Princess in Waiting (The Princess Diaries 4)

Friday, January 23, still Homeroom

They just announced the name of the newest member of the Albert Einstein High junior varsity cheerleading squad. It is Shameeka Taylor.

Great. Just great. So that’s it. I am now officially the only person I know who has absolutely no discernible talent.

I am a reject in every way.

Friday, January 23, Algebra

Michael did not stop by here between classes. It is the first day all week that he hasn’t slipped in to say hi on his way to AP English, three classrooms away from this one.

I am totally trying not to take it personally, but there is this little voice inside of me going, That’s it! It’s over! He’s dumping you!

I’m sure Kate Bosworth doesn’t have a voice like this that lives inside her. WHY couldn’t I have been born Kate Bosworth instead of me, Mia Thermopolis?

To make matters worse—as if I can even care about something so trivial—Lana just turned around to hiss, “Don’t think just because your little friend made the squad that anything is going to change between us, Mia. She’s as much of a pathetic geekette as you are. They only let her on the squad to fill our freak quota.”

Then she whipped her head around again—but not as fast as she should have. Because a lot of her hair was still draped across my desk.

And when I slammed my Algebra I–II text closed as hard as I could—which is what I did next—a lot of her silky, awapuhi-scented locks got trapped between pages 210 and 211.

Lana shrieked in pain. Mr. G, up at the chalkboard, turned around, saw where the screaming was coming from, and sighed.

“Mia,” he said, tiredly. “Lana. What now?”

Lana stabbed an index finger in my direction. “She slammed her book on my hair!”

I shrugged innocently. “I didn’t know her hair was in my book. Why can’t she keep her hair to herself, anyway?”

Mr. Gianini looked bored. “Lana,” he said. “If you can’t keep your hair under control, I recommend braids. Mia, don’t slam your book. It should be open to page two eleven, where I want you to read from Section Two. Out loud.”

I read out loud from Section Two, but not without a certain primness. For once, vengeance on Lana had been mine, and I had NOT been sent to the principal’s office. Oh, it was sweet. Sweet, sweet vindication.

Although I don’t even know why I have to learn this stuff, it isn’t as if the Palais de Genovia isn’t full of dweeby staffers who are just dying to multiply fractions for me.

Polynomials

term: variable(s) multiplied by a coefficient

monomial: Polynomial w/ one term

binomial: Polynomial w/ two terms

trinomial: Polynomial w/ three terms

Degree of polynomial = the degree of the term with the highest degree

In my delight over the pain I had brought upon my enemy, I almost forgot about the fact that my heart is broken. Must keep in mind that Michael is dumping me after the black-and-white ball tonight. Why can’t I FOCUS???? Must be love. I am sick with it.

Friday, January 23, Health and Safety

Why do you look like you just ate a sock?

I don’t. How was your breakfast meeting?

You do, too. The meeting went GREAT.

Really? Did they agree to print a full-page letter of apology in Variety ?