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English: don’t know, was too flipped out to write it down
French: écrivez une histoire
Also, figure out if Perin boy or girl!!!!!!
G&T: n/a
U.S. Government: What is basis of government acc. to social contract theory
Earth Science: ask Kenny
Wednesday, September 9, limo on the way home from the Plaza
Today when I got to Grandmère’s for my princess lesson she announced that we were taking a field trip.
I told her I really don’t even have time for a princess lesson today—that my English grade was at stake, and that I needed to get home and write a new paper right away.
But Grandmère was completely unimpressed—even when I told her that my future career as an authoress was riding on it. She said royals shouldn’t write books anyway—that people only want to read books ABOUT royals, not BY them.
Grandmère so doesn’t get it sometimes.
I thought for sure our field trip was going to see Paolo—my roots are totally starting to show—but instead Grandmère took me downstairs to one of the Plaza’s many conference rooms. About two hundreds chairs had been set up in this long room with just a podium in the front with a microphone and a pitcher of water on it.
Only the front row of chairs had people in them. And the people in them were Grandmère’s maid, her chauffeur, and various members of the Plaza hotel staff in their green and gold uniforms, looking very uncomfortable. Especially Grandmère’s maid, who was holding a trembling Rommel on her lap.
At first I thought I’d been set up and that it was a press conference about the snails or something. Except where were the reporters?
But Grandmère said no, it wasn’t a press conference. It was to practice.
For the debate.
For student council president.
“Uh, Grandmère,” I said. “There is no debate for student council president. Everybody just votes. On Monday.”
But Grandmère way didn’t believe me. She went, exhaling a long stream of cigarette smoke, even though there is a Smoking in Your Room Only policy at the Plaza, “Your little friend Lilly told me there’s a debate.”
“You talked to LILLY?” I could hardly believe it. Lilly and Grandmère HATE each other. With good reason, after the whole Jangbu Panasa incident.
And now Grandmère is telling me that she and my best friend are in CAHOOTS?
“WHEN DID LILLY TELL YOU THIS?” I demanded, since I didn’t believe a word of it.
“Earlier,” Grandmère said. “Just stand behind the podium and see how it feels.”
“I KNOW how standing behind a podium feels, Grandmère,” I said. “I’ve stood behind podiums before, remember? When I addressed the Genovian parliament on the parking meter issue.”
“Yes,” Grandmère said. “But that was before an audience of old men. Here I want you to pretend to be addressing an audience of your peers. Picture them sitting before you, in their ridiculous baggy jeans and backward baseball caps.”
“We wear uniforms to school, Grandmère,” I reminded her.
“Yes, well, you know what I mean. Picture them all sitting there dreaming of getting their own television show, like that horrible Ashton Kutcher. Then tell me how you would answer this question: What improvements would you implement to help make Albert Einstein High School a better learning facility, and why?”
Seriously, I don’t get her sometimes. It’s like she was dropped at birth. Only onto parquet, not onto a futon couch, like I dropped Rocky not too long ago. Except that that totally wasn’t my fault, on account of Michael walking in unexpectedly wearing a new pair of jeans.
“Grandmère,” I said. “What is the point of this? THERE IS NO DEBATE.”
“JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION.”
