Princess In Training (3 page)

Oh, sure. Anyway. So Maggie’s brother’s the one who went out with Kirsten Dunst, right?

RIGHT!

So cute!!!!!!!!!!

Tuesday, September 8, Geometry

Okay.

I can do this. I can totally do this.

Converse:

The converse of a conditional statement is formed by interchanging its hypothesis and conclusion.

Contrapositive:

The contrapositive of a conditional statement is formed by interchanging its hypothesis and conclusion, then denying both.

Inverse:

The inverse of a conditional statement is formed by denying both its hypothesis and conclusion.

So:

Logically equivalent:

A conditional statement: a b

The contrapositive of the statement: not b not a

Logically equivalent:

The converse of the statement: b a

The inverse of the statement: not a not b

I’m sorry. WHAT?

Okay, once again, I have managed to prove to be the exception to the rule. If people who are bad at Algebra are supposed to be good at Geometry, then I should be the Stephen Freaking Hawking of Geometry, but guess what? I don’t understand a WORD of this.

Plus, Mr. Harding? Yeah, could he BE any meaner? He already made Trisha Hayes cry over her isosceles triangles, and that’s virtually impossible, since she’s one of Lana Weinberger’s cronies, and also I’m pretty sure she’s a female cyborg like in Terminator 3.

He’s being totally nice to me, but that’s just because one of his colleagues is my stepdad. Oh, and the princess thing, of course. Sometimes it actually doesn’t hurt to have a six-foot-five-inch Swedish bodyguard sitting behind you.

Euler diagram = relate two or more conditional statements to each other by representing them as circles

Tuesday, September 8, French

Oh, well. At least I have ONE good teacher. Ms. Martinez is SO cool. It’s so nice to have a teacher who is still close enough to our age to know about stuff like rubber spike bracelets and The OC.

As Ms. Martinez was collecting our writing samples on how we spent our summers, she was like, “And I just want you guys to know that you can come to me with questions about anything, not just English. I really want to get to know all of you as PEOPLE, not just as my students. So if there’s anything—anything at all—you want to talk about, feel free to stop by. There is an open-door policy in my classroom, and I will always be here for you.”

Whoa! A teacher at Albert Einstein High who doesn’t disappear into the teachers’ lounge the minute class is over? Unbelievable!

Except I sort of wonder how long Ms. Martinez is going to hang on to her open-door policy, because as I was leaving I noticed, like, ten people scurrying up to her desk to talk to her about their personal problems. Lilly was totally the first one in line.

I hope Ms. Martinez counsels Lilly just to let the whole Boris thing go. I didn’t want to say anything to Tina, but her boyfriend’s summer transformation into a hottie is fully why Lilly is wigging out today, not PMS like I told Tina. It must totally suck to see the guy you dumped transformed into Orlando Bloom before your very eyes.

If Orlando Bloom had no fashion sense and breathed from his mouth, I mean.

I hope Lilly doesn’t wear Ms. Martinez out so much that she doesn’t have time to read our writing samples tonight. Because I’m sure that when she’s done with mine, she’s going to want to submit it to a literary agent or something and get me a book deal. I realize fifteen is pretty young to have a multi-book deal with a major publishing house, but I’ve handled the princess thing pretty well so far. I’m sure I could handle a couple of book deadlines.

Mia—The new kid, second row from door, three seats down. Boy or girl?—Shameeka

Boy. He’s wearing pants!

Hello. So am I. I forgot to shave my legs this morning.

Oh. OH.

Yeah. See what I mean?

Well, what’s his/her name?

Perin. At least that’s what Mademoiselle Klein said when she called roll.

Is Perin a boy’s name or girl’s name?

I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.

Wait, I wasn’t paying attention during roll. Did

Mademoiselle Klein say Per-ran or Per-reen? Because if she’s a girl, it would be Per-reen in French, right?

Yeah, but Mademoiselle Klein doesn’t call roll in French. She just said Perin in English with no accent.

So in other words…this is a mystery.

Totally. I just want to know whether or not to think he’s cute.

Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll keep an eye on him/her, and see which bathroom he/she goes into before lunch. Because everyone goes to the bathroom before lunch to put on lip gloss.

But not boys.

Exactly. If he doesn’t go to the bathroom, he’s a boy, and then you can like him.

But what if he’s a girl who just doesn’t wear lip gloss?

Argh! Mysteries are okay in books, but in real life, they kind of suck.

Tuesday, September 8, Gifted and Talented

WHY? WHY WHY WHY did I think this year was going to be better—in spite of Michael not being around—than last year, just because at least Lana and Josh wouldn’t be making out in front of my locker?

Because the thing is, when Josh was around, Lana was DISTRACTED, and not actively seeking out targets to destroy.

But now that there’s no man in her life, she has ample free time to torture me again. Like today at lunch, for instance.

It was all my fault in the first place for being greedy and going back to the jet line for a second ice-cream sandwich. Really, one ice-cream sandwich ought to be enough for a girl my size.

But there was something wrong with the three-bean salad. You would think that with all the money the trustees invested in those surveillance cameras outside they’d have tossed just a LITTLE the cafeteria’s way so we could get something decent to eat in here besides frozen dairy products. But no. Lilly seems to have a point: Apparently finding out who is stubbing their cigarettes out on Joe’s head is more important than providing digestible sustenance for the student body.

So, I was standing there waiting to get my ice-cream sandwich when I heard this voice behind me say my name, and when I turned my head there were Lana and Trisha Hayes, who seemed to have recovered from Mr. Harding’s tongue-lashing—at least enough to join Lana in her quest to humiliate me publicly as often as possible.

“So, Mia,” Lana said, when I made the mistake of turning around. “Are you still going out with that guy? You know, that Michael guy, with the band?”

I should have known, of course. That Lana wasn’t trying to make up for all those years of being mean to me. I should have just put the ice-cream sandwich back and left the jet line then and there.

But I thought, I don’t know, that maybe she was sorry for the whole underwear remark from the locker room that morning. I thought—don’t ask me why—that maybe Lana really had changed over the summer, too, just like Boris. Only instead of changing on the outside, Lana had changed on the inside.

I should have known something like that would be impossible, since in order to have a change of heart, Lana would actually have to HAVE a heart in the first place, and she obviously does NOT, since when I said, cautiously, “Yeah, Michael and I are still going out,” she went, “Isn’t he in college now?”

And I said, “Yeah. He goes to Columbia,” kind of proudly, because, hello, at least MY boyfriend had chosen to go to a college in the same STATE as the one I live in, unlike Lana’s ex.

“Well, have you two done it yet?” Lana wanted to know, as casually as if she were asking me where I’d gotten my highlights done.

And I was like, “Done what?” because I SWEAR I had no idea what she was talking about. I mean, who ASKS people things like that????

And Lana went, “IT, you idiot,” and looked at Trisha and the two of them started laughing hysterically.

That’s when I realized what she meant.

I swear I could FEEL my face turning red. Seriously. It must have turned as red as Lana’s nail polish.

And then before I could stop myself I went, “NO, OF COURSE NOT!” in a very shocked voice.

Because I WAS very shocked. I mean, this is a topic I barely discuss with my best FRIENDS. I certainly never expected to be discussing it with my MORTAL ENEMY. In the JET LINE.

But before I had a chance to recover from my paralyzing astonishment, Lana went on.

“Well, if you want to hang on to him, you’d better hurry up,” she said, while Trisha giggled behind her. “Because guys in college expect their girlfriends to Do It.”

Guys in college expect their girlfriends to Do It.

That is what Lana said to me. In the JET LINE.

Then, as I stood there staring at her in total and complete horror, Lana poked me in the back and went, “Are you going to buy that, or are you just going to stand there?” and I realized the line had moved up so that I was standing in front of the cashier with my ice-cream sandwich melting in my hand.

So, I handed the cashier my dollar and went back to my table with Lilly and Boris and Tina and Shameeka and Ling Su and just sat there not saying anything until the bell rang.

And no one even noticed.

Guys in college expect their girlfriends to Do It.

Can this possibly be true? I mean, I have seen a lot of movies and TV shows where guys in college seem to expect their girlfriends to Do It. Such as MTV’s Fraternity Life and Spring Break. And Revenge of the Nerds.

But the guys in those movies and shows had girlfriends who were in college, too. None of them were going out with sophomores in high school. Who will shortly be flunking Geometry. Who happen to be princesses of small European principalities. Who have six-foot-five bodyguards.

Oh, my God, is Michael expecting to have SEX with me??? NOW????

Naturally, I assumed we would have sex ONE DAY. But I thought ONE DAY was way, way in the future. As far into the future as the day we go out to sea together to stop those whaling ships for Greenpeace. I mean, we have only been to second base ONCE and that was at the prom and I’m pretty sure now it wasn’t even on purpose and I didn’t even FEEL anything because of my strapless bra having way too much metal in it.

Am I supposed to believe that all this time I have been supposed to be getting ready to DO IT? But I am NOT ready to DO IT. I don’t think. I mean, I don’t even want Michael to see me in a BATHING SUIT let alone NAKED—

OH, MY GOD!!!! Last night he asked me to come over on Saturday to see how he and Doo Pak have set up their dorm room!!!!

WHAT IF THAT WAS REALLY AN INVITATION TO COME OVER AND DO IT AND I DON’T EVEN KNOW IT BECAUSE I AM SO UNSKILLED IN THE WAYS OF LOVE?????

What am I going to do about this? Clearly, I need to talk to someone. But WHO? I can’t talk to Lilly, because Michael’s her BROTHER. And I can’t talk to Tina, because she already told me the most precious gift a woman can give to a man is the flower of her virginity and that’s why she’s saving herself for Prince William, who is only allowed to marry a virgin.

She says she will settle for giving her flower to Boris if the Prince William thing doesn’t work out by the time our senior prom rolls around, though.

I can’t talk to my MOTHER about it, because she can barely concentrate on the things she’s SUPPOSED to be concentrating on—like raising my baby brother—as it is, without the added distraction of her teenaged daughter wanting to talk to her about sex.

Besides, I know what she’ll do: She’ll schedule an appointment for me with her gynecologist. Excuse me, but EW.

And obviously I can’t say a word to Dad, because he would just arrange to have Michael assassinated by the Royal Genovian Guard.

And Grandmère would just pat me on the head and then tell every single person she knows.

Who does that leave? I’ll tell you who:

MICHAEL. I am going to have to talk to MICHAEL about having sex with MICHAEL.

What am I, NUTS??? I can’t talk to a BOY about SEX!!!! Particularly not THAT BOY!!!!

WHAT AM I GOING TO DO????????????

Oh, my God, I think I’m having a heart attack. Seriously. My heart is beating, like, a million times a minute and practically exploding out of my chest. I think I have to go to the nurse. I think I have to—

Mrs. Hill just asked me if I’m all right. Since it’s the first day of class, she is pretending like she actually intends to supervise us this year. She made us all fill out a form stating what our goal for the semester is. You know, in this class. I peeked at Boris’s and he’d written, “To learn Antonin Dvorák’s Violin Concerto in A minor by heart and win a Grammy like my hero, Joshua Bell.”

Frankly, I don’t think that’s a very realistic goal. But Boris is almost as hot as Joshua Bell now, so maybe it really is doable. If hotness counts to the Grammy judges.

I tried to peek at Lilly’s goal, but she is being way secretive. She put her hand over her paper and went, “Back off, baby-licker,” to me in a very rude way.

I doubt she would be so mean if she knew the intense emotional maelstrom currently swirling within me concerning the future of my relationship with her brother.

Since I didn’t know what to put as my goal—I don’t even know why I’m IN this class this semester—I just wrote down, “To write a novel, and to not flunk Geometry.”

I can’t believe Mrs. Hill noticed that I was having a heart attack. She never used to notice anything we did. Well, that’s because she was always locked in the teachers’ lounge. But still.

I told her I’m fine.

But the truth is, I don’t think I’ll ever be fine again, thanks to Lana.

Tuesday, September 8, U.S. Government

THEORIES OF GOVERNMENT: DIVINE RIGHT—Creation of gov. is divine intervention in human affairs. Religious and secular were interwoven. People were far less likely to criticize a government created by God.