Free From the Notebooks of a Middle School Princess by Meg Cabot

in Genovia with you and Dad and Princess Mia. But — ”
    Grandma almost smiled, but not all the way. Her mouth doesn’t really move all that much. Princess Mia told me this is because she’s “had a lot of work done.”
    â€œWell, if that’s the case, why are you worrying about your old school? You’ll be attending the Royal Genovian Academy from now on. But as we haven’t enrolled you yet, they can hardly count you as absent.”
    â€œYes, but I’m still enrolled at my old school, and if I don’t show up there today they’ll mark it as an unexcused absence and I’ll get a demerit.”
    â€œA demerit?” she asked in astonishment. “Merely for enjoying a day of shopping with your grandmother?”
    â€œShopping isn’t an excusable absence. An excusable absence is like when my friend Nishi’s grandmother got sick with appendicitis and had to go to the hospital. Nishi was allowed to skip school to visit her, because that was an emergency. Shopping isn’t an emergency.”

    â€œIt most certainly is,” Grandma said, looking offended. “We can’t allow you to go about in that anymore.” She pointed at my school uniform. “The paparazzi will undoubtedly photograph you again today and then think we are cruelly mistreating you by providing you with only one outfit. How is that not an emergency?”
    That’s when she showed me the front page of the paper she was reading.
    â€œThat’s ME!” I cried, dropping my toast (it was okay, though, because Rommel and Snowball snatched it up, even though it landed butter-side down on the floor).
    â€œYes,” she said. “It is. So is this.” She lifted up another newspaper from the pile beside her and showed me its front page as well.
    SIXTH-GRADE SENSATION!
    PINT-SIZED PRINCESS FROM NEW JERSEY
    SECOND IN LINE TO GENOVIAN THRONE
    Fortunately, this time I wasn’t holding any food I could drop.
    â€œWow!” was all I could think of to say. I couldn’t help wondering if Annabelle Jenkins had seen the paper. If so, I bet she was pretty upset about it. It had to be killing her that I was the one being called a sixth-grade sensation, and not her.
    Not all the papers had such flattering headlines about me, though (I hoped Annabelle didn’t see those ). Some of the reporters were still writing mean things, like that my dad had purposefully kept me “hidden away in Cranbrook” all these years so his mom, the Genovian people, and the press wouldn’t find out about me, because I was his “shameful secret.”
    This was so not what had happened! Well, it was — I’d definitely been hidden away in Cranbrook, but not because I was anyone’s “shameful secret.”
    Grandma must have noticed me getting upset, since she said, “Part of the job of being a royal is receiving a great deal of attention from the press. Your face on the cover of any newspaper or magazine will help it to sell. But you can’t expect everything written about you to be positive.”
    â€œBut some of it isn’t even true !”
    Grandma looked amused. “My dear, being half-American yourself, you must know that the American people’s right to express their opinions is guaranteed by something called the First Amendment. Until those opinions are found to be proven factually incorrect, they can go on expressing them as long as they like.”
    I did know this, but it still didn’t seem fair. “Well, can we please prove their opinions factually incorrect?”
    â€œOf course. In due time, we shall issue a statement. In the meantime, we need to take you shopping. When you look your best, you feel your best, and no one could possibly feel their best in that .” She pointed at my skirt.
    â€œFine, Grandma,” I said with a sigh. “But like I said, I’m pretty sure Dr. Bushy won’t allow clothes shopping as