Princess in Training Read online

  The only bright spot in what appears to be a school year otherwise completely devoid of them is English. Because it looks as if our teacher, Ms. Martinez, might actually be enthusiastic about the subject. At least if this note she sent around to all of us last month is any indication:

  AEHS

  A letter to all members of Ms. Martinez’s tenth grade English class:

  Hello!

  I hope you don’t mind receiving a note from me before the new school year even starts, but as the newest teacher on the AEHS staff, I just wanted to introduce myself, as well as get to know all of you.

  My name is Karen Martinez, and I graduated with a Master’s Degree in English Literature from Yale this spring. My hobbies include Rollerblading, tae bo, visiting the many wonderful sights of New York City, and reading (of course!) literary classics such as Pride and Prejudice.

  I hope to get to know each and every one of you this year, and to aid me in doing so, I’m asking each of my students to come to our first class period prepared with a short biography as well as an expository writing sample (no longer than 500 words) on what you learned during your summer vacation. As you know, life’s lessons don’t stop during the summer months just because school is not in session!

  I’m sorry to be assigning homework before classes even begin, but I assure you that this will aid me in helping you to become the best writer you can be!

  Thanks very much, and enjoy the rest of your summer!

  Yours truly,

  K. Martinez

  Clearly Ms. Martinez is extremely dedicated to her job. It’s about time AEHS finally got some teachers who actually care about their students—Mr. G excepted, of course.

  Frank, I mean.

  I am especially excited because Ms. Martinez is the new advisor to the school paper, on which I am a staff member. I really feel, judging by how much Ms. Martinez and I have in common—I really liked Pride and Prejudice, especially the version with Colin Firth—and I tried rollerblading once—that I’m going to benefit greatly from her teachings. I mean, being an aspiring author and all, it’s very important that my talent is appropriately molded, and I already feel confident that Ms. Martinez is going to be the Mr. Miyagi to my Karate Kid—writing-wise. Not, you know, karate-wise.

  Still, it’s hard to figure out what to say in my bio, let alone my expository writing sample on what I learned this summer. Because what am I going to write? “Hello, my name is HRH Princess Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo? You might have heard of me, on account of there’ve been a couple movies based on my life.”

  Although to tell the truth, both of those movies took a lot of liberties with the facts. It was bad enough in the first one that they made my dad dead and Grandmère all nice and everything. Now, in the latest one, I supposedly broke up with Michael! Like that’s going to happen. That was entirely projection on the part of the movie studio, I guess to make the story more exciting, or something. As if my life isn’t exciting enough without any help from Hollywood.

  Although I do have a lot in common with that Aragorn guy from The Return of the King. I mean, we’ve both had the mantle of sovereignty thrust upon us. I would much rather be a normal person than heir to a throne. I kind of got the feeling that Aragorn felt the same way.

  Not that I don’t love the land over which I will one day rule. It’s just that it’s really boring to have to spend the better part of your summer with your dad and your grandma when you’d LIKE to be spending it with your new baby brother, not to mention your BOYFRIEND, who is starting COLLEGE in the fall.

  Not that, you know, Michael is going AWAY to college or anything; he’s only going to Columbia, which is right in Manhattan, although it’s way uptown, way farther uptown than I usually go, except for that one time we went to Sylvia’s for fried chicken and waffles.

  Anyway, I wrote the following bio for Ms. Martinez while I was still in Genovia last week. I hope that when she reads it she’ll recognize in my prose the soul of a fellow lover of writing:

  From the Desk of

  Princess Amelia Renaldo

  MY BIO

  by Mia Thermopolis

  My name is Mia Thermopolis. I’m fifteen, a Taurus, heir to the throne of the principality of Genovia (population 50,000), and my hobbies include being taught how to be a princess by my grandmother; watching TV; eating out (or ordering in); reading; working for the AEHS newspaper, The Atom; and writing poetry. My future career aspiration is to be a novelist and/or a rescue dog handler (like when there’s an earthquake, to help find people trapped under rubble).

  However, I will most likely have to settle for being Princess of Genovia (POG).

  That was the easy part, really. The hard part was figuring out what to say about what I learned during my summer vacation. I mean, what DID I learn, anyway? I spent most of the month of June helping Mom and Mr. G adjust to having an infant in the house—which was a very difficult transition for them, since for so many years all inhabitants of our household were entirely bipedal (not counting my cat, Fat Louie). The introduction of a family member who will eventually—perhaps even for a year or more—get around mostly by crawling, made me acutely aware of the entirely unbaby-safe environment in which we live…although it didn’t seem to bother Mom and Mr. G so much.

  Which is why I had to get Michael to help me install baby plugs in all of the outlets, and baby guards on all of our lower cabinet drawers—something Mom didn’t entirely appreciate, since she now has trouble getting out the salad spinner.

  She’ll thank me one day though when she realizes that it’s entirely because of me that Rocky hasn’t gotten into any devastating salad spinner accidents.

  When we weren’t busy baby-proofing the loft, Michael and I didn’t do much. I mean, there’s lots of things a couple deeply in love can do in New York City during the summer: boating on the lake in Central Park, carriage rides along Fifth Avenue, visiting museums and gazing upon great works of art, attending the opera on the Great Lawn, dining at outdoor cafés in Little Italy, et cetera.

  However, all of these things can get quite expensive (unless you take advantage of student rates) except that whole opera-in-the-park thing, which is free, but you have to get there at like eight in the morning to stake out your place and even then those weird opera people are all territorial and yell at you if your blanket accidentally touches theirs. And besides, everyone in operas always dies and I hate that as much as the blanket thing.

  And while it’s true that I am a princess, I am still extremely limited in the funds department, because my father keeps me on an absurdly small allowance of only twenty dollars a week, in the hopes that I will not become a party girl (like certain socialites I could mention) if I don’t have a lot of disposable income to spend on things like rubber miniskirts and heroin.

  And although Michael got a summer job at the Apple Store in SoHo, he is saving all of his money for a copy of Logic Platinum, the music software program, so he can continue to write songs even though his band, Skinner Box, is on hiatus while its members scatter across the nation to attend various colleges and rehab clinics. He also wants a Cinema HD, a twenty-three-inch flat-panel display screen, to go with the Power Mac G5 he’s also hoping to buy, all of which he can get with his employee discount, but which all together will still cost as much as a single Segway Human Transporter, something I’ve been lobbying for my dad to buy me for some time now to no avail.

  Besides, it’s no fun to go on a carriage ride through Central Park with your boyfriend and YOUR BODYGUARD.

  So mostly when we weren’t at my place installing baby guards, we spent June just hanging out at Michael’s place, since then Lars could watch ESPN or chat with the Drs. Moscovitz, when they were not with patients or at their country home in Albany, while Michael and I concentrated on what was really important: making out and playing as much Rebel Strike as was humanly possible before being cruelly separated by my father on July 1 (which was at least an improvement over the June 1 DFG—departure
for Genovia—date he’d tried to foist on me originally).

  Sadly, that grim day rolled around all too quickly, and I was forced to spend the latter months of the summer in Genovia, where I saved the bay (at least, if all goes as planned) from being overrun by killer algae that were dumped into the Mediterranean by the Oceanographic Museum & Aquarium in next-door Monaco (even though they deny it. Just like they deny that Princess Stephanie was driving the car when she and her mom went over that cliff. Whatever.).

  Which is what I ended up writing about. For Ms. Martinez, I mean. You know, about how I surreptitiously ordered (and charged to the offices of the Genovian defense ministry) and then released ten thousand Aplysia depilans marine snails into the Bay of Genovia after reading on the Internet that they are the killer algae’s only natural enemy.

  I honestly don’t know why everybody got so angry about it. The algae were strangling the sea kelp that supports hundreds of species in that bay! And those snails are as toxic as the algae, so it’s not like anything down there is going to eat them and throw off the existing food chain. They’ll die off naturally as soon as their only source of nutrients—the algae—is gone. And then the bay will be back to normal. So what’s the big deal?

  Seriously, it’s as if they think I didn’t consider all this before I did it. It’s almost as if people don’t realize that I am not like a normal teen, concerned solely with partying and Jackass, but am actually Gifted, as well as Talented. Well, sort of.

  I left out the part in my writing sample about how everybody got so mad about the snails, though. Still, I just know Ms. Martinez is going to be impressed. I mean, I used a lot of literary allusions and everything. Maybe, with her support, I might even get to write something other than the cafeteria beat on the school paper this year! Or start a novel and get it published, just like that girl I read about in the paper who wrote that scathing tell-all about the kids in her school, and now no one will talk to her and she has to go to school online or whatever.

  Well, actually, I don’t think I’d like that.

  But I wouldn’t mind not having to write about buffalo bites anymore.

  Oh no, Lilly is IMing me again. Doesn’t she realize it is past eleven? I need to get my sleep in order to look my best for—

  Huh. I was going to say for Michael. But I won’t even be seeing him at school tomorrow.

  So what do I even care about how I look?

  FTLOUIE: What do you want?

  WOMYNRULE: God, touchy much? Are you done talking to my brother yet?

  FTLOUIE: Yes.

  WOMYNRULE: You two make me sick. You know that, don’t you?

  Poor Lilly. She and Boris went out for so long that she still isn’t used to not having a boyfriend who calls to say good night. Not that Michael was going to bed yet when he called, but he knew I was. Michael doesn’t have to get to sleep early because even though he is taking eighteen credit hours this semester—so that he can graduate in three years instead of four and take a year off before he starts graduate school and I start college so we can work together with Greenpeace at saving the whales—he purposely only chose classes that start after ten so he can sleep in.

  You have to admire a man who is so good at planning ahead. I can barely even figure out what I’m going to have for lunch every day, so this is extremely impressive to me.

  But Michael is an excellent planner. It would only have taken him about half an hour to move into his dorm at Columbia over the weekend (if the elevators hadn’t broken down), because he had everything so organized. I went with the rest of his family to help, and to see what his room was like, and to, you know, see him for the first time since getting back from Genovia, and all. I don’t know how much Columbia charges for its student housing, but I wasn’t very impressed. Michael’s room is very cinderblocky, with a view of an air shaft.

  Not that Michael even cares. All he was concerned about was whether it had enough data jacks. He didn’t even look in the bathroom to see if it had one of those smelly vinyl shower curtains or the even smellier rubber ones (I looked for him: rubber one. Ew.).

  Guys are so weird.

  I didn’t meet his roommate because he hadn’t moved in yet, but the sign on the door said his name was Doo Pak Sun. I hope Doo Pak turns out to be nice and not allergic to cat hair or anything. Because I plan on being in their room a LOT.

  Still, I felt bad for Lilly, on account of her not having a one true love and all, so I thought I’d try to cheer her up.

  FTLOUIE: But it must be nice to have the apartment all to yourself now. I mean, isn’t that what you always wanted? No Michael to drink all the Sunny D and eat all the Honey Nut Cheerios?

  WOMYNRULE: Whatever! Suddenly I have to do all MY chores AND Michael’s, too. And who do you think has to take care of Pavlov now?

  FTLOUIE: Like Michael’s not paying you.

  WOMYNRULE: Only twenty bucks a week. Hello, I worked it out, and that is only like a dollar a pooper-scooperful.

  FTLOUIE: TMI!!!!!!!!!!!!

  WOMYNRULE: Whatever. I suppose you LOVE scooping up after Fat Louie.

  FTLOUIE: Fat Louie’s poops are cute, just like he is. Same with Rocky’s.

  WOMYNRULE: Um, NOW who is giving TMI, baby-licker?

  FTLOUIE: I am choosing to ignore that. Hey, do you think the part in Dr. Gupta’s letter about not wearing shorts beneath your school skirt is because Lana always wore Josh’s lacrosse uniform shorts under her skirt last year? You know, to show that Josh was her property?

  WOMYNRULE: I don’t know and I don’t care. Listen, about tomorrow—

  FTLOUIE: What?

  WOMYNRULE: Never mind. Sleep tight.

  FTLOUIE: ??????????????

  WOMYNRULE: terminated

  Seriously. I can already tell that being a sophomore is not exactly going to be a picnic.

  Tuesday, September 8, Homeroom

  OH MY GOD.

  So I thought it was going to be so depressing to be back here. I mean, because school totally sucks anyway, but without Michael, it’s REALLY going to suck.

  And it WAS kind of sad to pull up in front of Lilly’s building this morning and not see Michael there waiting for me, his neck all pinkly shaved. Instead there was just Lilly, not wearing any makeup and with her hair in ten thousand barrettes and her glasses on instead of contacts. Because now that Lilly has lost her one true love to another, she barely bothers to Make an Effort. Grandmère would be APPALLED.

  And, hello, I have even less reason than Lilly does to look good, but at least I washed my hair this morning. I mean, I still have a boyfriend, he’s just going to another school. Lilly’s the one who has yet to meet the man of her dreams.

  Who is going to run from her the way people ran from Britney’s last album if she doesn’t at least TRY to look a little more attractive.

  But I didn’t mention this to her, because it’s not the kind of thing anyone wants to hear first thing in the morning.

  Besides, as Lilly put it, we both have PE first thing. Why shower BEFORE PE when you’re just going to have to shower again after?

  Which is a good point.

  Except that I think Lilly sort of regretted her decision not to bathe pre-PE when we stepped out of the limo in front of school and there was Tina Hakim Baba stepping out of HER limo. And Tina was all, “Oh, my God! It’s so good to see you guys!” tactfully not mentioning anything about Lilly’s glasses or hair, and we were hugging when this guy walked up and at first I was like, Whoa, hottie alert, because even though I’m taken, I’m not DEAD, you know, and he was so big and tall and blond and everything…

  …until he reached out and took Tina’s hand and I realized he was BORIS PELKOWSKI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  BORIS PELKOWSKI GOT HOT OVER THE SUMMER!!!!!!!

  I know it sounds completely insane but there really is no other way to put it. Tina says Boris’s violin teacher told him he’d have more stamina and play better if he started lifting weights, and so he did, and he must have put on, like, thirty pounds
of pure unadulterated muscle.

  Plus, he had laser surgery to correct his myopia so he wouldn’t have to keep pushing up his glasses as he plays.

  Also, he got rid of his bionater and must have grown, like, two inches or maybe more because now he’s as tall as Lars and almost as wide in the shoulders.

  Plus, his hair has these blond highlights in it—Tina says from the sun in the Hamptons.

  Seriously, it’s like he got one of those Queer Eye makeovers or something.

  Except they left out the part about not tucking his sweater into his pants. That’s the only way I recognized him. Well, that, and he still breathes from his mouth. Seriously, I was all, “Hi, who are—BORIS?”

  But MY astonishment was NOTHING compared to LILLY’S! She stared at him for, like, a whole minute after he was all, “Oh, hey, hi, you guys”—even his VOICE has changed. It’s sort of deeper now, like that kid’s who plays Harry Potter in the movies.

  When Lilly heard it, then turned around and recognized him, she kind of sucked in her cheeks…

  …and just headed into school without a word.

  But then when I saw her in the Ladies’ just before the bell rang, she’d put on some Lip gloss and had slipped her contacts in and taken some of the barrettes out.

  As soon as Lilly was gone, I totally grabbed Tina and was all, “OH, MY GOD, WHAT DID YOU DO TO BORIS????” but in a whisper in her ear because I didn’t want Boris to hear.

  But Tina swears she had nothing to do with it. Also, she said not to say anything in front of Boris about it, because he totally hasn’t realized yet that he’s hot. Tina is trying to keep him from finding out about his new hotness because she’s afraid that as soon as he does he’ll dump her for someone thin.