I am not on Oprah every single day, pouring my heart out to DrPhil. I mean, in the last four months alone, I have found
out that:
1. My dad is the Prince ofGenovia, and that I am his heir.
2. My grandmother is the DowagerPrincess of Genovia, and that it is her duty to train me for the day Iwill ascend
the throne.
3. My mom is having my Algebrateacher's baby (but unlike me, my new brother or sister will not bearthe stigma
of illegitimacy, since Mom and Mr. Gianini are married).
4. My best friend Lilly'sbrother, whom I have loved since the day I met him, when I was in thefirst grade and he
was in fourth and he came over in the playground togive Lilly her social studies project which she had forgotten
(an exact replica of the Parthenon, in red Play Doh),actually loves me back, and now we are going out.
Or at least we will when I get done with my first official visit toGenovia since discovering I am the sole heir to its throne,
and am allowed to return to my normal life as a ninth-grader in NewYork City.
I am telling you, a lesser personwould have had to check herself into Bellevue. These are extremelystartling, almost earth-shattering discoveries. It is only due to thefact that so many excruciatingly horrible things have happened to methroughout my life - excessively large feet; lack of notable mammarygrowth; general difficulty in asserting myself in front of peers,resulting in unpopularity; owning an overweight pet cat; inability tocomprehend multiplication of fractions — that I
have been able to cope at all. I mean, I am way used to affliction by