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

an excused absence.”
    â€œAnd what, pray tell, is a bushy?”
    â€œHe’s not a what, Grandma, he’s a who. He’s the principal of my school. I’d like to prove my haters factually incorrect by leaving Cranbrook without any demerits, if that’s okay with you.”
    â€œIt’s Grandm è re, not Grandma, and don’t be ridiculous. Princesses can’t get demerits. But I will telephone this ‘Bushy’ person if you’re so worried, and explain the situation.”
    Grandma, I mean Grandm è re, calling the CMS administrative office was probably one of the weirdest things I’d ever witnessed, and I’d witnessed a lot of weird things in the past twenty-four hours.
    â€œHello, is this Cranbrook Middle School?” Grandm è re asked after I dialed for her (because she isn’t very good at using phones, even regular ones). “Oh yes, quite, very well, how do you do? This is the Dowager Princess Clarisse Renaldo of Genovia phoning on behalf of my granddaughter Princess Olivia Grace Clarisse Mignonette Harrison. I would like to speak to Dr. Bushy. I beg your pardon? He’s in a meeting? Well, please inform him that my granddaughter will not be able to attend school today, as she is in dire need of a new wardrobe. Thank you.”
    I’m pretty sure Mrs. Singh, the school administrative aide, probably thought that was a crank call, but Grandm è re hung up before she could ask.
    Then Grandm è re went to “put on her face” (which is what she calls putting on her makeup) and get dressed.
    Now we’re here in this store, “assembling my wardrobe” with the help of Grandm è re’s “personal stylist,” which is really just a fancy name for a lady who works in the store but is only in charge of one customer: my grandma, and now me.
    Grandm è re’s personal stylist, Brigitte, is super nice, especially since she allows dogs in her store (Grandm è re let me bring Snowball since she brought Rommel), but I don’t know how anyone would think trying on clothes for over four hours is fun. Maybe someone interested in fashion like Annabelle Jenkins or Sara would, but not me.
    Although Grandm è re says that fashion is important because it immediately communicates to others your sense of style (which I have not yet had a chance to cultivate, having been forced to wear a uniform to school for most of my life) and even helps boost your self-esteem.
    But my self-esteem is not feeling so boosted right now since in the last two hours Brigitte has made me try on (and then Grandm è re has bought):
    â€¢ Ten pairs of pants (all kinds, from jeans to what Brigitte calls “casual slacks”)
    â€¢ Eleven skirts (“flared to fitted”)
    â€¢ Thirty dresses (according to my grandma, “Princesses need quite a lot of dresses as they are always being called upon to attend formal occasions, be they polo matches, balls, or benefits to raise awareness of the shrinking ice shelves”)
    â€¢ More shoes than I can count, from boots to loafers to dancing slippers to what Grandm è re calls “trainers” (which I later found out are sneakers. I don’t know what she thinks I’m training for, other than being a princess)

    â€¢ Underwear (twenty pairs, which fortunately Brigitte did NOT make me try on, though Grandm è re did go on for quite a long time about the importance of “breathability” and “all-cotton” until I wanted to die)
    â€¢ Some things Grandm è re called “foundation garments,” but which I finally realized were bras! My new grandma made me try on bras! Right in front of her! Like I even have anything to put in them! Fortunately Brigitte realized this, and so really they were only what Nishi calls “sports bras,” and Brigitte called “training bras.” Still, I wanted to die again.
    â€¢ Socks (twenty pairs)
    â€¢ Layering Tees