Page 85 of The Carrie Diaries (The Carrie Diaries 1)

“No,” I agree reluctantly.

“Okay then.” The door to the locker room swings open and Lali comes running in followed by several teammates. They’re high-fiving and snapping one another with wet towels.

“Where were you?” she asks, peeling off her suit. “I won.”

“Knew you would,” I say, slapping her outstretched palm.

“Seriously, though. You disappeared. You’re not upset, are you? About choking on your dives?”

“Nah. I’m fine.” I have too many other things to be upset about now. “You don’t have an extra pair of shoes, do you?”

“Well, I think it’s hilarious,” Lali declares. “I laughed so hard, I nearly peed in my pants.”

“Uh-huh,” I say with stiff sarcasm. “I’m still laughing.”

“You have to admit. It is pretty funny,” Sebastian says.

“I don’t have to admit a thing,” I say, crossing my arms as we pull into my driveway. A burning fury suddenly overtakes me. “And I don’t think it’s funny at all.” I open the door, get out, and slam it as hard as I can. I run into the house, imagining Lali and Sebastian sitting in the car in shock. Then they’ll look at each other and burst out laughing.

At me.

I race up the stairs to my room. “What’s going on?” Missy asks as this whirlwind passes her.

“Nothing!”

“Thought you were going to the dance.”

“I am.” I slam the door to my bedroom.

“Jesus,” Dorrit says from the other side.

I’m over it. Finished. Done. I open my closet and start throwing shoes across the room.

“Carrie?” Missy knocks on the door. “Can I come in?”

“If you don’t mind having your eye blackened by flying footwear!”

“What’s wrong?” Missy cries, entering the room.

“I am so sick of going out with my boyfriend and having my best friend always tagging along. I am so sick of the two of them making fun of me. And I’m so sick of these little idiot girls”—I really scream this part, as loud as I can—“following me around and making my life hell.” I heave a high-heeled shoe that belonged to my grandmother with such force that the heel actually penetrates the spine of a book.

Missy is unfazed. She sits cross-legged on the bed and nods her head thoughtfully. “I’m glad you brought this up. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for a while. I think Lali is trying to undermine your relationship with Sebastian.”

“No kidding,” I snarl, yanking back the curtain and peering out the window. They’re still out there. Sitting in the car, laughing.

But what can I do? If I go out there and confront them, I’m going to look insecure. If I say nothing, they’ll continue.

Missy folds her hands under her chin. “You know what the problem is? Mom never taught us any feminine wiles.”

“Was she supposed to?”

“I mean, here we are, knowing nothing about boys. Nothing about how to get them or how to keep them.”

“Because when Mom met Dad, they immediately fell in love and he asked her to marry him right away,” I say mournfully. “She didn’t have to try. She didn’t have to scheme. She didn’t have to deal with a Lali. Or a Donna LaDonna. Or the two Jens. She probably thought we’d be just like her. Some guy would come along and instantly fall in love with us and we’d never have to worry.”

“I know.” Missy nods. “I think, when it comes to men, we’re doomed.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO