“Here,” he says, handing it to me.
I get up, holding on to him for support. “It is funny, isn’t it?”
“It’s hilarious.”
“How come you’re not laughing?”
“I am. But I like watching you laugh more.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It makes me happy.” He puts his arm around me and we go inside.
I lead him up to the fourth floor. Hardly anyone comes up here because all the books are on engineering and botany and obscure scientific research that most people don’t want to bother trekking up four flights to read. In the middle of the room is an old chintz-covered couch.
We’re at least half an hour into an intense make-out session when we’re startled by a loud angry voice.
“Hello, Sebastian. I was wondering where you’d run off to.”
Sebastian is on top of me. I look over his shoulder and see Donna LaDonna looming over us, like an angry Valkyrie. Her arms are crossed, emphasizing her formidable chest. If breasts could kill, I’d be dead.
“You’re disgusting,” she sneers at Sebastian before she focuses her attention on me. “And you, Carrie Bradshaw. You’re even worse.”
“I don’t get it,” I say in a small voice.
Sebastian looks guilty. “Carrie, I’m sorry. I had no idea she would react that way.”
How could he have “no idea”? I wonder, my anger growing. It’s going to be all over the school tomorrow. And I’m the one who’s going to look like either a fool or a bitch.
Sebastian has one hand on the wheel, tapping the fake wood inlay with a ragged nail, as if he’s as perplexed by this as I am. I’m probably supposed to yell at him, but he looks so cute and innocent, I can’t quite muster the energy.
I look at him hard, folding my arms. “Are you seeing her?”
“It’s complicated.”
“How?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It’s like being a little bit pregnant. You either are or you’re not.”
“I’m not, but she thinks I am.”
And whose fault is that? “Can’t you tell her you’re not seeing her?”
“It’s not so easy. She needs me.”
Now I really have had enough. How can any self-respecting girl respond to this nonsense? Am I supposed to say. “No, please, I need you too”? And what’s up with this old-fashioned “neediness” stuff, anyway?
He pulls into my driveway and parks the car. “Carrie—”
“I should probably go.” There’s a bit of an edge to my voice. But what else am I supposed to do? What if he does like Donna LaDonna better and he’s only using me to make her jealous?
I get out of the car and slam the door.
I race up the walk. I’m nearly at the door when I hear the quick, satisfying tread of his footsteps behind me.
He grabs my arm. “Don’t go,” he says. I allow him to turn me around, put his hands in my hair. “Don’t go,” he whispers. He tilts my face up to his. “Maybe I need you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE You Can’t Always Get What You Want
“Maggie, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she says coldly.
“Are you angry at me?” I gasp.
She stops, turns, and glares. And there it is: The international girl face for “I’m mad at you, and you should know why, but I’m not going to explain it.”
“What did I do?”
“It’s what you didn’t do.”
“Okay, what didn’t I do?”
“You tell me,” she says, and starts walking.
I run through a variety of scenarios but can’t come up with a clue.
“Mags.” I chase after her down the hall. “I’m sorry I didn’t do something. But I honestly don’t know what that something is.”
“Sebastian,” she snaps.
“Huh?”
“You and Sebastian. I come to school this morning and everyone knows all about it. Everyone except me. And I’m supposed to be one of your best friends.”
We’re nearly at the door to assembly, where I will have to walk in knowing that I’m going to have to face the hostility of Donna LaDonna’s friends, as well as a small army of kids who aren’t her friends, but want to be.
“Maggie,” I plead.“It just happened. I didn’t exactly have time to call you. I was planning to tell you first thing this morning.”
“Lali knew,” she says, not buying my explanation.
“Lali was there. We were at the pool when he came by to pick me up.”
“So?”
“Come on, Magwitch. I don’t need you mad at me as well.”
“We’ll see.” She pulls open the door to the auditorium. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Okay.” I sigh as she heads off. I skittle along the back wall and hurry down the aisle to my assigned seat, trying to attract as little attention as possible. When I finally reach my row, I stop, startled by the realization that something is terribly wrong. I check the letter “B” to make sure I haven’t made a mistake.
I haven’t. But my seat is now occupied by Donna LaDonna.
I look around for Sebastian, but he’s not there. Coward. I have no choice. I’m going to have to brazen it out.
“Excuse me,” I say, making my way past Susie Beck, who has worn purple every day of her life for the last two years; Ralph Bomenski, a frail, white-skinned boy whose father owns a gas station and makes Ralphie work there in all kinds of weather; and Ellen Brack, who is six feet tall and is giving off the impression that she’d prefer to disappear—a sentiment I understand completely.
Donna LaDonna is oblivious to my progress. Her hair is like a giant dandelion seed, obstructing her view. She’s talking with great animation to Tommy Brewster. It’s the longest conversation I’ve ever witnessed between them. Nonetheless, it makes sense, as Tommy is part of her clique. Her voice is so loud you can practically hear her from three rows away.
“Some people don’t know their place,” she says. “It’s all about pecking order. Do you know what happens to chickens that don’t stay in their place?”
“No,” Tommy says dumbly. He’s noticed me, but quickly returns his eyes to their proper spot—on Donna LaDonna’s face.
“They get pecked to death. By the other chickens,” Donna says ominously.
Okay. Enough. I can’t stand here forever. Poor Ellen Brack’s knees are up to her ears. There simply isn’t enough room for both of us.
“Excuse me,” I say politely.
No response. Donna LaDonna continues her tirade.“And on top of that, she’s trying to steal another