Free Princess on the Brink by Meg Cabot Page B

various parts of the world? And you’re complaining that you can’t SMOKE in your room? There is nothing wrong with this suite. It’s totally beautiful. It’s every bit as nice as your suite back at the Plaza. You’re just being ridiculous, because you don’t like change.”
    “I suppose that’s true,” Grandmère said with a sigh, as she sat down in one of the brocade-covered armchairs across from the couch I was sitting on. “But I believe my folly might be to your advantage.”
    “Oh?” I was barely listening to her. I couldn’t believe how quickly my dad had shot down my Build Your Own Lab idea. I really thought it had been a good one. I mean, I know I only came up with it on the spur of the moment. But it seemed like something he might go for. He’s always building hospital wings over in Genovia, and then naming them after himself. I think the Prince Phillipe Renaldo Surgical Robotic Systems Lab has a nice ring to it.
    “The suite is paid for through the end of the week,” Grandmère said, leaning over to tap on the key card she’d left on the table. “I won’t be staying here, of course. But there’s no reason why you shouldn’t feel free to use it, if you like.”
    “What am I going to do with a suite at the Ritz, Grandmère?” I demanded. “It might have escaped your notice, because you’re so preoccupied with your own quote suffering unquote. But I am hardly going to be hosting any slumber parties this week. I am in a full-on life crisis.”
    Grandmère’s gaze hardened on me. “Sometimes,” shesaid, “I cannot believe that you and I are related by blood.”
    “Welcome to my world,” I said.
    “Well, the rooms are yours,” Grandmère said, sliding the key card closer to me. “To do with whatever it is you wish. Personally, if I still lived with my parents, and my paramour was leaving on a yearlong quest to prove himself to MY father, I’d use the rooms to stage a very private and very romantic good-bye. But that’s just me. I’ve always been a very passionate woman, very in touch with my emotions. I’ve often noticed that I—”
    Blah, blah, blah. Grandmère’s voice went on and on. And on. Dad came back into the room and told her he’d gotten her a suite at the Four Seasons, so then she rang for her maid and made her start packing for the third time this week alone.
    And that was my princess lesson for the day.
    Good thing I’m not paying for them, because the quality has really started going downhill.
    I think I’m hallucinating from being dehydrated, or something. I have all the symptoms:
     
Extreme thirst
Dry mouth with no saliva
Dry eyes; no tears
Decreased urination, or urinating 3 or fewer times in 24 hours
Arms and legs that may feel cool to the touch
Feeling very tired, restless, or irritable
Light-headedness that is relieved by lying down
     
    Of course, I generally experience all of these symptoms after spending any amount of time with Grandmère.
    Still, I’m drinking all the bottled water in the limo, just to be on the safe side.

Wednesday, September 8, the loft
     
    Michael wants to do a whole bunch of New Yorky things before he leaves on Friday. Tonight we’re eating at his favorite burger place, Corner Bistro, in the West Village. He swears they make the best hamburgers in the city—outside of Johnny Rockets.
    Except that Michael won’t go to Johnny Rockets because he doesn’t believe in food chains, as he says they are contributing to the homogenization of America, and that as chain stores force out locally owned restaurants and businesses, communities will lose everything that once made them unique, and America will become just one big strip mall, with every single community consisting of nothing but Wal-Marts, McDonald’s, a Jiffy Lube, and an Applebee’s. Instead of being a melting pot, America will be mayonnaise.
    Still, I happen to know Michael’s not above sneaking out for a St. Louis and a black-and-white from time to time.
    Of course, being