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“It’s a Ho Ho,” Boris pointed out, because that is what Boris does.
Lana didn’t even look at him.
“And you know what else?” Lana said. “I’m going to trounce you at Monday’s debate during Assembly. Nobody at Albert Einstein wants a snail-dumper as president.”
Snail-dumper! That’s almost as bad as being called a baby-licker!
But before I had a chance to defend my snail-dumping ways, Lana had flounced away.
Since I didn’t want to humiliate Lilly by screaming at her in front of her ex, especially now that he’s hot, I just looked at her and went, “Lilly. Ladies’ room. NOW.”
Somewhat to my surprise, she followed me in here.
“Lilly,” I said, summoning all of the people skills Grandmère has taught me. Not, you know, that Grandmère has actually taught me any useful skills for dealing with people. It’s just so hard dealing with Grandmère that I have sort of acquired some along the way. “This has
gone on long enough. I never wanted to run for student council president in the first place, but you kept telling me you had a plan. Lilly, if you really have a plan, I want to know what it is. Because I am sick of people calling me PIT—whatever that means. And there is NO WAY I’m going to debate Lana on Monday. NO FREAKING WAY.”
“Princess in training,” was all Lilly had to say to that.
I just looked at her like she’s a mental case. Which, I’m pretty sure, she is.
“Princess in training,” she said, again. “That’s what PIT stands for. Since you asked.”
“I told you,” I said, through gritted teeth, “not to call me that anymore!”
“No,” Lilly said. “You said not to call you baby-licker or POG—Princess of Genovia. Not PIT—Princess in Training.”
“Lilly.” My teeth were still gritted. “I do not want to be student council president. I have enough problems right now. I do not need this. I do not need to debate Lana Weinberger on Monday in front of the whole school.”
“Do you want to make this school a better place or not?” Lilly wanted to know.
“Yeah,” I said. “I do. But it’s hopeless, Lilly. I can’t beat Lana. She’s the most popular girl in school. No one is going to vote for me.”
At that moment, even though I’d thought we were alone in the ladies’ room, a toilet flushed. The next thing I knew, a tiny little freshman girl came out of a stall and over to the sinks to wash her hands.
“Um, excuse me, Your Highness,” she said to me, after Lilly and I had stared at her in dumbfounded silence for several seconds. “But I really admire that thing you did with the snails. And I’m planning on voting for you.”
Then she threw her paper towel in the trash and walked out.
“Ha!” said Lilly. “HA HA! See? I TOLD you! Something’s HAPPENING, Mia. It’s like a groundswell of resentment toward Lana and her ilk. The people are sick of the reign of the popular crowd. They want a new queen. Or princess, as the case may be.”
“Lilly—”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing, and everything will be fine.”
“But, Lilly—”
“And keep Saturday during the day open. You can do whatever it is you’re doing with my brother at night. Just give me the day.”
“Lilly, I don’t WANT to be president,” I screamed.
“Don’t worry,” Lilly said, giving my cheek a pat. “You won’t be.”
“But I also don’t want to be humiliatingly beat by Lana in a student election, either!”
“Don’t worry,” Lilly said, adjusting one of her many barrettes in the mirror above the sinks. “You won’t be.”
“Lilly,” I said. “HOW CAN BOTH OF THOSE THINGS NOT HAPPEN???? IT’S IMPOSSIBLE!!!!”
