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And apparently, he’s feeling guilty. “If you want to write a story for the paper, you can,” he says. “I guess I sort of owe you anyway.”
“For going with Maggie to the clinic? I guess you do.”
“Isn’t it better for girls to do those things together anyway?”
“I don’t know,” I say, with a dark edge to my voice. “What if Maggie had been pregnant?”
“That’s what I’m trying to avoid. I should get points for being a good boyfriend and making her take the pill,” he says, as if he deserves a pat on the back.
Why is it always about the guy? “I think Maggie is smart enough to know she should be on the pill.”
“Hey. I didn’t mean to imply—”
“Forget about it,” I say, annoyed. I have a sudden image of that girl at the clinic, crying and crying because she’d just had an abortion. The guy who got her pregnant wasn’t with her, either. I sh
ould tell Peter about her, but I don’t know where to begin.
“Anyway, it was really decent of you,” he concedes. “Maggie told me you were great.”
“And this surprises you?”
“I don’t know, Carrie,” he stammers. “I mean—I always thought you were kind of…silly.”
“Silly?”
“I mean, you’re always making jokes. I could never understand what you were doing in our AP classes.”
“Why? Because I’m funny? A girl can’t be funny and smart?”
“I wasn’t saying you’re not smart—”
“Or is it because I’m not going to Harvard? Maggie keeps telling me you’re a great guy. But I don’t see it. Or maybe you’ve only become a major asshole in the last three days.”
“Whoa. Take it easy. You don’t have to get so mad. Why do girls always take things so personally?” he asks.
I sit there with my arms crossed, saying nothing. Peter starts to get uncomfortable, shifting his butt around on the driver’s seat. “So, um, really,” he says. “You should write a piece for the newspaper. Maybe a profile of a teacher or something. That’s always good.”
I put my feet up on his dashboard. “I’ll think about it,” I say.
I’m still stewing when we pull into the parking lot of the Fox Run Mall. I’m so mad, I’m not sure I can even be friends with Maggie while she’s dating this jerk.
I get out of the car and kind of slam the door, which is pretty rude, but I can’t help it. “I’ll meet you guys inside, okay?”
“Okay,” he says, looking nervous. “We’ll be at Mrs. Fields.”
I nod and then I walk around the parking lot and fish through my bag until I find a cigarette, which I light up. And just as I’m smoking and starting to feel normal again, the yellow Corvette peels into the parking lot and squeals into a space about ten feet away. It’s Sebastian. And Lali.
They’re laughing and giggling as they get out of the car.
My stomach drops. Where have they been for the past hour and a half?
“Hey, babe,” Sebastian says, giving me a quick peck on the lips. “We were hungry, so we went to the Hamburger Shack.”
“Did you see Walt?”
“Uh-huh,” Lali says. Sebastian links his arm through mine, then holds out his other arm for Lali. Thus entwined, the three of us go into the mall.
My only consolation is that I know Sebastian isn’t lying about the Hamburger Shack. When he kissed me, his breath smelled of onions and peppers, mixed with the sharp scent of cigarettes.
