CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Creatures of Love
I lay low for the next couple of days, steering clear of Donna LaDonna by skipping assembly and avoiding the cafeteria during lunch. On the third day, Walt tracks me down in the library, where I'm hiding in the self-help section of the stacks, secretly reading Linda Goodman's Love Signs in a futile attempt to discern if Sebastian and I have a future. Problem is, I don't know his birthday. I can only hope he's an Aries and not a Scorpio. "Astrology? Oh no. Not you, Carrie," Walt says. I shut the book and put it back on the shelf. "What's wrong with astrology?" "It's dumb," Walt says snidely. "Thinking you can predict your life from your birth sign. Do you know how many people are born each day? Two million five hundred and ninety-nine. How can two million five hundred and ninety-nine people have anything in common?" "Has anyone mentioned that you've been in a really bad mood lately?" "What are you talking about? I'm always like this." "It's the breakup, isn't it?" "No, it's not." "Then what is it?" "Maggie's in tears," he says suddenly. I sigh. "Is it about me?"