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I know baby seals and the rain forests are going to suffer because of my selfishness, but…
I just can’t do it. I CAN’T.
I suck. I suck more than any human being on the planet.
Saturday, May 6, 10 a.m., the loft
All I could think about all night long was J.P. and the baby seals I’m not saving by not taking Sunburst Publishing’s money.
And Michael, of course.
I don’t think I slept for more than a few hours. It was terrible.
I woke with a splitting headache and still no idea what I’m going to do about the two of them, to find exit polls in Genovia showing my dad totally tied with René in today’s election for prime minister.
Almost all the news outlets I’ve seen credit Lilly’s commercial (although they don’t name her, of course) and the donation of new state-of-the-art medical equipment to the Royal Genovian Hospital as reasons for Dad’s sudden boost in the polls.
I seriously can’t believe it if it’s true. The Moscovitzes saved the prime ministry for my dad?
And yet…
Has there ever been anything either of them hasn’t been able to accomplish if they’ve set their mind to it?
No. Not really. It’s scary, actually.
The polls close at noon our time (which is six Genovia time). So we’ve got two more hours to go. Mr. G is making waffles (regular ones this time, not heart-shaped) while we wait for the call.
I’m keeping everything I have crossed for luck.
There’s no way René can win. I mean…no way. Not even Genovians can be that stupid.
Oh, wait. Did I just write that?
Tonight is the prom. I know I have to go…I can’t get out of it.
And yet there’s never been anything I’ve less wanted to do in my entire life.
And that includes becoming a princess.
Saturday, May 6, noon, the loft
The polls are closed.
Dad just called.
It’s officially too close to tell.
I wish I hadn’t eaten so many waffles. I feel totally sick.
Saturday, May 6, 1 p.m., the loft
Grandmère is here. She brought Sebastiano and all the dresses I’m supposed to choose from for the prom as her excuse for why she showed up.
But you can tell she’s here because she just didn’t want to wait alone in her condo at the Plaza for the results.
I know how she feels.
Rocky is thrilled, of course. He’s all, “Gwandmare, Gwandmare,” and blowing her air kisses the way she taught him. She’s pretending to catch them, and clutch them to her heart.
