Princess in Pink by Meg Cabot Read Free Book Online

looked as if he were going to cry. He kept saying over and over again how sorry he was. But it didn't matter. Because if you spill soup on a dowager princess in New York City, you can kiss your career in the restaurant biz goodbye. It would be like if a gourmet cook got caught going to McDonald's in Paris. Or if P. Diddy got caught buying underwear at Wal-Mart. Or if Nicky and Paris Hilton got caught lying around in their Juicy Couture sweats on a Saturday night, watching National Geographic Explorer, instead of going out to party. It is simply Not Done.
    I tried to reason with the maitre d' on Jangbu's behalf, after Michael told me what had happened. I said in no way could Grandmere hold the restaurant responsible for what HER dog had done. A dog she wasn't even supposed to have HAD
    in the restaurant in the first place.
    But it didn't do any good. The last I saw of Jangbu, he was heading sadly back towards the kitchen.
    I tried to get Grandmere, who was, after all, the injured party - or the allegedly injured party, since of course she wasn't in the least bit hurt - to talk the maitre d' into giving Jangbu his job back. But she remained stubbornly unmoved by my pleas on Jangbu's behalf. Even my reminding her that many busboys are immigrants, new to this country, with families to support back
    in their native lands, left her cold.
    'Grandmere,' I cried in desperation. 'What makes Jangbu so different from Johanna, the African orphan you are sponsoring
    on my behalf? Both are merely trying to make their way on this planet we call Earth.'
    'The difference between Johanna and Jangbu,' Grandmere informed me, as she held Rommel close, trying to calm him down
    (it took the combined efforts of Michael, my dad, Mr G and Lars to finally catch Rommel, right before he made a run for it through the revolving door and out on to Fifth Avenue and freedom on the miniature-poodle underground railroad), 'is that Johanna did not SPILL SOUP ALL OVER ME!'
    God. She is such a CRAB sometimes.
    So now here I am, knowing that somewhere in the city — Queens, most likely - is a young man whose family will probably starve, and all because of MY BIRTHDAY. That's right. Jangbu lost his job because I WAS BORN.
    I'm sure wherever Jangbu is right now, he is wishing I wasn't. Born, that is.
    And I can't say that I blame him one little bit.
    Friday, May 2,1 a.m., the Loft
    My snowflake necklace is really nice, though. I am never, ever taking it off.
    Friday, May 2, 1:05 a.m., the Loft
    Well, except maybe when I go swimming. Because I wouldn't want it to get lost.
    Friday, May 2, 1:10 a,m., the Loft
    He loves me!
    Friday, May 2, Algebra
    Oh, my God. It is all over the city. About Grandmere and the incident at Les Hautes Manger last night, I mean. It must be a slow news day, because even The Post picked it up. It was right there on the front cover at the news-stand on the corner:
    A Royal Mess,
    screams The Post.
    Princess and the Pea (Soup),
    claims The Daily News (erroneously, since it wasn't pea soup at all, but lobster bisque).
    It even made the Times. You would think that the New York Times would be above reporting something like that, but there
    it was, in the Metro section. Lilly pointed it out as she climbed into the limo with Michael this morning.
    'Well, your grandmother's certainly done it this time,' Lilly says.
    As if I didn't already know it! As if I wasn't already suffering from the crippling guilt of knowing that I was, even in an indirect manner, to blame for Jangbu's loss of livelihood!
    Although I do have to admit that I was somewhat distracted from my grief over Jangbu by the fact that Michael looked so incredibly hot, as he does every morning when he gets into my limo. That is because when we come to pick him and Lilly up
    for school, Michael has always just shaved, and his face is looking all smooth. Michael is not a particularly hairy person but it is true that by the end of the day -which is when we usually end up doing our kissing,