by Meg Cabot
But then – just like with my bridesmaid gift from Mia – suddenly I was rewarded for all my hard work when something amazing happened.
‘Princess Olivia?’ a voice called from the darkness.
And from the garden beyond the strands of fairy lights the gardeners and I had placed between the palm trees stepped a figure I didn’t recognize – though later I realized I should have, since it was a boy I knew. He had very big arms and shoulders – made to look even bigger by the oversize tuxedo he was wearing – an Austrian accent, and hair so blond that it was almost gold . . .
‘P-Prince Gunther!’ I stammered, standing up. ‘Your . . . your hair. It isn’t green any more!’
‘Oh, yah,’ he said, bashfully running his fingers through his now yellow mane. ‘This was the surprise I texted you about.’
Luisa stood up, too. Her jaw was hanging open. ‘Prince Gunther, you look amazing.’
‘Danke,’ he said. ‘You do, too. Is that a Claudio?’
Luisa looked down at herself in astonishment. ‘What . . . what did you say?’
‘I asked if that was a Claudio.’ Gunther strolled up to us and pointed at Luisa’s dress. ‘I know that designer. My mother likes him very much. She used to be a model for him. She has had everything in his collections for the past ten years. She especially likes his resort wear, for when we go to Majorca at Fronleichnam.’
I thought Luisa might plotz with surprise. ‘My mom loves Claudio’s resort wear, too.’
I had no idea what the two of them were talking about, but as the hostess of this part of the party, I thought it was my duty to ask, ‘Prince Gunther. What happened to you? Where have you been?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry I’m late, Princess,’ he said. ‘The lemon juice I used to get the green out of my hair took longer than I thought. Please will you accept my apologies, and also give them to the bride and groom?’
‘Uh,’ I said. ‘Sure.’ I had no idea where Mia and Michael were. It was late, and I hadn’t seen them in hours. For all I knew, they might have gone to bed. I couldn’t blame them. They’d been smiling so much all day for the photographers, so I could imagine they were both probably exhausted.
Suddenly now Luisa was smiling, too.
‘Is that a Claudio?’ she asked, pointing at Prince Gunther’s tuxedo.
‘Uh, yes,’ Gunther said. ‘It is vintage. It belonged to my grandfather.’
Luisa sucked in her breath. ‘Vintage? Do you know how much a vintage Claudio tuxedo is worth?’
‘Yes,’ Prince Gunther said. ‘My father would kill me if he knew I was wearing it. But I figured, for an occasion like this, it would be worth it—’
The next thing I knew, Luisa was pulling Prince Gunther down on to a chair at her table and grilling him about his mother’s Claudio collection.
And Prince Gunther didn’t seem to mind, although he looked very nervous. In a good way.
I couldn’t believe it. Luisa wasn’t showing off in front of a boy to get attention, or being mean to him (or me, or anyone else). She was simply having a conversation with another person about something in which she was interested . . . and that person was interested in it, too!
I wasn’t sure if this proved she was finally showing character or common sense, but it seemed to show that I’d done my duty as a good hostess. I slowly began to back away, feeling a sense of satisfaction . . .
. . . when suddenly my hand was seized, and someone started tugging on it.
And it turned out to be the last person in the world I ever expected: PRINCE KHALIL.
‘Olivia,’ he said urgently, dragging me around the edge of the pool. ‘I’m so glad I found you. Come here, quick!’
I didn’t know what was happening – I thought maybe Mia and Michael were leaving for their honeymoon, and we were all supposed to go and wave goodbye. Or maybe the fireworks were starting, or I was needed for a special photo op with the queen of England or Boris P or something.
But it wasn’t any of those things! Instead, Prince Khalil steered me towards the orange tree beneath my bedroom window – where it was was pretty dark, considering it was night-time and none of us had thought to place any fairy lights there – and pointed.
‘Look!’ he cried.
I looked, but all I saw was that they’d forgotten to take away one of the live traps. Then, inside it, I noticed the faintest hint of movement . . .
An iguana! Not just any iguana, though. A bright green baby iguana.
I gasped. ‘Carlos!’
Khalil looked at me curiously. ‘Carlos? Who’s Carlos?’
‘Um,’ I said. ‘No one.’ I didn’t want him to know I’d named one of the iguanas. That was probably a violation of the Genovian Herpetology Rescue Society code of ethics or something.
‘I just wanted to show you that we missed one,’ Prince Khalil said. ‘I hope your grandmother won’t feel as if we failed her. I’m sure it’s the last one. I’ll come by in the morning and pick it up, if you want.’
‘No,’ I said quickly, before I could stop myself. ‘Please don’t! That’s Carlos.’
Even though it was dark beneath the orange tree, the moon had begun to peek out from above the palace walls, so I could see his face clearly enough to tell that he was baffled. ‘Wait . . . you have a pet iguana?’
‘Well, not really a pet,’ I said, feeling embarrassed. ‘He just hangs out here.’ I pointed at the window above us, trying to figure out how to explain it. ‘That’s my bedroom, you see? I guess I’ve got . . . well, used to him. I’d miss him if he was moved to the golf course. Wouldn’t it be all right for us to keep just one? I’m sure my grandmother wouldn’t mind. Carlos is like family now.’
Slowly, Prince Khalil smiled. ‘Wow. I never thought I’d meet a girl who likes iguanas . . . let alone a princess. I thought princesses only liked dresses and things.’
‘Oh,’ I said uncomfortably, thinking of Luisa. ‘Well, you can be a princess and like lots of different things. Dresses, drawing, football, horseback riding, ruling the country and, uh, iguanas. Though to be honest, I didn’t really like iguanas at first. But once I got to know them, they sort of grew on me.’
I realized I wasn’t only talking about iguanas . . . I was talking about the RGA . . . and my cousin Luisa . . . and maybe even Prince Khalil!
That made me feel even more uncomfortable, especially because of the way he kept staring at me. Why did his eyes have to be so brown?
‘And anyway,’ I added, ‘isn’t that your job?’
He was still staring at me like I had something on my face. ‘Isn’t what my job?’
‘Isn’t it part of your job with the Herpetology Society to educate the public about how it’s good to have reptiles and amphibians around? Because they’re beneficial to the environment?’
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, and smiled some more. ‘Exactly.’
‘So maybe,’ I said, ‘we could keep just one. This one. Carlos.’
‘Definitely,’ he said. ‘I can show you how to take care of him and what to feed him and stuff. I could come over anytime if you want, because my parents will be staying here in Genovia for the summer.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘That would be great.’
Then when he showed me how to open the live trap to let Carlos go (although of course the dumb thing was asleep, or scared or something, and wouldn’t leave, so we practically had to shake the cage up and down to get him to go), Prince Khalil accidentally put his hand over mine while I was trying to work the latch.
‘Oops,’ he said, and smiled some more. ‘Sorry.’
‘That’s OK,’ I said, and smiled back. I don’t know what was wrong with me. I wasn’t feeling uncomfortable any more. I couldn’t stop smiling!
Especially when we were making our way back to the party – Prince Khalil had closed the door to the live trap so Carlos couldn’t go back in there and promised to come by tomorrow (which is today) to get it – and he asked, ‘Hey, do you want to dance?’
‘Sure,’ I said. Be
cause I had no idea what was going on. I think in this one area, Luisa might be right. I AM a dumb, immature little baby. ‘I’ve been dancing all night. Didn’t you see me?’
‘No,’ he said, looking as embarrassed as I was about to feel. ‘I meant with me. Do you want to dance with me?’
At first I wasn’t sure if what I heard was in my head or my heart, but it sounded like a million firecrackers going off at the same time, exploding in the air and causing a burst of light that blazed even brighter than the crystals on my sister’s wedding dress.
And that’s because the royal wedding fireworks display had started going off right at that very moment, just above our heads, in huge eruptions of Genovian white, green and blue.
With my heart slamming in my chest, I said, ‘Why, yes, Prince Khalil, I would love to dance with you.’
So we did!
Not a slow dance or anything.
But we definitely danced under the moonlight and by the fountain! We even touched hands once, when I almost lost my balance and would have slipped into the pool if he hadn’t reached out, laughing, and saved me!
It was amazing.
I still haven’t stopped smiling. And that’s because I’ve finally realized something: I think Nishi might be right.
Prince Khalil does like me! As more than just a friend. And guess what else?
I think I like him, too. ☺
I guess this wedding didn’t turn out to be a disaster after all. And I haven’t turned out to be such a disaster at this princess thing, either!
Well, I’d better go to bed now. With Mia leaving for her honeymoon, I’m going to have a lot more responsibilities around here starting tomorrow. Like Grandmère says, every woman needs at least eight hours of sleep a night so that she can wake refreshed upon the morning to battle the new day.
Meg Cabot (her last name rhymes with habit, as in ‘her books can be habit-forming’) is the author of the phenomenally successful The Princess Diaries series – which has been published in more than thirty-eight countries and was made into two hit films – as well as several other series and bestselling novels for children, teenagers and adults. Her books have sold millions of copies around the world.
Meg has lived in various parts of the US and France, but now lives in Key West, Florida, with her husband and various cats.
Books by Meg Cabot
Notebooks of a Middle-School Princess
Bridesmaid-in-Training
The Princess Diaries series
1. The Princess Diaries
2. A Royal Disaster
3. Princess in the Middle
4. Royally Obsessed
5. Prom Princess
6. Royal Rebel
7. Party Princess
8. Royal Scandal
9. Bad Heir Day
10. Crowning Glory
11. Royal Wedding (for older readers)
Visit www.megcabot.com to find out more about Meg’s books for all ages
First published in the US 2016 as Royal Wedding Disaster by Feiwel and Friends
First published in the UK 2016 as Bridesmaid-in-Training by Macmillan Children’s Books
This electronic edition published 2016 by Macmillan Children’s Books
an imprint of Pan Macmillan
20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR
Associated companies throughout the world
www.panmacmillan.com
ISBN 978-1-4472-9249-4
Text and illustrations copyright © Meg Cabot LLC 2016
Cover illustration by Lucy Truman
The right of Meg Cabot to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
Pan Macmillan does not have any control over, or any responsibility for, any author or third-party websites referred to in or on this book.
You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Book design by April Ward
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