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The answer to that, of course, was a resounding yes . But I didn’t want to be rude. I said, “Grandmère, tomorrow night is our first date. Mine and Michael’s, I mean. It’s really important to me.”
“And I suppose the fact that it was really important to me that you attend this ball—that is of no consequence?” Grandmère actually looked, for a moment, as she sat gazing down at me so miserably, like she had tears in her eyes. But maybe it was only a trick of the not very clear light. “The fact that Elena Trevanni has been, since I was a little girl, always lording it over me, because she was born into a more respected and aristocratic family than I was? That until I married your grandfather, she always had nicer clothes and shoes and handbags than my parents could afford for me? That she still thinks she is so much better than me, because she married a compt who had no responsibilities or property, just unlimited wealth, whereas I have been forced to work my fingers to the bone in order to make Genovia the vacation paradise it is today? And that I was hoping that just this once, by revealing what a lovely and accomplished granddaughter I have, I could show her up?”
I was stunned. I’d had no idea why this stupid ball was so important to her. I thought it had just been because she’d wanted to try to split Michael and me up, or get me to start liking Prince René instead, so that the two of us could unite our families in holy matrimony someday and create a race of super-royals. It had never occurred to me that there might be some underlying, mitigating circumstance…
Such as that the Contessa Trevanni, was, in essence, Grandmère’s Lana Weinberger.
Because that’s what it sounded like. Like Elena Trevanni had tortured and teased Grandmère as mercilessly as I had been tortured and teased by Lana through the years.
I wondered if Elena, like Lana, had ever suggested to Grandmère that she wear Band-Aids on her boobs instead of a bra. If she had said this to Clarisse Renaldo, she was a far, far braver soul than I.
“And now,” Grandmère said, very sadly, “I have to tell her that my granddaughter doesn’t love me enough to put aside her new boyfriend for one single night.”
I realized, with a sinking heart, what I had to do. I mean, I knew how Grandmère felt. If there had been some way—any way at all—that I could have shown up Lana—you know, besides going out with her boyfriend, which I had already done, but that had ended up humiliating me way more than it had Lana—I’d have done it. Anything.
Because when someone is as mean and cruel and just downright nasty as Lana is—not just to me, either, but to all the girls at Albert Einstein High who weren’t blessed with good looks and school spirit—she fully deserves to have her nose rubbed in it.
It was so weird to think about someone like Grandmère, who seemed so incredibly sure of herself, having a Lana Weinberger in her life. I mean, I had always pictured Grandmère being the type of person who, if Lana flipped her long blonde hair onto her desk, would go all Crouching Tiger on her and deliver a Ferragamo to the face.
But maybe there was someone even Grandmère was a little bit afraid of. And maybe that person was Contessa Trevanni.
And while it is not true that I love Grandmère more than I love Michael—I do not love anyone more than I love Michael, except of course for Fat Louie—I did feel sorrier for Grandmère at that moment than I did for myself. You know, if Michael ended up dumping me because I canceled our date. It sounds incredible, but it’s true.
So I went, even as I said them not quite believing the words were coming out of my mouth, “All right, Grandmère, I’ll put in an appearance at your ball.”
A miraculous change overcame Grandmère. She seemed to brighten right up.
“Really, Amelia?” she asked, reaching out to grasp one of my hands. “Will you really do this for me?”
I was, I knew, going to lose Michael forever. But like my mother had said, if he didn’t understand, then he probably hadn’t been right for me in the first place.
I am such a pushover. But she just looked so happy. She flung off the cashmere throw—and Rommel—and rang for her maid to bring her a Sidecar and her cigarettes, and then we moved on to the day’s lesson—how to ask for the number of the nearest taxi company in five different languages.
All I want to know is: What.
Not about why I would ever need to call a taxi in Hindustani.
I mean what—WHAT????—am I going to tell Michael? I mean, seriously. If he doesn’t dump me now then there’s something wrong with him. And since I know there is nothing wrong with him, I know that I am about to be dumped.
For which all I can say is THERE IS NO JUSTICE IN THE WORLD. NONE.
Since Lilly has her breakfast meeting with the producers of the made-for-TV movie of my life tomorrow morning, I guess I will break the news to Michael then. That way he can dump me in time for Homeroom. Maybe then I will have stopped crying before Lana sees me in Algebra first period. I don’t think I’ll be able to take her mockery, after already having my heart ripped from my body and flung across the floor.
I hate myself.
Thursday, January 22, the loft
I saw the movie of my life. My mom taped it for me while I was in Genovia. She thought Mr. G recorded a Jets game over it, but it turned out he hadn’t.
The guy who played Michael was a total babe. In the movie, he and I end up together in the end.
Too bad that in real life, he is going to dump me tomorrow… even though Tina doesn’t think so.
This is very nice of her and everything, but the fact is, he is totally going to. I mean, it really is a matter of pride. If a girl with whom you have been going out for a full thirty-four days cancels your very first date, you really have no choice but to break up with her. I mean, I totally understand. I would break up with me. It is clear now that royal teens can’t be like normal ones. I mean, for people like me and Prince William, duty will always have to come first. Who is going to be able to understand that, let alone put up with it?
Tina says Michael can, and will. Tina says Michael won’t break up with me because he loves me. I said yes he will, because he only loves me as a friend.
“Clearly Michael loves you as more than just a friend,” Tina keeps saying into the phone. “I mean, you guys kissed!”
