Princess' Diaries

We stayed up really late reading Tina’s teenage love novels. I swear, there wasn’t a single one where the boy broke up with a snotty girl and started going out with the heroine right away. Usually he waited a tactful amount of time, like a summer or at least a weekend, before asking her out. The only ones with a guy who started going out with the heroine right away turned out to be ones where the guy was just using the girl to get revenge or something.

But then Tina said even though she loves reading those books, she never takes them as a guide to real life. Because how many times in real life does anybody ever get amnesia? And when do cute young European terrorists ever take anybody hostage in the girls’ locker room? And if they did, wouldn’t it be on the day when you’re wearing your worst underwear, the kind with the holes and loose elastic, and a bra that doesn’t match, and not a pink silk camisole and tap pants, like the heroine of that particular book?

She has a point.

Tina’s turning out the light now, because she’s tired. I’m glad. It’s been a long day.

 

 

 

Saturday, October 18

When I got home, the first thing I did was check to make sure Josh hadn’t called to cancel.

He hadn’t.

Mr. Gianini was there, though (of course). This time he had pants on, thank God. When he heard me ask my mom if a boy named Josh had called, he was all, "You don’t mean Josh Richter, do you?"

I got kind of mad, because he sounded . . .  I don’t know. Shocked or something.

I said, "Yes, I mean Josh Richter. He and I are going to the Cultural Diversity Dance tonight."

Mr. Gianini raised his eyebrows. "What about that Weinberger girl?"

It kind of sucks to have a parent who’s dating a teacher in your school. I went, "They broke up."

My mom was watching us pretty closely, which is unusual for her, since most of the time she’s in her own world. She went, "Who’s Josh Richter?"

And I went, "Only the cutest, most sensitive boy in school."

Mr. Gianini snorted and said, "Well, most popular, anyway."

To which my mom replied, with a lot of surprise, "And he askedMia to the dance?"

Needless to say, this was not very flattering. When your own mother knows it’s weird for the cutest, most popular boy in school to ask you to the dance, you know you’re in trouble.

"Yes," I said, all defensively.

"I don’t like this," Mr. Gianini said. And when my mom asked him why, he said, "Because I know Josh Richter."