Princess in Training (The Princess Diaries 6)

I honestly don’t know what Lilly was thinking. Could she REALLY have thought I’d just sit there and be all, “Student council president? Oh, okay. Sure. Because, you know, I’m the only heir to the throne of an entire foreign country. It’s not like I don’t have anything else to do.”

WHATEVER!!! I fully grabbed her arm and pulled it down and was all, “LILLY, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING????” under my breath, since, of course, every single head in the entire gym had swiveled in our direction and everyone was staring at us, including Perin and Ramon Riveras and the guy who hates it when they put corn in the chili who I thought had graduated. But I guess not.

“Don’t worry,” Lilly whispered back. “I’ve got a plan.”

Apparently, part of Lilly’s plan was to kick Ling Su in the shin very very hard until she squeaked, “Um, I do, Principal Gupta,” when Principal Gupta asked in a confused voice, “Does, uh, anyone second that nomination?”

I couldn’t believe this was even happening. It was like a nightmare, only worse, because that guy who hates corn in his chili is never in my nightmares.

“But I—” I started to protest, but then Lilly kicked ME really hard in the shin.

“Ms. Thermopolis accepts the nomination!” Lilly called down to Principal Gupta.

Who totally didn’t look as if she believed it. But who went, “Well. If you’re sure, Mia,” anyway, without waiting for any response from me.

Next thing I knew, Trisha Hayes had jumped to her feet and was screaming, “I nominate Lana Weinberger for student council president!”

“Well, isn’t that nice,” Principal Gupta said, when Ramon Riveras seconded Trisha’s nomination of Lana—but only after Lana elbowed him…pretty hard, it looked like, from where I was sitting. “Do any members of the junior or senior classes care to enter a nomination? No? Your apathy is duly noted. Fine then. Mia Thermopolis and Lana Weinberger are your nominees for student council president. Ladies, I trust you’ll run a good clean election. Voting will be next Monday.”

And that was that. I’m running for student council president. Against Lana Weinberger.

My life is over.

Lilly kept saying it’s not. Lilly kept saying she has a plan. Lana running against me wasn’t part of that plan—“I can’t believe she’s doing that,” Lilly said as we were filing out of school after Assembly. “I mean, she’s only doing it because she’s jealous.”—but Lilly says it doesn’t matter, because everyone

hates Lana, so no one will vote for her.

Everyone does NOT hate Lana. Lana is one of the most popular girls in school. Everyone will vote for her.

“But, Mia, you’re pure and good of heart,” Boris pointed out to me. “People who are pure and good of heart always beat out evil.”

Um, yeah. In books like The Lord of the Rings, for crying out loud.

And the fact that I’m so pure? That’s probably why I’m about to lose my boyfriend.

And I think there are many historical examples of people who are very clearly NOT good of heart winning more elections than not.

“You’re not going to have to lift a finger,” Lilly said, as Lars helped me into the limo to Grandmère’s. “I’ll be your campaign manager. I’ll take care of everything. And don’t worry. I have a plan!”

I don’t know why Lilly thinks her constant assurances that she has a plan are in any way comforting to me. In fact, the opposite is true.

Grandmère just hung up the phone.

“Well,” she says. She’s already on her second Sidecar since I got here. “I hope you’re satisfied. The entire Mediterranean community is up in arms about that little stunt you pulled.”

“Not everybody.” I found two very supportive faxes in the pile and showed them to her.

“Pfuit!” was all Grandmère said. “Who cares what some fishermen have to say? They aren’t exactly experts on the matter.”

“Yeah,” I said, “but they happen to be Genovian fishermen. My countrymen. And isn’t my first obligation to protect the interests of my countrymen?”

“Not at the expense of straining diplomatic relations with your neighbors.” Grandmère’s lips are pressed so tightly together, they’re practically disappearing. “That was the prime minister of France, and he—”

Thank God the phone rang again. This is pretty awesome. I’d have dumped ten thousand snails into the Bay of Genovia a long time ago if I’d had any idea doing so would get me out of having princess lessons.

Although it kind of sucks that everyone is so mad.

Geez. I knew all about the French, of course. But who knew marine biologists were so TOUCHY?