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I can tell she hasn’t told him, because when I walked in this morning, all Mr. Gianini said was, “Oh, hi, Mia. How are you doing?”
Oh, hi, Mia. How are you doing?????
That is not what you say to someone whose mother is having your baby. You say something like, “Excuse me, Mia, may I see you a moment?”
Then you take the daughter of the woman with whom you have committed this heinous indiscretion out into the hallway, where you fall on bended knee to grovel and beg for her approval and forgiveness. That is what you do.
I can’t help staring at Mr. G and wondering what my new baby brother or sister is going to look like. My mom is totally hot, like Carmen Sandiego, only without the trench coat—further proof that I am a biological anomaly, since I inherited neither my mother’s thick curly black mane of hair nor her C cup. So there’s nothing to worry about there.
But Mr. G, I just don’t know. Not that Mr. G isn’t good-looking, I guess. I mean, he’s tall and has all his hair (score one for Mr. G, since my dad’s as bald as a parking meter). But what is with his nostrils? I totally can’t figure it out. They are just so . . . big.
I sincerely hope the kid gets my mom’s nostrils and Mr. G’s ability to divide fractions in his head.
The sad thing is, Mr. Gianini doesn’t have the slightest idea what is about to befall him. I would feel sorry for him if it weren’t for the fact that it is all his fault. I know it takes two to tango, but please, my mother is a painter. He is an Algebra teacher.
You tell me who is supposed to be the responsible one.
Monday, October 20, English
Great. Just great.
As if things aren’t bad enough, now our English teacher says we have to complete a journal this semester. I am not kidding. A journal. Like I don’t already keep one.
And get this: At the end of every week, we’re supposed to turn our journals in. For Mrs. Spears to read. Because she wants to get to know us. We are supposed to begin by introducing ourselves, and listing our pertinent stats. Later, we are supposed to move on to recording our innermost thoughts and emotions.
She has got to be joking. Like I am going to allow Mrs. Spears to be privy to my innermost thoughts and emotions. I won’t even tell my innermost thoughts and emotions to my mother. Would I tell them to my English teacher?
And I can’t possibly turn this journal in. There’s all sorts of stuff in here I don’t want anyone to know. Like how my mother is pregnant by my Algebra teacher, for instance.
Well, I will just have to start a new journal. A fake journal. Instead of recording my innermost emotions and feelings in it, I’ll just write a bunch of lies, and hand that in instead.
I am such an accomplished liar, I very highly doubt Mrs. Spears will know the difference.
ENGLISH JOURNAL
by Mia Thermopolis
KEEP OUT!!!
THIS MEANS YOU,
UNLESS YOU ARE MRS. SPEARS!!!!!!
An Introduction
NAME:
Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo
Known as Mia for short.
Her Royal Highness the princess of Genovia or just Princess Mia in some circles.
AGE:
Fourteen
YR IN SCHOOL:
