Meg Cabot - Third Time Lucky

God knows, no one at Albert Einstein High School would want to leave flowers for me. Unless I were dead, maybe, and

they could fling them on to my grave and say, 'Good riddance, Miss Thang.'

Three more days until the dance. Still nothing.

Thursday, December 17,1 a.m.

It just occurred to me:

Maybe Kenny is lying about the roses. Maybe they really are from him. Maybe he's leaving them as kind of teasers, leading

up to asking me to the dance tomorrow night.

Which is kind of insulting, really. I mean, him waiting this long to finally ask. For all he knows, I could have said yes to somebody else by now.

As if somebody else might have asked. HA!

Thursday, December 17, 4 p.m.,

Limo on the Way to the Plaza

THAT'S IT!!!!!

I'M DONE!!!!!!

DONE WITH FINALS!!!!!!!!!!!!

And guess what?

I'm pretty sure I passed all of them. Even Algebra. The grades aren't posted until tomorrow, during the Winter Carnival, but I bugged Mr. G so much he finally said, 'Mia, you did fine. Now leave me alone, all right?'

Got that????? He said I did FINE!!!!!!!!!! You know what fine means, don't you?

IT MEANS I PASSED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank God all of that's over. Now I can concentrate on what's important:

My social life.

I am serious. It is in a state of total disrepair. Everyone at school — with the exception of my friends - thinks I am this total sellout. They're like, 'You talk the talk, Mia, but you don't walk the walk.'

Well, I'm going to show them. Right after the World Civ. exam yesterday, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I knew exactly what

to do. It's what Grandmere would do.

Well, OK, maybe not quite what Grandmere would do, but it will solve the whole problem. Granted, Sebastiano isn't going

to like it very much. But, then, he should have asked ME, not Grandmere, if it was all right to run those photos in an ad for his clothes. Right?

I have to say, this is the most princessy thing I've done so far. And I am very, very nervous. Seriously. You wouldn't believe how much my palms are sweating.

But I cannot continue to lie back and meekly take this abuse. Something must be done about it, and I think I know what.

The best part is, I am doing it all by myself with no help from anyone.

Well, all right, the concierge at the Plaza helped by getting me a room, and Lars helped by making all the calls on his mobile phone.

And Lilly helped me write down what I was going to say, and Tina did my make-up and hair just now.

But other than that, it was all me.

OK, we're here.

Here goes nothing.

Thursday, December 17, 7 p.m.

I have now watched myself on all four major networks, plus New York 1, CNN, Headline News, MSNBC, and Fox News Channel. Apparently, they are also going to show it on Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood and E! Entertainment

News.

I have to say, for a girl who supposedly has issues with her self-image, I think I did a fine job. I didn't mess up, not even once. And if I maybe spoke a little too fast, well, you could still understand me. Unless, you know, you're a non-English speaker

or something.

I looked good too. I probably should have worn something other than my school uniform, but you know, royal blue comes off pretty good on TV.

The phone has been ringing off the hook ever since the press conference was first aired. The first time it rang, my mom picked

it up and it was Sebastiano, screaming incomprehensibly about how I've ruined him.

Only he can't say ruined. It just came out 'rued'.

I felt really bad. I mean, I didn't mean to ruin him. Especially after he was so nice about designing me that dress for the dance.

But what was I supposed to do? I tried to make him look on the bright side:

'Sebastiano,' I said, when I got on the phone. 'I haven't ruined you. Really. It's just the proceeds from the sales of the dresses I'm wearing in the ad that will go to Greenpeace.'

But Sebastiano completely failed to look at the big picture. He kept screaming, 'Rued! I'm rued!'

I pointed out that far from ruining him, his donating all the proceeds from sales of the dresses I modelled to Greenpeace was going to be perceived in the industry as a brilliant stroke of marketing genius, and that I wouldn't be surprised if those dresses flew off the racks since girls like me, who are really the people his fashions are geared for, care a great deal about the environment.

I must have picked up a thing or two during my princess lessons with Grandmere since in the end I totally won him over. By

the time I hung up, I think Sebastiano almost believed the whole thing had been his idea in the first place.

The next time the phone rang it was my dad. I may have to scratch the plan to get him a book on anger management because he was laughing his head off. He wanted to know if it had been my mom's idea, and when I said, No, it was all me, he went, You really have got the princess thing down, you know.

So in a weird way I feel like I passed that Final too.

Except, of course, that I'm still not speaking to Grandmere. Not a single one of the calls I've gotten tonight (which even included Mamaw and Papaw back in Indiana, who saw the broadcast) have been from her.

Really, I think she should be the one to apologize because what she did was totally underhanded.

Almost as underhanded, my mom pointed out to me over dinner from Number One Noodle Son, as what I did.

Which is sort of shocking. I mean, I never thought about it before, but it's true: what I did tonight was as sneaky as anything Grandmere's ever done.

But I guess that shouldn't be very surprising. We are related, after all.

Then again, so were Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader.

Must go. Baywatch is on. This is the first time in weeks I've been home to watch it.

Thursday, December 17, 9 p.m.

Tina just called. She didn't want to talk about the press conference. She wanted to know what I got from my Secret Snowflake. I was all, 'Secret Snowflake? What are you talking about?'

'You know,' Tina said. 'Your Secret Snowflake. You remember, Mia. We signed up for it like a month ago. You put your name in the jar and then someone draws it, and they have to be your Secret Snowflake for the last week of school before Winter Break. They're supposed to surprise you with little gifts and stuff. You know, as a stress breaker. Since it's Finals

week and all.'

I dimly remembered, one day before Thanksgiving Break, Tina dragging me over to a folding table where some nerdy-looking kids from the student government were sitting on one side of the cafeteria with a big jar filled with little pieces of paper. Tina had made me write my name on a slip of paper, then pick, someone else's name out of the jar.

'Oh my God,' I cried. With all the stress of Finals and everything, I had forgotten all about it!

Worse, I had forgotten that I had drawn Tina's name. No real coincidence since she'd stuffed her slip of paper into the jar

right before I picked. Still, what kind of heinous friend am I that I would forget something like this?

Then I realized something else. The yellow roses. They hadn't been put in my locker by mistake! And they really weren't from Kenny, either! They had to be from my Secret Snowflake.

Which was kind of upsetting in a way. I mean, it's really starting to look as if Kenny has no intention of asking me to tomorrow night's dance whatsoever.

'I can't believe you forgot about it,' Tina said, sounding amused. 'You have been getting stuff for your Secret Snowflake, haven't you, Mia?'

I felt a rush of guilt. I had totally blown it. Poor Tina!