The Carrie Diaries (The Carrie Diaries 1)

“Anyway, it might not count,” says The Mouse. “If you knew him for three hours, you’d kind of know him, wouldn’t you?”

“It would have to be like the zipless fuck in Fear of Flying.”

“Please, do not say ‘fuck.’ I hate that word. It’s ‘making love,’” Maggie says.

“What’s the difference between ‘making love’ and ‘fucking’ anyway? I mean, really?” I ask.

“Fucking is just intercourse. Making love is intercourse plus all the other stuff,” The Mouse says.

“I can’t believe you haven’t had sex with Sebastian yet,” Maggie declares.

“Well…”

Maggie turns around to look at The Mouse in disbelief, which causes her to nearly drive off the road. When we recover, Maggie says, “You’re still a virgin,” as if it’s some kind of crime.

“I don’t like to think of myself as a ‘virgin.’ I prefer to think of myself as ‘sexually incomplete.’ You know. Like I haven’t finished the course yet.”

“But why?” Maggie asks. “It’s not even a big deal. You think it’s a big deal until you do it. And then you think, ‘God, why did I wait so long?’”

“Come on, Maggie. Everyone has their own timetable. Maybe Carrie isn’t ready,” The Mouse says.

“All I can say is that if you don’t do it with Sebastian soon, somebody else will,” Maggie intones ominously.

“If that happens, it means Sebastian wasn’t the right guy for her,” The Mouse insists.

“Besides, I think they already have,” I quip. “Done it with Sebastian in the past, anyway. And, hey, I’ve only been seeing the guy for two months.”

“I was only seeing Peter for two days when we did it,” Maggie says. “Of course, our circumstances were special. Peter had been in love with me for years.”

“Maggie. About Peter—” The Mouse begins.

I want to caution her that now is probably not the time to bring up the truth about Peter, but it’s too late.

“I think ‘high school’ and ‘college’ are two separate categories for him. When he goes to Harvard, he’s going to leave Castlebury behind. He has to. Otherwise, he won’t succeed.”

“Why not?” Maggie challenges.

“Mags,” I say, giving The Mouse a look. “Mouse isn’t talking about you, per se. She only means that he’s going to have to study a lot, and he might not have as much time for a relationship. Right, Mouse?”

“Sure. All of our lives are going to be different. We’re all going to have to change.”

“I, for one, am not going to change,” Maggie says, resolute. “No matter what happens, I’m always going to be me. I think that’s the way people should behave. Decently.”

I agree. “No matter what happens, we should all swear that we’ll always be ourselves at all times.”

“Do we have a choice?” The Mouse asks drily.

“Where are we?” I ask, looking around.

“Good question,” The Mouse mutters. We’re on a rutted asphalt road that appears to be in the middle of nowhere.

On either side are rocky fields, dotted with a few rundown houses. We pass an auto repair shop and a yellow house with a sign that reads SUNSHINE DOLL REPAIR, DOLLS LARGE AND SMALL. Ahead of us, Walt suddenly swerves into a small driveway next to a long, white, industrial-looking building.

The building has a large metal door and small, blacked-out windows; it looks deserted.

“What is this place?” Maggie asks, as we slowly drive past.

The Mouse sits back and folds her arms. “It doesn’t look good, that’s for sure.”