Meg Cabot - The Princess Present

like Mitchell and Stefano have been living in their whole short lives.

And you know,it didn't look so bad. I mean, we had spackled over the holes I'd made in the gypsum

board, so you couldn't even see them. And with the vinyl siding, it looked, I don't know. Like a REAL

house.

While we were standing there admiring our handiwork, Mrs.Harmeyer complained that she had a

wicked case of heartburn and had anyone else had the potato salad at lunch? I informed Mrs.Harmeyer

that, being a vegetarian, I had eaten nothing but potato salad for lunch, as it had been the only non-meat

dish available, and I felt fine. Then I opened my diary to the entry I wrote earlier today and showed Mrs.

Harmeyer that she had complained of indigestion after breakfast, as well. Was it possible, I asked, that

she wasn't having heartburn at all, but contractions? The two have occasionally been confused, even by

experienced mothers, at least according to A Baby Story.

Then Mrs.Harmeyer got all excited and yelled, "Oh, my God! Todd, get the pickup!"

So Mr. and Mrs.Harmeyer sped off for the hospital, leaving us in charge of Mitchell and Stefano. Dr.

Gonzales was way impresses by what he called my powers of observation. Not everybody, he said,

would have kept such a detailed record of another person's complaints about their gastritis.

I told Dr. Gonzales that it was no bigdeal, that I write down everything, really. Then he said the funniest

thing. He said: "That's quite a skill."

Wow! It almost made me think maybe being able to write isn't such a bad talent, after all! I mean, it isn't

as cool as being able to use a nail gun, and all. But hey, it might not be totally useless.

Then Dr. Gonzales turned to Michael and said, "We're out of hot-dog buns for the celebration barbecue

tonight. If I stay here with Mitchell and Stefano, do you think you could go into town and pick some up?"

and he handed Michael the keys to his Dodge Chevy!

And it turns out Michael can drive! He has a driver's license and everything! He learned two summers

ago at his parents' country house inAlbany .

There are very few boys who live inManhattan who know how to drive, on account of hardly anyone

owning a car inNew York City .

So Michael said, "Sure, Dr. Gonzales."

For a minute I thought a Spring Break miracle had occurred...you know, that Michael and I would be

alone, in a motor vehicle, miles from anybody else, and would finally get a chance to feel our two hearts

beat as one...

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That is, if I could get cleaned up fast enough.

But I needn't have worried. Because no sooner did Michael get those keys in his hands than we were

descended upon by the rest of our group, who all demanded to join us. I tried not to look too depressed

as Lars, Lilly, Boris, Tina, and PeterTsu piled into the truck with us. Their enthusiasm was a little bit

infectious, I have to admit.

Town was big disappointment, though. I'd forgotten that Mrs.Harmeyer had said there was nothing to

do in it. There is not even a single Chinese restaurant where you can go for cold sesame noodles. We

went to the grocery store and got the hot-dog buns, and Lilly was all, "Finally, I can get a bagel!" but

they didn't even have any, not even the Lender's kind in a bag.

So then we were all kind of depresses on account of the no-bagel-and-no-cold-sesame-noodle thing.

But when we got back in the truck, Michael went, "Well, there's one thingWest Virginia has

thatManhattan doesn't," and he started driving.

I thought Michael was talking about theMothman , you know, from that movie, and I couldn't think what

was so great about that because all theMothman does is call people on the phone and say in a scary

voice, "Stay away from the chemical plant!", which isn't really useful information to anyone.

But it turns out Michael wasn't talking about theMothman . He was talking about Dairy Queen! Yes! It

turns out there was a Dairy Queen right outside Hominy Knob! There are no Dairy Queens inManhattan

, except for a gross one nobody but tourists ever goes to in Penn Station.

We were soexcited, we piled out of the truck and rushed up to the girl in the window. Everybody got

something different. Lars got a cherry slush. Lilly got a peanut buster parfait. Boris got a Heath Bar bite

blizzard. PeterTsu gota Coke slush. Tina got a low-cal yogurt on account of the fact that PeterTsu was

looking. Michael got an Oreo cookie blizzard. I got a chocolate-dipped vanilla soft serve.

And it was SO good! After all our hand work, and the sleeping in tents and the Port-O-Lets and the wet

wipes and slathering on cherryChapStick for nothing and finding out that I actually have a useful talent

after all, that chocolate-dipped vanilla cone was really the most delicious thing I had eaten in my whole

life.

We were all enjoying our ice cream, leaning against the side of the Dodge Chevy in the soft pre-spring

sunshine, when a large black limo slithered into the Dairy Queen parking lot. I swear I nearly dropped my

vanilla cone as the chauffeur came around to open the rear passenger door, and out popped ­

"Grandmère!"I cried, barely able to believe my eyes.

"Amelia,"Grandmère said, looking around in distaste. She was dressed in a big feathered purple velvet

coat, withRommel in one arm and a purse in the other. All the residents of Hominy Knob who happened

to be in the vicinity could not take their eyes off her. "You're looking ...fit."

"Grandmère," I said. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going toPalm Springs ."

"I do go there. I thought I would stop by to see you on my way home. I've been to your,er , work site."

"Really?"I was still shocked to seeGrandmère in Hominy Knob. "Did you see the house we built?"

"I did,"Grandmère said. "I must admit, when you told me this is what you wanted to do with your

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Spring Break, I thought you were mad. But I met Dr. Gonzales, and he seems like a very nice man. And

your house is... adequate. That is not, however, why I am here. I've taken rooms at the Hampton Inn ­

sadly, the finest quarters I was able to procure. I thought perhaps you all might like to come back with

me and shower before your little celebration dinner, to which Dr. Gonzales has very kindly invited me. I

understand the bathing conditions at the camp are on the primitive side, and all of you have a very long

bus ride ahead of you tomorrow."

We piled back into the truck without another word. Take a shower? No one needed to ask us twice.

The thought that we might, at long last, be able to scrape four days of sweat and dew from our bodies

was even better than ice cream ­ even better, I must admit, than the prospect of uninterrupted kissing.

So we all followedGrandmère's limo to the motel, where she'd taken seven rooms for herself and

Rommel , her bodyguards, her personal maid, her assistant, her chauffeur, and her clothes. Everybody

got to fully submerge themselves under nice hot water and use some clean towels for a change. I myself

borrowed some ofGrandmère'sChanel No. 5 and fullyspritzed my clothes with it. Bliss!!!! Now there

was NO WAY my boyfriend would be able to resist me.

Although when I presented myself to him, in all of my squeaky-clean glory, by the ice machine in the

Hampton Inn hallway, any attempt Michael might have made to kiss me was cruelly thwarted by

Grandmère's maid, who came strolling by withRommel on a leash, because it was time for "walkies".