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I can’t believe everyone who’s showing up for this shindig. So many celebrities: There’s Donald Trump and his wife. Princes William and Harry. Posh Spice and David Beckham. Bill and Hillary Clinton. Will Smith and Jada Pinkett. Bill and Melinda Gates. Tyra Banks. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. Barack and Michelle Obama. Sarah Jessica Parker and Matthew Broderick. Sean Penn. Moby. Michael Bloomberg. Oprah Winfrey. Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick. Heidi Klum and Seal.
And the evening’s entertainment, Madonna, and her band, are already setting up. She’s promised to do her old-school stuff, in addition to some of her new songs (Grandmère is donating extra money to the charity of Madonna’s choice for her to sing “Into the Groove,” “Crazy for You,” and “Ray of Light”).
Hopefully it won’t be at all weird for Madonna that her ex, Sean Penn, is also here.
Grandmère had initially planned on having a different musical entertainer for my eighteenth birthday (Pavarotti) but fortunately he died. (No offense, he was awfully nice, but opera is kind of hard to dance to.)
The thing is, in addition to celebrities…there are so many people from my past here! My cousin Sebastiano (stopping to talk to all the paparazzi, snapping pictures where all the limos and taxis are dropping people off), with a supermodel on his arm. He’s a famous fashion designer now. He even has a line of jeans in Wal-Mart.
Oh, and there’s my cousin Hank, in white leather pants and a black silk top. His stalkers have found their way to the Seaport (they must have read about the party on Page Six, where it was announced this morning), and are screaming for his autograph. Hank pauses suavely and signs for them. It’s hard to believe we used to hunt for crawdads together in overalls and bare feet, back in Versailles, Indiana, all those years ago. Now Hank routinely has giant billboards of himself in his underwear up in Times Square. Who would have thought? I mean, I’ve seen him squirt Coca-Cola out of his nose.
Aw, and there’s Mamaw and Papaw. I see Grandmère got them a stylist. I wonder if she was worried they’d show up in NASCAR T-shirts?
But they clean up beautifully! Papaw’s in a tux! He looks a little like James Bond. You know, if James Bond chewed tobacco.
And Mamaw’s wearing an evening gown! And it looks as if Paolo got to her hair. And okay, she keeps stopping and waving to the paparazzi, none of whom wants to take her picture.
But she looks great! Kind of like Sharon Osbourne. If Sharon Osbourne had bleached-blond hair and a really big butt and said, “Hey, y’all!” a lot.
And there’s my mom and Mr. G and Rocky! My mom looks beautiful, as always. If only I could ever be that pretty someday. Even Mr. G isn’t a total wash. And doesn’t Rocky look cute in his little toddler tux? I wonder how long it will be until he spills something all down the front of it (I give him five minutes). I’m betting it will be the peanut sauce.
And there are Perin and Ling Su and Tina and Boris and Shameeka and Lana and Trisha and their parents…oh, don’t they all look nice? Well, except Boris.
Oh, all right. Even Boris. When you’re wearing a tuxedo, at least you’re supposed to tuck the shirt into your pants.
And there’s Principal Gupta! And Mr. and Madame Wheeton! And Mrs. Hill and Ms. Martinez and Ms. Sperry and Mr. Hipskin and Nurse Lloyd and Ms. Hong and Mrs. Potts and just about the entire rest of the staff of Albert Einstein High!
It was nice of Grandmère to let me invite them all, even if it’s super weird to see your teachers outside of school. The fact that they’re wearing evening clothes makes them basically unrecognizable and, ew, I think Mr. Hipskin brought his wife and she looks almost exactly like him, except for the mustache. Sadly, I mean hers, not his…
Wow, this is actually kind of fun, aside from the fact that eventually I have to—
Oh! And there he is. J.P., I mean. He’s brought his parents.
And he certainly does look GORGEOUS in his evening jacket and white tie.
He doesn’t have any large packages with him. So…what can it be? His surprise for me, I mean? Because he’s not carrying a present, that I can see…
Oh, look, he’s stopping now, with his parents, to talk to the paparazzi. Why does something tell me he’s going to mention his play?
Well, if I were writing my book under my own name, would I waste any possible opportunity to mention it? Probably not, right?
On the other hand, considering what—or rather who—Tina seemed to think it was about, maybe not…
Okay, I can’t stand this! I think I’m going to be sick. When can I join the party? I’d rather just get it over with already than keep waiting like—
Here come the Moscovitzes! They’re getting out of a LIMO! There are the Drs. Moscovitz—I’m so glad they got back together! Doesn’t Dr. Moscovitz look distinguished in his tuxedo? And Lilly and Michael’s mom, in her red evening gown, with her hair all up? So pretty! So unlike her normal self, in her glasses and business suit and Lady Air Jordans…
And there’s Kenneth, also in a tux, turning around to help—LILLY! Whoa, she actually dressed up—in a really nice black velvet dress. I wonder where she got that, certainly not her normal clothing store of choice, the Salvation Army. And look, her video-camcorder bag matches her dress! That’s so stylish of her!
She looks so pretty. I can’t imagine she really can be up to anything that devious tonight. Can she?
And there’s MICHAEL! He CAME! He looks so GORGEOUS in his tuxedo! Oh my God, I think I’m going to—
ACK! It’s Grandmère…and…
The captain!
Great. Captain Johnson says he can’t possibly unmoor from the dock because the boat is already filled to capacity and there are still more limos and taxis pulling up, and if he attempts to head out to sea with more than the maximum capacity the ship can hold, we’ll sink.
