The Princess Diaries I Read online

  Everybody said good-bye and piled into the elevator, except for me and the Moscovitzes. Even Lars hitched a ride back to the Plaza—once I had been locked down for the night, his responsibilities were over. I made him promise not to tell my dad about the kiss. He said he wouldn’t, but you can never tell with guys; they have this weird code of their own, you know? I was reminded of it when I saw Lars and Michael giving each other high fives right before he left.

  The strangest thing out of everything that happened last night is that I found out what Michael does in his room all the time. He showed me, but he made me swear never to tell anyone, including Lilly. I probably shouldn’t even write it down here, in case someone ever finds this book and reads it. All I can say is Lilly’s been wasting her time worshiping Boris Pelkowski; there’s a musical genius in her very own family.

  And to think, he’s never had one lesson! He taught himself how to play the guitar—and he writes all his own songs! The one he played for me is called "Tall Drink of Water." It’s about this very tall pretty girl who doesn’t know this boy is in love with her. I predict that one day it will be number one on the Billboard chart. Michael Moscovitz could one day be as famous as Puff Daddy.

  It wasn’t until everyone was gone that I realized how tired I was. It had been a really long day. I had broken up with a boy I had only been out on half a date with. That can be very emotionally wearing.

  Still, I woke up way early, like I always do when I spend the night at Lilly’s. I lay there with Pavlov in my arms and listened to the sound of the morning traffic on Fifth Avenue, which isn’t really very loud, since the Moscovitzes had their windows soundproofed. As I lay there, I thought, Really, I am a very lucky girl. Things had looked pretty bad there for a while. But isn’t it funny how everything kind of works itself out in the end?

  I hear stirrings in the kitchen. Maya must be there, pouring out glasses of pulpless orange juice for breakfast. I’m going to go see if she needs any help.

  I don’t know why, but I AM SO HAPPY!

  I guess it doesn’t take much, does it?

  Sunday Night

  Grandmère showed up at the loft today with Dad in tow. Dad wanted to find out how things went at the dance. Lars didn’t tell him! God, I love my bodyguard. And Grandmère wanted to let me know that she has to go away for a week, so our princess lessons are suspended for the time being. She says it’s time to pay her yearly visit to somebody named Baden-Baden. I suppose he’s friends with that other guy she used to hang around with, Boutros-Boutros Something-or-other.

  Even my grandmother has a boyfriend.

  Anyway, she and Dad just showed up out of the blue, and you should have seen my mom’s face. She looked about ready to heave. Especially when Grandmère started bossing her around about how messy the loft is (I’ve been too busy lately to clean).

  To distract Grandmère from my mom, I told her I’d walk her back to her limo, and on the way I told her all about Josh, and she was way interested, since the story had everything in it that she likes, reporters and cute boys and people getting their hearts totally stomped on and stuff like that.

  Anyway, while we were standing on the corner saying good-bye until next week (YES! No princess lessons for a whole week! She shoots; she scores!) the Blind Guy walked by, tapping his cane. He stopped at the corner and stood there, waiting for his next victim to come along and help him cross the street. Grandmère saw this and totally fell for it. She was like, "Amelia, go and help that poor young man."

  But, of course, I knew better. I said, "No way."

  "Amelia!" Grandmère was shocked. "One of the most important traits in a princess is her unfailing kindess to strangers. Now, go and help that young man cross the street."

  I said, "No way, Grandmère. If you think he needs help so much, you do it."

  So Grandmère, all bent out of shape—and I guess intent on showing me how unfailingly kind she is—went up to the Blind Guy and said in this fakey voice, "Let me help you, young man. . . . "

  The Blind Guy grabbed Grandmère by the arm. I guess he liked what he felt, because the next thing I knew, he was going, "Oh, thank you so much, ma’am," and he and Grandmère were crossing Spring Street.

  I didn’t think the Blind Guy was going to try to feel up my grandmother. I really didn’t, or I wouldn’t have let her help him. I mean, Grandmère is no spring chicken, if you know what I mean. I couldn’t imagine any guy, even a blind one, feeling her up.

  But next thing I knew, Grandmère was yelling her head off, and both her driver and our neighbor who used to be a man came running out to help her.

  But Grandmère didn’t need any help. She whacked the Blind Guy across the face with her purse so hard his sunglasses went flying off. After that there was no doubt about it: The Blind Guy can see.

  And let me tell you something: I don’t think he’ll be taking any more trips down our street for a while.

  After all that yelling, it was almost a blessing to go inside and work on my Algebra homework for the rest of the day. I needed some peace and quiet.

  About the Author

  Meg Cabot has lived in Indiana, California, and France, and has worked as an assistant dorm manager at a large urban university, an illustrator, and a writer of historical romance novels (under a different name). She is still waiting for her real parents, the king and queen, to come and restore her to her rightful throne. She currently resides in New York City with her husband and a one-eyed cat named Henrietta.

  Visit Meg’s website at: www.megcabot.com