Princess' Diaries

I hear stirrings in the kitchen. Maya must be there, pouring out glasses of pulpless orange juice for breakfast. I’m going to go see if she needs any help.

I don’t know why, but I AM SO HAPPY!

I guess it doesn’t take much, does it?

 

 

 

Sunday Night

Grandmère showed up at the loft today with Dad in tow. Dad wanted to find out how things went at the dance. Lars didn’t tell him! God, Ilove my bodyguard. And Grandmère wanted to let me know that she has to go away for a week, so our princess lessons are suspended for the time being. She says it’s time to pay her yearly visit to somebody named Baden-Baden. I suppose he’s friends with that other guy she used to hang around with, Boutros-Boutros Something-or-other.

Evenmy grandmother has a boyfriend.

Anyway, she and Dad just showed up out of the blue, and you should have seen my mom’s face. She looked about ready to heave. Especially when Grandmère started bossing her around about how messy the loft is (I’ve been too busy lately to clean).

To distract Grandmère from my mom, I told her I’d walk her back to her limo, and on the way I told her all about Josh, and she was way interested, since the story had everything in it that she likes, reporters and cute boys and people getting their hearts totally stomped on and stuff like that.

Anyway, while we were standing on the corner saying good-bye until next week (YES!No princess lessons for a whole week! She shoots; she scores!) the Blind Guy walked by, tapping his cane. He stopped at the corner and stood there, waiting for his next victim to come along and help him cross the street. Grandmère saw this and totally fell for it. She was like, "Amelia, go and help that poor young man."

But, of course, I knew better. I said, "No way."

"Amelia!" Grandmère was shocked. "One of the most important traits in a princess is her unfailing kindess to strangers. Now, go and help that young man cross the street."

I said, "No way, Grandmère. If you think he needs help so much,you do it."

So Grandmère, all bent out of shape—and I guess intent on showing me how unfailingly kind she is—went up to the Blind Guy and said in this fakey voice, "Let me help you, young man. . . . "

The Blind Guy grabbed Grandmère by the arm. I guess he liked what he felt, because the next thing I knew, he was going, "Oh, thank you so much, ma’am," and he and Grandmère were crossing Spring Street.