Tuesday, November 24
8:30 P.M.
Royal Genovian Bedroom

The worst thing ever has just happened. I mean literally the WORST.

We were having a “light supper” because Chef Bernard has come down with La Grippe—so instead of the usual six courses, we were only having five: an appetizer, entrée, salad, cheese course, then dessert … no soup, which of course made Grandmère complain like crazy. “What is a meal,” she kept asking, “without soup?”—when the royal obstetrician asked for an audience.

This made me almost drop my fork. I was sure there had to be an emergency with Mia or the babies.

And it turned out there was. Just not one where anyone was dramatically carried off in an ambulance.

Dr. Khan, the royal obstetrician, came in and curtsied and said how sorry she was to interrupt our dinner, but that she had something of vital importance she needed to discuss … and the something turned out to be ME AND ROCKY!

“Your Highness,” she said to Dad, as he sat there with a wineglass in his hand (he’d offered some Genovian pinot noir to the obstetrician, but she said she still had rounds to make), “I feel I must tell you that it is in the best interest of your two new grandchildren to keep them as far as possible from all potential carriers of influenza A.”

Dad looked startled. “What? Of course! Wait … what is influenza A?”

“La Grippe,” said Dr. Khan.

“Good lord,” cried Grandmère, dropping her cheeseknife. “The babies have La Grippe?”

“Not at all,” said Dr. Khan. “But I understand that your chef has been exposed to it, and I’ve just been speaking to Princess Mia, who says a number of students and faculty at the Royal Genovian Academy have it. I would like to suggest limiting your children’s exposure to Princess Mia and the babies for the next few days.”

Dad looked from the doctor to Rocky and me. “You want me to put my own children out of the house?”

“I would not suggest it to just anyone, Your Highness,” the doctor said, smiling a little. “But I do believe you have the resources to find alternative accommodations for them. I think it would be the sensible thing to do. The virus is quite dangerous to infants, and Princess Mia would rest easier.”

“Pfuit!” Grandmère made her traditional noise of contempt and rolled her eyes at me. “Your sister has always been such a hypochondriac.”

But I didn’t think Mia was being a hypochondriac. If I had newborn twins, I wouldn’t want them being exposed to La Grippe, either.

“Maybe,” I said, “you should cancel school, Dad.”

Rocky gasped. “Yeah!”

This really would be great. Then none of us would have to go to Stockerdörfl—or stay in class and write an eight-hundred-word essay, either.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Dr. Khan said. “We haven’t quite reached national health emergency proportions. Just a few sensible precautions should take care of the problem—like keeping potential carriers of the virus away from newborns until the babies can build up their immune systems and the carriers can show that they’re symptom-free.”

Rocky began to cough. “I think I’ve got it, Dad. I think I’ve got La Grippe! I think you better send me to Stockerdörfl.”

I glared at him from across the table and mouthed the word faker. Rocky only smiled at me and fake-coughed some more.

Fortunately, Rocky’s mother knew he was faking, too.

“Stop it, Rock,” Helen Thermopolis said, then turned to take Dad’s hand. “It sounds like a good idea to me, Phillipe. I know it would make Mia feel better.”

That’s when I knew Rocky and I were in trouble. My heart began to beat a little fast.

Were they seriously suggesting we leave Genovia?

I know I had only lived there a few months, but in that time it had become home—the only place I’d ever really considered home in my life! And now they were going to make me leave it? (Only for a few days, I realized … but the thought was terrifying.)

“Do you really want to risk us spreading La Grippe to a foreign land?” I cried, realizing I probably sounded crazy, but not caring. “That sounds pretty undiplomatic to me! It could start a war.”

“Well, now,” Dad said, signaling the butler to refill his wineglass. “I kind of like the idea of getting you kids out of here for a few days—especially if this virus is as bad as people are saying it is. I don’t want either of you to catch it. What do you think, Mother?”

“I think it’s the best idea I’ve heard in ages,” Grandmère said, imperiously tapping her own wineglass so the butler would know she, too, would like a refill. “Especially if I go with the children. They need more chaperones for the trip, you know, Phillipe, so I already contacted the school and volunteered my services.”

I nearly choked on the sip of water I’d taken. “You did?”

“I most certainly did,” Grandmère said. “I considered it my duty as a Genovian citizen. Of course Madame Alain was elated and accepted my offer.”

“Well,” Dad said, turning back toward Dr. Khan. “Then it’s all settled. The children—and my mother—are going to Stockerdörfl.”

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!