Cecily von Ziegesar - Gossip Girl: The Carlyles 2 You Just Cant Get Enough

Gossip Girl novels created by Cecily von Ziegesar:

Gossip Girl

You Know You Love Me

All I Want Is Everything

Because Im Worth It

I Like It Like That

Youre The One That I Want

Nobody Does It Better

Nothing Can Keep Us Together

Only In Your Dreams

Would I Lie To You

Dont You Forget About Me

It Had To Be You

The Carlyles

You Just Cant Get Enough

Anna Percy, Cammie Sheppard, and Sam Sharpe ruled the A-LIST. But there are three new princesses in Tinseltown.

THE A-LIST

HOLLYWOOD ROYALTY

Meet the new Hollywood Royalty: Amelie, the not-so-innocent starlet; Myla and Ash, the golden couple; Jacob, the geek turned hottie; and Jojo, the outsider wholl do anything to get on the A-List.

SOME PEOPLE ARE BORN WITH IT.

Turn the page for a sneak peek of this scandalous new novel by New York Times bestselling author Zoey Dean.

Do you think I should give Mrs. McLean the sculpture? Edie Carlyle gestured to the bulky, misshapen bag slung over her shoulder.

Baby Carlyle peered dubiously into the hemp bag. A bubble gum pink bowl was nestled inside, undoubtedly one of her mothers latest art projects. An MTA city bus roared by, causing Babys green linen dress, purchased from a cart near Central Park for ten dollars, to billow around her skinny knees. Baby shrugged.

Well, I dont want you to get kicked out, Edie fretted as they crossed East Ninety-third Street toward the Constance Billard School for Girls.

Baby was technically still enrolled in the small, elite, uniform-required institution that her mother had also attended years ago. But after skipping several mandatory after-school service hours for minor French class infractions, shed been placed on garden leave for a week. It turned out garden leave was just a fancy private school term for suspension. For the past week, she had spent her days drinking chai on a bench in Central Park, reading Nabokov, and waiting for her new friend J. P. Cashman to get out of school at Riverside Prep. Then theyd spend the afternoon in Central Park, playing with his three dogs, reading books to each other, and having long, rambling conversations about their childhoods. Now, though, Baby bit her cherry-ChapSticked lower lip nervously. What if she actually got expelled?

A week ago, that was all she had wanted. While her brother, Owen, and sister, Avery, had seemed to feel at home as soon as they set foot in Manhattan, Baby, the smallest and most independent Carlyle triplet, had just felt lost. Shed been overwhelmed with homesickness for their ramshackle house back in Siasconset, Nantucket, and her boyfriend, Tom Devlin. So shed done what had seemed like the logical thing at the time: intentionally gotten herself into trouble at school, hoping her mom would realize how unfit she was for Constance and New York. But when she surprised Tom by showing up back in Nantucket, and realized that he was not only a raging stoner but a raging cheater, she began to reconsider New York City. Especially after J.P., a boy Baby had written off as a typical spoiled Upper East Sider, flew up to Nantucket in his fathers helicopter to ask her to come back to Manhattan.

Beats a text message.

Baby sighed and pushed her long, wavy brunette bangs off her high forehead. If she did get kicked out, she didnt know what shed do. Surely none of the other schools in Manhattan would take her, except maybe Darrow, a small school down in the Village where all the students, from kindergartners to seniors, were taught in the same classroom. She wrinkled her nose, imagining finger painting with five-year-olds while listening to Joni Mitchell songs. She was bohemian, but not that bohemian.

And were all very thankful for that.

Edie banged open Constance Billards royal blue doors, the silver energy chakrabalancing pendants dangling from her neck clinking against one another.

Wait. Edie held the door open for her daughter as she deftly moved the hemp bag from one skinny arm to another. She took off one of her large, ugly, blob-shaped necklaces. Wear this for luck, she commanded, her blue eyes flashing.

Baby offered a small smile and clasped the pendant around her neck. It looked like an amoeba, multiplied a million times under a microscope.

Its this way, Baby mumbled, guiding her mom down Constances polished, empty halls. They were eerily quiet, since every-one was in their last-period classes.

Edie followed, her unfashionable Birkenstocks thwacking against the freshly buffed marble floors of the school. They paused at a heavy oak door with HEADMISTRESS written on it in intimidating gold block letters.

I remember this place. Edie ruffled her daughters already tangled brown hair. I spent enough time here myself when I was a student.

Baby nodded. It was hard to imagine her bohemian mom wearing the stiff, knee-length seersucker skirts that were part of the mandatory Constance uniform, even as a teenager. Baby glanced at a plaque on the wall, engraved with the names of past class presidents. Her sister, Avery, would kill to get on that plaque. Baby was just glad there wasnt a plaque for Constance delinquents. She was sure her name would top that list.

Unless, of course, her mom already held that honor.

Baby Carlyle? The stringy-haired secretary looked up, her eyes disapproving slits as she gave Baby a quick once-over. Baby nodded and smiled thinly. Her heart thumped against her chest.

Go right inMrs. McLean is expecting you. The secretary blinked her eyes and then looked back at her computer. She began typing furiously, undoubtedly sending an all-points bulletin to the rest of the faculty that French classinterrupting, school servicehour skipping, Mason Pearson hairbrush-boycotting Baby Carlyle was back.

Judgment day!

Ah, thank you for coming. Mrs. McLean stood up from behind her large oak desk as Baby and Edie shuffled inside. She wore a black pantsuit that was two sizes too small. One button midway down the jacket was hanging on to the material by a thread, like a baby koala clinging to a eucalyptus tree.

Sit, she commanded as she practically pushed Baby down onto a dark blue love seat. The velvet fabric was stiff and scratched the back of Babys bare legs.

Mrs. McLean, Im Babys mother, Edie. Her mom grabbed the headmistresss hand and pumped it vigorously. So nice of you to take this time to meet with us. HereI made this for you, Edie announced as she rooted through her hemp bag. She pulled out the misshapen bubble gum pink bowl and plunked it upside down on Mrs. McLeans desk. It had a small nub in the center.

Surprise registered in Mrs. McLeans large, freckled face. She was probably used to mothers with kids in trouble plunking down checks, not homemade, lumpy pottery. Thank you for that, Mrs. Carlyle.

Oh, call me Edie! But I see it doesnt go with the dcor, Edie realized sadly, shifting her gaze from the sculpture to the offices red, white, and blue furnishings.

Um, thats quite all right. Mrs. McLean settled back into her oak chair. Lets begin. Now, I know Baby... Mrs. McLean paused, a sour expression on her Raggedy-Ann face. In a school populated by girls with names like Beatrice and Madison, the headmistress had made it clear she didnt find Babys name completely appropriate. But it wasnt Babys fault her mother had thought she was only having twins, and had just stuck the name Baby on her birth certificate. According to the story, Edie had always meant to give Baby a more formal name, but, in her anything-goes tradition, shed simply never gotten around to it. Because she was the baby of the family, and of such diminutive stature, the name had naturally stuck.