Princess Mia (The Princess Diaries 9)

“I’m not asking you to,” he said.

“Do you know how much I spent?” I asked suspiciously.

“I do. The credit card company already called me. They thought the card had been stolen and some teenage girl was on a spending spree. Since you’ve never spent that much before.”

“Oh,” I said. “Then what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Nothing. I just have to make it seem like I’m yelling at you. You know how your mother is. She’s from the Midwest. She can’t help it. If it costs more than twenty dollars, she breaks out in hives. She’s always been that way.”

“Oh,” I said. Then I added, “But, Dad. It’s not fair!”

“What’s not fair?” he wanted to know.

“Nothing,” I said, lowering my voice. “I’m just pretending like you’re yelling at me.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding impressed. “Good job. Oh, no.”

“Oh, no, what?”

“Your grandmother just walked in.” Dad sounded tense. “She wants to talk to you.”

“About how much I spent?” I was surprised. To Grandmère, the amount I paid today at Bendel’s equals only a small fraction of what she spends every week on hair and beauty treatments alone.

“Uh, not exactly,” Dad said.

And the next thing I knew, Grandmère was breathing into the phone.

“Amelia,” she snapped. “What is this your father tells me about our princess lessons being canceled for the foreseeable future because you have some kind of personal crisis you need to work out?”

“Mother,” I heard Dad yelping in the background. “That is not what I said!”

I knew exactly what was going on. Dad had been trying to get me out of princess lessons with Grandmère without telling Grandmère WHY I needed to miss princess lessons—in other words, without telling her I’m in therapy. With a cowboy psychologist.

“Quiet, Phillipe,” Grandmère snapped. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” To me, she said, “Amelia, this isn’t like you. Falling apart because of That Boy? Have I taught you NOTHING? A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle! And whatnot. Pull yourself together!”

“Grandmère,” I said wearily. “It’s not—It’s not JUST because of Michael, okay? Things are kind of stressful for me right now. You know I missed a bunch of school this week, I have tons of work to make up, so if it’s okay, I’d really like to take a raincheck on princess lessons until—”

“WHAT ABOUT DOMINA REI?” Grandmère shrieked.

“What about it?” I asked.

“We have to start working on your speech!”

“Grandmère, about that, I just don’t know if I—”

“You are giving this speech, Amelia,” Grandmère barked, “and that’s final. I already told them you would. And I already BRAGGED about it to the Contessa! Now, tomorrow afternoon, you are meeting me at the Genovian Embassy, and together, we shall pore over the royal archives for some kind of material that will hopefully inspire your speech. Is that understood?”

“But, Grandmère—”

“Tomorrow. The embassy. Two o’clock.”

Click!

Well. I guess she told me.

And I guess my dream of spending all day Sunday in bed has been crushed.

Mom just poked her head in here. She seems to have gotten over her rage about my spendaholism. She was chewing her lower lip and going, “Mia, I’m sorry. But I had to do it. Do you realize you spent almost as much as the gross national product of a small developing nation…only you spent it on low-rise jeans?”