Meg Cabot - Forever Princess

Hopefully it won’t be at all weird for Madonna that her ex, Sean Penn, is also here.

Grandmère had initially planned on having a different musical entertainer for my eighteenth birthday (Pavarotti) but fortunately he died. (No offense, he was awfully nice, but opera is kind of hard to dance to.)

The thing is, in addition to celebrities…there are so many people from my past here! My cousin Sebastiano (stopping to talk to all the paparazzi, snapping pictures where all the limos and taxis are dropping people off), with a supermodel on his arm. He’s a famous fashion designer now. He even has a line of jeans in Wal-Mart.

Oh, and there’s my cousin Hank, in white leather pants and a black silk top. His stalkers have found their way to the Seaport (they must have read about the party on Page Six, where it was announced this morning), and are screaming for his autograph. Hank pauses suavely and signs for them. It’s hard to believe we used to hunt for crawdads together in overalls and bare feet, back in Versailles, Indiana, all those years ago. Now Hank routinely has giant billboards of himself in his underwear up in Times Square. Who would have thought? I mean, I’ve seen him squirt Coca-Cola out of his nose.

Aw, and there’s Mamaw and Papaw. I see Grandmère got them a stylist. I wonder if she was worried they’d show up in NASCAR T-shirts?

But they clean up beautifully! Papaw’s in a tux! He looks a little like James Bond. You know, if James Bond chewed tobacco.

And Mamaw’s wearing an evening gown! And it looks as if Paolo got to her hair. And okay, she keeps stopping and waving to the paparazzi, none of whom wants to take her picture.

But she looks great! Kind of like Sharon Osbourne. If Sharon Osbourne had bleached-blond hair and a really big butt and said, “Hey, y’all!” a lot.

And there’s my mom and Mr. G and Rocky! My mom looks beautiful, as always. If only I could ever be that pretty someday. Even Mr. G isn’t a total wash. And doesn’t Rocky look cute in his little toddler tux? I wonder how long it will be until he spills something all down the front of it (I give him five minutes). I’m betting it will be the peanut sauce.

And there are Perin and Ling Su and Tina and Boris and Shameeka and Lana and Trisha and their parents…oh, don’t they all look nice? Well, except Boris.

Oh, all right. Even Boris. When you’re wearing a tuxedo, at least you’resupposed to tuck the shirt into your pants.

And there’s Principal Gupta! And Mr. and Madame Wheeton! And Mrs. Hill and Ms. Martinez and Ms. Sperry and Mr. Hipskin and Nurse Lloyd and Ms. Hong and Mrs. Potts and just about the entire rest of the staff of Albert Einstein High!

It was nice of Grandmère to let me invite them all, even if it’s super weird to see your teachers outside of school. The fact that they’re wearing evening clothes makes them basically unrecognizable and, ew, I think Mr. Hipskin brought his wife and she looks almost exactly like him, except for the mustache. Sadly, I mean hers, not his…

Wow, this is actually kind of fun, aside from the fact that eventually I have to—

Oh! And there he is. J.P., I mean. He’s brought his parents.

And he certainly does look GORGEOUS in his evening jacket and white tie.

He doesn’t have any large packages with him. So…what can it be? His surprise for me, I mean? Because he’s not carrying a present, that I can see…

Oh, look, he’s stopping now, with his parents, to talk to the paparazzi. Why does something tell me he’s going to mention his play?

Well, if I were writing my book under my own name, would I waste any possible opportunity to mention it? Probably not, right?

On the other hand, considering what—or ratherwho —Tina seemed to think it was about, maybe not…

Okay, I can’t stand this! I think I’m going to be sick. When can I join the party? I’d rather just get it over with already than keep waiting like—

Here come the Moscovitzes! They’re getting out of a LIMO! There are the Drs. Moscovitz—I’m so glad they got back together! Doesn’t Dr. Moscovitz look distinguished in his tuxedo? And Lilly and Michael’s mom, in her red evening gown, with her hair all up? So pretty! So unlike her normal self, in her glasses and business suit and Lady Air Jordans…

And there’s Kenneth, also in a tux, turning around to help—LILLY! Whoa, she actually dressed up—in a really nice black velvet dress. I wonder where she got that, certainly not her normal clothing store of choice, the Salvation Army. And look, her video-camcorder bag matches her dress! That’s so stylish of her!

She looks so pretty. I can’t imagine she really can be up to anything that devious tonight. Can she?

And there’s MICHAEL! He CAME! He looks so GORGEOUS in his tuxedo! Oh my God, I think I’m going to—

ACK! It’s Grandmère…and…

The captain!

Great. Captain Johnson says he can’t possibly unmoor from the dock because the boat is already filled to capacity and there are still more limos and taxis pulling up, and if he attempts to head out to sea with more than the maximum capacity the ship can hold, we’ll sink.

“Fine,” Grandmère says. “Amelia, you’re going to have to tell your guests to leave.”

I just laughed in her face. She’s had WAY too many Sidecars already if she thinks that’s going to happen.

“Myguests? Excuse me, who invited Brangelina?And all their kids?” I wanted to know. “I don’t evenknow them! I want to have a nice time at my birthday party with my friends.You askyour celebrity guests to leave!”

Grandmère gasped.

“You know I can’t do that,” she cried. “Angelina is a Domina Rei! There’s a strong possibility she’s carrying your invitation to join—unless it’s Oprah!”

Anyway, we’ve worked out a compromise: Nobody gets kicked off.

Instead, we’re just not going to move. The boat’s staying at the dock.

It’s just as well. I wouldn’t want to be out to sea with some of these lunatics (just in case Lilly IS up to something more than just filming everyone with their mouths full of shrimp cocktail, or whatever).

Lars just knocked! He says it’s time for my big entrance…. Now I think I reallywill hurl.

It’s too bad I’m not being carried in on a couch by half-naked bodybuilders like some of those girls onMy Super Sweet 16. I’m just walking.

Of course, I have a tiara on my head: So I have to walk tall, or it will fall off.

But still.

Monday, May 1, 11 p.m., the Royal Genovian Yacht Clarisse 3, weird overhangy part just off the place where they steer, where Leo and Kate stood in Titanic, and Leo said he was the king of the world, I don’t know what it’s called, I don’t know anything about BOATS, but it’s cold up here and I wish I had a coat

Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God!

Okay, I just have to remember to breathe. BREATHE. In and out. IN. Then OUT.

The thing is, it all started off so well. I mean, I came out and Madonna was singing “Lucky Star” and my tiara didn’t fall off and everyone clapped, and everything looked so nice despite Grandmère and Vigo’s worries, especially the purple flowers, and—this was the really amazing thing—it turned outDad had flown in especially for the occasion, all the way from Europe on the Royal Genovian jet, taking time off from the campaign just for the night as a special surprise for me.

Yes! He stepped out from behind the biggest batch of purple flowers, and made a speech about how great a daughter—and princess—I am…a speech that I barely heard because I was so shocked and teary-eyed at seeing him.

And then the next thing I knew he was hugging me, and he’d given me this GIANT black velvet box, and inside was a very sparkly tiara. I thought it looked familiar, and he explained to everyone that it was the one Princess Amelie Virginie was wearing in the portrait I have hanging in my bedroom. He said that if anyone deserved it, I did. It had been missing for nearly four hundred years, and he’d had them look all over the palace for it, and finally someone had found it in a dusty corner of the jewelry vault, and they’d polished it all up and cleaned it just for me.