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

II?”
    â€œYes,” I said. “I’ve read all about them. They also don’t shed.” I had tried this argument many times on Aunt Catherine in order to convince her to let us get a poodle, but it had never worked.

    â€œInteresting. My other granddaughter only likes cats.”
    Grandm è re looked at my sister, who said, “I don’t only like cats. I’ve only ever had a cat. Grandm è re, could we come in now…?”
    Grandm è re opened the door to let us in, and I couldn’t believe what I found inside.
    Besides the floors being white marble, streaked with black, like in a museum, there were antiques all over the place! I don’t mean just any antiques, like fancy paintings on the walls — though there were lots of those, of old-timey sailing ships and fruit and pretty ladies in wigs, with huge gold frames around them — but also:
    1. An actual mummified hawk in an Egyptian sarcophagus
    2. Tusks from narwhals, which are practically extinct now, and I’m pretty sure illegal to own outside of museums
    3. A white grand piano
    4. A suit of armor

    Even the furniture you’re allowed to sit on is antique and way fancier than anything Aunt Catherine owns, and she gets all her furniture directly from designers’ showrooms in Manhattan.
    I was staring at the view of Central Park outside the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows — which are really doors, leading out to a huge balcony — not being able to believe my grandma lived in a building so chic that it has doormen and an elevator attendant, when another dog came running into the room from another part of the apartment. I knew at once he was a poodle, too, but this one was much older than the white one, so old, in fact, he had no fur at all and looked like a wrinkly old man, but still quite adorable, of course.
    The old dog was barking and growling like a guard dog as he hurried up to me, but when I smiled and squatted down to be eye level with him, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me.
    â€œWell, hello,” I said. It was hard not to laugh at such a little dog who clearly thought he was so ferocious.
    That’s when he put his paws on my knees and started licking my face, his little tail wagging so fast, it was a blur.
    â€œHi,” I said, grabbing him and scooping him up in my arms so he could kiss me more. “How are you?” Even though he was so wrinkly and naked without his fur, he was still quite soft and warm.
    â€œRommel?” Grandma sounded shocked. “Whatever is the matter with that dog?”
    â€œNothing’s the matter with him,” I said.
    â€œHe’s never let anyone pick him up like that.”
    â€œOh, I’m sorry.” I started to put Rommel down, but Grandma said, “No, no, never mind. If he likes you, he likes you. Would you like a cocktail?”
    â€œGrandm è re,” I heard my sister call from the next room. “She’s twelve.”
    â€œI meant an aperitif, of course.”
    Has there ever been a luckier girl than me in all the world? I’ve found out I have:
    1. A sister
    2. A grandmother
    3. And two adopted poodles
    all in one day!
    Just when I thought things couldn’t get better, I was running around after Snowball (that’s the girl poodle, who still has her fur. Grandma said I could name her, so I picked Snowball) and I went past this one room filled with books and there was a bald white man standing there on his cell phone and I knew — I just knew — he was my dad.

    (Well, also because I’d seen photos of the prince of Genovia in the same magazines I’d seen Princess Mia and Grandma, and the man at the desk looked exactly like the photos. Only less mean, somehow, because he’d shaved off his mustache.)
    When he saw me, he got a strange expression on his face and said, “Barry, I’m going to have to call you back,” and put his phone in his pocket and asked,