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“What?” I said.
“My Super Sweet Sixteen is a reality television series on MTV,” Lewis explained, as if that were the part I was having trouble with. “Each week it features a different teen getting ready to celebrate his or her sixteenth birthday party. We film all the preparations leading up to the party, and then the party itself. It’s one of our most popular shows. Surely you’ve seen it.”
“Oh, I’ve seen it, all right,” I said. “Which is why I’m out of here. Bye.”
And I started to leave.
BECAUSE I KNEW IT!!!! I KNEW MY GRANDMOTHER HAD BEEN UP TO SOMETHING!!!!!
But I didn’t get very far, on account of tripping over a power cord for one of the lights they’d set up.
Also on account of Grandmère standing up (dislodging a very surprised Rommel, who fortunately, due to years of practice, was able to land on his feet) and saying, “Amelia! Sit down this instant!”
It’s her voice. There’s just something about that voice that MAKES you do what she says. I don’t know how she does it, but she does.
I found myself sinking down onto the couch, nursing the shin I’d bonked against her coffee table.
“That’s better,” Grandmère said in a totally different tone. She sank back down into her fancy pink chair. “Now, let’s try that again. Amelia, these nice people are going to televise your sweet sixteen birthday party on a special edition of their reality series. This will generate a great deal of publicity for the country of Genovia, over which you will one day rule, and which is currently suffering from an almost total lack of American tourists, thanks to the weak dollar and your father’s recent decision to limit the number of cruise ships that may dock there to twelve per week. Now, please allow Janine to put a microphone on you so that we can begin. I don’t want to keep my dinner date waiting. Mr. Castro is a very impatient man.”
I took a deep breath. Then I went—even though I really, really didn’t want to know—“What sweet sixteen birthday party?”
“The one I am throwing for you,” Grandmère said. “I shall be flying you and one hundred of your closest friends in the royal jet to Genovia, where you’ll be met at the airport by horse-drawn carriages and taken immediately to the palace for a champagne brunch, followed by an all-expenses-paid shopping trip to boutiques such as Chanel and Louis Vuitton on the Rue de Prince Phillipe for the girls, and a trip to the Genovian beach for private jet ski lessons for the boys. Then it’s back to the palace for massages and fashion and beauty makeovers. Then everyone is invited to a black-tie ball in your honor, at which Destiny’s Child, who have agreed to reunite for one night only on your behalf, will perform their greatest hits. After which I will have everyone flown home the following morning so that they arrive back in America in time for school on Monday.”
I could only stare at her. I knew my mouth was open. I also knew that Rafe was filming the whole thing.
But I couldn’t close my mouth. And I couldn’t summon the words to ask Rafe to put his camera down.
Because I was totally FREAKED!!!!
Champagne brunches? All-expenses-paid shopping trips to Louis Vuitton? Massages? Destiny’s Child? One hundred of my closest friends?
I don’t even KNOW one hundred people, much less have that many friends.
“It’s going to be spectacular,” Lewis said, pulling up a chair so he could peer at me more closely through the lenses of his red-framed glasses—which kind of resembled plastic scissor handles, I noticed. “It’ll be the most fantastic episode of My Super Sweet Sixteen ever. We’re even changing the name of the series just for your episode…we’re calling it My Super ROYAL Sweet Sixteen. Your party, Princess, is going to make every other party ever featured on this show look like a five-year-old’s birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.”
“And,” Grandmère said—up close, I could see that she had really layered on the pancake makeup for the benefit of the camera—“it will attract millions of eager tourists to Genovia, once they’ve seen all that our little country has to offer by way of exclusive, high-end shopping, world-class entertainment, seaside recreation opportunities, fine dining, luxury accommodations, and old-world hospitality.”
I looked from Grandmère to Lewis and then back again, my mouth still open.
Then I jumped up and ran for the door.
Thursday, April 29, the loft
Well, who wouldn’t
have run? This has got to be, hands down, the most disturbing thing she’s ever done. Seriously. I mean, MTV? My Super ROYAL Sweet Sixteen? Has she lost her mind?
She called Mom to complain, of course. About me. She says I’m being selfish and ungrateful. She says all I ever think about is myself, and that this is a tremendous opportunity for Genovia to finally get some good press after all the negative news stories about it lately, considering the snail thing and almost getting thrown out of the EU, and all. She says if I really cared about the country over which I will someday rule, I would accept her generous gift and agree to be filmed doing so.
And I DO really care about Genovia. I DO.
BUT I DO NOT WANT A SWEET SIXTEEN BIRTHDAY PARTY!!!!!
And I particularly do not want one that is going to be BROADCAST AROUND THE COUNTRY ON MTV!!!!!!!
Why is that so hard for people to understand????
At least Mom’s on my side. When she heard what Grandmère (and MTV) had planned, her lips got all small, the way they do when she’s really, really mad. Then she said, “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take care of it.”
