lit another cigarette and stayed put so he could listen。
“Blair Waldorf’s mom had this little party； and Serena was there
with her parents；” Chuck continued。 “And she was all over me。
She’s； like； the sluttiest girl I’ve ever met。” Chuck took another toke
on his smoke。
“Really？” Jeffrey said。
“Yes； really。 First of all； I just found out that she’s been fucking Nate
Archibald since tenth grade。 And she’s definitely gotten an
education at boarding school； if you know what I mean。 They had to
get rid of her； she’s so slutty。”
“No way；” Roger said。 “e on； dude； you don’t get kicked out for
being a slut。”
“You do if you keep a record of every boy you slept with and get
them hooked on the same drugs you’re doing。 Her parents had to
go up there and get her。 She was； like； taking over the school！”
Chuck was getting really worked up。 His face was turning red and
he was spitting as he talked。
“I heard she’s got diseases； too；” he added。 “Like； STDs。 Someone
saw her going into a clinic in the East Village。 She was wearing a
wig。”
Chuck’s friends shook their heads； grunting in amazement。
Dan had never heard such crap。 Serena was no slut； she was
perfect； wasn’t she？ Wasn’t she？
That’s yet to be determined。
“So； you guys hear about that bird party？” Roger asked。 “You
going？”
“What bird party？” Jeffrey said。
“That thing for the Central Park peregrine falcons？” Chuck said。
“Yeah； Blair was telling me about it。 It’s in the old Barneys store。”
He took another drag on his cigarette。 “Dude； everybody’s going。”
Everybody didn’t include Dan； of course。 But it very definitely
included Serena van der Woodsen。
“They’re sending out the invitations this week；” Roger said。 “It has a
funny name； I can’t remember what it is； something girly。”
“Kiss on the Lips；” Chuck said； stubbing out his cigarette with his
obnoxious Church’s of England shoes。 “It’s the Kiss on the Lips
party。”
“Oh； yeah；” Jeffrey said。 “And I bet there’s going to be a lot more
than kissing going on。” He sniggered。 “Especially if Serena’s there。”
The boys laughed； congratulating each other on their incredible wit。
Dan had had enough。 He tossed his cigarette on the sidewalk only
inches from Chuck’s shoes and headed for the school doors。 As he
passed the three boys he turned his head and puckered his lips；
making a smooching sound three times as if he were giving each
boy a big fat kiss on the lips。 Then he turned and went inside；
banging the door shut behind him。
Kiss that； assholes。
“What I’m going for is tension；” Vanessa Abrams explained to
Constance’s small Advanced Film Studies class。 She was standing at
the front of the room； presenting her idea for the film she was
making。 “I’m going to shoot the two of them talking on a park
bench at night。 Except you can’t really hear what they’re saying。”
Vanessa paused dramatically； waiting for one of her classmates to
say something。 Mr。 Beckham； their teacher； was always telling them
to keep their scenes alive with dialogue and action； and Vanessa
was deliberately doing just the opposite。
“So there’s no dialogue？” Mr。 Beckham said from where he was
standing in the back of the classroom。 He was painfully aware that
no one else in the class was listening to a word Vanessa was saying。
“You’re going to hear the silence of the buildings and the bench and
the sidewalk； and see the streetlights on their bodies。 Then you’ll
see their hands move and their eyes talking。 Then you’ll hear them
speak； but not much。 It’s a mood piece；” Vanessa explained。
She reached for the slide projector’s remote control and began
clicking through slides of the black…and…white pictures she’d taken
to demonstrate the look she was going for in her short film。 A
wooden park bench。 A slab of pavement。 A manhole cover。 A pigeon
pecking at a used condom。 A wad of gum perched on the edge of a
garbage can。
“Ha！” someone exclaimed from the back of the room。 It was Blair
Waldorf； laughing out loud as she read the note Rain Hoffstetter had
just passed her。
For a good time call Serena v。d。 Woodsen Get it —VD？？
Vanessa glared at Blair。 Film was Vanessa’s favorite class； the only
reason she came to school at all。 She took it very seriously； while
most of the other girls； like Blair； were only taking Film as a break
from Advanced Placement hell—AP Calculus； AP Bio； AP History； AP
English Literature； AP French。 They were on the straight and narrow
path to Yale or Harvard or Brown； where their families had all gone
for generations。 Vanessa wasn’t like them。 Her parents hadn’t even
gone to college。 They were artists； and Vanessa wanted only one
thing in life： to go to NYU and major in film。
Actually； she wanted something else。 Or someone else； to be
precise； but we’ll get to that in a minute。
Vanessa was an anomaly at Constance； the only girl in the school
who had a nearly shaved head； wore black turtlenecks every day；
read Tolstoy’s War and Peace over and over like it was the Bible；
listened to Belle and Sebastian； and drank unsweetened black tea。
She had no friends at all at Constance； and lived in Williamsburg；
Brooklyn； with her twenty…two…year…old sister； Ruby。 So what was
she doing at a tiny； exclusive private girls’ school on the Upper East
Side with princesses like Blair Waldorf？ It was a question Vanessa
asked herself every day。
Vanessa’s parents were older； revolutionary artists who lived in a
house made out of recycled car tires in Vermont。 When she turned
fifteen； they had allowed the perpetually unhappy Vanessa to move
in with her bass guitarist older sister in Brooklyn。 But they wanted
to be sure she got a good； safe； high…school education； so they
made her go to Constance。
Vanessa hated it； but she never said anything to her parents。 There
were only eight months left until graduation。 Eight more months
and she would finally escape downtown to NYU。
Eight more months of bitchy Blair Waldorf； and even worse； Serena
van der Woodsen； who was back in all her splendor。 Blair Waldorf
looked like she was absolutely orgasmic over the return of her best
friend。 In fact； the whole back row of Film Studies was atwitter；
passing notes tucked into the sleeves of their annoying cashmere
sweaters。
Well； fuck them。 Vanessa lifted her chin and went on with her
presentation。 She was above their petty bullshit。 Only eight more
months。
Perhaps if Vanessa had seen the note Kati Farkas had just passed to
Blair； she might have had a tad more sympathy for Serena。
Dear Blair；
Can I borrow fifty thousand dollars？ Sniff； sniff； sniff。 If I don’t pay
my coke dealer the money I owe him； I’m in big trouble。
Shit； my crotch itches。
Let me know about the money。
Love；
Serena v。d。 Woodsen
Blair； Rain； and Kati giggled noisily。
“Shhssh；” Mr。 Beckham whispered； glancing at Vanessa
sympathetically。
Blair turned the note over and scrawled a reply。
Sure； Serena。 Whatever you want。 Call me from jail。 I hear the food
is really good there。 Nate