by Meg Cabot
I had to think about that one. ‘Actually, I think it’s probably more royal to tattle in some cases than it is not to tattle. Like in cases where someone might be hurt. And it’s wrong to make fun of your teachers. That could hurt their feelings.’
Luisa blinked her wide blue eyes. ‘But if we tattle on Prince Gunther and he gets kicked out of school, then you won’t have a dance partner for the performance, Olivia!’
‘I’m OK with that,’ I said. ‘I can make the sacrifice. I have a lot to do on Friday anyway.’
‘No, Luisa’s right,’ Marguerite said. ‘We need you, Your Highness. You and your adorable baby brother.’
‘Well.’ Luisa sniffed. ‘I don’t know if we need her . . . and if you mean Rocky, Marguerite, he’s not even really her brother. He’s Princess Mia’s half-brother, and from her mother’s side, not her father’s. Technically he shouldn’t even be going to this school.’
‘Hey,’ I said angrily. ‘He belongs here just as much as anyone else!’
Luisa narrowed her eyes. ‘No, he does not. The Royal Genovian Academy is a training school for royals, which Rocky is not.’
I couldn’t believe how snobby she was being. ‘He lives in a palace with a royal family!’
Victorine and Marguerite looked impressed by my argument.
‘It’s true, Luisa,’ said Victorine. ‘He does.’
‘Oh, right. Of course.’ Luisa laughed. ‘I was only joking. Don’t be so sensitive, Princess Olivia.’
Grandmère told me that it’s rude for a royal to say something mean, then tell the other person they’re ‘sensitive’ for getting offended. At least, I’m pretty sure she did.
But before I could tell Luisa this, Mademoiselle Justine, the dancing instructor, clapped her hands and made us return to our places. ‘Ladies, ladies! Less talking, more dancing, please.’
Not five seconds later, Gunther was squeezing my fingers to death again. Not that it even mattered, since I couldn’t get any of the steps right. I’m definitely the worst dancer in the whole class. I think Mademoiselle Justine wanted to cry.
‘Please,’ she said to me. ‘Please go home after school today and practise, Your Highness. Your footwork, your arms . . . all of it. Just all of it . . .’
‘I will,’ I promised.
But all I want to do when I get home is cry. Preferably in a bubble bath.
Monday 15 June 8.15 p.m.
Royal Genovian Bedroom
When I got home from school today, the first thing I did (after scooping up Snowball, who ran to greet me at the side of the limo, and letting her lick me all over my face) was knock on Dad’s office door.
‘WHO IS IT?’ Dad yelled. ‘I SAID I WASN’T TO BE DISTURBED!’
Snowball and I went in and found Dad sitting at his huge royal desk, which was covered in blueprints and millions of other papers. He had his reading glasses on top of his bald head, and his feet were resting on a stuffed boar that my grandfather had shot on a royal hunt way, way before I was born. I call the boar Annabelle because it looks a lot like a girl I used to go to school with who was named Annabelle.
‘I don’t care how much it’s going to cost!’ Dad was yelling into his mobile. ‘I need it done as soon as possible. As soon as possible, do you understand?’ When he saw me, he said in a totally different voice, ‘Oh, hello, Olivia sweetheart. How was school today?’
‘It was great,’ I lied, because I didn’t think he needed any more stress. ‘Dad, did your office schedule a visit from Mia and Michael to my school this Friday, the day before the wedding?’
‘I think so. That woman from your school said there was some kind of programme you kids were doing that Mia would want to see. Why, is that a problem?’
‘I guess not,’ I said, shrugging. ‘It might turn out OK. But I think Mia and Michael are probably going to have a lot of other stuff they’re going to need to do instead.’
‘Like what?’ Dad asked, fiddling around with the laptop on his desk.
‘Um,’ I said. ‘I don’t know. Greet all the guests. Pack for their honeymoon. Rehearse for the wedding. Stuff like that.’
‘Oh, honey,’ Dad said. ‘We have staff to do all that for them. Well, most of it.’
‘Oh,’ I said. ‘OK. Well, see you at dinner. Good luck with the yelling.’
‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ He turned back to his phone. ‘No, not in two years, two months. I want it done in two months. Do you even know who I am?’
Hmmmm. Probably I should tell Mia – or at least Grandmère – what’s going on.
But then I remembered Madame Alain’s face when she said the performance was supposed to be a surprise and a wedding gift from the school, and how happy and excited she looked.
I don’t want to be the one to spoil it! They’ve all worked so hard.
And of course Princess Komiko said a royal doesn’t tattle (except, as I pointed out, in cases where someone might be hurt).
I can’t see how anyone is going to get hurt from this, except maybe my fingers, and they’ll probably survive.
So when everyone else asked how school went today, I only said, ‘Great!’
Nobody asked for many details because they were too busy dealing with Rocky. He may be the one person hurt from all this. I completely forgot about the lederhosen. You could see how a nine-year-old boy from New York City might not want to wear them, even as a surprise wedding gift for his sister.
He hasn’t told anyone about them, though. Like me, he’s keeping the school’s secret. All he said was that he’s going to build a rocket ship, powered by his own farts, and fly to the moon and live there with the dinosaurs.
Then he ran up to his room and slammed the door.
‘Oh dear,’ I overheard Mia say to her mom. ‘I don’t think Rocky had a very good day at school.’
Of course he didn’t! They made him promenade a lady up and down the room all day in his class, too! When he wasn’t being forced to sing about how all roads lead to Genovia, land of green and blue.
But instead of saying that, when Mia’s mom asked me worriedly if I knew what might be wrong with him, I said, ‘Gee, I don’t know. Why don’t I go check on him?’
‘Would you?’ She smiled in relief. ‘I hate to ask, since I know you’ve had a long day, too, but Rocky really looks up to you . . .’
This was news to me. Usually Rocky was getting me into trouble.
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘No problem.’
So I did.
Rocky has a room that’s almost as nice as mine, but instead of having birds and clouds painted on the walls and ceiling, it has hunting scenes and sailing ships, and his bed doesn’t have a canopy.
But he doesn’t spend much time in bed, anyway, since he prefers to spend his time in the large cardboard box he’s painted to look like a spaceship. That’s where I found him.
‘Rocky, I know why you’re upset,’ I said, kneeling beside the box, while Snowball sniffed all around it. ‘I think the song is stupid, too. And so is the dance. But we’re doing it for Mia and Michael. So at least it’s for a good reason.’
‘That’s easy for you to say.’ He pressed some fake buttons he’d painted inside his ship to nowhere. ‘You don’t have to wear overall shorts!’
‘I have it worse. I have to dance with Prince Gunther. He flicks bogeys at the teacher and makes fart noises with his mouth.’
Rocky looked impressed. ‘He sounds awesome!’
‘Well, he’s not. I’d trade Prince Gunther for lederhosen any day.’
‘I think we should both run away,’ Rocky said. ‘Get in. I’m going to the moon.’
I knew Rocky was only pretending about going to the moon. But I got the feeling he wasn’t pretending about wanting to run away. Rocky’s adjustment to living in Genovia has been a bit like his name: rocky.
Maybe there was something I could do to help make it a tiny bit easier on him.
So I said, ‘I’ll run away to the moon with you for a little while if you promise that when we
come back you’ll help me practise dancing, because Mademoiselle Justine says I’m really terrible and I need to work on it. But we can’t go to the moon forever, Rocky, because problems aren’t something you can run away from. You have to face them, or they’ll never get solved.’
He thought about it. ‘OK. Get in.’
So Snowball and I got into the fake rocket ship behind him (after I made him promise not to fart on us).
These are the things you sometimes have to do when you’re someone’s older sibling. When I’m an aunt, I suppose I’ll have to be doing things like this all the time. I might even have to do worse things, like change nappies (although Mia says there’ll be a nanny. Michael wants to build a robot nanny, but Mia said no).
After we got to the ‘moon’, I acted like a velociraptor was eating me, so Rocky could ‘save’ me – even though velociraptors do not really live on the moon, and if they did, and one started eating me, I would have been able to save myself, and Snowball, too.
This seemed to make Rocky feel much better, and by the time we went downstairs to dinner, he told everyone at the table that the Royal Genovian Academy wasn’t so bad after all, and he’d go back tomorrow.
Rocky wasn’t the only one who seemed to feel better. His mom was so happy that she whispered ‘Thank you so much’ to me across the twenty-foot dining table, and even from so far away, I could see that she had tears in her eyes.
And Dad was so relieved about the change in Rocky’s behaviour, he let us both go outside to play after dinner, instead of making us spend ‘family time’ with him and all the guests (which, no offense, can get very boring).
Michael said I was a real trooper, and Grandmère said, ‘Well, I suppose there’s a possibility the RGA might know a thing or two about training royals that I don’t – though I doubt it.’ Even Mia gave me an extra hug and kiss before I went to bed.
‘Olivia, you’re the best,’ she whispered. ‘What on earth did you say to Rocky to get him to want to go to school?’
I shrugged and told her I didn’t know. It’s OK to lie if the lie doesn’t hurt anyone.
‘Well, whatever it was, keep it up, please. You’ve taken one huge worry off my shoulders.’
Maybe that can be my wedding gift to her: taking worries off her shoulders.
It’s going to have to be, since I don’t have money to buy her anything. I forgot to ask if, as a princess, I get an allowance.
Tuesday 16 June 2.17 a.m.
Royal Genovian Bedroom
< NishiGirl
OlivGrace >
How was your first day at princess school???
Nishi, it’s 2 in the morning.
Oops, I keep forgetting about the time change! Sorry! Well, how was it?
I told you, it’s just regular school! Girls AND boys go there. I sit next to a boy.
You do? Is he a prince?
Well, yes. But that isn’t the point.
What’s his name?
Khalil.
Ooooo that’s a good name! Did he talk to u?
Not really. Well, he said hello. Nishi, I really have to go to sleep now. My grandmother says you need 8 hours of sleep in order to look and feel your best.
Sorry! But I’m so excited to be coming there! Just 2 more days! So is the prince nice? Will I meet him?
I don’t know! He barely talked to me. I guess you’ll meet him. He’s one of Michael’s groomsmen. He’s my cousin.
Oh no! So you can’t marry him!
Ugh! Why would I want to marry him? But yes, I could marry him if I wanted to, I guess. We’re like 3rd cousins 4 times removed or something.
Well, that’s a relief! Were there any nice girls?
At school? One, I guess. Komiko. But she barely talked to me, either. She’s shy.
Maybe u can help her come out of her shell with ur friendly outgoing personality!
Well, I’ll try.
Which Disney prince does Khalil most look like? Pick one:
Prince from Snow White
Prince Charming from Cinderella
Prince Phillip from Sleeping Beauty
Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid
Prince Adam from Beauty and the Beast
Aladdin
Prince Naveen from The Princess and the Frog
Prince Kristoff from Frozen (because you know he is totally marrying Anna and then he will be a prince consort like your sister’s fiancé Michael!)
Nishi, I don’t want to disappoint you, but Disney princes aren’t real. In real life, princes pick their noses.
OMG!!!!! Prince Khalil picks his nose?
No! Prince Gunther does.
YOU SIT BY TWO PRINCES?????
No. I only sit by one. I dance with the other.
You get to dance with a prince?????
I don’t GET to. I HAVE to. He’s really gross. And I’m not marrying him, either!!!!
How can he be gross if he’s a prince! Isn’t he rich?
Yes, but being rich doesn’t make someone cute. You know that! Prince Gunther has green hair and squeezes my fingers super hard when we dance.
But Prince Khalil isn’t gross, right? Am I going to get to dance with him? Maybe at the wedding? PLEASE SAY YES!!!!
NISHI! NO! He’s my cousin Luisa’s crush!!!!
Luisa? The snobby one? Why does SHE get the cute prince? When I get there, we should play a prank on her.
No, we shouldn’t! Our job as junior bridesmaids is to HELP my sister, not make things worse by pranking the other junior bridesmaids!!!!
Geesh. OK, I was only kidding. No need to act all princessy about it.
I’m not acting princessy!
U sort of r. U have everything in the world anyone could ever dream of, including a pony and getting to sit next to a cute prince, and now ur acting princessy.
No, I’m not! I’m just saying that not everything is perfect!
Sure, I totally believe u. I have to go now.
Wait, Nishi. I’m sorry. Of course we can prank Luisa if you want to. We can drop an iguana on her head.
Nishi?
Great. Now I can’t sleep because Nishi is mad at me.
Well, truthfully, it’s also because my sister and all of her friends are out by the pool, laughing and singing, even though every once in a while I hear Mia say, ‘Shush, you guys. People are trying to sleep!’
But then they just laugh even harder.
I also can’t sleep because when I went to get a drink of water, I saw that the majordomo – who is basically the head of the entire household staff – had slipped a note under my door informing me that while I was at school today, Snowball stole a piece of ham, a block of butter, and a loaf of fresh-baked bread from the kitchens. One of Chef Bernard’s assistants found the bread later on the tennis court. It had little gnaw marks all over it.
The last part of the note said:
Princess Olivia, Chef Bernard would appreciate it if you would kindly control your dog.
Kindest regards,
Henri, Majordomo
Royal Palace
Genovia
Ugh!!!! What am I going to do???
Although I can understand why Snowball gets bored while I’m gone. None of the other dogs at the palace will play with her – Grandmère’s dog, Rommel, is too busy following her around, and the rest are all bomb-sniffing dogs doing important work for the Royal Genovian Guard.
And what dog wouldn’t get tired of eating dog food? If I had to eat dog food all day, every day, I’d get tired of it, too. Honestly, I think Snowball was trying to make a ham sandwich.
Tuesday 16 June 2.15 p.m.
Royal Genovian Academy
Something good actually happened!
Well . . . something I thought was good, at least. I was practising drawing kangaroos at lunch – because kangaroos are still my favourite. I love seeing joeys all snuggled into their pouches – when one of the older students said, ‘You know, you’re quite good at drawing, Princess Olivia.’
!!!!
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I know! I was so surprised. Especially because the girl who said it is a queen!
We don’t have kings or queens in Genovia because it’s a principality. In principalities, the country is ruled by a prince (or princess). Well, Genovia is actually governed by a prime minister. But the prince (or princess) helps!
Of course, the queen sitting next to me – Queen Amina – doesn’t do any actual governing either (her country is in Africa).
But still. A queen thinks I’m good at drawing!!!
We get an hour and a half for lunch at the RGA, and the food is very, very delicious. There are menus and waiters, and we can order whatever we want (within reason).
The only downside is that there is randomly assigned seating. That’s so no ‘friend groups’ can be formed, because Madame Alain thinks royals should be ‘friends with everyone’.
That’s how today I got to sit next to Queen Amina.
I knew it was rude to be drawing at the table while waiting for my food to be served (especially while sitting next to a queen), but I was doing it out of desperation because Luisa was telling a very long and boring story about what she was going to wear to my sister’s wedding (after Luisa changes out of her bridesmaid gown, which Luisa says she’s going to do as soon as our duties at the ceremony are over).
I’ve never heard of a bridesmaid changing out of her bridesmaid dress for the reception – even a junior bridesmaid. But Luisa says that it’s quite normal in America.
I said, ‘Well, I’m from America, and I’ve never heard of that.’
