From the Notebooks of a Middle School Princess by Meg Cabot Read Free Book Online

inside the limo except Francois and Lars, since we’d dropped off the ladies-in-waiting at their apartments, so we smiled and waved to them. Lars looked the most impressed, and offered a few other instructions.
    â€œReady?” he finally asked, and Princess Mia looked at me.
    I shrugged, even though my stomach was filled with nervous butterflies, and slipped on my backpack, wishing it was a magic shield like some of the warrior princesses in Nishi’s movies have. But there are no magic shields. “I guess so.”
    â€œGood,” Lars said. “One, two, three .”
    On “three” we got out of the limo and hurried across the red carpet and up the steps to the hotel’s front door. The truth was, I could hardly see where I was walking, so many flashbulbs were going off. If it hadn’t been for Princess Mia’s hand around my arm, I would have tripped and fallen flat on my face.
    Fortunately the reporters were being held back by the doormen (and even some police officers). Everyone was shouting, “Princess Olivia! Princess Olivia! Over here!” I couldn’t hear anything else.
    I almost looked, even though Lars had said not to. His instructions in the limo were:
    1. Don’t look.
    2. Don’t answer anyone’s questions.
    3. Don’t accept any gifts anyone might try to give you.
    4. Even if you see your best friend standing there in the crowd, don’t go up to her.
    I’d thought about Nishi and how much I was missing her (even though we’d just been texting) and had asked him why.
    â€œBecause then everyone will start crowding her in order to touch you, and there’ll be a stampede, and the barricade will fall down, and your friend will get trampled,” he’d said. “If you want to see your friend get trampled, that’s fine.”
    â€œUh … I don’t, thanks,” I’d said.
    â€œIf your friend really wants to see you, the safest thing for her to do is schedule an appointment.”
    I guess this is how it is to be a princess. People ask you rude questions and expect you to answer. You can’t hop on your bike and go over to your friend’s house anymore or you’ll be mobbed (or kidnapped). Instead, you have to “schedule an appointment” to see each other.
    Still, I really wanted to be able to share what was happening with Nishi (despite the mean questions).
    So when I got to the top of the steps, I turned around and snapped a quick pic of all the people yelling.
    I can’t wait to see what Nishi says when I send it to her.
    The inside of the Plaza Hotel is the fanciest place I’ve ever been in my LIFE. The ceilings are probably about a hundred feet high, and the chandeliers are made out of real crystals and GOLD. Probably 100 percent. I couldn’t stop staring at everything. I felt so out of place! There was even a lady playing a HARP in a place that Princess Mia (I still feel weird calling her my sister) told me is called the Palm Court.
    â€œYou’re lucky we’re not going there,” she said on our way to the elevators. “They make you eat egg salad sandwiches.”
    â€œI like egg salad sandwiches,” I said. “I like any kind of sandwiches, as long as they have gluten.”
    â€œOh,” she said. “Well, then we’ll go there later and you can have all the egg salad sandwiches you want.”
    Except for the mean reporters, it’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven.
    On the elevator there was a man whose job it is just to work the elevator . He rides in it up and down all day, so the rich people don’t have to tire themselves out, pushing all the buttons.
    I bet he gets carsick. I looked around, but I didn’t see any throw-up. They probably take the bucket away when no one is looking.
    â€œHello, Lyle,” Princess Mia said to the elevator man. “Lyle, I’d like you to meet my sister, Olivia.”
    â€œHello, Princess