The Carrie Diaries
Meet Carrie Bradshaw before ‘Sex and the City!’The Carrie Diaries is the coming-of-age story of one of the most iconic characters of our generation.Before Sex and the City, Carrie Bradshaw was a small town girl who knew she wanted more. She's ready for real life to start, but first she must navigate her senior year of high school. Up until now, Carrie and her friends have been inseparable. Then Sebastian Kydd comes into the picture, and a friend's betrayal makes her question everything.With an unforgettable cast of characters, The Carrie Diaries is the story of how a regular girl learns to think for herself, and evolves into a sharp, insightful writer. Readers will learn about her family background, how she found her writing voice, and the indelible impression her early friendships and relationships left on her. Through adventures both audacious and poignant, we'll see what brings Carrie to her beloved New York City, where her new life begins.
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The Carrie Diaries
Candace Bushnell
For Calvin Bushnell
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE A Princess on Another Planet
CHAPTER SEVEN Paint the Town Red
CHAPTER EIGHT The Mysteries of Romance
CHAPTER NINE The Artful Dodger
CHAPTER TWELVE You Canât Always Get What You Want
CHAPTER THIRTEEN Creatures of Love
CHAPTER FOURTEEN Hang in There
CHAPTER FIFTEEN Little Criminals
CHAPTER SIXTEEN How Far Will You Go?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Bait and Switch
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Cliques Are Made to Be Broken
CHAPTER NINETEEN Ch-ch-ch-changes
CHAPTER TWENTY Slippery Slopes
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Dancing Fools
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE The Assumption of X
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR The Circus Comes to Town
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Lockdown at Bralcatraz
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX The S-H-I-T Hits the Fan
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN The Girl Whoâ¦
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT Pretty Pictures
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE The Gorgon
CHAPTER THIRTY Accidents Will Happen
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE Pinky Takes Castlebury
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO The Nerd Prince
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE Hold On to Your Panties
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR Transformation
They say a lot can happen in a summer.
Or not.
Itâs the first day of senior year, and as far as I can tell, Iâm exactly the same as I was last year.
And so is my best friend, Lali.
âDonât forget, Bradley, we have to get boyfriends this year,â she says, starting the engine of the red pickup truck she inherited from one of her older brothers.
âCrap.â We were supposed to get boyfriends last year and we didnât. I open the door and scoot in, sliding the letter into my biology book, where, I figure, it can do no more harm. âCanât we give this whole boyfriend thing a rest? We already know all the boys in our school. Andââ
âActually, we donât,â Lali says as she slides the gear stick into reverse, glancing over her shoulder. Of all my friends, Lali is the best driver. Her father is a cop and insisted she learn to drive when she was twelve, in case of an emergency.
âI hear thereâs a new kid,â she says.
âSo?â The last new kid who came to our school turned out to be a stoner who never changed his overalls.
âJen P says heâs cute. Really cute.â
âUh-huh.âJen P was the head of Leif Garrettâs fan club in sixth grade. âIf he actually is cute, Donna LaDonna will get him.â
âHe has a weird name,â Lali says. âSebastian something. Sebastian Little?â
âSebastian Kydd?â I gasp.
âThatâs it,â she says, pulling into the parking lot of the high school. She looks at me suspiciously. âDo you know him?â
I hesitate, my fingers grasping the door handle.
My heart pounds in my throat; if I open my mouth, Iâm afraid it will jump out.
I shake my head.
Weâre through the main door of the high school when Lali spots my boots. Theyâre white patent leather and thereâs a crack on one of the toes, but theyâre genuine go-go boots from the early seventies. I figure the boots have had a much more interesting life than I have. âBradley,â she says, eyeing the boots with disdain. âAs your best friend, I cannot allow you to wear those boots on the first day of senior year.â
âToo late,â I say gaily. âBesides, someoneâs got to shake things up around here.â
âDonât go changing.â Lali makes her hand into a gun shape, kisses the tip of her finger, and points it at me before heading for her locker.
âGood luck, [A-Z]ngel,â I say. Changing. Ha. Not much chance of that. Not after the letter.
Dear Ms. Bradshaw, it read.
Thank you for your application to the New Schoolâs Advanced Summer Writing Seminar. While your stories show promise and imagination, we regret to inform you that we are unable to offer you a place in the program at this time.
I got the letter last Tuesday. I reread it about fifteen times, just to be sure, and then I had to lie down. Not that I think Iâm so talented or anything, but for once in my life, I was hoping I was.
I didnât tell anyone about it, though. I didnât even tell anyone Iâd applied, including my father. He went to Brown and expects me to go there, too. He thinks Iâd make a good scientist. And if I canât hack molecular structures, I can always go into biology and study bugs.
Iâm halfway down the hall when I spot Cynthia Viande and Tommy Brewster, Castleburyâs golden Pod couple. Tommy isnât too bright, but he is the center on the basketball team. Cynthia, on the other hand, is senior class president, head of the prom committee, an outstanding member of the National Honor Society, and got all the Girl Scout badges by the time she was ten. She and Tommy have been dating for three years. I try not to give them much thought, but alphabetically, my last name comes right before Tommyâs, so Iâm stuck with the locker next to his and stuck sitting next to him in assembly, and therefore basically stuck seeing himâand Cynthiaâevery day.
