther,’ Luisa said, shaking her head. ‘Obviously you did it. Look, it’s your drawing style exactly. Why must you be so immature? And so hurtful to Olivia, Genovia’s newest princess?’
I was so mad when she said this, I wanted to scream. It got even worse when Prince Khalil shook his head and said, ‘Not cool, Gunther. Not cool.’
Gunther’s eyes actually filled with tears. I didn’t even know Gunther had feelings, I’d been so busy being grossed out by him.
But I guess it would hurt my feelings, too, if the tallest, cutest boy in the sixth grade told me I wasn’t cool.
‘No!’ Gunther wailed. ‘This I did not do! I know I draw Madame Alain with the big butt. But not this! This I did not draw!’