Princess in the Spotlight (The Princess Diaries 2)

cooking sherry

fresh fruit

alfalfa sprouts

wheat germ

Colombian roast

yogurt

chocolate chips

salami

Don’t forget the

bottle of Absolut

in the freezer!

Monday, October 20, After school

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, suddenly, they did.

Grandmère called.

This is so unfair. I thought she was supposed to have gone to Baden-Baden for a little R and R. I was fully looking forward to a respite from her torture sessions—also known as princess lessons, which I am forced by my father, the despot, to attend. I mean, I could use a little vacation myself. Do they really think anyone in Genovia cares whether I know how to use a fish fork? Or if I can sit down without getting wrinkles in the back of my skirt? Or if I know how to say thank you in Swahili? Shouldn’t my future countrymen and women be more concerned with my views on the environment? And gun control? And overpopulation?

But according to Grandmère, the people of Genovia don’t care about any of that. They just want to know that I won’t embarrass them at any state dinners.

As if. Grandmère’s the one they should be worried about. I mean, I didn’t have eyeliner permanently tatooed onto my eyelids. I don’t dress up my pet in chinchilla bolero jackets. I was never a close personal friend of Richard Nixon.

But oh, no, it’s me everyone is supposedly so worried about. Like I might commit some huge social gaffe at my introduction to the Genovian people in December.

Right.

But whatever. It turns out she didn’t go after all, on account of the Baden-Baden baggage handlers being on strike.

I wish I knew the head of the baggage handlers’ union in Baden-Baden. If I did, I would totally offer him the one hundred dollars per day my dad has been donating in my name to Greenpeace for performing my duties as princess of Genovia, just so he and the other baggage handlers would go back to work, and get Grandmère out of my hair for a while.

Anyway, Grandmère left a very scary message on the answering machine. She says she has a “surprise” for me. I’m supposed to call her right away.

I wonder what her surprise is. Knowing Grandmère, it’s probably something totally horrible, like a coat made out of the skin of baby poodles.

Hey, I wouldn’t put it past her.

I’m going to pretend I didn’t get the message.

Later on Monday

Just got off the phone with Grandmère. She wanted to know why I hadn’t returned her call. I told her I didn’t get the message.

Why am I such a liar? I mean, I can’t even tell the truth about the simplest things. And I’m supposed to be a princess, for crying out loud. What kind of princess goes around lying all the time?

Anyway, Grandmère says she is sending a limo to pick me up. She and my dad and I are going to have dinner in her suite at the Plaza. Grandmère says she is going to tell me all about my surprise the

n.