Кэндес Бушнелл - Carrie Diaries

“Oh, Carrie’s always singing,” Lali says, her voice toxic. “She sang in the school play in third grade.”

“We’d better go,” says The Mouse.

“Party’s over.” Sebastian leans over and kisses me briefly on the lips.

“Are you guys going?” I ask.

Lali and Sebastian exchange yet another mysterious look before Lali’s eyes slide away. “In a minute.”

“Come on, Bradley. Your father doesn’t need any more trouble,” The Mouse says, handing me my stole.

“Sure.” I wrap the mink around my neck. “Well...” I begin awkwardly.

“Well,” Sebastian says. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah.” I turn and follow The Mouse.

But then, in the parking lot, I’m suddenly overcome with remorse. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?”

“Got up on the stage. Maybe Sebastian didn’t like it.”

“If he didn’t, it’s his problem. I thought it was funny,” The Mouse says firmly. We get into the car and she starts the ignition. We’re backing out when I bang my hand on the dashboard. “Stop the car.”

“What?” she says, hitting the brakes.

I scoot out of the car. “Something’s wrong. I need to apologize. Sebastian is pissed off. I can’t go home feeling like this.”

“Carrie, don’t!” The Mouse shouts, but it’s too late.

I pause inside the door, scanning the club. My eyes sweep the bar, and suddenly, I’m confused. They’re not here. How could they have managed to leave before we did? I take a few steps closer, and that’s when I realize I’m wrong. They are here. They’re still at the bar. But I didn’t recognize them at first because their faces are pressed together, bodies entwined, making out like they’re the last people left on earth.

This can’t be. I must be seeing things. I’ve had too much to drink.

“Hey,” I call out. My eyes aren’t fooling me: They are making out. But my mind still hasn’t processed the reality of the scene. “Hey,” I say again. “Hey!”

Their eyes swivel in my direction, and then, reluctantly it seems, they release their mouths. For a moment, everything is still, as if we’re frozen in a glass snow globe. And then I feel myself nod. Yes, says a voice in my head. You knew this was going to happen. You knew this was inevitable.

And then I hear myself speak. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” I start to turn, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Lali jump off the barstool, her mouth forming my name, while Sebastian reaches out and grabs her wrist.

I walk through the room and out the door. I don’t look back.

The Gremlin is idling outside the entrance. I get in and slam the door. “Let’s go.”

Halfway home, I ask The Mouse to stop the car again. She pulls over to the side of the road where I get out and am sick several times.

The downstairs lights are blazing when we finally creep into my driveway. I walk resolutely up the path and into the house, stopping at the door to the den. My father is sitting on the couch, reading a magazine. He looks up, closes the magazine, and places it carefully on the coffee table.

“I’m glad you’re home,” he says.

“Me too.” I’m grateful he doesn’t scold me about not calling at nine.

“How was the play?”

“Fine.” I picture a house of cards, each card imprinted with the words, “What if?” The cards begin to tumble, breaking apart and collapsing into a pile of ash.

What if Dorrit hadn’t run away? What if I’d been able to see Sebastian last night? What if I hadn’t gotten up on the stage and made a fool of myself?

What if I’d given Sebastian what he wanted? What if I’d had sex with him?

“Good night, Dad.”

“Good night, Carrie.”

A coffin. Except it isn’t really a coffin. It’s more like a boat. And it’s leaving. I have to get on it, but the people keep blocking my way. I can’t get around them and one of the people is Mary Gordon Howard. She grabs my coat sleeve and pulls me back. She jeers. “You’ll never get over it. You’ll be scarred for life. No man will ever love you...”

No. Nooooooooo.

Wake up. Feel like crap. Remember something bad happened last night.

Remember what it is.

Deny it is true.

Know it is true.

Wonder what to do. Freak out and call Lali and Sebastian and scream? Or dump a bucket of pigs’ blood on them à la movie Carrie (but where would I obtain said blood, and besides, too gross). Or feign a serious illness, attempt suicide (then they’ll be sorry, but why give them the satisfaction?), or pretend nothing happened at all. Act like Sebastian and I are still together and the Lali incident was merely a weird aberration in a long and happy romance.

Five minutes pass. Think odd thoughts. Such as: In life, there are only four kinds of girls:

The girl who played with fire.

The girl who opened Pandora’s Box.

The girl who gave Adam the apple.

And the girl whose best friend stole her boyfriend.

No. He cannot like her better than me. He cannot. But of course, he can.

Why? Pound fists on bed, attempt to rend garment (a flannel pajama top that I do not remember putting on), and scream into pillow. Fall back onto bed in shock. Stare at ceiling as terrible realization dawns:

What if no one ever wants to have sex with me? What if I’m a virgin for life?

Scramble out of bed, run downstairs, grab phone. “You don’t look so good,” Dorrit says.

Snarl, “I’ll deal with you later,” then scurry, squirrel-like, with phone into room. Carefully shut the door. With trembling hand, dial Lali’s number.

“Is Lali there?”

“Carrie?” she asks. She sounds slightly fearful, but not as afraid as I’d hoped. This is a bad sign.

“Please tell me what happened last night didn’t happen.”

“Um. Well. It did.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“How could you do this?” Agonized cry.

Silence. Then: “I didn’t want to tell you...” Pause, as I’m drowning in emotional quicksand. Death appears imminent. “But I’m seeing Sebastian now.” So simple. So matter-of-fact. So unarguable.

This cannot be happening.

“I’ve been seeing him for a while,” she adds.

I knew it. I knew something was going on between the two of them, but I didn’t believe it. I still don’t believe it. “For how long?” I demand.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes,” I hiss.

“We’ve been together since before he went away.”

“What?”

“He needs me.”

“He told me he needed me too!”

“I guess he changed his mind.”

“Or maybe you changed it for him.”

“Think whatever you want,” she says rudely. “He wants me.”

“No, he doesn’t,” I spit. “You just want him more than you want me.”

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t you get it? We are no longer friends. We will never be friends ever again. How can I even talk to you?”

Long, dreadful silence. Finally: “I love him, Carrie.” Click, followed by a dial tone. I sit on my bed, stunned.

Cannot face assembly. Slink up to dairy barn instead. Maybe I will spend the whole day here. Smoke three cigarettes in a row. It’s fucking freezing. Decide to use the word “fucking” at every opportunity.

How could this happen? What does she have that I don’t? Okay, have already been over this. Apparently, I am inadequate. Or I deserve this. I took him away from Donna LaDonna and now Lali has taken him away from me. What goes around comes around. And eventually, some other girl will take him away from Lali.

Why was I so stupid? I knew all along I could never keep him. I wasn’t interesting enough. Or sexy enough. Or pretty enough. Or smart enough. Or maybe I was too smart?

I put my head in my hands. Sometimes, I acted dumb around him. I’d say, “Oh, what’s that?” when I knew perfectly well what he was talking about. It made me feel like I didn’t know who I was, or who I was supposed to be. I giggled nervously at things that weren’t funny. I would become too aware of my mouth, or how I was moving my hands. I began living with a black hole of insecurity that had moved into my consciousness like an unwanted relative who refused to leave yet constantly criticized the accommodations.

I should be relieved. I feel like I’ve been in a war.

“Carrie?” Maggie says tentatively. I look up, and there she is with rosy cheeks, hair twisted into two long braids. She holds her mittened hands up to her mouth. “Are you okay?”

“No.” My voice is a mere husk.

“The Mouse told me what happened,” she whispers.

I nod. Soon everyone will know. I’ll be talked about and mocked behind my back. I’ll become a joke. The girl who couldn’t keep her boyfriend. The girl who wasn’t good enough. The girl who was shown up by her best friend. The girl who you can grind under your heel. The girl who doesn’t matter.

“What are you going to do?” Maggie asks, outraged.

“What can I do? She said he said that he needed her.”

“She’s lying,” Maggie exclaims. “She’s nothing but a big liar. Always bragging about herself. It’s all about her. She stole Sebastian because she’s jealous.”

“Maybe he really does like her better,” I say wearily.

“He can’t. And if he does, he’s stupid. They’re both evil nasty people who deserve each other. Good riddance. He wasn’t good enough for you.”

But he was. He was all I ever wanted. We belonged together. I will never love another guy the way I loved him.

“You need to do something,” Maggie says. “Do something to her. Blow up her truck.”

“Oh, Magwitch.” I lift my head. “I’m just too tired.”

Hide in library during calculus. Furiously read Star Signs. Lali’s a Leo. Sebastian (Se-bastard) is a Scorpio, which figures. Apparently they will have explosive sex together.

Attempt to decide what I hate most about this situation. The shame and embarrassment? The loss of my boyfriend and my best friend? Or the betrayal? They must have been planning this for weeks. Talking about me and how to get rid of me. Engineering secret assignations. Discussing how to tell me. But they didn’t tell me. They didn’t have the decency. They simply put it right out there, in my face. Like the only way they could deal with it was to get caught. They didn’t think about how I might feel. I was only in the picture as an obstacle, because I don’t matter to them. I am no one to them.

All those years of friendship…Was it all a lie?

I remember once in sixth grade, Lali had a birthday party and didn’t invite me. I walked into school one day and Lali wouldn’t talk to me, and neither would anyone else. Or so it seemed. Maggie and The Mouse still talked to me. But not Lali or the other girls we hung around with, like Jen P. I didn’t know what to do. My mother said I should call Lali, and when I did, Lali’s mother said she wasn’t home, although I heard Lali and Jen P giggling in the background. “Why are they doing this to me?” I asked my mother.

“I can’t explain it,” she said helplessly. “It’s just one of those things girls do.”

“But why?”

She shook her head. “It’s jealousy.” But I didn’t think it was jealousy. I thought it was more instinctual, like being part of a pack of wild animals that drive one animal out into the wilderness to die.

It was scary, how a girl couldn’t live without friends.

“Ignore it,” my mother advised. “Act like nothing is wrong. Lali will come around. You’ll see.”

My mother was right. I did ignore it and Lali’s birthday came and went, and sure enough, four days later Lali and I were mysteriously friends again.

For weeks afterward, however, when Lali mentioned her birthday — she had taken six girls to an amusement park — my face would redden in shame at the memory of being shunned. When I finally asked Lali why I wasn’t invited, she looked at me in surprise. “But you did come, didn’t you?”

I shook my head.

“Oh,” she said. “Maybe you were acting like a jerk or something.”

“That Lali is a dope,” my mother said, “dope” being an insult she reserved for those she considered the very lowest form of human being.

I let it go. I figured it was the way of girls. But this — this betrayal — is that the way of girls as well?

“Hey,” The Mouse says, discovering me in the stacks. “He wasn’t in calculus. And she wasn’t in assembly. So they must be feeling really guilty.”