Meg Cabot - Third Time Lucky

Instead of taking offence at my tone, which any self-respecting grandparent would have found insolent, Grandmere only took

a sip of her drink and suddenly looked way interested.

'Oh?' she said, in a totally different tone of voice — the same tone of voice she uses when someone mentions a stock tip she thinks might be useful for her portfolio. 'What boyfriend is this?'

God, what did I ever do to be cursed with such a grandmother? Seriously. Lilly and Michael's grandma remembers the names of all their friends, makes them rugelach all the time, and always worries that they're not getting enough to eat, even though their parents, the Drs. Moscovitz, are wholly reliable at bringing home groceries or at least ordering out.

Me? I get the grandma with the hairless poodle and the nine-carat diamond rings whose greatest joy in life is to torture me.

And why does she enjoy that so much? I've never done anything to her. Nothing except be her only living grandchild, anyway. And it isn't exactly like I go around advertising how I feel about her. You know, I've never actually told her I think she's a mean old lady who contributes to the destruction of the environment by wearing fur coats and smoking filterless French cigarettes.

'Grandmere,' I said, trying to remain calm. 'I have only one boyfriend. His name is Kenny.' I've only told you about fifty thousand times, I added, in my head.

'I thought this Kenny person was your Biology partner,' Grandmere said, after taking a sip of her Sidecar.

'He is,' I said, a little surprised that she'd managed to remember something like that. 'He's also my boyfriend. Only the other night he went completely schizo on me and told me he loves me.'

Grandmere patted Rommel, who was sitting in her lap looking miserable (his habitual expression), on the head.

'And what is so wrong,' Grandmere wanted to know, 'about a boy who says he loves you?'

'Nothing,' I said. 'Only I'm not in love with him, see? So it wouldn't be fair of me to, you know, lead him on.'

Grandmere raised her painted-on eyebrows. 'I don't see why not.'

How had I ever gotten into this conversation? 'Because, Grandmere. People just don't go around doing things like that. Not nowadays.'

'Is that so? Well, I've never observed such a thing. Except, of course, if one happens to be in love with someone else. Then shedding an undesirable suitor might be considered wise, so that one can make oneself available for the man one truly likes.' She eyed me. 'Is there someone like that in your life, Amelia? Someone, ahem, special?'

'No,' I lied, automatically.

Grandmere snorted. 'You're lying.'

'No, I'm not,' I lied.

'Indeed you are. I oughtn't to tell you this, but I suppose as it is a bad habit for a future monarch you ought to be made aware of it, so that in the future you can try to prevent it. When you lie, Amelia, your nostrils flare.'

I threw my hands up to my nose. 'They do not!'

'Indeed,' Grandmere said, clearly enjoying herself immensely. 'If you do not believe me, look in the mirror.'

I turned around to face the nearby full-length mirrors. Taking my hands from my face, I examined my nose. My nostrils weren't flaring. She was crazy.

'I'll ask you again, Amelia,' Grandmere said, in a lazy voice, from her chair. Are you in love with anyone right now?'

'No,' I lied automatically . . . And my nostrils flared right out!

Oh my God! All these years I've been lying and it turns out whenever I do, my nostrils totally give me away!

How could no one have pointed this out to me before? And Grandmere - Grandmere, of all people - was the one who figured it out! Not my mother, with whom I've lived for fourteen years. Not my best friend, whose IQ's higher than Einstein's.

If this got out, my life was over.

'Fine,' I cried dramatically, spinning away from the mirror to face her. 'All right, yes. Yes, I am in love with somebody else.

Are you happy now?'

Grandmere raised her painted-on eyebrows. 'No need to shout, Amelia,' she said, with what I might have taken for amusement in anyone other than her. 'Who might this special someone be?'

'Oh, no,' I said, holding out both my hands. If it wouldn't have been totally rude, I'd have made a little cross out of my index fingers and held it up towards her — that's how much she scares me. And if you think about it, with her tattooed eyeliner she does look a little like Nosferatu. 'You are not getting that information out of me.'

Grandmere stubbed out her cigarette in this ashtray Sebastiano had provided, and went, 'Very well. I take it, then, that the gentleman in question does not return your ardour.'

There was no point in lying to her. Not now. Not with my nostrils.

My shoulders sagged. 'No. He likes this other girl. This really smart girl who knows how to clone fruit flies.'

Grandmere snorted. 'A useful talent. Well, never mind that now. I don't suppose, Amelia, that you are acquainted with the expression "dirty dishwater is better than none"?'

I guess she must have been" able to tell from my perplexed expression that this was one I hadn't heard before, since she went on, 'Do not throw away this Kenny until you have managed to secure someone better.'

I stared at her, horrified. Really, my grandmother has said - and done - some pretty cold things in her time, but this one took the biscuit.

'Secure someone better?' I couldn't believe she actually meant what I thought she meant. 'You mean I shouldn't break up with Kenny until I've got someone else?'

Grandmere lit another cigarette. 'But of course.'

'But, Grandmere.' I swear to God, sometimes I can't figure out if she's human or some kind of alien life force sent down from another planet to spy on us. 'You can't do that. You can't just string a guy along like that, knowing that you don't feel the same way about him that he feels about you.'

Grandmere exhaled a long plume of blue smoke. 'Why not?'

'Because it's completely unethical!' I shook my head. 'No. I'm breaking up with Kenny. Right away. Tonight, as a matter of fact.'

Grandmere stroked Rommel under the chin. He looked more miserable than ever, as if instead of stroking him she was peeling the skin away from his body. He really is the most heinous excuse for a dog I have ever seen.

'That,' Grandmere said, 'is your prerogative, of course. But allow me to point out to you that if you break off your relationship with this young man, your Biology grade will suffer.'

I was shocked. But mostly because this was something I had already thought of myself. I was amazed Grandmere and I had actually shared something.

Which was really the only reason I shouted, 'Grandmere!'

'Well,' Grandmere said, flicking ash from her cigarette into the nearby crystal ashtray. 'Isn't it true? You are only making what,

a C, in this class? And that is only because that young man allows you to copy his answers to the homework.'

'Grandmere!' I yelled again. Because, of course, she's right.

She looked at the ceiling. 'Let me see,' she said. 'With your D in Algebra, if you get anything less than a C in Biology your grade point average will take quite a little dip this semester.'

'Grandmere.' I couldn't believe this. She was right. She was so right. But still. 'I am not going to postpone breaking up with Kenny until after the Final. That would be just plain wrong.'

'Suit yourself,' Grandmere said with a sigh. 'But it will certainly be awkward having to sit beside him for the next -how long is

it until the end of the semester? - oh, yes, two weeks. Especially considering the fact that after you break things off with him,

he probably won't even speak to you any more.'

God, so true. And not something I hadn't thought of myself. If Kenny got mad enough over me breaking up with him not to want to speak to me any more, sixth period was going to be plenty unpleasant.