Third Time Lucky

after I'd disappeared from class with the pass to the bathroom.

But even so. Even though she could only have been guessing, it seemed to me like she knew and was going to make sure I never heard the end of it.

I really don't know what came over me. I don't know if it was:

A. The stress of Finals.

B. My impending trip to Genovia.

C. This thing with Kenny.

D. The fact that I'm in love with this guy who is going out with a human fruit fly.

E. The fact that my mother is going to give birth to my Algebra teacher's baby.

F. The fact that Lana has been persecuting me practically my whole life and pretty much getting away with it, or All of the above.

Whatever the reason was, I snapped. Just snapped. Suddenly, I found myself reaching for Lana's mobile, which was lying on her desktop beside her calculator.

And then the next thing I knew, I had put the tiny little pink thing on the floor and crushed it into a lot of pieces beneath the

heel of my size eight combat boot.

I guess I can't really blame Mr. G for sending me to the principal's office.

Still, you would expect a little sympathy from your own stepfather.

Uh oh. Here comes Principal Gupta.

Friday, Decemter 11, 5 p.m., the Loft

Well, that's it, then. I'm suspended.

Suspended. I can't believe it. ME! Mia Thermopolis! What is happening to me? I used to be such a good kid!

And, OK, it's just for one day, but still. It's going on my permanent record! What are the Genovian cabinet ministers going to say?

I am turning into Courtney Love.

And, yeah, it's not like I'm not going to get into college because I was suspended for one day in the first semester of my freshman year, but how totally embarrassing! Principal Gupta treated me like I was some kind of criminal or something.

And you know what they say: treat a person like a criminal and pretty soon she'll end up behaving like one. At least, I think that's what they say. The way things are going, I wouldn't be surprised if pretty soon I start wearing ripped-up fishnet stockings and dyeing my hair black. Maybe I'll even start smoking and get my ears double-pierced or something. And then they'll make

a TV movie about me and call it Royal Scandal. It will show me going up to Prince William and saying, 'Who's the most popular young royal now, huh, punk?' and then headbutting him or something.

Except I practically fainted the first time I got my ears pierced, and smoking is really bad for you, and I always thought it must hurt to headbutt someone.

I guess I don't have the makings of a juvenile delinquent after all.

My dad doesn't think so, either. He's all ready to set the royal Genovian lawyers on Principal Gupta. The only problem, of course, is that I won't tell him - or anybody else, for that matter - what Lana said to make me assault her mobile.

It's kind of hard to prove the attack was provoked if the attacker won't say what the provocation was. My dad pleaded with me for a while when he came to pick me up from school, after having received The Call from Principal Gupta. But when I wouldn't tell him what he wanted, and Lars just looked carefully blank, my dad just went, 'Fine', and his mouth got all scrunchy like it does when Grandmere has one too many Sidecars and starts calling him Papa Cueball.

But how can I tell him what Lana said? If I do that, then everyone will know I'm guilty of not just one crime, but two!

Anyway, now I'm home, watching the Lifetime channel with my mother. She hasn't been doing much painting at her studio

since she got pregnant. This is on account of her being exhausted. It's quite hard to paint lying down, she's discovered. So instead she has been doing a lot of sketching in bed - mostly line drawings of Fat Louie, who seems to enjoy having someone home all day with him. He sits for hours on her bed, watching the pigeons on the fire escape outside her window.

But since I'm home today, Mom did some drawings of me. I think she is making my mouth too big, but I'm not saying anything as Mr. Gianini and I have discovered it's better not to upset my mother in her current hormonal state. Even the slightest

criticism - like asking her why she left the phone bill in the vegetable crisper — can lead to hour-long crying jags.

While she sketched me, I watched a very excellent movie called Mother, May I Sleep with Danger? starring Tori Spelling

of Beverly Hills 90210 fame, as a girl who has an abusive boyfriend. I really don't get why any girl would stay with a guy who hits her, but my mom says it's all about self-esteem and your relationship with your father. Except that my mom doesn't have that great a relationship with Papaw, my grandfather, and if any guy ever tried to slug her, you can bet she'd put him in the hospital, so go figure.