Candace Bushnell: The Carrie Diaries and Summer in the City

“And what did she say?” I ask.

“She said she wouldn’t send me home this time, but if she sees me in this sweater again, she’s going to suspend me.”

Walt shrugs. “She’s a bitch.”

“How can she discriminate against a sweater?”

“Perhaps we should lodge a complaint with the school board. Have her fired,” The Mouse says.

I’m sure she doesn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but she does, a little. Maggie bursts into tears and runs in the direction of the girls’ room.

Walt looks around the table. “Which one of you bitches wants to go after her?”

“Was it something I said?” The Mouse asks innocently.

“No.” Walt sighs. “There’s a crisis every other day.”

“I’ll go.” I take a bite of my apple and hurry after her, pushing through the cafeteria doors with a bang.

I run smack into Sebastian Kydd.

“Whoa,” he exclaims. “Where’s the fire?”

“Sorry,” I mumble. I’m suddenly hurtled back in time, to when I was twelve.

“This is the cafeteria?” he asks, gesturing toward the swinging doors. He peeks in the little window. “Looks heinous. Is there any place to eat off campus?”

Off-campus? Since when did Castlebury High become a campus? And is he asking me to have lunch with him? No, not possible. Not me. But maybe he doesn’t remember that we’ve met before.

“There’s a hamburger place up the street. But you need a car to get there.”

“I’ve got a car,” he says.

And then we just stand there, staring at each other. I can feel the other kids walking by but I don’t see them.

“Okay. Thanks,” he says.

“Right.” I nod, remembering Maggie.

“See ya,” he says, and walks away.

Rule number one: Why is it that the one time a cute guy talks to you, you have a friend who’s in crisis?

I run into the girls’ room. “Maggie? You won’t believe what just happened.” I look under the stalls and spot Maggie’s shoes next to the wall. “Mags?”

“I am totally humiliated ,” she wails.

Rule number two: Humiliated best friend always takes precedence over cute guy.

“Magwitch, you can’t let what other people say affect you so much.” I know this isn’t helpful, but my father says it all the time and it’s the only thing I can think of at the moment.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“By looking at everyone like they’re a big joke. Come on, Mags. You know high school is absurd. In less than a year we’ll be out of here and we’ll never have to see any of these people ever again.”

“I need a cigarette,” Maggie groans.

The door opens and the two Jens come in.

Jen S and Jen P are cheerleaders and part of the Pod clique. Jen S has straight dark hair and looks like a beautiful little dumpling. Jen P used to be my best friend in third grade. She was kind of okay, until she got to high school and took up social climbing. She spent two years taking gymnastics so she could become a cheerleader, and even dated Tommy Brewster’s best friend, who has teeth the size of a horse. I waver between feeling sorry for her and admiring her desperate determination. Last year, her efforts paid off and she was finally admitted to the Pod pack, which means she now rarely talks to me.

For some reason, she does today, because when she sees me, she exclaims, “Hi!” as if we’re still really good friends.

“Hi!” I reply, with equally false enthusiasm.

Jen S nods at me as the two Jens begin taking lipsticks and eye shadows out of their bags. I once overheard Jen S telling another girl that if you want to get guys, you have to have “a trademark”—one thing you always wore to make you memorable. For Jen S, this, apparently, is a thick stripe of navy blue eyeliner on her upper lid. Go figure. She leans in to the mirror to make sure the eyeliner is still intact as Jen P turns to me.

“Guess who’s back at Castlebury High?” she asks.

“Who?”

“Sebastian Kydd.”

“Re-e-e-ally?” I look in the mirror and rub my eye, pretending I have something in it.

“I want to date him,” she says, with complete and utter confidence. “From what I’ve heard, he’d be a perfect boyfriend for me.”

“Why would you want to date someone you don’t know?”

“I just do, that’s all. I don’t need a reason.”

“Cutest boys in the history of Castlebury High,” Jen S says, as if leading a cheer.

“Jimmy Watkins.”

“Randy Sandler.”

“Bobby Martin.”

Jimmy Watkins, Randy Sandler, and Bobby Martin were on the football team when we were sophomores. They all graduated at least two years ago. Who cares? I want to shout.

“Sebastian Kydd,” Jen S exclaims.

“Hall of Famer for sure. Right, Carrie?”

“Who?” I ask, just to annoy her.

“Sebastian Kydd,”Jen P says in a huff as she and Jen S exit.

“Maggie?” I ask. She hates the two Jens and won’t come out until they’ve left the bathroom. “They’re gone.”

“Thank God.” The stall door opens and Maggie heads for the mirror. She runs a comb through her hair. “I can’t believe Jen P thinks she can get Sebastian Kydd. That girl has no sense of reality. Now, what were you going to tell me?”

“Nothing,” I say, suddenly sick of Sebastian. If I hear one more person mention his name, I’m going to shoot myself.

“What was that business with Sebastian Kydd?”The Mouse asks a little later. We’re in the library, attempting to study.

“What business?” I highlight an equation in yellow, thinking about how useless it is to highlight. It makes you think you’re learning, but all you’re really learning is how to use a highlighter.

“He winked at you. In calculus class.”

“He did?”

“Bradley,” The Mouse says, in disbelief. “Don’t even try to tell me you didn’t notice.”

“How do I know he was winking at me? Maybe he was winking at the wall.”

“How do we know infinity exists? It’s all a theory. And I think you should go out with him,” she insists. “He’s cute and he’s smart. He’d be a good boyfriend.”

“That’s what every girl in the school thinks. Including Jen P.”

“So what? You’re cute and you’re smart, too. Why shouldn’t you date him?”

Rule number three: Best friends always think you deserve the best guy even if the best guy barely knows you exist.

“Because he probably only likes cheerleaders?”

“Faulty reasoning, Bradley. You don’t know that for a fact.” And then she gets all dreamy and rests her chin in her hand. “Guys can be full of surprises.”

This dreaminess is not like The Mouse. She has plenty of guy friends, but she’s always been too practical to get romantically involved.

“What does that mean?” I ask, curious about this new Mouse. “Have you encountered some surprising guys recently?”

“Just one,” she says.

And rule number four: Best friends can also be full of surprises.

“Bradley.” She pauses. “I have a boyfriend.”

What? I’m so shocked, I can’t speak. The Mouse has never had a boyfriend. She’s never even had a proper date.

“He’s pretty nifty,” she says.

“Nifty? Nifty? ” I croak, finding my voice. “Who is he? I need to know all about this nifty character.”

The Mouse giggles, which is also very un-Mouse-like. “I met him this summer. At the camp.”

“Aha.” I’m kind of stunned and a little bit hurt that I haven’t heard about this mysterious Mouse boyfriend before, but now it makes sense. I never see The Mouse during the summer because she always goes to some special government camp in Washington, D.C.

And suddenly, I’m really happy for her. I jump up and hug her, popping up and down like a little kid on Christmas morning. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. It’s only a stupid boyfriend. But still. “What’s his name?”