From the Notebooks of a Middle School Princess by Meg Cabot

nose — and said, “It’s all right.”
    I don’t think I’m suffering any sort of concussion or anything: I really do think Dr. Bushy looked relieved, and that Ms. Dakota smiled at me in a proud way, like I’m the best pupil she’d ever had.
    Well, she did say in art class today that I’ve made a lot of progress with my perspective.
    â€œUh, Olivia?” Sara said, sounding nervous. I think she was starting to realize she’d chosen the wrong lunch table. “We’d better go. The bus is leaving.”
    â€œBus?” Sabine looked very insulted. “Princess Olivia will not be riding the bus.”
    Then she took me by the arm and began to steer me away from the group outside the school. To my surprise, I saw that not only were there three black town cars — each with tinted windows and miniature Genovian flags flying from them — waiting for me, but so were hordes of paparrazzi. The paparazzi were behind a set of wooden barricades someone had erected to keep them off school property.
    But that wasn’t stopping them from using telephoto lenses.
    Great. Every single one of them had probably gotten up close photos of me getting my nose bashed in by Annabelle Jenkins.
    â€œAre those cars for me?” I asked Sabine, hoping we could jump in one and get away as quickly as possible before anyone got anymore embarrassing photos.
    â€œAnd your security staff,” she said.
    â€œOh, good,” I said.
    When we got to the middle town car, and Sabine opened the passenger door for me, I turned to look back at Cranbrook Middle School and noticed that everyone outside of it was still watching me. It seemed like a good opportunity to use another one of the lessons Princess Mia had given me.
    Even though my nose was killing me, I didn’t want those reporters to think what Annabelle had done was bothering me. So, still pinching my nose and holding the tissues Ms. Dakota had given me, I gave everyone at CMS a big Smile and Wave to let them know there were no hard feelings.
    They all looked kind of confused for a minute, but then some of them waved back (and took photos with their cell phones, of course).
    All except Nishi, who still looked super worried.
    â€œUm,” I said to Sabine, through my frozen smile. “Do we have room for my friend Nishi to ride home with us?”
    â€œOf course,” Sabine said, and spoke into her headset.
    That’s how Nishi ended up riding home with me in the town car. Riding in town cars isn’t anywhere near as fun as riding in a limo (no mini-bar or disco lights), but it’s still way more fun than riding on the bus.
    Nishi got Sabine to show us all the cool stuff they have in Royal Genovian Guard town cars, like the police scanner and bulletproof windows (which don’t roll down, so when Sabine let us stop at a drive-thru window — because I said my nose hurt so much, Nishi and I probably needed a chocolate milkshake to share — she had to get out of the car to get it).
    Nishi made me hold a wad of cotton padding from the first-aid kit pressed up to my nose — the whole ride home, even when we were sharing our milk shake. When we dropped her off at her house, she didn’t want to leave.
    â€œAre you sure you’re going to be all right?” she asked before she got out of the car.
    â€œYes,” I said.
    â€œWell, tell your aunt to make you an ice pack. Or maybe take you to the doctor,” Nishi said. “Or do you want to come inside with me? My mom can take you.”
    â€œIt’s okay,” I said. My voice still sounded strange, probably because I was still pinching my nose. “We have ice. And I have these guys to take me to the doctor if I need to go.”
    Sabine looked at Nishi from the front seat. “I can assure you that we have the situation under control, Miss Patel.”
    â€œOkay,” Nishi said, still looking worried. “But call me later,