Royal Wedding Disaster Read online

  Grandmère looked horrified. “Mingle? At a formal royal wedding reception banquet?”

  “I think it will be fine,” said Mia’s mom. “At the weddings I go to in Brooklyn, the feeling is always the more the merrier.”

  “This is Genovia, my dear,” Grandmère said, looking horrified. “Not Brooklyn.”

  “But have these extra people been vetted by the Royal Genovian Guard?” Mia’s other friend Tina asked worriedly.

  Dad looked up from his cell phone. “Good question. Have they?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Mia’s mom said, laying a hand on Dad’s arm. “It’s going to be fine. Just fine.” The job of the mother of the bride is to tell everyone that everything is going to be just fine. Helen Thermopolis is very good at this.

  “Of course, Your Highness,” Vivianne said. “Security is our utmost concern. Everything will be taken care of.”

  That’s what she said.

  But only because Mia was there, and you’re not supposed to stress out a royal bride who has just taken over the throne and is pregnant with twins.

  In reality, nothing is taken care of! And when my sister isn’t around, everyone is FREAKING OUT.

  • The contractor who is installing the stage where Boris P, the internationally famous rock star, is supposed to play for the reception says there are not enough plugs for all the equipment Boris P and his band are bringing with them, and that the whole thing is so rickety, it’s going to collapse as soon as Boris P steps onto it.

  • Mia’s friends Lilly and Lana say this is OK because Boris P used to go out with Tina, but he cheated on her with another girl. So now Lilly and Lana hate him and think it would be great if the stage collapsed while he was performing on it.

  But Shameeka and Ling Su, Mia’s other friends (and her other bridesmaids), say this wouldn’t be great because Boris P (and others) could be seriously hurt, plus it would ruin the reception. And also there’s reason to believe that Boris P didn’t actually cheat. It could all simply be a misunderstanding.

  So now the bridesmaids are arguing—only quietly, amongst themselves, since none of them want Mia to find out, because she’s “stressed” enough.

  Except for Mia’s friend Perin. She says she is staying out of it.

  And Tina, of course, since she doesn’t know about it.

  • Chef Bernard says it’s going to be humanly impossible to find enough European spiny lobsters for everyone at such short notice.

  • The king of Lesotho wants to bring his new pet monkey with him because it needs round-the-clock feeding, and the housekeeping staff is not too happy about that.

  • There was a typo on the commemorative stamps, and instead of saying HRH Prince Michael, they say HRH Prince Michele, so now they all have to be destroyed and reprinted.

  Grandmère’s the only one not freaking out (except about the possibility of guests having to mingle outside). She showed me the new purple napkins that just arrived today, and they’re much better than the boring cream-colored ones my sister asked for. She’s going to be so surprised.

  “Nice job, Grandmère,” I said. We have to meet in secret in my bedroom so Mia won’t overhear and have the surprise ruined. “Also, just to let you know, I found out today that iguanas are endangered.”

  “Not in my garden, they aren’t!”

  “I know. But you can’t shoot at them, even to frighten them into moving to Bianca Ferrari’s garden. You can’t make your problem someone else’s responsibility.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Where did you hear that?”

  “From you, Grandmère. You said that’s what Dad is doing by making Mia take on the throne, when ruling is supposed to be his responsibility.”

  Grandmère coughed. “Oh. Well, perhaps you’re right. But we’re going to have to do something about those hideous creatures, Olivia. With all of those people coming, someone is bound to trip over one of them and end up in the pool.”

  I thought about it. “I know. But we still have a few days.”

  “Four. Four days.”

  “That’s a long time,” I said. “A lot can happen in four days. I started out an average girl one day, and I was a princess by the end of it.”

  Grandmère looked at the ceiling. “Very well. Good night, Olivia.”

  “Good night, Grandmère.”

  I just wrote Nishi back:

  The majordomo is upset again. Today while I was at school, he caught Snowball on top of the gift table, eating a gingerbread castle given to Mia and Michael as a wedding present by some schoolchildren in Germany. Snowball had licked most of the gumdrop windows off.

  She is out of control! I don’t know what to do about it, other than locking her in my room all day.

  But that seems cruel. She loves visiting with the staff and doing tricks for the tourists.

  If only I could keep her away from the kitchen. And my sister’s wedding gifts.

  Here is my worst nightmare:

  Wednesday, June 17

  9:25 A.M.

  Royal Genovian Academy

  Madame Alain’s Office

  I just made a huge mistake.

  No, not huge. HUMONGOUS.

  But it’s my own fault, I guess. I have no one to blame but myself.

  It started when I walked into class this morning and saw that there was a folded-up note sitting on my desk. I knew it was for me because on the outside it said:

  To HRH Olivia Grace

  HRH means Her Royal Highness.

  “Oooh, Olivia,” Marguerite teased. “A love letter!”

  Obviously she was joking. No one would leave a love letter on my desk (except maybe as a prank).

  And it turns out I was right. When I opened up the note, I saw that inside was a drawing of a girl …

  But not just any girl!

  Me!

  I could tell because she had glasses and big, curly hair pulled back by a headband. Only the headband had been made into a tiara (which I do not wear to school). Plus the girl in the drawing was wearing an RGA school uniform with shorts, just like mine.

  But unlike me, the girl in the drawing had a really, really big butt.

  That was my first clue that the “artist” (I am using quotes around the word artist because I don’t think the person who drew it is really an artist) was Prince Gunther, or at least someone pretending to be Prince Gunther, who is known for giving the people in his drawings, like Madame Alain, large butts.

  Except that coming out of the mouth of the girl in the drawing on my desk was a text bubble that said:

  Hi, I’m the princess of Genovia, my sister is getting married and I think I’m so great, but I can’t dance and I look stupid and I smell. Ha ha ha kee-yow lol!

  Only personally I didn’t think there was anything to “laugh out loud” about at all. In fact, when I saw the drawing, I got so mad, I could feel my face turning red, although I tried not to let how angry I was show in front of everyone else.

  But it didn’t work, since Marguerite asked, “What’s wrong? What does it say, Olivia?”

  “Nothing,” I said, and quickly shoved the note in my backpack.

  Only I wasn’t quick enough, because Marguerite snatched the note out of my hand.

  Then the next thing I knew, she was looking at it and saying, “Oh, whoa! This is really rude. What does ‘kee-yow’ mean?”

  “Nothing!” I yelled. “Never mind! Give it back!”

  “Oh, I think it means something,” Luisa said with a laugh.

  She would know.

  I tried to snatch the note back, but of course Marguerite wouldn’t give it up, because Victorine and the other girls were crying, “Let me see! Let me see!”

  And then the worst thing ever happened.

  And that is that Prince Khalil came over and snatched the drawing out of Marguerite’s hand and held it high over all our heads, which he could do easily because he’s so tall.

  “Noooo,” Luisa yelled. “Don’t look at it, Your Highness!”
/>   Saying that had the opposite result Luisa was hoping for, though. Because once you tell someone not to do something, it automatically makes them want to do it more … like telling Rocky not to throw things down the stairs from the fourth floor. He simply can’t help it. And neither could Prince Khalil.

  As soon as his gaze fell on the page, he frowned.

  “‘Kee-yow’?” he said. “That’s not a word.”

  Then he turned the note around for everyone to see!

  “Who drew this?” he asked. “It isn’t very nice. Gunther, this looks like one of your drawings. Did you do it?”

  When everyone else saw it, they started to laugh … not in a mean way, exactly. I don’t think they were laughing at me. They were laughing at the drawing and how dumb it was. I don’t think anyone here really thinks I smell or have a humongous butt.

  Except my cousin Luisa. Probably.

  But I’m starting to think the same of her.

  Gunther yelled, “No! This I did not do! I draw much better than this!”

  Which is actually a kind of funny thing to say, if you think about it.

  “Oh, Gunther,” Luisa said, shaking her head. “Obviously you did it. Look, it’s your drawing style exactly. Why must you be so immature? And so hurtful to Olivia, Genovia’s newest princess?”

  I was so mad when she said this, I wanted to scream. It got even worse when Prince Khalil shook his head and said, “Not cool, Gunther. Not cool.”

  Gunther’s eyes actually filled with tears. I didn’t even know Gunther had feelings, I’d been so busy being grossed out by him.

  But I guess it would hurt my feelings, too, if the tallest, cutest boy in the sixth grade told me I wasn’t cool.

  “No!” Gunther wailed. “This I did not do! I know I draw Madame Alain with the big butt. But not this! This I did not draw!”

  “You did it, Gunther,” Luisa said. “And we all know it. So you might as well admit it.”

  But I knew Gunther didn’t do it, because Luisa’s the only one who ever says “kee-yow” (except for me, but I only did it once, by mistake).

  I don’t know why she’d do something so mean. Maybe because Queen Amina said she liked my drawings and didn’t pay enough attention to her boring story about her reception gown with the detachable skirt?

  Or maybe because her pretend boyfriend doesn’t really like her?

  Oh yes, I said it! I said Khalil is Luisa’s pretend boyfriend, because I haven’t seen any proof yet that Prince Khalil even likes her!

  But whatever. I know Luisa did it! And what Luisa was doing—accusing Gunther of drawing that picture, when I knew he didn’t—wasn’t fair!

  “Luisa,” I started to say. “Why don’t you just—”

  But right then Monsieur Montclair came into the classroom, a mug of steaming coffee in his hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, what is all this shouting? I could hear you down the hallway. You are hardly deporting yourself like young royals.”

  “Look what Prince Gunther did, Monsieur!” Luisa cried, showing him the drawing.

  “No,” Gunther said desperately. “I did not do it!”

  Monsieur Montclair took one look at the picture and said with a tired sigh, “Prince Gunther, please go pay a visit to Madame Alain in her office. The rest of you, get in your dance positions. Mademoiselle Justine is on her way.”

  I saw Prince Gunther’s face crumple.

  “No!” he said. “This is third strike for me! Madame Alain said if I get one more strike, I have to go back to Stockerdörfl. Then my parents will put me in The Royal Academy in Switzerland.”

  Everyone gasped in horror at the idea of an RGA student having to attend horrible TRAIS. Meanwhile, Gunther picked up his backpack and walked glumly toward the door, his head hanging.

  “Well, auf Wiedersehen, everyone,” he said.

  I felt so bad for him! He isn’t my favorite person or anything. He isn’t even in my top fifty favorite people.

  But I don’t hate him or think it’s fair for him to get in trouble for something he didn’t do.

  “Luisa,” I whispered, poking her, “I know it was you who made that drawing! Why would you do that?”

  “To help you, of course,” she said, looking wide-eyed with innocence. “Now you don’t have to worry about the Flexer. You don’t even have to learn the steps to the dance, because you don’t have to be in it, since you don’t have a partner anymore. See?” She smiled. “I’m a true royal, just like your sister, who everyone says is going to save Genovia from economic ruin. Prego, Olivia.”

  Prego means You’re welcome in Italian. Uggggh!

  “Luisa, when I need your help, I’ll ask for it, okay?” I raised my hand. “Uh, Monsieur Montclair, may I be excused?”

  He sipped his coffee, looking very bored. “Yes, Princess Olivia, you may be excused, but next time remember to use the restroom before class begins, okay?”

  More ugghhh! Why did he have to bring up the restroom in front of everyone? Like Prince Khalil? Hadn’t I been humiliated enough in one morning?

  Anyway, I’m in Madame Alain’s office now … or really, the waiting room to her office, where her assistant is playing a video game on his computer but pretending like he’s working.

  Prince Gunther was totally surprised to see me, which I can understand, seeing as how everyone else thinks he drew a mean picture of me.

  “Princess Olivia,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I know it wasn’t you who drew that picture, Gunther,” I said.

  “But … but … how?” he asked.

  I didn’t want to say Because only my cousin Luisa says kee-yow, because that would be tattling on Luisa.

  Instead I said, “I just do. When Madame Alain gets here, I’ll tell her so.”

  Prince Gunther looked even more surprised. “You … you will? Why would you do this for me?”

  I couldn’t believe he didn’t know. “Because, Gunther. This is royalty school. We’re supposed to do the right thing. I mean, even if we weren’t royal, we’re still supposed to tell the truth. And the truth is, you didn’t do it.”

  Gunther looked down at his lap. I thought I saw disappointment on his face. “Oh,” he said. “I thought … I thought maybe you liked me or something.”

  EWWWWWWWWWW!!!! The Flexer thinks I like him!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  This is the reward you get for trying to be nice: A green-haired, booger-flinging prince will think that you like him.

  Then it got even worse. Because after I got over trying not to die, I said, “Uh, well, it’s not that, exactly, Gunther. It’s just that…”

  “Because,” Prince Gunther looked up to say, “I really like you. You’re not like the other girls in this school.”

  I did not like the way this conversation was going. “Well, Gunther, that’s very nice, but—”

  “Yes. You’re like me.” He showed me his shower sandals and kneesocks. “You aren’t afraid to be different. You wear shorts. And glasses. You don’t care what people say. I think that’s cool.”

  UGGHHH! The Flexer thinks I like him, and even worse, the Flexer likes me back because he thinks I like to take fashion risks (which I do, but mostly because I like to dress for comfort, unless I’m attending an important state function)!

  No! No, no, no!

  I’m trying to remember what Grandmère and my sister told me to say in these kinds of situations. Surely there has to be some sort of rule that royals follow when someone says they like them but they don’t like that person back. What’s the right thing to say in return?

  Thanks, but no thanks? That seems rude.

  Thanks, but I just want to be friends? That seems better.

  The sad part is, Grandmère and I have never talked about what I should say if a green-haired, booger-flinging prince tells me that he likes me—and thinks I like him back!

  Because this is not a situation I ever imagined would happen!

  AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

  Wednesday, June 17

 
; 11:25 A.M.

  Royal Genovian Academy

  Phew! Thank goodness that’s over.

  Though now I’m actually worse off than before, really. Grandmère says when you’re in a bad situation and you make a poor decision that only puts you in a worse situation, it’s called “jumping from the frying pan into the fire.”

  (Though whenever she says this, Dad always laughs and says, “Mother, when have you ever cooked?”)

  Still, that’s what I’ve just done with Prince Gunther … jumped from the frying pan into the fire.

  I was getting all ready to say the politest thing I could think of—which was:

  “Well, Gunther, I do like you—as a FRIEND”—when the door to Madame Alain’s office opened and she finally came in from her meeting (except that I noticed she had a lot of shopping bags. Genovia is known for its fine shopping, so I can understand, but I’m not sure it’s right for the head of a school—even a school for modern young royals—to go shopping during school hours).

  So then I couldn’t give my speech to Gunther because instead I had to tell Madame Alain that there’d been a terrible mistake and that Prince Gunther was innocent.

  “I don’t know,” Madame Alain said, looking down at the drawing, which Monsieur Montclair had given to the administrative assistant to give to her as evidence of Gunther’s crime. “It certainly LOOKS like Prince Gunther’s work.”

  “Well, it’s not,” I said, horribly aware the whole time that Prince Gunther was staring at me with big lovey-dovey hearts in his eyes, probably planning OUR royal wedding.

  “Princess Olivia,” Madame Alain said, “I know you’re only trying to protect your new classmate because you want to fit in and don’t care to make waves your first week. But I can assure you that this isn’t the first time Prince Gunther has done something like this. He’s been warned that if he did it again, he’d be expelled.”

  “But I didn’t do it!” Gunther cried, turning his big moon eyes on Madame Alain.

  “Prince Gunther,” Madame Alain said, holding his drawing toward him. “Please don’t lie. It isn’t becoming of your royal status. Your father would be very disappointed in you. Now, this is obviously your work.”