[This is the part where she tries to salvage the situation:]

 

     BB: Oh, Mia, I can’t believe that’s true. I’m sure you’re quite popular.

     MR: No, I’m not. I’m not popular at all. Only jocks are popular in my school. And cheerleaders. But I’m not popular. I mean, I don’t hang out with the popular people. I never get invited to parties, or anything. I mean, the cool parties, where there is beer and making out and stuff. I mean, I’m not a jock, or a cheerleader, or one of the smart kids—

     BB: Oh, but aren’t you one of the smart kids, though? I understand one of your classes is called Gifted and Talented.

     MR: Yes, but see, G and T is just like study hall. We don’t actually do anything in this class. Except goof around because the teacher is never there, she’s always in the teachers’ lounge across the hall so she has no idea what we’re doing. Which is goofing off.

 

     [Obviously still thinking she can make something out of this interview:]

 

     BB: But I don’t imagine you have much time for goofing off, do you, Mia? For instance, we are sitting here in the penthouse suite that belongs to your grandmother, the celebrated dowager princess of Genovia, who is, I understand, instructing you in royal decorum.

     MR: Oh, yes. She’s giving me princess lessons after school. Well, after my Algebra review sessions, which are after school.

     BB: Mia, didn’t you have some exciting news recently?

     MR: Oh. Yes. Well, I’m pretty excited. I’ve always wanted to be a big sister. But they don’t really want to make a big deal out of it, you know. It’s just going to be a very small ceremony at City Hall—

 

     There’s more. A lot more, actually. It’s too excruciating to go into. Basically, I just babbled like an idiot for about another ten minutes, while Beverly Bellerieve frantically attempted to steer me back toward something resembling the actual question she’d asked me.

     But it was completely beyond even her impressive journalistic abilities. I was gone. A combination of nerves and, I’m afraid to say, codeine cough syrup, put me over the edge.

     Ms. Bellerieve tried, though. I have to give her that.

The interview ended with this:

 

Ext. Thompson Street,SoHo.

     BB: She’s not a jock, nor is she a cheerleader. What Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo is, ladies and gentlemen, defies the societal stereotypes that exist in today’s modern educational institutions. She’s a princess. An American princess.

     Yet she faces the same problems and pressures that teenagers all over this country face every day . . .with a twist: One day, she’ll grow up to govern a nation.

     And come spring, she’ll be a big sister. Yes,TwentyFour/Seven has discovered that Helen Thermopolis and Mia’s Algebra teacher, Frank Gianini—who are unmarried—are expecting their first child in May. When we come back, an exclusive interview with Mia’s father, the prince of Genovia . . .next onTwentyFour/Seven.

 

     What it all boiled down to is that, basically, I’m moving to Genovia.

     My mom, who finally came out toward the end of the tape, and Mr. G tried to convince me that it wasn’t that bad.

     But it was. Oh, believe me, it was.

     And I knew I was in for it the minute the phone started ringing, right after the segment aired.

     “Oh God,” my mother said, suddenly remembering something. “Don’t pick it up! It’s my mother! Frank, I forgot to tell my mother about us!”

     Actually, I was kind of hoping it was Grandma Thermopolis. Grandma Thermopolis was infinitely preferable, in my opinion, to who it actually turned out to be: Lilly.

     And boy, was she mad.

     “What do you mean, calling us a bunch of freaks?” she screamed into the phone.

     I said, “Lilly, what are you talking about? I didn’t call you a freak.”

     “You basically informed the entire nation that the population ofAlbertEinsteinHigh School is divided into various socioeconomic cliques, and that you and your friends are too uncool to be in any of them!”

     “Well,” I said. “We are.”

     “Speak for yourself! And what about G and T?”

     “Whatabout G and T?”

     “You just told the entire country that we sit in there and goof off because Mrs. Hill is always in the teachers’ lounge! What are you, stupid? You’ve probably gotten her into trouble!”

     I felt something inside of me clench, as if someone was squeezing my intestines very, very tightly.

     “Oh, no,” I breathed. “Do you really think so?”

     Lilly just let out a frustrated scream, then snarled, “My parents say to tell your mother mazel tov.”

     Then she slammed the phone down.

     I felt worse than ever. Poor Mrs. Hill!

     Then the phone rang again. It was Shameeka.

     “Mia,” she said. “Remember how I invited you to my Halloween party this Friday?”

     “Yes,” I said.

     “Well, my dad won’t let me have it now.”

     “What?Why?”

     “Because thanks to you he is under the impression thatAlbertEinsteinHigh School is filled with sex addicts and alcoholics.”

     “But I didn’t say that!” Not in those exact words, anyway.

     “Well, that’s what he heard. He is currently in the next room surfing the Internet for a girls’ school inNew Hampshire he can send me to next semester. And he says he’s not letting me go out with a boy again until I’m thirty.”

     “Oh, Shameeka,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

     Shameeka didn’t say anything. In fact, she had to hang up, because she was sobbing too hard to speak.

     The phone rang again. I didn’t want to answer it, but I had no choice: Mr. Gianini was holding my mom’s hair back while she threw up some more.

     “Hello?”

     It was Tina Hakim Baba.

     “Oh, my gosh!” she shouted.

     “I’m sorry, Tina,” I said, figuring I better just start apologizing to every single person who called, right off the bat.

     “Sorry? What are you sorry for?” Tina was practically hyperventilating. “You said my name on TV!”

     “Um . . .I know.” I had also called her a freak.

     “I can’t believe it!” Tina yelled. “That was so cool!”

     “You aren’t . . .you aren’t mad at me?”

     “Why should I be mad at you? This is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. I’ve never had my name said on television before!”

     I was filled with love and appreciation for Tina Hakim Baba.

     “Um,” I asked, carefully, “did your parents see it?”

     “Yes! They’re excited, too. My mom said to tell you that the blue eyeshadow was a stroke of genius. Not too much, just enough to catch the light. She was very impressed. Also she said to tell your mother she has some excellent stretch mark cream that she got inSweden . You know, for when she starts getting big. I’ll bring it to school tomorrow, and you can give it to your mother.”

     “What about your dad?” I asked, carefully. “He’s not planning on sending you to girls’ school or anything?”

     “What are you talking about? He’s delighted that you mentioned my bodyguard. Now he thinks anyone who’d had plans to kidnap me will definitely think twice. Oops, there’s another call. It’s probably my grandmother inDubai . They have a satellite dish. I’m sure she heard you mention me! ‘Bye!”

     Tina hung up. Great. Even people inDubai saw my interview. I don’t even know whereDubai is.

     The phone rang again. It was Grandmère.

     “Well,” she said. “That was just terrible, wasn’t it?”

     I said, “Is there any way I can demand a retraction? Because I didn’t mean to say that my Gifted and Talented teacher doesn’t do anything and that my school was full of sex addicts. It’s not, you know.”

     “I cannot imagine what that woman was thinking,” Grandmère said. I was pleased she was on my side for once. Then she went on, and I saw that she wasn’t talking about anything to do with me. “She failed to show a single picture of the palace! And it is at its most beautiful in the autumn. The palm trees look magnificent. This is a travesty, I tell you. A travesty. Do you realize the promotional opportunities that have been wasted here? Absolutely wasted?”

     “Grandmère, you have to do something,” I wailed. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to show my face at school tomorrow.”

     “Tourism has been down in Genovia,” Grandmère reminded me, “ever since we banned cruise ships from docking in the bay. But who needs day-trippers? With their sticky-film cameras and their awfulBermuda shorts. If that woman had only shown a few shots of the casinos. And the beaches! Why, we have the only naturally white sand along theRiviera . Are you aware of that, Amelia?Monaco has to import their sand.”

     “Maybe I could transfer to another school. Do you think there’s a school inManhattan that will take someone with a one point zero in Algebra?”