Party Princess by Meg Cabot Page A

there? Am I REALLY supposed to believe she’s just doing this to help me with my little financial problem, like she says, since people are supposedly going to pay admission to this little nightmare she’s created, and I can use all the money to restore the student government’s diminished coffers?
    Yeah. Right.
    I fully confronted her as soon as the auditions were over.
    “How am I embarrassing you this time, Amelia?” she wanted to know, after everyone had left and it was just her and me and Lars and the rest of her staff—and Rommel and Señor Eduardo, of course. But both of them were asleep. It was hard to tell whose snores were louder.
    “Because you’re going to give”—I almost called him The Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili, but stopped myself just in time—“John Paul Reynolds-Abernathy the Fourth the lead in your play just so his dad will feel like he owes you one and possibly drop his bid on the faux island of Genovia! I KNOW what you’re up to, Grandmère. I’m taking U.S. Economics this semester, I know all about scarcity and utility. Admit it!”
    “ Braid! is a musical, not a play,” is all Grandmère would say about that.
    But she didn’t HAVE to say more. Her very silence isan admission of guilt! John Paul Reynolds-Abernathy the Fourth is being used!
    Granted, he doesn’t seem to know it. Or, if he does, he doesn’t exactly seem to mind. Strangely, away from the overuse of farinaceous grains in the AEHS cafeteria, the Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili seems pretty happy-go-lucky. “J.P.”—as he asked Grandmère to call him—is almost menacingly large (not unlike the bodyguard, played by Adam No-Relation-to-Alec Baldwin, in the low-budget high school bully film, My Bodyguard ) at six feet two, at least. His floppy brown hair looks less shaggy and much shinier when it’s not under the harsh glow of the cafeteria’s less-than-flattering lighting.
    And up close, it turns out J.P. has surprisingly bright blue eyes.
    I got to see them—J.P.’s eyes—up close because Grandmère made us do the scene where Rosagunde has just strangled Alboin and is freaking out about it, when Gustav comes bursting into the bedroom to rescue his lady love from a ravishing by her new husband, not realizing she’d:
 
    a) already drunk the guy under the table so he couldn’t get it up to ravish her in the first place, and

    b) killed him after he passed out from all the Genovian grappa he’d consumed.
     
    But, oh well. Better late than never.
    I have no idea why Grandmère made me go through that farce of an audition since it’s clear she’s going to cast J.P.as Gustav—just to appease his dad. Although, truthfully, J.P. was really good, both with the acting AND the singing (he did a totally hilarious rendition of “The Safety Dance” by Men Without Hats). And that she’ll cast Lilly as Rosagunde. I mean, Lilly was clearly the best out of all the girls (her version of Garbage’s “Bad Boyfriend” nearly brought the house down) and has the most experience with the whole performance thing, on account of her TV show, and all.
    Plus she was really good at killing Alboin—which is only natural, since if there’s anyone at AEHS who I could see strangling someone with a braid, it’s Lilly. Oh, and maybe Amber Cheeseman.
    But the whole time it was my turn to audition, Grandmère kept yelling, “Enunciate, Amelia!” and “Don’t turn your back to your audience, Amelia! Your behind is not as expressive as your face!” (Which caused no small amount of chortling from the side of the room my friends were sitting on.)
    And she didn’t seem at ALL impressed by my version of “Barbie Girl” by Aqua (especially the chorus, “C’mon Barbie/Let’s go party,” which, if you think about it, is highly ironic considering my inability to do so. Party, I mean).
    Really, what was THAT about? I mean, it’s not as if she’s going to cast me, so why all the yelling? I mean, what