Mia Goes Fourth

a bone-marrow transplant? Because, you know, we're probably a match, on account of my having his hair. At least, what

his hair must have looked like, back when he had some.'

It wasn't until we were safely inside the limo that Grandmere gave me a very disgusted look and said, 'Really, Amelia. There

is nothing wrong with your father. There is, however, something wrong with that school of yours. Imagine, not allowing their pupils any sort of absences except in the case of illness. Ridiculous! Sometimes, you know, people need a day. A personal

day, I think they call it. Well, today, Amelia, is your personal day.'

I blinked at her from my side of the limo. I couldn't quite believe what I was hearing.

'Wait a minute,' I said. 'You mean . . . Dad isn't sick?' '

Pfuit!' Grandmere said, her drawn-on eyebrows raised way up. 'He certainly seemed healthy enough when I spoke

to him this morning.'

'Then what. . . ?' I stared at her. 'Why did you tell Principal Gupta . . . ?'

'Because otherwise she would not have allowed you out of class,' Grandmere said, glancing at her gold and diamond

watch. 'And we are late, as it is. Really, there is nothing worse than an overzealous educator. They think they are helping,

when in reality, you know, there are many different varieties of learning. Not all of it takes place in a classroom.'

Comprehension was beginning to dawn. Grandmere had not pulled me out of school in the middle of the day because

anyone in my family was sick. No, Grandmere had pulled me out of school because she wanted to teach me something.

'Grandmere,' I cried, hardly able to believe what I was hearing. 'You can't just drive over and yank me out of school

whenever you want to. And you certainly can't tell Principal Gupta that my dad is sick when he isn't! How could you

even say something like that? Don't you know anything about karma? I mean, if you go around lying about stuff like

that all the time, it could actually come true.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Amelia,' Grandmere said. 'Your father is not going to have to go back to hospital just because

I told a little white lie to an academic administrator.'

'I don't know how you can be so sure of that,' I said, angrily. 'And anyway, where do you think you're taking me? I can't

afford to just be leaving school in the middle of the day, you know, Grandmere. I mean, I've got a lot of catching up to do thanks to the fact that I went to bed so early last night

'Oh, I am sorry,' Grandmere said, very sarcastically. 'I know how much you enjoy your Algebra class. I am sure it is a

very great deprivation to you, missing it today . . .'

I couldn't deny that she was right. At least partially. While I wasn't all that thrilled about the method by which she'd

done it, the fact that Grandmere had extracted me from Algebra wasn't exactly something I was about to cry over.

I mean, come on. Integers are not my best thing.

'Well, wherever we're going,' I said, severely, 'we better be back in time for lunch. Because Michael will wonder where I am.'

'Not that boy again,' Grandmere said, lifting her gaze to the lirno's sun roof with a sigh.

'Yes, that boy," I said. 'That boy I happen to love with all of my heart and soul..."

'Oh, we're here,' Grandmere said, with some relief, as her driver pulled over. 'At last. Get out, Amelia.'

I got out of the limo, then looked around to see where Grandmere had brought me. But all I saw was the big Chanel store

on Fifty-Seventh Street. That couldn't be where we were headed. Could it?

But when Grandmere, untangling Rommel from his Louis Vuitton leash, put him on the ground and then began striding purposefully towards those big glass doors, I saw that Chanel was exactly where we were headed.

'Grandmere,' I cried, rushing after her. 'Chanel? You pulled me out of class to take me shopping?'

'You need a gown,' Grandmere said with a sniff, 'for the black-and-white ball at the Contessa Trevanni's this Friday.

This was the soonest I could get an appointment.'

'Black-and-white ball?' I echoed, as Lars escorted us into the hushed white interior of Chanel, the world's most exclusive fashion boutique - the kind of store that, before I found out I was a princess, I would have been too terrified ever even to

set foot in ... although I can't say the same for my friends, as Lilly had once filmed an entire episode of her cable access show from inside a dressing room at Chanel. She'd barricaded herself in and was trying on Karl Lagerfeld's latest creations, refusing to come out until security broke the door down and escorted her to the sidewalk. It had been a show on how haute couture designers are, judging by the way their clothes fit, really sadistic misogynists at heart. 'What black-and-white ball?'

'Surely your mother told you,' Grandmere said, as a tall, reed-thin woman approached us with cries of, 'Your Royal Highnesses! How delightful to see you.'

'My mother didn't tell me anything about a ball,' I said. 'When did you say it was?'