Princess in the Spotlight (The Princess Diaries 2)

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Order no. 2764

1 package soybean curd

1 bottle wheat germ

1 loaf whole-grain bread

5 grapefruits

12 oranges

1 bunch bananas

1 package brewer’s yeast

1 quart skim milk

1 quart orange juice (not from concentrate)

1 pound butter

1 dozen eggs

1 bag unsalted sunflower seeds

1 box whole-grain cereal

Toilet paper

Q-tips

Deliver to:

Mia Thermopolis, 1005 Thompson Street, #4A

Saturday, October 25, 2 p.m., Grandmère’s suite

I am sitting here waiting for my interview. In addition to my throat hurting, I feel like I am going to throw up. Maybe my bronchitis has turned into the flu, or something. Maybe the falafel I ordered in for dinner last night was made from rotten chickpeas, or something.

Or maybe I’m just totally nervous, since this interview is going to be broadcast to an estimated 22 million homes on Monday night.

Although I find it very hard to believe that 22 million families could possibly be interested in anything I have to say.

I read that when Prince William gets interviewed, he gets the questions about a week before, so he has time to think up really smart and incisive answers. Apparently, members of the Genovian royal family are not extended that same courtesy. Not that even with a week’s worth of notice I could ever think of anything smart and incisive. Well, okay, maybe smart, but definitely not incisive.

Well, probably not even smart, either, depending on what they ask.

So I am sitting here and I really do feel like I am going to throw up, and I wish I could hurry up and get this over with. It was supposed to start two hours ago.

But Grandmère isn’t satisfied with the way the cosmetic technician (makeup lady) did my eyes. She says I look like a poulet. That means “hooker” in French. Or chicken. But when my Grandmère says it, it always means hooker.

Why can’t I have a nice, normal grandma, who makes rugelach and thinks I look wonderful no matter what I have on? Lilly’s grandma has never said the word hooker in her life, even in Yiddish. I know that for a fact.

So the makeup lady had to go down to the hotel gift shop to see if they have any blue eyeshadow. Grandmère wants blue, because she says it matches my eyes. Except that my eyes are gray. I wonder if Grandmère is color-blind.

That would explain a lot.