what did I ever do to be cursed with such a grandmother? Seriously. Lilly and Michael's grandma remembers the names of all their friends, makes them rugelach all the time, and always worries that they're not getting enough to eat, even though their parents, the Drs. Moscovitz, are wholly reliable at bringing home groceries or at least ordering out.
Me? I get the grandma with the hairless poodle and the nine-carat diamond rings whose greatest joy in life is to torture me.
And why does she enjoy that so much? I've never done anything to her. Nothing except be her only living grandchild, anyway. And it isn't exactly like I go around advertising how I feel about her. You know, I've never actually told her I think she's a mean old lady who contributes to the destruction of the environment by wearing fur coats and smoking filterless French cigarettes.
'Grandmere,' I said, trying to remain calm. 'I have only one boyfriend. His name is Kenny.' I've only told you about fifty thousand times, I added, in my head.
'I thought this Kenny person was your Biology partner,' Grandmere said, after taking a sip of her Sidecar.
'He is,' I said, a little surprised that she'd managed to remember something like that. 'He's also my boyfriend. Only the other night he went completely schizo on me and told me he loves me.'
Grandmere patted Rommel, who was sitting in her lap looking miserable (his habitual expression), on the head.
'And what is so wrong,' Grandmere wanted to know, 'about a boy who says he loves you?'
'Nothing,' I said. 'Only I'm not in love with him, see? So it wouldn't be fair of me to, you know, lead him on.'
Grandmere raised her painted-on eyebrows. 'I don't see why not.'
How had I ever gotten into this conversation? 'Because, Grandmere. People just don't go around doing things like that. Not nowadays.'
'Is that so? Well, I've never observed such a thing. Except, of course, if one happens to be in love with someone else. Then shedding an undesirable suitor might be considered wise, so that one can make oneself available for the man one truly likes.' She eyed me. 'Is there someone like that in your life, Amelia? Someone, ahem, special?'
'No,' I lied, automatically.
Grandmere snorted. 'You're lying.'
'No, I'm not,' I lied.
'Indeed you are. I oughtn't to tell you this, but I suppose as it is a bad habit for a future monarch you ought to be made aware of it, so that in the future you can try to prevent it. When you lie, Amelia, your nostrils flare.'
I threw my hands up to my nose. 'They do not!'
'Indeed,' Grandmere said, clearly enjoying herself immensely. 'If you do not believe me, look in the mirror.'
I turned around to face the nearby full-length mirrors. Taking my hands from my face, I examined my nose. My nostrils weren't flaring. She was crazy.
'I'll ask you again, Amelia,' Grandmere said, in a lazy voice, from her chair. Are you in love with anyone right now?'
'No,' I lied automatically . . . And my nostrils flared right out!
Oh my God! All these years I've been lying and it turns out whenever I do, my nostrils totally give me away!
How could no one have pointed this out to me before? And Grandmere - Grandmere, of all people - was the one who figured it out! Not my mother, with whom I've lived for fourteen years. Not my best friend, whose IQ's higher than Einstein's.
If this got out, my life was over.
'Fine,' I cried dramatically, spinning away from the mirror to face her. 'All right, yes. Yes, I am in love with somebody else.
Are you happy now?'
Grandmere raised her painted-on eyebrows. 'No need to shout, Amelia,' she said, with what I might have taken for amusement in anyone other than her. 'Who might this special someone be?'
'Oh, no,' I said, holding out both my hands. If it wouldn't have been totally rude, I'd have made a little cross out of my index fingers and held it up towards her — that's how much she scares me. And if you think about it, with her tattooed eyeliner she does look a little like
Me? I get the grandma with the hairless poodle and the nine-carat diamond rings whose greatest joy in life is to torture me.
And why does she enjoy that so much? I've never done anything to her. Nothing except be her only living grandchild, anyway. And it isn't exactly like I go around advertising how I feel about her. You know, I've never actually told her I think she's a mean old lady who contributes to the destruction of the environment by wearing fur coats and smoking filterless French cigarettes.
'Grandmere,' I said, trying to remain calm. 'I have only one boyfriend. His name is Kenny.' I've only told you about fifty thousand times, I added, in my head.
'I thought this Kenny person was your Biology partner,' Grandmere said, after taking a sip of her Sidecar.
'He is,' I said, a little surprised that she'd managed to remember something like that. 'He's also my boyfriend. Only the other night he went completely schizo on me and told me he loves me.'
Grandmere patted Rommel, who was sitting in her lap looking miserable (his habitual expression), on the head.
'And what is so wrong,' Grandmere wanted to know, 'about a boy who says he loves you?'
'Nothing,' I said. 'Only I'm not in love with him, see? So it wouldn't be fair of me to, you know, lead him on.'
Grandmere raised her painted-on eyebrows. 'I don't see why not.'
How had I ever gotten into this conversation? 'Because, Grandmere. People just don't go around doing things like that. Not nowadays.'
'Is that so? Well, I've never observed such a thing. Except, of course, if one happens to be in love with someone else. Then shedding an undesirable suitor might be considered wise, so that one can make oneself available for the man one truly likes.' She eyed me. 'Is there someone like that in your life, Amelia? Someone, ahem, special?'
'No,' I lied, automatically.
Grandmere snorted. 'You're lying.'
'No, I'm not,' I lied.
'Indeed you are. I oughtn't to tell you this, but I suppose as it is a bad habit for a future monarch you ought to be made aware of it, so that in the future you can try to prevent it. When you lie, Amelia, your nostrils flare.'
I threw my hands up to my nose. 'They do not!'
'Indeed,' Grandmere said, clearly enjoying herself immensely. 'If you do not believe me, look in the mirror.'
I turned around to face the nearby full-length mirrors. Taking my hands from my face, I examined my nose. My nostrils weren't flaring. She was crazy.
'I'll ask you again, Amelia,' Grandmere said, in a lazy voice, from her chair. Are you in love with anyone right now?'
'No,' I lied automatically . . . And my nostrils flared right out!
Oh my God! All these years I've been lying and it turns out whenever I do, my nostrils totally give me away!
How could no one have pointed this out to me before? And Grandmere - Grandmere, of all people - was the one who figured it out! Not my mother, with whom I've lived for fourteen years. Not my best friend, whose IQ's higher than Einstein's.
If this got out, my life was over.
'Fine,' I cried dramatically, spinning away from the mirror to face her. 'All right, yes. Yes, I am in love with somebody else.
Are you happy now?'
Grandmere raised her painted-on eyebrows. 'No need to shout, Amelia,' she said, with what I might have taken for amusement in anyone other than her. 'Who might this special someone be?'
'Oh, no,' I said, holding out both my hands. If it wouldn't have been totally rude, I'd have made a little cross out of my index fingers and held it up towards her — that's how much she scares me. And if you think about it, with her tattooed eyeliner she does look a little like
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