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“Oh, I would.”
GRANDMÈRE, I wanted to scream. YOU CAN’T GO AROUND THREATENING YOUR ONLY GRANDDAUGHTER!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??????
But of course I couldn’t. Scream that. Because I was in the middle of the Gifted and Talented room. On a cell phone.
And even if it IS Gifted and Talented, and everyone in that class is incredibly weird anyway, you can’t go around screaming into cell phones there.
“I thought that might change your outlook on the situation,” Grandmère purred. “I will, of course, say nothing to your little friend about the state of the class treasury. But in return, you will help solve my current real estate crisis by starring in Braid! The fact is, Amelia, as a descendant of Rosagunde, you will lend much more authenticity to the role than your friend Lilly would—besides which, you are much more attractive than Lilly, who, in certain lights, often resembles one of those dogs with the flat faces.”
A pug! And I thought I was the only one who’d ever noticed!
“See you at rehearsal tonight, Amelia,” Grandmère sang. “Oh, and, if you know what’s good for you, young lady, you’ll mention our little agreement to no one. NO ONE, including your father. Understand?”
Then she hung up.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I can’t believe this. I really can’t. I mean, I guess I always secretly kind of knew it, deep down inside. But she’s never done anything quite this BLATANT before.
Still, I guess I finally have to admit it, since it really is true:
My grandmother is EVIL. Seriously.
Because what kind of woman uses BLACKMAIL to get her granddaughter to do her bidding?
I’ll tell you what kind: an EVIL one.
Or possibly Grandmère’s a sociopath. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least. She exhibits all the major symptoms. Except possibly the one about breaking laws repeatedly.
But while Grandmère may not break federal laws, she breaks laws of common decency ALL the time.
After I’d hung up with Grandmère, I caught Lilly staring at me over the computer on which she was doing the layout for the first issue of Fat Louie’s Pink Butthole.
“Something wrong, Mia?” she wanted to know.
“About the Rosagunde thing,” I explained to her. “I’m sorry, but Grandmère won’t budge. She says I have to play her, or she’ll tell You Know Who about You Know What and I’ll get my butt kicked from here to Westchester.”
Lilly’s dark eyes glittered behind her glasses. “Oh, she did, did she?” She didn’t look surprised.
“I really am sorry, Lilly,” I said, meaning it. “You would have made a way better Rosagunde than me.”
“Whatever,” Lilly said with a sniff. “I’ll be fine with my part. Really.”
I could tell she’s just being brave, though. Inside, she’s really hurting.
And I don’t blame her. None of it makes any sense. If Grandmère wants her show to be a success, why wouldn’t she want the best actress she could find? Why would she insist on the part being played by ME, basically the worst actress in the whole school—with the possible exception of Amber Cheeseman?
Oh well. Who knows why Grandmère does half the things she does? I imagine there’s some kind of rationale to it.
But we mere humans will never understand what it is. That is a privilege reserved only for the other aliens from the mothership that brought my grandmother here from the evil planet she was born on.
Friday, March 5, Earth Science
Just now Kenny asked me if I would recopy our mole-mass worksheet, because last night, while completing it, he got Szechuan sauce on it.
I don’t know what got into me. Maybe it was residual meanness left over from my conversation with Grandmère. I mean, like, maybe some of HER meanness rubbed off on me, or something. I don’t know of any other way to explain it.
In any case, whatever it was, I decided to apply economic theory to the situation. I just thought, Why not? The whole self-actualization thing hasn’t worked out for me. Why not give old Alfred Marshall a try? Everyone else seems to be doing it. Like Lana.
