dive in there with them.
I totally don't blame those bears for ripping the arms off the last guy who tried it.
'Oh, just the movie,' Lilly said. 'Of your life. Or hadn't you heard your life story has been made into a movie of the week?'
I wasn't very surprised to hear this. There are already four unauthorized biographies about me floating around out there.
One of them made the best-seller list for about half a second.
'So?' I said. I was kind of mad at Lilly. I mean, she'd booted Michael off the phone just to tell me about some dumb movie?
'Hello,' Lilly said. 'Movie. Of your life. You were portrayed as shy and awkward.'
'I am shy and awkward,' I reminded her.
'They made your grandmother all kindly and sympathetic to your plight,' Lilly said. 'It was the grossest mischaracterization
I've seen since Shakespeare in Love tried to pass off the Bard as a hottie with a six-pack and a full set of teeth.'
'That's horrible,' I said. 'Now can I please finish talking to Michael?'
'You didn't even ask how they portrayed me,' Lilly said, accusingly, 'your loyal best friend.'
'How did they portray you, Lilly?' I asked, looking at the big fancy clock on top of the big fancy marble mantelpiece over
my big fancy bedroom fireplace. 'And make it quick, I've got a breakfast and then a ride with the Genovian Equestrian
Society in exactly seven hours.'
'They portrayed me as less than fully supportive of your royalness,' Lilly practically screamed into the phone. 'They made
out like after you first got that stupid haircut, I mocked you for being shallow and a trend-follower!'
'Yeah,' I said, waiting for her to get to the point of her tirade. Because, of course, Lilly hadn't been very supportive of my haircut, or my royalness - at least at first.
But it turned out Lilly had already gotten to the point of her tirade.
'I was never unsupportive of your royalness!' she shrieked into the phone, causing me to hold the receiver away from my
head in order to keep my eardrums intact. 'I was your number one most supportive friend through the whole thing!'
This was so patently untrue, I thought Lilly was joking. But then I realized when she greeted my laughter with stone-cold
silence that she was totally serious. Apparently Lilly has one of those selective memories, where she can remember all the
good things she did, but none of the bad things. Kind of like a politician.
Because, of course, if it were true that Lilly had been so supportive of me, I never would have become friends with
Tina Hakim Baba, whom I only started sitting with at lunch back in October because Lilly wasn't speaking to me, on
account of the whole princess thing.
'I sincerely hope,' Lilly said, 'that you are laughing in disbelief over the idea that I was ever anything less than a good friend
to you, Mia. I know we've had our ups and downs, but any time I was ever hard on you, it was only because I thought you weren't being true to yourself.'
'Um,' I said, getting serious fast. 'OK.' 'I am going to write a letter,' Lilly went on, 'to the studio that produced that piece of libellous trash, demanding a written apology for their irresponsible screenwriting. And if they do not provide one - and publish
it in a full-page ad in the New York Times - I will sue. I don't care if I have to take my case to the Supreme Court. Those Hollywood types think they can throw anything they want to in front of a camera and the viewing public will just lap it up.
Well, that might be true for the rest of the proles, but I am going to fight for more honest portrayals of actual people and
events. The man is not going to keep me down!'
I asked Lilly what man, thinking she meant the director or something, and she just went, 'The man! The man!' like I was mentally challenged, or something.
Then Michael got back on the phone and explained that 'the man' is a figurative allusion to authority, and that in the way
that Freudian analysts blame everything on 'the mother', blues musicians have historically blamed their woes on 'the man'. Traditionally, Michael informed me, 'the man' is white, financially successful, in his mid to late forties, and in a position of considerable power over others.
We discussed calling Michael's band The Man, but then dismissed it as having possible misogynistic undertones.
Eight days until I can once again be in Michael's arms. Oh, that the hours would fly as fleetly as winged doves!
I just realized - Michael's description of The Man sounds a lot like my dad! Although I doubt all those blues musicians
were talking about the Prince of Genovia. As far as I know, my dad has never even been to Memphis.
Monday, January 11, 2 p.m.,
Dowager Princess's Private Terrace
Just when it seems like maybe, just maybe, things might be starting to go my way, something always has to come
along to ruin it.
And, as usual, this time it was Grandmere.
I guess she could tell, because I was so sleepy again today, that I'd been up all night talking to Michael. So this morning, between my ride with the Genovian Equestrian Society and my meeting with the Genovian Beachfront Development
Society, Grandmere sat me down and gave me a lecture. This time it wasn't about the socially acceptable gifts to give
a boy on his birthday. Instead, it was about Appropriate Choices.
'It is all very well and good, Amelia,' Grandmere said, for you to like that boy. But I do not think it wise of you to
allow your affection for this Michael fellow to blind you to other, more suitable consorts such as—'
I interrupted to tell Grandmere that if she said the words Prince William I was going to jump off the Pont des Vierges.
Grandmere told me not to be more ridiculous than I already am. I could never marry Prince William anyway on account of
his being Church of England. However, there are apparently other, infinitely more suitable romantic partners for a princess of the royal house of Renaldo than Michael. And Grandmere said she would hate for me to miss the opportunity to get to know these other young men, just because I think I have to be faithful to Michael. She assured me that, were the circumstances reversed, and Michael were the heir to a throne and a considerable fortune, she highly doubted he would be as scrupulously faithful as I was being.
I objected to this assessment of Michael's character very much. I informed Grandmere that in every aspect of Michael's life, from his being editor in chief of the now defunct Crackhead, to his role as treasurer in the Computer Club, he has shown nothing but the utmost loyalty and integrity. I also explained, as patiently as I could, that it hurt me to hear her saying
anything negative about a man to whom I have pledged my heart.
'That is just it, Amelia,' Grandmere said, rolling her scary eyes. 'You are entirely too young to pledge your heart to anyone.
I think it very unwise of you, at the age of fourteen, to decide with whom you are going to spend the rest of your life.'