Forever Princess (2 page)

Thursday, April 27, French

Okay, it's been four years since I started going to this place. And it still feels like all I ever do is lie.

And I don't just mean to Lana or my parents, either. Now I'm lying to
everyone.

You would really think, after all this time, I'd be getting better about that.

But I found out the hard way—a little less than two years ago now, actually—what happens when you tell the truth.

And even though I still think I did the right thing—I mean, it did bring democracy to a country that has never known it before, and all—I'm not making that mistake again. I hurt so many people—especially people who I really care about—because I told the truth, I really think it's better now just…well, to lie.

Not big lies. Just little white lies, which don't hurt anybody. It's not like I'm lying for personal gain.

But what am I going to do,
admit
I got into every college I applied to?

Oh, yeah, that would go over really well. How would all the people who
didn't
get into their first-choice colleges—especially those of them who deserved to…and that would be approximately eighty percent of the current AEHS graduating senior class—feel then?

Besides, you know what they'd say.

Sure,
nice
people—like Tina—would say that I'm lucky.

Like luck had anything to do with it! Unless you count the “luck” where my mom ran into my dad at that off-campus party where they met, instantly hated each
other, which of course led inevitably to sexual tension and then to
l'amour
, and one broken condom later, to me.

And—despite Principal Gupta's insistence—I'm not convinced hard work had very much to do with me getting in everywhere, either.

Okay…I did do really well in the writing and critical reading sections of my SATs. And my college app essays were good, too. (I'm not going to lie about
that
, at least not in my own journal. I worked my butt off on those.)

I'll admit, when your extracurriculars are,
Single-handedly brought democracy to a country that otherwise had never known it before
, and
Wrote a four-hundred-page novel for my senior project
, it does look slightly impressive.

But I can be truthful to
myself
: All those colleges I applied to? They only let me in because I'm a princess.

And it's not that I'm not grateful. I know every single one of those schools will give me a wonderful, unique educational opportunity.

It's just…it would have been nice for just
one
of those places to have accepted me for…well, for
me
, and not the tiara. If only I could have applied under my pen name—Daphne Delacroix—to know for sure.

Whatever. I've got bigger things to worry about right now.

Well, not bigger than where I'm going to spend the next four—or more, if I goof off and don't declare a major right away like Mom did—years of my life.

But there's the whole thing with Dad. What if he doesn't win the election? The election that wouldn't even be happening if it weren't for me telling the truth.

And Grandmère is so upset about the fact that René, of all people, is running against Dad—plus all the rumors that have been going around ever since I made Princess Amelie's declaration public, like that our family was purposefully hiding Amelie's declaration all along, so that the Renaldos could stay in power—that Dad has had to banish her to Manhattan and have her plan this stupid birthday party for me just to distract her so she'll quit driving him insane with her constant barrage of, “But does this mean we'll have to move out of the palace?”

She—like the readers of
teenSTYLE
—can't seem to understand that the Genovian palace—and royal family—are protected under Amelie's declaration (and besides which are a major source of tourist income, just like the British royal family). I keep explaining to her, “Grandmère, no matter what happens in the election, Dad is
always
going to be HRH Prince of Genovia, you're
always
going to be HRH Dowager Princess, and I'm
always
going to be HRH Princess of Genovia. I'm still going to have to open new wings of the hospital, I'm still going to have to wear this stupid tiara and attend state funerals and diplomatic dinners…I'm just not going to make legislation. That will be the prime minister's job. Dad's job, hopefully. Got it?”

Only she never does.

I guess it's the least I can do for Dad after what I did. Dealing with her, I mean. I figured, when I spilled the beans about this whole Genovia-is-really-a-democracy thing, he'd run for prime minister unopposed. I mean, with our apathetic population, who else would be interested in running?

I never dreamed the Contessa Trevanni would put up the money for her son-in-law to campaign against him.

I should have known. It's not like René has ever had an actual job. And now that he and Bella have a baby, he's got to do
something
, I suppose, besides change the Luvs disposables.

But
Applebee's
? I suppose he's getting a kickback from them, or whatever.

What's going to happen if Genovia is overrun by chain restaurants and—my chest seriously gets tight when I think about this—turned into another Euro Disney?

What can I do to make this not happen?

Dad says to stay out of it—that I've done enough…

Yeah. Like that doesn't make me feel
too
guilty.

It's all just so exhausting.

Not to mention all this other stuff. Like it even matters, in comparison to what's going on with Dad and Genovia, but…well, it kind of does. I mean, Dad and Genovia are facing all these changes, and so am I.

The only difference is, they aren't
lying
about it, the way I am. Well, okay, sure, Dad's lying about why Grandmère is in New York (to plan my birthday party, when really, she's here because he can't stand having her around).

That's
one
lie. I have
multiple
lies. Lies layered upon lies.

Mia Thermopolis's List of Big Fat Lies She's Been Telling Everyone:

Lie Number One: Well, of course, first, there's the lie
that I didn't get into all those colleges. (No one knows the truth but me. And Principal Gupta. And my parents, of course.)

Lie Number Two: Then there's the lie about my senior project. I mean, that it wasn't
actually
on the history of Genovian olive oil pressing, circa 1254–1650, which is what I've told everyone (except Ms. Martinez, of course, who was my advisor, and who actually read it…or at least the first eighty pages of it, since I noticed she stopped correcting my punctuation after that. Of course Dr. K knows the truth, but he doesn't count).

No one else even asked to read it, because who'd want to read a four-hundred-page paper on the history of Genovian olive oil pressing, circa 1254–1650?

Well, except for one person.

But I don't want to talk about that right now.

Lie Number Three: Then there's the lie that I just told Lana, about how I can't go prom dress shopping with her because I'm busy hanging out with John Paul Reynolds-Abernathy IV after school today, when the truth is—Well. That's not the
only
reason why I'm not going prom dress shopping with her. I don't want to get into it with her, because I know what she'll say. And I just don't feel like dealing with La Lana right now.

Only Dr. Knutz knows the exact extent of my lies. He says he's prepared to clear his schedule for the day when they all blow up in my face, as he's warned me is inevitably going to happen.

And he says I better do it soon, because next week is our last session.

He's mentioned it would be far better if I just came clean—confess the truth about having been admitted to every college to which I applied (for some reason, he thinks it
isn't
necessarily just because I'm a princess), tell everyone what my senior project is
really
about, including the one person who wants to read it…even fess up about the prom.

If you ask me, a good place for me to start telling the truth would be in Dr. K's office—with telling Dr. K that I think
he
's the one in need of therapy. Yeah, he pretty much came to the rescue when I was going through one of the darkest periods of my life (though he made me do all the real work to climb out of that black hole myself).

But he has to be nuts to think I'm simply going to start blurting out the cold hard truth to everyone like that.

It's just that
so
many people would be
so
hurt if I suddenly started telling the truth. Dr. K was there when the fallout happened after the Princess Amelie revelation. My dad and Grandmère were in his office for
hours
afterward. It was
awful
. I don't want that to happen again.

Not that my friends would end up in my therapist's office. But Kenny Showalter—oh, sorry,
Kenneth
, as he wants to be known now—wanted to go to Columbia more than anything, but instead got into his second-choice school
of MIT. MIT is a fantastic school, but try telling Kenny—I mean, Kenneth—that. I guess the fact that he'll be separated from his one true love, Lilly—who
will
be going to Columbia, just like her brother—is what's bothering him about MIT, which is in Massachusetts.

And then there's Tina, who didn't get into
her
first choice of Harvard—but
did
get into NYU. So she's kind of happy, because Boris didn't get into his first choice of Berklee, which is in Boston. Instead, he got into Juilliard, which is in New York City. So that means Tina and Boris will at least be going to colleges in the same city. Even if they aren't their first-choice colleges.

Oh, and Trisha is going to Duke. And Perin is going to Dartmouth. And Ling Su is going to Parsons. And Shameeka is going to Princeton.

Still. None of them is their first-choice college. (Lilly wanted to go to Harvard.) And no one who wanted to go to school together got into the same place!

Including me and J.P. Well, except that we did. But he doesn't know that. Because I told him I didn't.

I couldn't help it! When everyone was checking online, and all the envelopes were coming, and no one was getting into their first-choice schools and everyone was finding out they were going to be one or even two states apart, and they were all crying and carrying on, I just…I don't know what came over me. I felt so badly about getting in everywhere, I blurted out, “I didn't get in anywhere, either!”

It was just easier that way than telling the truth, and having someone get their feelings hurt. Even though my lie made J.P. turn pale and swallow resolutely and put his arm
around me, and say, “It's all right, Mia. We'll get through this. Somehow.”

So, yes. I suck.

But it wasn't like my lie was all that unbelievable. With my math SAT score? I
shouldn't
have gotten in anywhere.

And, honestly? How can I tell anyone the truth
now
? I can't. I just can't.

Dr. K says this is the cowardly way of dealing with things. He says that I'm a brave woman, just like Eleanor Roosevelt and Princess Amelie, and that I can easily surmount these obstacles (such as having lied to everyone).

But there are just ten more days of school to go! Anyone can fake anything for ten days. Grandmère's faked having eyebrows for the entire time I've known her—

Mia! You're writing in your journal! I haven't seen you do that in
ages
!

Oh. Hi, Tina. Yeah. Well, yeah, I told you. I was busy with my senior project.

I'll say. You've been working on it for the past
two years
, almost! I had no idea the history of Genovian olive oil pressing was that fascinating.

It is, believe me! As the main export of Genovia, olive oil and its manufacture is an extremely interesting subject.

I can't believe myself. Listen to me! How sad can I sound???
As the main export of Genovia, olive oil and its manufacture is an extremely interesting subject
?

If only Tina knew what my book was really about! Tina would
die
if she knew I'd written a four-hundred-page historical romance…Tina
adores
romances!

But I can't tell her. I mean, it obviously isn't any good if I can't get it published.

If only she had asked to read it…but who'd
want
to read about olive oil and its manufacture?

Okay, well,
one
person.

But he was just being nice. Honestly. That's the only reason.

And I can't actually send him a copy. Because then he'll see what it's
really
about.

And I'll die.

Mia. Are you all right?

Of course! Why do you ask?

I don't know. Because you've been acting sort of…funny the closer we've gotten to graduation. And as your best friend, I just thought I'd ask. I know you didn't get into any of the colleges you applied to, but surely your dad can pull a few strings, right? I mean, he's still a prince—not to mention, soon to be the prime minister! Well, hopefully. He's sure to beat that jerk, Prince René. I just know your dad could get you into NYU…and then we could be roomies!

Well…we'll see! I'm trying not to worry about it too much.

You? Not worry? I'm surprised you haven't had your nose stuck in that journal for the past six months. Anyway, what's this Lana tells me about you not wanting to go prom dress shopping with us this afternoon? She says you're going to J.P.'s play rehearsal?