Princess In Love Read Free

got one. A boyfriend, I mean.
    Well, OK, not out of the blue. Kenny, from my Bio. class, started sending me all these anonymous love letters. I didn't know it was him. I kind of thought (OK, hoped) someone else was sending them. But in the end, it turned out to be Kenny. And by then I was in too deep, really, to get out. So voila. I had a boyfriend.
    Problem solved, right?
    Not. So not.
    It isn't that I don't like Kenny. I do. I really do. We have a lot in common. For instance, we both appreciate the preciousness
    of not just human, but all life forms, and refuse to dissect foetal pigs and frogs in Bio. Instead, we are writing term papers on the life cycles of various grub and mealworms.
    And we both like science fiction. Kenny knows a lot more about it than I do, but he has been very impressed so far by the extent of my familiarity with the works of Robert A. Heinlein and Isaac Asimov, both of whom we were forced to read in school (though he doesn't seem to remember this).
    I haven't told Kenny that I actually find most science fiction boring, since there seems to be very few girls in it.
    There are a lot of girl characters in Japanese anime, which Kenny also really likes, and which he has decided to devote his life to promoting (when he is not busy finding a cure for cancer). Unfortunately, I have noticed that most of the girls in Japanese anime seem to have misplaced their bras.
    Plus I really think it might be detrimental to a fighter pilot to have a lot of long hair floating around in the cockpit while she is gunning down the forces of evil.
    But like I said, I haven't mentioned any of this to Kenny. And mostly, we get along great. We have a fun time together. And in some ways, it's very nice to have a boyfriend, you know? Like, I don't have to worry now about not being asked to the Albert Einstein High School Non-Denominational Winter Dance (so-called because its former title, the Albert Einstein High School Christmas Dance, offended many of our non-Christmas-celebrating students).
    And why is it that I do not have to worry about not being asked to the biggest dance of the school year, with the exception of prom?
    Because I'm going with Kenny.
    Well, OK, he hasn't exactly asked me yet, but he will. Because he is my boyfriend.
    Isn't that great? Sometimes I think I must be the luckiest girl in the whole world. I mean, really. Think about it: I may not be pretty, but I am not grossly disfigured; I live in New York City, the coolest place on the planet; I'm a princess; I have a boyfriend. What more could a girl ask for?
    Oh, God.
    WHO AM I KIDDING?????
    This boyfriend of mine? Yeah, here's the scoop on him:
    I DON'T EVEN LIKE HIM.
    Well, OK, it's not that I don't like him. But this boyfriend thing, I just don't know. Kenny's a nice enough guy and all - don't get me wrong. I mean, he is funny and not boring to be with, certainly. And he's pretty cute, you know, in a tall, skinny sort of way.
    It's just that when I see Kenny walking down the hall, my heart so totally doesn't start beating faster, the way girls' hearts start beating faster in those teen romances my friend Tina Hakim Baba is always reading.
    And when Kenny takes my hand, at the movies or whatever, it's not like my hand gets all tingly in his, the way girls' hands do
    in those books.
    And when he kisses me? Yeah, you know those fireworks people always talk about? OK, forget it about. No fireworks. Nil. Nada.
    It's funny, because before I got a boyfriend I used to spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to get one and, once I got him, how I'd get him to kiss me.
    But now that I actually have a boyfriend, mostly all I do is try to figure out how to get out of kissing him.
    One way that I have found works quite effectively is the head turn. See, if you notice his lips coming towards you, you just turn your head at the last minute so all he gets is your cheek and maybe some hair.
    I guess the worst thing is that when Kenny gazes deeply into my eyes - which he