Princess in Training (The Princess Diaries 6)

“History has tried and rejected many forms of government over time, including governance of divine right, something this country abolished hundreds of years ago.

“And yet for some reason, at this school, the divine right of governance still seems to exist. There’s a certain set of people who seem to believe they have an inherent right to office, because they are more attractive than the rest of us—or better at sports—or get invited to more parties than we do.”

As I said this, I looked very pointedly back at Lana, then eyed Ramon and Trisha, too, for good measure. Then I looked back at the crowd before me, most of whom were staring at me with their mouths open—and not, like Boris, because of deviated septums, either.

“These are the people who are at the top of the evolutionary ladder,” I went on. “The people with the nicest complexions. The people with the bodies that are shaped most like the models we see in magazines. The people who always have the hottest new bag or sunglasses. The popular people. The people who want to make you wish you were more like them.

“But I’m standing here before you today to tell you that I’ve been there. That’s right. I’ve been to the popular side. And guess what? It’s all a scam. These people, who act as if they have a right to govern you and me, are completely unqualified for the job due to the simple fact that they don’t believe in the most fundamental precepts of our nation, and that’s that we are ALL CREATED EQUAL. Not a single one of us is better than any other person here. And that includes any princesses who might be in the room.”

This got a laugh, even though the truth is, I wasn’t trying to be funny. Still, the laugh made me feel a little less like barfing for some reason. I mean…I had made people laugh.

And not, you know, AT me. But at something I’d said. And not in a mocking way, either.

I don’t know. But that felt kind of…cool.

And suddenly, even though I could still feel my palms sweating, and my fingers shaking, I felt…good.

“Look,” I said. “I am not going to stand up here and promise you a bunch of junk you and I both know I can’t deliver.” I looked back at Lana, who had crossed her arms over her chest, and now made a face at me. I turned back to the crowd. “Longer lunch periods? You know the board of trustees will never approve that. More sports? Is there anyone here who really feels his or her sports needs aren’t being met?”

A few hands shot up.

“And is there anyone here who feels that his or her creative or educational needs aren’t being met? Anybody here who thinks that this school needs a literary magazine, or new digital video, photography, and editing technology for the Film and Photography clubs, or a kiln for the art department, or a new stage-lighting system for the Drama Club more than we need a soccer district championship trophy?”

Many, many more hands shot up.

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what I thought. There is a real problem in this school, and that’s that for too long, a group that is in the minority has been making decisions for the majority. And that is just wrong.”

Someone whooped. And I don’t even think it was Lilly.

“Actually,” I said, encouraged by the whoop, “it’s more than just wrong. It’s a total violation of the principles upon which this nation was founded. As the philosopher John Locke put it, ‘Government is legitimate only to the extent that it is based on the consent of the people being governed.’ Are you really going to give your consent to the privileged few to make your decisions for you? Or are you going to entrust those decisions to someone who actually understands you, someone who shares your ideals, your hopes, and your dreams? Someone who will do her very best to make sure YOUR voice, and not the voice of the so-called popular minority, is heard?”

At this there was another whoop, and this one came from way on the other side of the bleachers—definitely not one of my friends.

The second whoop was followed by a third. And then there was a smattering of applause. And a voice that shouted, “Go, Mia!”

Whoa.

“Um, thank you, Mia.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Principal Gupta take a step toward me. “That was very enlightening.”

But I pretended like I hadn’t heard her.

That’s right. Principal Gupta was giving me the okay to sit down—to get out of the limelight—to shrink back down into my chair.

And I blew her off.

Because I had some more stuff to get off my unendowed chest.

“But that’s not all that’s wrong with this school,” I said into the microphone, enjoying the way it made my voice bounce around the gym.

“How about the fact that there are people working here—people who call themselves teachers—who seem to feel that theirs is the only legitimate form of expression? Are we really going to tolerate being told by instructors in a field as subjective as something like—oh, English, for example—that the subject matter of our essays is inappropriate because it might be considered—by some—not substantive enough in topical importance? If, for instance, I choose to write a paper about the historical significance of Japanese anime or manga, is my paper worth less than someone else’s essay on the caldera in Yellowstone Park that might one day explode, killing tens of thousands of people?

“Or,” I added, as everyone started buzzing because they didn’t know that Yellowstone Park is nothing more than a deadly magma reservoir and probably a lot of them have been unknowingly going there on family vacations and whatnot, “is my paper on Japanese anime or manga JUST AS IMPORTANT as the paper on the caldera at Yellowstone, because knowing as we do now, that such a caldera exists, we need something entertaining—such as Japanese anime or manga—to get our minds off it?”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then someone from somewhere in the middle of the bleachers yelled, “Final Fantasy!” Someone else yelled, “Dragonball!” Another person, from way at the top, shouted, “Pokémon!” and got a big laugh.

“Maybe things like the lottery and television were invented to sell products, bilk workers of their hard-earned cash, and lull us all into a false sense of complacency, and distract us from the true horrors of the world around us. But maybe we NEED those distractions, so that during our leisure time, we can enjoy ourselves,” I went on. “Is there something wrong with, after our work is done, hanging out and watching a little of The OC? Or singing karaoke? Or reading comic books? Does something have to be complicated and hard to understand to be culture? A hundred years from now, after we’re all dead from the Yellowstone caldera, or the ice caps melting, or no more petroleum, or killer algae taking over the planet, when whatever remains of human civilization looks back at early twenty-first century society, which do you think is going to better describe what our lives were really like—an essay on the ways in which the media exploits us, or a single episode of Sailor Moon? I’m sorry, but as far as I’m concerned, give me anime, or give me death.”

The gym exploded.