Princess Diaries Series: Third Time Lucky Part 3

Lilly: (Disgusted for some reason) Please. They're not. She was just over at our place, working with Michael on

some project for the stupid Computer Club. They heard we were all going skating, and Judith, said she wanted to

come too.

Me: Well, that sounds like they're going out to me.

Lilly: Whatever. Boris, must you constantly breathe on me?

Me: (To Michael and Judith as they walk up to us) Oh, hi, you guys. Michael, I didn't know you knew how to ice-skate.

Michael: (Shrugging) I used to be on a hockey team.

Lilly: (Snorting) Yeah, Pee Wee Hockey. That was before he decided that team sports were a waste of time because the success of the team was dictated by the performance of all the players as a whole, as opposed to sports determined by individual performance such as tennis and golf.

Michael: Lilly, don't you ever shut up?

Judith: I love ice-skating! Although I'm not very good at it.

And she certainly isn't. Judith is such a bad skater, just to keep from falling flat on her face she had to hold on to both of Michael's hands while he skated backwards in front of her. I don't know which astonished me more - that Michael can skate backwards, or that he didn't seem to mind having to tow Judith all around the rink. I mean, I may not be able to clone a fruit

fly, but at least I can remain upright unaided in a pair of ice-skates.

But Kenny really seemed to think Michael and Judith's method of skating was way preferable to skating the old-fashioned

way - you know, solo - so he kept coming up and trying to tow me around the way Michael was towing Judith.

And even though I was all, 'Duh, Kenny, I know how to skate,' he said that wasn't the point. Finally, after he'd bugged me for like half an hour, I gave in, and let him hold both my hands as he skated in front of me, backwards.

Only the thing is, Kenny isn't very good at skating backwards. I can skate forward, but I'm not good enough at it that if someone is wobbling around in front of me, I can keep from crashing into him if he doesn't move out of the way fast enough.

Which was exactly what happened. Kenny fell down and I couldn't stop, so I crashed into him and my chin hit his knee and I bit my tongue and all this blood filled up in my mouth, and I didn't want to swallow it so I spat it out. Only unfortunately it went all over Kenny's jeans and on to the ice, which clearly impressed all of the tourists standing along the railings around the rink; taking pictures of their loved ones in front of the enormous Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, since they all turned around and started taking pictures of the girl spitting up blood on the ice below - a truly New York moment.

And then Lars came shooshing over - he is a champion ice-skater, thanks to his Nordic upbringing; quite a contrast to his bodyguard training in the heart of the Gobi desert -picked me up, looked at my tongue, gave me his handkerchief and told me to keep pressure on the wound. Then he said, 'That's enough skating for one night.'

And that was it. Now I've got this b.l.o.o.d.y gouge in the tip of my tongue, and it hurts to talk, and I was totally humiliated in front of millions of tourists, not to mention in front of my friends and, worst of all, Judith Gershner, who it turns out also got accepted early decision at Columbia (great, the same school Michael's going to in the fall) where she will be pre-med, and who advised me that I should see my family pract.i.tioner as it seemed likely to her that I might need st.i.tches. In my tongue? I'm lucky, she said, I didn't bite the tip of it off.

Lucky!

Oh, yeah, I'll tell you how lucky I am: I'm so lucky that while I lie here in bed writing this, with no one but my twenty-five pound cat, Fat Louie, to keep me company (and Fat Louie only likes me because I feed him), the boy I've been in love with since like for ever is up at midtown right now with a girl who knows how to clone fruit flies and can tell if wounds need st.i.tches or not.

One good thing about this tongue thing, though: if Kenny was thinking about moving on to frenching, we totally can't until I heal. And that could - according to Dr. Fung, whom my mom called as soon as Lars brought me home - take anywhere from three to ten days Yes!

Ten Things I Hate about the Holiday Season in New York City 1. Tourists who come in from out of town in their giant sports utility vehicles and try to run you over at the crosswalks, thinking they are driving like aggressive New Yorkers. Actually, they are driving like morons. Plus there is enough pollution in this city. Why can't they just take public transport, like normal people?

2. Stupid Rockefeller Center tree. They asked me to be the person who throws the switch to light it this year as I am considered New York's own royal in the press, but when I told them how cutting down trees contributes to the destruction

of the ozone layer, they rescinded their invitation and had the mayor do it instead.

3. Stupid Christmas carols blaring from outside all the stores.

4. Stupid ice-skating with stupid boys who think they can skate backwards when they can't.

5. Stupid pressure to buy meaningful gifts for everyone you know.

6. Final exams.

7. Stupid, lousy New York weather. No snow, just cold wet rain, every single day. Whatever happened to a white

Christmas? I'll tell you: global warming. You know why? Because everybody keeps driving SUVs and cutting down trees!

8. Stupid manipulative Christmas specials on TV.

9. Stupid manipulative Christmas commercials on TV.

10. Mistletoe. This stuff should be banned. In the hands of adolescent boys it becomes a societally approved excuse to

demand kisses. This is s.e.xual hara.s.sment, if you ask me.

Plus all the wrong boys have it.

Sunday, December 6 Just got back from dinner at Grandmere's. All of my efforts to get out of having to go - even my pointing out that I am currently suffering from a perforated tongue - were in vain.

I could be bleeding out of the eyes and Grandmere would still expect me to show up for Sunday dinner.

And this one was even worse than usual. That's because Grandmere wanted to go over my itinerary for my trip to Genovia which, by the way, looks like this: December 20 3 p.m.

Commencement of Royal Duties

3:30 p.m. - 5 p.m.

Meet and greet palace staff

5 p.m. - 7 p.m.

Tour of palace

7 p.m. - 8 p.m.

Change for dinner

8 p.m. -11 p.m.

Dinner with Genovian dignitaries

December 21 8 a.m. - 9:30 a.m.

Breakfast with Genovian public officials