The Carrie Diaries (The Carrie Diaries 1)

mage there.”

I glance at Lali, whose eyes are the size of eggs. “Nah.” I shrug. “Happens all the time. It’s nothing.”

“We were just talking about the night we painted the barn,” Lali says.

“That was hysterical,” I say, in an attempt to behave as if all of this is normal, as if I’m not even surprised to find Sebastian waiting for me.

“You want a ride home?” he asks.

“Sure.” He follows me to the locker room door, and for some reason, I’m relieved. I suddenly realize I don’t want to leave him alone with Lali.

I want him all to myself. He’s too new to share.

And then I feel like a crap heel. Lali is my best friend.

I slip out to the parking lot through the gym instead of the pool, my hair still wet, my jeans clinging uncomfortably to my thighs. I’m halfway across the asphalt when a beige Toyota pulls up beside me and stops. The window rolls down and Jen S sticks her head out. “Hey, Carrie,” she says, all casual. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.”

Jen P leans across her. “Want to go to the Hamburger Shack?”

I give them a deliberately skeptical look. They’ve never asked me to go to the Hamburger Shack before—hell, they’ve never asked me to go anywhere. Do they really think I’m that dumb?

“Can’t,” I say vaguely.

“Why not?”

“I have to go home.”

“You have time for a hamburger,” Jen S says. It might be my imagination, but I detect a slight threat in her tone.

Sebastian honks his horn.

I jump. Jen S and Jen P exchange another look. “Get in,” Jen P urges.

“Really, guys. Thanks. Some other time.”

Jen S glares at me. And this time there is no mistaking the hostility in her voice. “Suit yourself,” she says as she rolls up the window. And then they just sit there, watching as I walk up to Sebastian’s car and get in.

“Hi,” he says, leaning over to kiss me.

I pull away. “Better not. We’re being watched.” I point out the beige Toyota. “The two Jens.”

“Who cares?” he says, and kisses me again. I go along with it but break away after a few seconds. “The Jens,” I say pointedly. “They’re best friends with Donna LaDonna.”

“And?”

“Well, obviously they’re going to tell her. About you and me,” I say cautiously, not wanting to be presumptuous.

He frowns, turns the key in the ignition, and slams the stick into second gear. The car leaps forward with a screech. I peek out the back window. The Toyota has pulled right up behind. I slump down in the seat. “I can’t believe this,” I mutter. “They’re following us.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he says, looking into the rearview mirror. “Maybe it’s time someone taught them a lesson.”

The engine roars like a wild animal as he puts the car into fourth gear. We take a sharp turn onto the highway and hit seventy-five. I turn around to check the progress of the Toyota. “I think we’re losing them.”

“Why would they do this? What is wrong with these girls?”

“Boredom. They don’t have anything better to do.”