“But as you can see by our projections,” I said desperately, “if you were to just take a small amount of money away from, say, the Intramural Athletics Fund—”

At this, suddenly everyone was paying attention.

“Not the lacrosse team!” one father in a Burberry raincoat bellowed.

“Not soccer,” cried another, looking up from his BlackBerry with a panicked expression on his face.

“Not cheerleading!” Mr. Taylor, Shameeka’s dad, gave me a dirty look that could have rivaled one of Grandmère’s.

“You see the problem, Mia?” Principal Gupta shook her head.

“But if each team just gave up a little—”

“I’m sorry, Mia,” Principal Gupta said. “I’m sure you worked very hard on this. But your track record where financial matters are concerned hasn’t exactly been the most stellar—” I couldn’t believe she’d be so heartless as to bring up the slight miscalculation that had caused me to bankrupt the student government several weeks earlier. Especially considering the fact that, with the help of my grandmother and her tireless work on behalf of the Genovian olive growers, I had more than replenished the empty coffers. “And I haven’t heard any other complaints about our current P.E. curriculum. I move that we conclude this meeting—”

“I second the motion,” cried Mrs. Hill, my Gifted and Talented teacher, in an obvious ploy to get home in time for Dancing with the Stars.

“This meeting of the Albert Einstein High School Parent Teacher Association is adjourned,” Principal Gupta said.

Then she and everybody else booked out of there like winged monkeys were on their tails.

I looked down at Lars, the only person left in the room besides me.

“‘The first resistance to social change is to say it’s not necessary,’” he said, obviously quoting somebody.

“Sun Tzu?” I asked, since The Art of War is Lars’s favorite book.

“Gloria Steinem,” he confessed. “I was reading one of your mother’s magazines in the bathroom the other day.” Lars has apparently never heard of the phrase Too Much Information. “Let’s go home, Princess.”

And so we did.

Wednesday, April 28, 10 p.m.,
limo ride home

How am I ever going to rule an entire country someday when I can’t even get my high school to install a row of stationary bikes in the gym?

Wednesday, April 28, 10:30 p.m.,
the loft

At least I have the comforting words of my boyfriend to soothe my frazzled nerves when I get home after a long day of fighting for the rights of the unathletically inclined students of Albert Einstein High. Even if I hardly ever get to talk to him—except via Instant Messaging—because he’s so busy with his college courses, and I’m so busy with Geometry, princess lessons, student council, and keeping my baby brother from sticking his tongue in a light socket.

SKINNERBX: Do you realize it’s only three days till the big day?

FTLOUIE: What day would that be?

SKINNERBX: Your sweet sixteen!

FTLOUIE: Oh, right. I forgot. Sorry. Stupid school stuff is bumming me out.