Oh, I get it. She wants me to sit up straight and stop writing in my journal. Yeah, fat chance, Lilly. I—

OH, MY GOD. That smell. I recognize that smell. Chanel Number Five. Only one person I know of wears Chanel Number Five—or at least slathers on so much of it that you can smell it for miles before she ever enters the room—

WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE????

Oh, God. Why ME? Seriously. They should NOT allow people’s families to just saunter onto school grounds whenever they feel like it. I would not have half the amount of problems I currently have if there was some kind of security at this school, keeping my parents and grandparents OUT of it—

Oh, no. Not my dad, too.

And Rommel.

Yes. My grandmother brought her DOG to my debate.

And a phalanx of reporters.

Good grief! Is that LARRY KING????

Great. All I need now is for my mom and Rocky to show up, and it’ll turn into a Thermopolis-Gianini-Renaldo family reunion—

Oh. And there she is. Waving Rocky’s little arm at me from the bleachers. Hi, Rocky! So glad you could come! So glad you could come watch your sister be totally and systematically annihilated by her mortal enemy—

Oh, no. It’s starting.

WHERE IS MICHAEL WHEN I NEED HIM????Monday, September 14, ladies’ room

Well, here I am. In the ladies’ room. How unusual.

I don’t think I’ll be coming out for awhile. A long, long while. As in…maybe never.

The whole thing was so surreal. I mean, I saw Principal Gupta tap on the microphone. I heard the murmuring from the people in the bleachers suddenly stop. Every single eye in the place was on us.

And then Principal Gupta welcomed everyone to the debate—making a special effort to thank Larry King for coming, with his cameras—and explained the importance of the student council, and the vital role the president plays in its governance. Then she said, “We have two very different young ladies—each with her own uniquely, er, strong personality—running for office today. I hope you will give them all your attention while each of our candidates tells us why she is suited to the role of president, and what she intends to do to make Albert Einstein High School a better place.”

And then—I guess as punishment for the whole braid-ripping-out thing—Principal Gupta let Lana go first.

The applause that went up as Lana swished her way to her podium could only be called thunderous. The whoops and catcalls, the chants of “La-na, La-na,” were almost deafening, especially since it was the gym, after all, and the sound really carried, what with the metal rafters.

Then Lana—looking coolly unconcerned over the fact that she was addressing a thousand of her peers, and another seventy-five or so members of the AEHS faculty and staff (if you count the lunch ladies), my entire family, and a number of CNN correspondents—began to speak.

Suffice it to say that what those thousand peers of hers wanted to hear—well, most of them, anyway—Lana gave them. Not surprisingly, Lana turned out to be a strong supporter of better cafeteria food, a longer lunch hour, larger mirrors in the girls’ bathrooms, less homework, more sports, guaranteed admission from the guidance office to such Ivy League schools as AEHS graduates might want to attend, and more diet and low-carb options in the candy and soda machines. She was against the outdoor security cameras, and vowed to have them removed. She promised a cheering student populace that if they elected her as president, she would make all of these things happen….

…even though I happen to know that she can’t. Because those security cameras may infringe upon the rights of the people who like to smoke outside the school and litter the steps with their gross cigarette butts, but mostly they help keep the school safe from vandalism and break-ins.

And the food distributor for the cafeteria is the same one that services all the schools—and hospitals—in the area, and offers the lowest prices for the highest quality food that can be found in the tri-state area.

And if the trustees approve a longer lunch period, they’ll have to shorten classes, which are already only fifty minutes.

And where does Lana think she’s going to get the money for bigger mirrors in the ladies’ room? And has she considered the facts that:

less homework will leave us less prepared for the college courses some of us might want to take later on?

more sports will result in less money for enrichment programs in the arts?

no one can be guaranteed admission to an Ivy League school, not even people whose parents went there?

our choices in the candy and soda machines are limited to what the vendors are able to offer?

Obviously not.

But I guess that didn’t matter to her. Or to her constituents, since by the time she finished, they were screaming their heads off, and pounding their feet on the bleachers to show their approval. I saw Ramon Riveras stand up and whip his school blazer around his head a few times to pump the crowd up even more.

Principal Gupta looked a little tight-lipped as she stepped up to the microphone and said, “Er, um, thank you, Lana. Mia, would you like to respond?”

I thought I was going to barf. I really did. Although, I don’t know what I possibly could have thrown up, since I hadn’t been able to eat breakfast this morning, and only had five Starbursts Lilly had given me, half a Bit-O-Honey mooched off Boris, three Tic Tacs from Lars, and a Coke in my system.

But as I started walking toward that podium—my knees shaking so badly, I’m surprised they even managed to hold me up—something happened. I don’t know what, exactly. Or why.

Maybe it was the intermittent booing.

Maybe it was the way Trisha Hayes pointed at my combat boots and snickered.

Maybe it was the way Ramon Riveras cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “PIT! PIT!” in a manner that could hardly be called flattering.

But as I looked out at the sea of humanity before me, and saw bobbing amidst it Perin’s bright and shining face, as she clapped her guts out for me, it was like the ghost of my ancestress, Rosagunde, the first princess of Genovia, took over my body.

Either that, or my patron saint Amelia did some swooping down from the clouds to lend me some of her axe-wielding ’tude.

In any case, even though I still wanted to barf, and all, when I got to the podium, and remembered the way Grandmère had harangued me about leaning my elbows on it, I did something totally unheard of in the history of student council presidential debates at Albert Einstein High School:

I ripped the microphone off its stand, and, holding it in my hand, went to stand in FRONT of the podium.

Yeah. In front. So there was nothing for me to shield my body behind.

Nowhere for me to hide.

Nothing separating me from my audience.

And then, when they fell into stunned silence because of this unusual move, I said—not having the slightest idea where the sudden tide of words flowing from me was coming from—“‘Give me your tired, your poor/Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.’ That’s what it says on the Statue of Liberty. That’s the first thing millions of immigrants to this country saw when they stepped onto its shores. A statement assuring them that into this great melting pot of a nation, all would be welcome, regardless of socioeconomic status, what color hair she has, who she might be dating, whether she waxes, shaves, or goes au naturel, or whether or not she chooses to play a sport.

“And isn’t a school a melting pot unto itself? Aren’t we a group of people thrown together for eight hours a day, left to fend as best we can?

“But, despite the fact that we here at Albert Einstein are a nation unto ourselves, I don’t exactly see us acting like one. All I see are a bunch of people who’ve split off into cliques for their own protection, and who are totally afraid to let anybody new—any of the huddled masses, yearning to breathe free—into their precious, selective little group.

“Which totally sucks.”

I let this sink in for a minute, as before me, I saw a ripple of disbelief pass over my audience. Larry King murmured something into Grandmère’s ear.

But it was like I didn’t even care. I mean, I still felt like projectile vomiting all over the jocks, who were sitting directly in front of me.

But I didn’t. I just kept going. Like…

Well, like St. Amelie.

“History has tried and rejected many forms of government over time, including governance of divine right, something this country abolished hundreds of years ago.

“And yet for some reason, at this school, the divine right of governance still seems to exist. There’s a certain set of people who seem to believe they have an inherent right to office, because they are more attractive than the rest of us—or better at sports—or get invited to more parties than we do.”

As I said this, I looked very pointedly back at Lana, then eyed Ramon and Trisha, too, for good measure. Then I looked back at the crowd before me, most of whom were staring at me with their mouths open—and not, like Boris, because of deviated septums, either.

“These are the people who are at the top of the evolutionary ladder,” I went on. “The people with the nicest complexions. The people with the bodies that are shaped most like the models we see in magazines. The people who always have the hottest new bag or sunglasses. The popular people. The people who want to make you wish you were more like them.

“But I’m standing here before you today to tell you that I’ve been there. That’s right. I’ve been to the popular side. And guess what? It’s all a scam. These people, who act as if they have a right to govern you and me, are completely unqualified for the job due to the simple fact that they don’t believe in the most fundamental precepts of our nation, and that’s that we are ALL CREATED EQUAL. Not a single one of us is better than any other person here. And that includes any princesses who might be in the room.”

This got a laugh, even though the truth is, I wasn’t trying to be funny. Still, the laugh made me feel a little less like barfing for some reason. I mean…I had made people laugh.

And not, you know, AT me. But at something I’d said. And not in a mocking way, either.

I don’t know. But that felt kind of…cool.

And suddenly, even though I could still feel my palms sweating, and my fingers shaking, I felt…good.

“Look,” I said. “I am not going to stand up here and promise you a bunch of junk you and I both know I can’t deliver.” I looked back at Lana, who had crossed her arms over her chest, and now made a face at me. I turned back to the crowd. “Longer lunch periods? You know the board of trustees will never approve that. More sports? Is there anyone here who really feels his or her sports needs aren’t being met?”

A few hands shot up.

“And is there anyone here who feels that his or her creative or educational needs aren’t being met? Anybody here who thinks that this school needs a literary magazine, or new digital video, photography, and editing technology for the Film and Photography clubs, or a kiln for the art department, or a new stage-lighting system for the Drama Club more than we need a soccer district championship trophy?”

Many, many more hands shot up.

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s what I thought. There is a real problem in this school, and that’s that for too long, a group that is in the minority has been making decisions for the majority. And that is just wrong.”

Someone whooped. And I don’t even think it was Lilly.

“Actually,” I said, encouraged by the whoop, “it’s more than just wrong. It’s a total violation of the principles upon which this nation was founded. As the philosopher John Locke put it, ‘Government is legitimate only to the extent that it is based on the consent of the people being governed.’ Are you really going to give your consent to the privileged few to make your decisions for you? Or are you going to entrust those decisions to someone who actually understands you, someone who shares your ideals, your hopes, and your dreams? Someone who will do her very best to make sure YOUR voice, and not the voice of the so-called popular minority, is heard?”

At this there was another whoop, and this one came from way on the other side of the bleachers—definitely not one of my friends.

The second whoop was followed by a third. And then there was a smattering of applause. And a voice that shouted, “Go, Mia!”

Whoa.

“Um, thank you, Mia.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Principal Gupta take a step toward me. “That was very enlightening.”