Princess in the Spotlight Read Online Free PDF

can hardly write.
    This morning as I was lying in my sickbed, my mom handed me a letter that she said had come in the mail yesterday, only she forgot to give it to me.
    This wasn’t like the electricity or cable bills my mom usually forgets about after they have arrived. This was a personal letter to me.
    Still, since the address on the front of it was typed, I didn’t suspect anything out of the ordinary. I thought it was a letter from school, or something. Like maybe I’d made honor roll (HA HA). Except that there was no return address, and usually mail from Albert Einstein High School has Albert’s thoughtful face in the left-hand corner, along with the school’s address.
    So you can imagine my surprise when I opened the letter and found not a flier asking me to show my school spirit by making rice krispy Treats to help raise money for the crew team but the following . . . which, for want of a better word, I can only call a love letter:
    Dear Mia (the letter went)
    I know you will think it’s strange, receiving a letter like this. I feel strange writing it. And yet I am too shy to tell you face-to-face what I’m about to tell you now: And that’s that I think you are the Josiest girl I’ve ever met.
    I just want to make sure you know that there’s one person, anyway, who liked you long before he found out you were a princess . . .
    And will keep on liking you, no matter what.
    Sincerely,
A Friend
    Oh, my God!
    I couldn’t believe it! I’d never gotten a letter like this before. Who could it be from? I seriously couldn’t figure it out. The letter was typed, like the address on the envelope. Not by a typewriter, either, but obviously on a computer.
    So even if I wanted to compare keystrokes, say, on a suspect’s typewriter (like Jan did on The Brady Bunch when she suspected Alice of sending her that locket), I couldn’t. You can’t compare the type on laser printers, for God’s sake. It’s always the same.
    But who could have sent me such a thing?
    Of course, I know who I want to have sent it.
    But the chances of a guy like Michael Moscovitz ever actually liking me as more than just a friend are like zero. I mean, if he liked me, he had a perfect opportunity to say something about it the night of the Cultural Diversity dance, when he was so nice to step in and ask me to dance, after Josh Richter dogged me so hard. And we didn’t just dance once, either. We danced a few times. Slow dances, too. And after the dance, we hung out in his room at the Moscovitzes’ apartment. He could have said something then, if he’d wanted to.
    But he didn’t. He didn’t say a thing about liking me.
    And why would he? I mean, I am a complete freak, what with my noticeable lack of mammary glands, my gigantism, and my utter inability ever to mold my hair into something remotely resembling a style.
    We just got through studying people like me in Bio, as a matter of fact. Biological sports, we are called. A biological sport occurs when an organism shows a marked change from the normal type or parent stock, typically as a result of mutation.
    That is me. That is so totally me. I mean, if you looked at me, and then you looked at my parents, who are both very attractive people, you would be all, What happened ?
    Seriously. I should go live with the X-men, I am such a mutant.
    Besides, is Michael Moscovitz really the type of guy who’d say I was the Josiest girl in school? I mean, I am assuming the author is referring to Josie, the lead singer of Josie and the Pussycats, played by Rachael Leigh Cook in the movie. Except that in no way do I resemble Rachael Leigh Cook. I wish. Josie and the Pussycats started out as a cartoon about a girl band that solves crimes, like on Scooby Doo , and Michael doesn’t even watch the Cartoon Network, as far as I know.
    Michael generally only watches PBS, the Sci Fi Channel, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer . Maybe if the letter had said I think you are the Buffiest girl I’ve ever met