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“Fine,” Grandmère says. “Amelia, you’re going to have to tell your guests to leave.”
I just laughed in her face. She’s had WAY too many Sidecars already if she thinks that’s going to happen.
“My guests? Excuse me, who invited Brangelina? And all their kids?” I wanted to know. “I don’t even know them! I want to have a nice time at my birthday party with my friends. You ask your celebrity guests to leave!”
Grandmère gasped.
“You know I can’t do that,” she cried. “Angelina is a Domina Rei! There’s a strong possibility she’s carrying your invitation to join—unless it’s Oprah!”
Anyway, we’ve worked out a compromise: Nobody gets kicked off.
Instead, we’re just not going to move. The boat’s staying at the dock.
It’s just as well. I wouldn’t want to be out to sea with some of these lunatics (just in case Lilly IS up to something more than just filming everyone with their mouths full of shrimp cocktail, or whatever).
Lars just knocked! He says it’s time for my big entrance…. Now I think I really will hurl.
It’s too bad I’m not being carried in on a couch by half-naked bodybuilders like some of those girls on My Super S
weet 16. I’m just walking.
Of course, I have a tiara on my head: So I have to walk tall, or it will fall off.
But still.
Monday, May 1, 11 p.m., the Royal Genovian Yacht Clarisse 3, weird overhangy part just off the place where they steer, where Leo and Kate stood in Titanic, and Leo said he was the king of the world, I don’t know what it’s called, I don’t know anything about BOATS, but it’s cold up here and I wish I had a coat
Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God!
Okay, I just have to remember to breathe. BREATHE. In and out. IN. Then OUT.
The thing is, it all started off so well. I mean, I came out and Madonna was singing “Lucky Star” and my tiara didn’t fall off and everyone clapped, and everything looked so nice despite Grandmère and Vigo’s worries, especially the purple flowers, and—this was the really amazing thing—it turned out Dad had flown in especially for the occasion, all the way from Europe on the Royal Genovian jet, taking time off from the campaign just for the night as a special surprise for me.
Yes! He stepped out from behind the biggest batch of purple flowers, and made a speech about how great a daughter—and princess—I am…a speech that I barely heard because I was so shocked and teary-eyed at seeing him.
And then the next thing I knew he was hugging me, and he’d given me this GIANT black velvet box, and inside was a very sparkly tiara. I thought it looked familiar, and he explained to everyone that it was the one Princess Amelie Virginie was wearing in the portrait I have hanging in my bedroom. He said that if anyone deserved it, I did. It had been missing for nearly four hundred years, and he’d had them look all over the palace for it, and finally someone had found it in a dusty corner of the jewelry vault, and they’d polished it all up and cleaned it just for me.
Can you imagine anything so sweet?
It took me five minutes to stop crying. And another five minutes for Paolo to get my old tiara off and the new one on, thanks to all the hairpins.
You know, it fits me a lot better than my old one. It doesn’t feel like it’s going to slip off at all.
After that everyone walked over and said such kind things to me, like, “Thanks for inviting me,” and “You look so pretty!” and “The spring rolls are delicious!”
And Angelina Jolie came up and gave me my formal invitation to join the Domina Rei, which I accepted on the spot (Grandmère told me I had to, but I wanted to, of course, because it’s a kick-ass organization).
Grandmère spotted us talking and, of course, figured out immediately what was going on, so she came rushing over like Rocky when he hears a box of cookies being opened.
And so Angelina gave her her invitation, and all of Grandmère’s dreams came true.
I wish I could say she went away then, but she spent the rest of the evening, as best I could tell, following Angelina around, thanking her every chance she got. It was embarrassing.
But then, it was Grandmère. What else is new?
And then I went around and did the princess thing, personally going up to everyone and thanking them for coming, and it wasn’t even that awkward because, whatever, after nearly four years of this I’m pretty much used to it, and I’m not even thrown anymore by the bizarre things people sometimes say, which are probably just non sequiturs I’ve taken out of context, like when Mr. Hipskin’s wife said, “You look like a mermaid!”
I’m sure she just meant because my dress is so shiny and not because she’s psychic (but only partly) and got mermaids and unicorns mixed up and knows I’m the only virgin left in the graduating senior class of Albert Einstein High, besides my boyfriend, of course.
