My mom, who finally came out toward the end of the tape, and Mr. G tried to convince me that it wasn’t that bad.
But it was. Oh, believe me, it was.
And I knew I was in for it the minute the phone started ringing, right after the segment aired.
“Oh God,” my mother said, suddenly remembering something. “Don’t pick it up! It’s my mother! Frank, I forgot to tell my mother about us!”
Actually, I was kind of hoping it was Grandma Thermopolis. Grandma Thermopolis was infinitely preferable, in my opinion, to who it actually turned out to be: Lilly.
And boy, was she mad.
“What do you mean, calling us a bunch of freaks?” she screamed into the phone.
I said, “Lilly, what are you talking about? I didn’t call you a freak.”
“You basically informed the entire nation that the population ofAlbertEinsteinHigh School is divided into various socioeconomic cliques, and that you and your friends are too uncool to be in any of them!”
“Well,” I said. “We are.”
“Speak for yourself! And what about G and T?”
“Whatabout G and T?”
“You just told the entire country that we sit in there and goof off because Mrs. Hill is always in the teachers’ lounge! What are you, stupid? You’ve probably gotten her into trouble!”
I felt something inside of me clench, as if someone was squeezing my intestines very, very tightly.
“Oh, no,” I breathed. “Do you really think so?”
Lilly just let out a frustrated scream, then snarled, “My parents say to tell your mother mazel tov.”
Then she slammed the phone down.
I felt worse than ever. Poor Mrs. Hill!
Then the phone rang again. It was Shameeka.
“Mia,” she said. “Remember how I invited you to my Halloween party this Friday?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, my dad won’t let me have it now.”
“What?Why?”
“Because thanks to you he is under the impression thatAlbertEinsteinHigh School is filled with sex addicts and alcoholics.”
“But I didn’t say that!” Not in those exact words, anyway.
“Well, that’s what he heard. He is currently in the next room surfing the Internet for a girls’ school inNew Hampshire he can send me to next semester. And he says he’s not letting me go out with a boy again until I’m thirty.”
“Oh, Shameeka,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
Shameeka didn’t say anything. In fact, she had to hang up, because she was sobbing too hard to speak.
The phone rang again. I didn’t want to answer it, but I had no choice: Mr. Gianini was holding my mom’s hair back while she threw up some more.
“Hello?”
It was Tina Hakim Baba.
“Oh, my gosh!” she shouted.
“I’m sorry, Tina,” I said, figuring I better just start apologizing to every single person who called, right off the bat.
“Sorry? What are you sorry for?” Tina was practically hyperventilating. “You said my name on TV!”
“Um . . .I know.” I had also called her a freak.
“I can’t believe it!” Tina yelled. “That was so cool!”
“You aren’t . . .you aren’t mad at me?”
“Why should I be mad at you? This is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve never had my name said on television before!”
I was filled with love and appreciation for Tina Hakim Baba.
“Um,” I asked, carefully, “did your parents see it?”
“Yes! They’re excited, too. My mom said to tell you that the blue eyeshadow was a stroke of genius. Not too much, just enough to catch the light. She was very impressed. Also she said to tell your mother she has some excellent stretch mark cream that she got inSweden . You know, for when she starts getting big. I’ll bring it to school tomorrow, and you can give it to your mother.”
“What about your dad?” I asked, carefully. “He’s not planning on sending you to girls’ school or anything?”
“What are you talking about? He’s delighted that you mentioned my bodyguard. Now he thinks anyone who’d had plans to kidnap me will definitely think twice. Oops, there’s another call. It’s probably my grandmother inDubai . They have a satellite dish. I’m sure she heard you mention me! ‘Bye!”
Tina hung up. Great. Even people inDubai saw my interview. I don’t even know whereDubai is.
The phone rang again. It was Grandmère.
“Well,” she said. “That was just terrible, wasn’t it?”
I said, “Is there any way I can demand a retraction? Because I didn’t mean to say that my Gifted and Talented teacher doesn’t do anything and that my school was full of sex addicts. It’s not, you know.”
“I cannot imagine what that woman was thinking,” Grandmère said. I was pleased she was on my side for once. Then she went on, and I saw that she wasn’t talking about anything to do with me. “She failed to show a single picture of the palace! And it is at its most beautiful in the autumn. The palm trees look magnificent. This is a travesty, I tell you. A travesty. Do you realize the promotional opportunities that have been wasted here? Absolutely wasted?”
“Grandmère, you have to do something,” I wailed. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to show my face at school tomorrow.”
“Tourism has been down in Genovia,” Grandmère reminded me, “ever since we banned cruise ships from docking in the bay. But who needs day-trippers? With their sticky-film cameras and their awfulBermuda shorts. If that woman had only shown a few shots of the casinos. And the beaches! Why, we have the only naturally white sand along theRiviera . Are you aware of that, Amelia?Monaco has to import their sand.”
“Maybe I could transfer to another school. Do you think there’s a school inManhattan that will take someone with a one point zero in Algebra?”
“Wait—“ Grandmère’s voice became muffled. “Oh, no, there we are. It’s back on, and they’re showing some simply lovely shots of the palace. Oh, and there’s the beach. And the bay. Oh, and the olive groves. Lovely. Simply lovely. That woman might have a few redeeming qualities after all. I suppose I will have to allow your father to continue seeing her.”
She hung up. My own grandmother hung up on me. What kind of a reject am I, anyway?
I went into my mom’s bathroom. She was sitting on the floor, looking unhappy. Mr. Gianini was sitting on the edge of the bathtub. He looked confused.