The Carrie Diaries. Candace Bushnell
High,” Lali says. “Fuck the Pods.”
We pull into the driveway of the high school going about eighty miles an hour and drive right over the grass. We try to drive straight up the hill, but the truck gets stuck, so we decide to park it in a dark corner of the parking lot. While we’re struggling to get the ladder out of the back, I hear the telltale sputter of a fully loaded V-eight engine, and sure enough, Sebastian Kydd pulls up beside us.
What the hell is he doing here?
He rolls down the window. “You girls need some help?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Lali says. She gives me the shut-up look. I give her the shut-up look right back.
Sebastian gets out of the car. He’s like a panther getting up from a nap. He even yawns. “Slow night?”
“You could say that,” Lali says.
“Or you could get off your keister and help us. Since you don’t appear to be leaving,” I add.
“Can we trust you?” Lali asks.
“Depends on what you want to trust me with,” he says.
Eventually, we get the ladder up against the barn, and then The Mouse shows up with the paint and a large brush. Two enormous cone-shaped lights play over the parking lot, indicating Maggie’s arrival in the Cadillac. Maggie insists she can’t keep track of her high and low beams and usually blinds her fellow motorists. She parks the car and meanders up the hill with Walt and Peter in tow. Peter busies himself by examining the paint. “Red?” he says, and then, as if we didn’t hear him the first time, “Red?”
“What’s wrong with red?”
“It’s not the traditional Castlebury color for this exercise. It should be blue.”
“We wanted red,” I counter. “Whoever does the painting gets to pick the color.”
“But it’s not right,” Peter insists. “For the rest of the year, I’m going to be looking out the window seeing the year of our graduation painted in red instead of blue.”
“Does it really matter?” Sebastian asks.
“Red is a statement. It’s a fuck-you to tradition,”Walt says. “I mean, isn’t that the point?”
“Right on, brother.” Sebastian nods.
Maggie hugs her arms around her chest. “I’m scared.”
“Have a cigarette,” Walt remarks. “That will calm your nerves.”
“Who’s got the booze?” Lali asks. Someone hands her a bottle of whiskey, and she takes a swig, wiping her mouth on her shirt sleeve.
“Okay, Bradley. Get on up there,”The Mouse commands.
In unison, we tip our heads back and look skyward. The orange moon has come up behind the roof, casting a boxlike black shadow below. In the spooky light, the peak appears as high as Mount Everest.
“You’re going up?” Sebastian asks, astonished.
“Bradley used to be very good in gymnastics,”The Mouse says. “Very good. Until she was about twelve, anyway. Remember when you did that jump onto the balance beam and landed right on your—”
“I’d rather not,” I say, sneaking a glance at Sebastian.
“I’d do it, but I’m scared of heights,”Lali explains. Heights, indeed, are the only thing she admits to being scared of, probably because she thinks it makes her more interesting. “Every time I cross the bridge to Hartford, I have to get down on the floor so I don’t get dizzy.”
“What if you’re the one who’s driving?” asks The Mouse.
“Then she has to stop in the middle of traffic and sit there shaking until the police come and tow her car,” I say, finding this vision hysterical.
Lali gives me a dirty look. “That is so not true. If I’m driving, it’s different.”
“Uh-huh,”Walt says.
Maggie takes a gulp of whiskey. “Maybe we should go to The Emerald. I’m getting cold.”
Oh no. Not after we’ve made all this effort. “You go to The Emerald, Magwitch. I’m going to do this,” I say, with what I hope sounds like gutsy determination.
Peter rubs Maggie’s shoulders, a gesture not lost on Walt. “Let’s stay. We can go to The Emerald later.”
“All right,” The Mouse says pointedly. “Anyone who doesn’t want to be here should go now. Anyone who wants to stay should just shut up.”
“I’m staying,”Walt says, lighting up a cigarette. “And I’m not shutting up.”
The plan is simple: Lali and Peter will hold the ladder while I go up. Once I’m at the top, Sebastian will climb up after me with the can of paint. I place my hand on a rung. The metal is cold and grooved. Look up, I remind myself. The future is ahead of you. Don’t look down. Never look back. Never let ‘em see you sweat.
“Go on, Carrie.”
“You can do it.”
“She’s at the top. Ohmigod. She’s on the roof!” That’s Maggie.
“Carrie?” Sebastian says. “I’m right behind you.”
The harvest moon has transformed into a bright white orb surrounded by a million stars. “It’s beautiful up here,” I shout. “You should all have a look.”
I slowly rise, testing my balance, and take a few steps to get my footing. It’s not so hard. I remind myself of all the kids who have done this in the past. Sebastian’s at the top of the ladder with the paint. With the can in one hand and the brush in the other, I make my way to the side of the roof.
I begin painting, as the group takes up a chant below. “One…Nine…Eight…”
“NINETEEN. EIGHTY—” And just as I’m about to paint the last number, my foot slips.
The can flies out of my hand, bounces once, and rolls off the roof, leaving a huge splotch of paint behind. Maggie screams. I drop down to my knees, scrambling to get a handhold on the wooden shingles. I hear a soft thud as the can hits the grass. Then…nothing.
“Carrie?”The Mouse says tentatively.“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t move,” Peter shouts.
“I’m not.”
And it’s true. I’m not moving. But then, with excruciating slowness, I begin to slide. I try to jam my toe into the shingles to stop, but my sneaker glides right over the slick spill of red paint. I reassure myself that I will not die. It’s not my time. If I were going to die, I’d know it, right? Some part of my brain is aware of the scraping of skin, but I have yet to feel the pain. I’m picturing myself in a body cast, when suddenly a firm hand grabs my wrist and drags me up to the peak. Behind me I see the tips of the ladder fall away from the edge, followed by a whomp as it clatters into the bushes.
Everyone is screaming.
“We’re okay. We’re fine. No injuries,” Sebastian shouts as the wail of a police siren rips the air.
“There goes Harvard,” Peter says.
“Hide the ladder in the barn,” Lali commands. “If the cops ask we’re just up here smoking cigarettes.”
“Maggie, give me the booze,”Walt says. There’s a crash as he throws the bottle into the barn.
Sebastian tugs on my arm. “We need to get to the other side.”
“Why?”
“Don’t