Read Online The Carlyles by Cecily von Ziegesar - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cecily von Ziegesar
Tags: United States, Fiction, General, Family & Relationships, Romance, Juvenile Nonfiction, People & Places, Juvenile Fiction, Travel, Social Issues, Interpersonal relations, Brothers and sisters, New York (N.Y.), Girls & Women, FIC009020, Schools, wealth, Northeast, Middle Atlantic, High schools, Adolescence, Lifestyles, City & Town Life, Triplets
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Spain this summer. My stupid parents got together again and wanted to have a middle-age rediscovery-of-sex fest, so they sent me to Europe. Some guy I met on the beach in Barcelona did it, so of course it came out fucked up. Are you into body art?”
Does a reverse French manicure count?
“No.” Avery shook her head and smiled slightly, trying to be polite.
“Oh.” Sydney looked disappointed. “Sometimes it’s the really buttoned-up girls who are totally the kinkiest on the inside.”
Just then, Mrs. McLean marched in, with Baby shuffling behind her, looking comically tiny behind Mrs. M’s bulk. Whispers flitted up and down the aisles as she was escorted to a seat in the first row. Avery felt the familiar red flush rising in her chest. What had Baby done this time?
Jack glanced back and saw Avery sitting next to Sydney Miller, a girl whom everyone had ignored since she came out as an “academic lesbian” in eighth grade and had insisted on spelling woman w-o-m-y-n . Jack pulled a pack of gum out of Genevieve’s bag, wondering idly if Genevieve’s chest had gotten even larger. It looked bigger than it had last spring.
Not that she was about to measure it or anything.
Mrs. M strode onstage and stood in front of the girls in her all-purple Talbots pantsuit she only busted out on special occasions. She glared out at the crowd and Jack rolled her eyes. Everyone knew Mrs. M was in a pissy mood on the first day of school because she hated to leave her Vermont farm and her domestic partner, Vonda. She would much rather be baking casseroles and riding a tractor. It was common knowledge that Mrs. M was hoping to retire early so she and Vonda could start an alpaca farm upstate and open a made-to-order-yarn business.
Anyone want to join their knitting circle?
“Now, ladies, it’s a pleasure to have you all back, despite some rough transitions.” Mrs. McLean glanced at Baby, and Avery’s heart thumped against her ribs. “We’re pleased to welcome all our new students to the Constance Billard family.” A smile spread across Mrs. M’s large, doughy face as she looked down upon the rows of well-scrubbed Upper East Side girls.
A few rows ahead, Jack poked the skinny blond girl with the large chest who had been in French class with them. Both giggled, then looked stageward in rapt attention when they saw Mrs. M glaring in their direction.
Mrs. M began to discuss policies for the upcoming school year. Extra-long hours at the guidance office for those seniors needing assistance with early-decision college apps, no smoking on school grounds . Blah, blah, blah. Avery zoned out and began thumbing through her pink Filofax. She refused to use a PDA, because she loved the elegant simplicity of writing down dates and events. So far the whole school year loomed ahead in rows of empty pink boxes. What could she possibly do to make her mark here?
Hasn’t she already sort of made her mark?
“Now, ladies, I’m pleased to announce a new board position in addition to that of class president,” Mrs. McLean droned. Avery perked up. “The student liaison to the board of overseers. As you know, we have a very good relationship with our overseers, some of whom have been with Constance since its founding, and, as such, are very invested in its future. The elected student will represent the student body and will be involved in all decisions regarding the governing of our school.”
Jack felt Jiffy’s pointy index finger dip into her toned bicep. She shrugged her off. Who cared about a stupid school leadership position when she had so many more important things to think about?
Like J.P. with his shirt off, taking her shirt off, followed by his pants and her skirt . . .
“Can they please remove the mirrors in the cafeteria?” Elise Wells, a tall sophomore asked, her arm waving wildly in the air, her thick, bluntly cut hair bobbing. Two more girls whooped in affirmation, as if they had just heard about a surprise Prada sample
Does a reverse French manicure count?
“No.” Avery shook her head and smiled slightly, trying to be polite.
“Oh.” Sydney looked disappointed. “Sometimes it’s the really buttoned-up girls who are totally the kinkiest on the inside.”
Just then, Mrs. McLean marched in, with Baby shuffling behind her, looking comically tiny behind Mrs. M’s bulk. Whispers flitted up and down the aisles as she was escorted to a seat in the first row. Avery felt the familiar red flush rising in her chest. What had Baby done this time?
Jack glanced back and saw Avery sitting next to Sydney Miller, a girl whom everyone had ignored since she came out as an “academic lesbian” in eighth grade and had insisted on spelling woman w-o-m-y-n . Jack pulled a pack of gum out of Genevieve’s bag, wondering idly if Genevieve’s chest had gotten even larger. It looked bigger than it had last spring.
Not that she was about to measure it or anything.
Mrs. M strode onstage and stood in front of the girls in her all-purple Talbots pantsuit she only busted out on special occasions. She glared out at the crowd and Jack rolled her eyes. Everyone knew Mrs. M was in a pissy mood on the first day of school because she hated to leave her Vermont farm and her domestic partner, Vonda. She would much rather be baking casseroles and riding a tractor. It was common knowledge that Mrs. M was hoping to retire early so she and Vonda could start an alpaca farm upstate and open a made-to-order-yarn business.
Anyone want to join their knitting circle?
“Now, ladies, it’s a pleasure to have you all back, despite some rough transitions.” Mrs. McLean glanced at Baby, and Avery’s heart thumped against her ribs. “We’re pleased to welcome all our new students to the Constance Billard family.” A smile spread across Mrs. M’s large, doughy face as she looked down upon the rows of well-scrubbed Upper East Side girls.
A few rows ahead, Jack poked the skinny blond girl with the large chest who had been in French class with them. Both giggled, then looked stageward in rapt attention when they saw Mrs. M glaring in their direction.
Mrs. M began to discuss policies for the upcoming school year. Extra-long hours at the guidance office for those seniors needing assistance with early-decision college apps, no smoking on school grounds . Blah, blah, blah. Avery zoned out and began thumbing through her pink Filofax. She refused to use a PDA, because she loved the elegant simplicity of writing down dates and events. So far the whole school year loomed ahead in rows of empty pink boxes. What could she possibly do to make her mark here?
Hasn’t she already sort of made her mark?
“Now, ladies, I’m pleased to announce a new board position in addition to that of class president,” Mrs. McLean droned. Avery perked up. “The student liaison to the board of overseers. As you know, we have a very good relationship with our overseers, some of whom have been with Constance since its founding, and, as such, are very invested in its future. The elected student will represent the student body and will be involved in all decisions regarding the governing of our school.”
Jack felt Jiffy’s pointy index finger dip into her toned bicep. She shrugged her off. Who cared about a stupid school leadership position when she had so many more important things to think about?
Like J.P. with his shirt off, taking her shirt off, followed by his pants and her skirt . . .
“Can they please remove the mirrors in the cafeteria?” Elise Wells, a tall sophomore asked, her arm waving wildly in the air, her thick, bluntly cut hair bobbing. Two more girls whooped in affirmation, as if they had just heard about a surprise Prada sample
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