Notebooks of a Middle-School Princess Bridesmaid-in-Training

by Meg Cabot

  ‘I guess that’s true.’ She didn’t look very reassured. ‘But maybe we should let your cousin do it.’ She nodded at Luisa, who was taking last-minute selfies with Marguerite and Victorine before Vivianne could confiscate their phones. ‘She’s had modelling experience.’

  ‘Are you KIDDING me?’ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘We can do this, Nishi. We’re only carrying a skirt.’

  ‘True,’ Nishi said. ‘But on international TV.’

  It was pretty fortunate then that Mia turned to give us a dazzling smile. ‘I’m so happy you’re here,’ she said. ‘You’re going to do great.’

  Then Vivianne was saying, ‘Bridesmaids! Go!’

  Mia’s friends began to walk, followed by Victorine, Marguerite and Luisa.

  And suddenly my sister and Dad were moving, and I had no chance to feel nervous, because I was too busy making sure Mia’s handmade lace veil and train stayed smooth and untangled, which really wasn’t that easy, seeing how long they were and how fast she was moving – not slow like Vivianne had instructed her.

  But when you’re a bride – and a princess – you can do whatever you want. And I suppose I’d be in a hurry to get it over with, too, if I were getting married, so I could get to the cake quickly.

  I had time to see that everyone on either side of the aisle had stood up and was smiling at us – well, at my sister, probably, but some people were also smiling at me and Nishi – as we went by. The music – the blaring trumpets and harps of the Genovian national anthem – sounded like heaven, and the crystals on my sister’s dress were still blazing like thousands of tiny diamonds in the sunlight streaming from the throne room windows.

  Even though she was going so fast, it took a while to get down to the throne room to where the prime minister was waiting, but neither Nishi nor I messed up once (nor did anyone else. I didn’t see a single flower petal out of place, or any wedding guests who might have been stabbed by Rocky’s sword).

  The only thing that WAS out of place was the expression on Michael’s face when we finally reached him at the end of the throne room. It was a lot like how he’d looked after we’d finished our ‘All Roads Lead to Genovia’ performance – like he was trying not to cry.

  Only I don’t think he was crying with laughter this time, because there is definitely nothing funny about a Genovian wedding ceremony – no lederhosen or dirndls in sight. It’s completely serious!

  But I don’t think he was sad, either, or scared. I think he was happy, the way all those people in the Great Hall had been when Mia came down the stairs, or the way Mia was when she saw us in our purple dresses. I think Michael thought she looked really, really beautiful.

  And that made me want to cry with happiness, too.

  Only I didn’t have time, because I had a job to do. It’s no joke being in charge of the bridal train. After the music ended and the prime minister asked everyone to be seated, Nishi and I had to make sure Mia wasn’t twisted up in her skirt and veil. In fact, every time she turned towards the prime minister or Michael, we had to do this, or she could have fallen over due to her legs having become tangled in her own clothing!

  Genovian wedding ceremonies aren’t like the ones you see on TV where the bride and groom promise to honour each other in sickness and in health. Instead, Genovian brides and grooms promise to:

  Stay true to the Genovian constitution and to each other

  Educate and feed their children

  Never hit each other, their children, or their livestock or pets

  Pay their taxes (even though in Genovia there are no taxes)

  Never throw fish heads into Genovian waters and pollute it, but dispose of them properly

  (That last one is very controversial and people have been asking for it to be taken out of the traditional Genovian wedding service. But Mia and Michael asked that it be left in, since neither of them is religious, but they feel some traditions should be preserved, such as the careful disposal of fish heads.)

  Even though I don’t really like mushy stuff, I thought it was a very romantic ceremony. (I didn’t cry, however, like Nishi did. Mia’s and Michael’s mothers cried, too, especially at the part about raising their children to be well-rounded Genovian citizens. Even Michael cried a little at that part, maybe because he was thinking about the twins, Han and Solo.)

  But he looked very serious when the prime minister got to the part where they exchanged rings – which turned out OK, because Prince Khalil took charge of the ring pillow as soon as Rocky got to the front of the room. Good thing, too, since Rocky spent most of the ceremony playing around with his sword, even though his mom kept giving him the evil eye – when she wasn’t crying, of course.

  Then Michael had to pledge his loyalty to the country of Genovia, forsaking citizenship of all other nations so that he could be prince consort of Her Royal Highness Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo.

  That’s when he had to kneel in front of Mia and pledge his undying troth to her, the crown and the House of Renaldo.

  Then she took a sword and laid it once on each of his shoulders and pronounced him her royal consort Prince Michael Renaldo of Genovia, and the prime minister declared that he could kiss his bride.

  I thought Nishi was going to keel over with excitement, but I was so busy making sure Mia didn’t get tangled up in her veil and train (and also keeping Rocky from pulling out his own sword, since he thought this was the part where everybody got to swordfight) that I missed when the two of them actually kissed . . .

  But I hear it was very, very steamy! Nishi said that Michael picked Mia up! And that Michael’s crown fell off (but Boris P caught it before it hit the dais).

  Anyway, the next thing I knew, everyone was cheering, and the bride and groom were hurrying down the aisle to where the royal carriages were waiting outside to begin the parade that would take them – and all of us – around downtown Genovia, to wave at the populace, receive congratulations and have confetti thrown down on us from the upper windows of the quaint Genovian cottages and shops.

  Which I have to say was quite fun, except that Mia was right about one thing: purple really is quite hot in Genovia in summertime!

  Especially in an open-air carriage in the noonday sun, even when everyone is spraying champagne everywhere.

  But I’m not going to complain, because I’m the one who suggested it.

  Well, me and Grandmère.

  I can sort of see why Luisa is changing before tonight’s ball.

  But I’m not going to. Because here is a secret:

  Just now, when we got back from the parade and were standing around here in the throne room getting our photos taken (yes! We had to come back after the parade to get wedding photos, which is how I’ve had the time to write this. It’s so boring!), Prince Khalil came up to tell me I look ‘very nice’ in my dress and tiara.

  I was surprised.

  Not that I like him or anything (except as a friend).

  But that was very sweet of him. He didn’t have to say I look nice.

  That’s not why I’m never changing out of this dress again. I just don’t want to, that’s all.

  Hmmmm . . . I wonder if Grandmère knew all along that purple is the colour that looks best on me, and this was all part of her plan, or –

  Got to go. More royal wedding photos. Honestly, the work of being a princess never ends.

  Sunday 21 June Noon

  Royal Genovian Bedroom Day After the Royal Wedding

  EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Last night was the best night of my life!!!!!!

  I did change out of my dress. I had to, because Francesca, my wardrobe consultant, made me. She said everyone was going to be changing into evening-wear for the ball, so I had to, too.

  I told her I couldn’t change because purple is my good-luck colour, and I didn’t have anything else purple, much less anything as fancy as what I
knew Luisa would be wearing – her Claudio evening gown with the detachable skirt.

  But Francesca said, ‘Here,’ and handed me something. It was a large box with a bow on it.

  I said, ‘What’s this?’

  ‘It’s from your sister,’ Francesca said. ‘It’s your bridesmaid gift.’

  ‘Bridesmaid gift?’ I echoed. ‘What’s a bridesmaid gift?’

  ‘It’s the gift the bride and groom give to members of their wedding party, to show their appreciation for your support.’

  My support? Well, I have been pretty supportive. Keeping that train and veil from getting tangled was very, very difficult!

  But when I opened the box, I saw that Mia and Michael – or Prince Michael, as I suppose I should call him now – had gone way too far. Inside was a top made all over of sequins, with a big floaty wraparound skirt.

  ‘Oh!’ I cried, even though as a general rule, I’m not a fan of dresses that are too girly (unless they’re for weddings, of course).

  But it wasn’t a dress. It was a skirt and top. Even better, the top was a swimsuit. A one-piece swimsuit made of sequins.

  ‘Yes,’ Francesca said, not looking too happy about it. Francesca doesn’t approve of swimsuits with sequins on them. I know, because I’ve asked her for a sequinned swimsuit about a million times, but she’s always said the same thing: Sequinned swimsuits are inappropriate for young royals. Obviously Mia didn’t agree! ‘They consulted me about the size. There is a note. Perhaps you should read it.’

  I found the note and read it.

  From the Desk of HRH Amelia Renaldo of Genovia

  Dear Olivia,

  Michael and I want to thank you for everything you’ve done to help make our wedding so wonderful. You’ve been so cheerful, patient, and kind, even when I know you weren’t feeling that way.

  We especially want to thank you for the drawing you made of us, which I found under my door this morning. It’s beautiful. I’m going to have it framed and hung over the babies’ cribs, so they’ll always be able to see it, and think of us, and of you.

  You’re the best sister – and will be the best aunt – anyone could ever have. But most of all, you’re a true princess.

  Love,

  Mia

  I couldn’t believe it! This is the best letter I’ve ever got in my life.

  I’m so glad I tore that drawing I made of her and Michael from my notebook and slid it under her door this morning (after I found out that her wedding cake got destroyed).

  That’s not the only reason I did it, of course . . . it was the only thing I could think of to give them as a wedding present, since I don’t have any money, and the performance of ‘All Roads Lead to Genovia’ didn’t really seem like that good of a gift. It was a gift from the entire school, not from me.

  But people like things you make – at least if you do a decent job. It’s always good to give people you love something from your heart.

  I was especially happy that Mia and Michael had liked my gift enough to give me a gift in return, one I’d especially wanted . . . until I found out a few minutes later that Nishi had got the exact same gift.

  Then I was ECSTATIC. Because it meant that Mia really, really understood me!

  ‘Can we wear them to the reception?’ Nishi and I asked Francesca, who looked very pained when Nishi burst into my room wearing her gift and started jumping up and down, screaming.

  ‘If you must,’ Francesca said. ‘Apparently that was the idea.’

  ‘It’s like your sister knew about us being naiads,’ Nishi kept saying, dancing around and around in her sequined bathing suit and floaty skirt. ‘It’s like she’s psychic.’

  ‘I think it was her friend Shameeka,’ I said. ‘Or Lana. They know more about this stuff. But whoever. It doesn’t matter. Because we look amazing.’

  I was so happy! I didn’t think I could be happier.

  But I was wrong.

  Because after we went down to the party, and Princess Komiko and Queen Amina and all the other people from school began to arrive, and Boris P came out on to the stage and began to play, Nishi and I forgot all about our swimsuit-naiad dresses and started having the best time at a wedding reception we have ever had in our lives.

  (Well, actually, for me it was the first time I have ever been to a wedding reception. But it was still the best time!)

  Chef Bernard made lobster mac and cheese so there would be enough food to go around, and also added mini grilled-cheese sandwiches with tomato soup in cocktail glasses, and this turned out to be exactly what Mia and Michael had wanted in the first place, but Grandmère said it wouldn’t be elegant enough for a royal wedding.

  So they were super happy!

  And Lilly’s suggestion, having tables and chairs outside in the garden and by the pool, was just perfect, because all the old people, like the baroness and Grandmère and the world leaders, sat in the ball room at the banquet tables in the air-conditioning, while the young people had a party outside . . . which is much better, if you ask me.

  Out at the kids’ party, Boris P was playing, and we were dancing and having fun.

  But of course we weren’t dancing the way Luisa had hoped there’d be dancing – no one held each other in the moonlight under the swaying Genovian palm fronds. No one danced together at all . . . well, except when we sang ‘All Roads Lead to Genovia’, which we did one final time, for my sister’s sake, because Michael begged us to, as a special favour. I have never heard people applaud so much!

  I don’t know what it is about that song.

  But that was the last time I’ll ever have to sing it, thank goodness. And thank goodness, too, that no one could locate Prince Gunther at the time we performed it, so I only had to promenade with Rocky, and not the bogey-flinging Flexer (although to be fair, Prince Gunther doesn’t fling bogeys any more, or flex that much, either).

  There were a couple of dances that people did together. Mia and Michael did a first dance as a married couple to some old song that no one had ever heard of (or not me, anyway). Everyone stood around and watched and clapped. It was very nice.

  And then Mia and Dad did a father-daughter dance, and Michael and his mom did a mother-son dance.

  Then everyone started dancing to Boris P, but in a big group, not in couples or anything. The boys took their jackets off, and we girls took our shoes off, and we all started jumping around, acting crazy, trying not to fall in the pool. It was so fun.

  Well, fun for everyone except Luisa. Not that she fell in the pool (which would have been hilarious). She just wouldn’t dance, not even when Victorine or Marguerite or I tried to pull her on to the dance floor. She said we were being ‘immature’ and ‘didn’t know anything’.

  Then, when I brought her a tomato soup cocktail and a mini grilled cheese, because I thought maybe her problem was that she was just hungry and sad because her parents hadn’t come to the wedding on account of hating being in the same country together, she didn’t even say thank you. She said, ‘You and your friend look stupid in those matching dresses.’ She meant Nishi, who was dancing in a big group with Rocky, Princess Komiko and a bunch of other people. ‘In case you didn’t know.’

  ‘Really?’ I felt mad, but also kind of like laughing. She was just such a . . . Luisa Ferrari. ‘They aren’t dresses. They’re swimsuits, with skirts.’

  ‘Well, that’s even stupider,’ Luisa said. ‘This is a royal ball, not a swim meet.’

  I shook my head. Luisa couldn’t hurt my feelings any more, I realized, partly because of what Grandmère said, and partly because . . . well, I’m a true princess now! My sister said so.

  And even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t care what she said. She’s Luisa Ferrari. She has no power over me.

  Which is good, because when she finds out what I heard my sister tell Madame Alain over by the chocolate fountain – that in the fall, all the schools in Genovia, including the RGA, will be required by royal proclamation to make room for refugee children, or face fines and even cl
osure – Luisa is going to plotz (plotz means drop dead from surprise. I learned it from Michael’s mom).

  I don’t doubt this idea was cooked up by my grandmother in order to teach the Ferraris to have more character. I saw Grandmère over by the chocolate fountain as my sister and Madame Alain were speaking. I’m positive she planted the notion in my sister’s head . . .

  But that doesn’t mean it’s a bad one. In fact, I think it’s a good one. Going to school with a bunch of non-royals is going to be very challenging for my cousin . . .

  And very educational, as well. A lot like it’s been for me, going to school with a bunch of royals.

  ‘Here, Luisa,’ I said, handing her a piece of wedding cake. ‘You look like you need this.’

  ‘Are you kidding me?’ She stared at it in horror. ‘I don’t eat cake.’

  ‘Why not? It’s a wedding. It’s bad luck not to eat the cake.’

  ‘Fine.’ She made a face but took the cake from me and started eating it. ‘But if I burst out of this dress, I’m going to make your dad pay for it. This is a Claudio. Not that anyone at this party has noticed. Least of all him.’ She stabbed her fork in Prince Khalil’s direction. He’d taken off his tuxedo jacket, too, along with all the other boys, and was dancing away to one of Boris P’s biggest hits, ‘A Million Stars’, which Boris was singing to Mia’s friend Tina, with whom he’d got back together, much to everyone’s relief. It turned out that he hadn’t cheated, after all.

  I tried not to notice that Prince Khalil looked very, very cute.

  ‘I don’t think boys like Prince Khalil care about designers,’ I said as politely as I could.

  Luisa made another face. ‘I suppose not. If I were wearing an iguana, he’d care.’

  It was kind of a bummer sitting next to Luisa. But since I was one of the hostesses of the reception, I felt like I couldn’t just leave her there, feeling so sad, because that wouldn’t be very princessy.

  And of course I remembered what Grandmère had said about how it was our duty as royals to guide those who were less fortunate . . . which is kind of funny, in a weird way, since Luisa had been assigned to me as my guide, at the RGA! But now there I was, guiding her. Or trying to, anyway.