快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

party。
Vocab　
Since　so　many　of　you　have　been　asking；　I’m　going　to　answer　the　big　
question　that’s　been　baffling　you　since　you　found　out　about　the　
party　for　the　peregrine　falcons。　
Okay。　According　to　my　handy　unabridged　dictionary：　
Falcon；　n。　1。　any　of　several　birds　of　prey　of　the　family　Falconidae；　
esp。　of　the　genus　Falco；　usually　distinguished　by　long；　pointed　
wings；　a　hooked　beak　with　a　tooth…like　notch　on　each　side　of　the　
upper　bill；　and　swift　agile　flight；　typically　diving　to　seize　prey：　some　
falcon　species　are　close　to　extinction。　Peregrine　falcon；　a　globally　
distributed　falcon；　Falco　perigrinus；　much　used　in　falconry　because　
of　its　swift　flight。　
I’m　sure　I　had　you　on　the　edge　of　your　seat　about　that　one。　But　I’m　
just　trying　to　keep　you　in　the　know—that’s　my　job。　
See　you　in　the　park！　
You　know　you　love　me；　

“Well；　it’s　wonderful　to　have　you　back；　dear；”　Ms。　Glos；　Constance’s　
college　advisor；　told　Serena。　She　picked　her　glasses　up　from　where　
they　were　hanging　around　her　neck　on　a　gold　chain　and　slid　them　
onto　her　nose　so　she　could　examine　Serena’s　schedule；　which　was　
lying　on　her　desk。　“Let’s　see；　now。　Mmmm。　Yes。　Right；”　she　
muttered；　reading　the　schedule　over。　
Serena　sat　in　front　of　Ms。　Glos；　with　her　legs　crossed；　waiting　
patiently。　There　were　no　diplomas　on　Ms。　Glos’s　wall；　no　evidence　of　
any　accreditations　at　all；　just　pictures　of　her　grandchildren。　Serena　


wondered　if　Ms。　Glos　had　even　gone　to　college。　You　would　have　
thought　that　if　she　were　going　to　dish　out　advice　on　the　subject；　she　
could　have　at　least　tried　it。　
Ms。　Glos　cleared　her　throat。　“Yes；　well；　your　schedule　is　perfectly　
acceptable。　Not　stellar；　mind　you；　but　adequate。　I　imagine　you’re　
making　up　for　it　with　extracurriculars；　yes？”　
Serena　shrugged　her　shoulders。　If　you　can　call　drinking　Pernod　and　
dancing　naked　on　a　beach　in　Cannes　an　extracurricular。　“Not　
really；”　she　said。　“I　mean；　I’m　not　actually　signed　up　for　any　
extracurriculars　at　the　moment。”　
Ms。　Glos　let　her　glasses　drop。　Her　nostrils　were　turning　very　red　and　
Serena　wondered　if　she　was　about　to　have　a　bloody　nose。　Ms。　Glos　
was　famous　for　her　bloody　noses。　Her　skin　was　very　pale；　with　a　
yellowish　tinge。　All　the　girls　thought　she　had　some　terrible　
contagious　disease。　
“No　extracurriculars？　But　what　are　you　doing　to　improve　yourself？”　
Serena　gave　Ms。　Glos　a　polite；　blank　look。　
Who　said　she　needed　improving？　
“I　see。　Well；　we’ll　have　to　get　you　involved　in　something；　won’t　we？”　
Ms。　Glos　said。　“I’m　afraid　the　colleges　aren’t　going　to　even　look　at　
you　without　any　extracurriculars。”　She　bent　over　and　pulled　a　big　
looseleaf　binder　out　of　a　drawer　in　her　desk　and　began　flipping　
through　pages　and　pages　of　flyers　printed　on　colored　paper。　“Here’s　
something　that　starts　this　week。　‘Feng　Shui　Flowers；　the　Art　of　Floral　
Design。’　”　
She　looked　up　at　Serena；　who　was　frowning　doubtfully。　“No；　you’re　
right。　That’s　not　going　to　get　you　into　Harvard；　is　it？”　Ms。　Glos　said　
with　a　little　laugh。　
She　pushed　up　the　sleeves　of　her　blouse　and　frowned　at　the　binder　
as　she　flipped　briskly　through　the　pages。　She　wasn’t　about　to　give　
up　after　only　one　try。　She　was　very　good　at　her　job。　
Serena　gnawed　on　her　thumbnail。　She　hadn’t　thought　about　this。　
That　colleges　would　actually　need　her　to　be　anything　more　than　she　
already　was。　And　she　definitely　wanted　to　go　to　college。　A　good　
one。　Her　parents　certainly　expected　her　to　go　to　one　of　the　best　
schools。　Not　that　they　put　any　pressure　on　her—but　it　went　without　
saying。　And　the　more　Serena　thought　about　it；　the　more　she　
realized　she　really　didn’t　have　anything　going　for　her。　She’d　been　
kicked　out　of　boarding　school；　her　grades　had　fallen；　she　had　no　
idea　what　was　going　on　in　any　of　her　classes；　and　she　had　no　
hobbies　or　cool　after…school　activities。　Her　SAT　scores　sucked　
because　her　mind　always　wandered　during　those　stupid　fill…in…thebubble　
tests。　And　when　she　took　them　again；　they　would　probably　
suck　even　worse。　Basically；　she　was　screwed。　


“What　about　drama？　Your　English　grades　are　quite　good；　you　must　
like　drama；”　Ms。　Glos　suggested。　“They’ve　only　been　rehearsing　this　
one　for　a　little　over　a　week。　It’s　the　Interschool　Drama　Club　doing　a　
modern　version　of　Gone　With　the　Wind。”　She　looked　up　again。　“How　
’bout　it？”　
Serena　jiggled　her　foot　up　and　down　and　chewed　on　her　pinky　nail。　
She　tried　to　imagine　herself　alone　on　stage　playing　Scarlett　O’Hara。　
She　would　have　to　cry　on　cue；　and　pretend　to　faint；　and　wear　huge　
dresses　with　corsets　and　hoop　skirts。　Maybe　even　a　wig。　
I’ll　never　go　hungry　again！　she’d　cry　dramatically；　in　her　best　
Southern…belle　voice。　It　might　be　kind　of　fun。　
Serena　took　the　flyer　from　Ms。　Glos’s　hand；　careful　not　to　touch　the　
paper　where　Ms。　Glos　had　touched　it。　
“Sure；　why　not？”　she　said。　“It　sounds　like　fun。”　


Serena　left　Ms。　Glos’s　office　as　the　final　class　of　the　day　was　getting　
out。　Gone　With　the　Wind　rehearsal　was　in　the　auditorium；　but　it　
didn’t　begin　until　six　so　that　the　students　who　did　sports　right　after　
school　could　still　be　in　the　play。　Serena　walked　up　Constance’s　wide　
central　stairwell　to　the　fourth　floor　to　retrieve　her　coat　from　her　
locker　and　see　if　anyone　wanted　to　hang　out　until　six。　All　around　
her；　girls　were　flying　past；　a　blur　of　end…of…the…day　energy；　rushing　
to　their　next　meeting；　practice；　rehearsal；　or　club。　Out　of　habit；　they　
paused　for　half　a　second　to　say　hello　to　Serena；　because　ever　since　
they　could　remember；　to　be　seen　talking　to　Serena　van　der　
Woodsen　was　to　be　seen。　
“Hey　Serena；”　Laura　Salmon　yelled　before　diving　down　the　stairs　for　
Glee　Club　in　the　basement　music　room。　
“Later；　Serena；”　Rain　Hoffstetter　said；　as　she　slipped　past　in　her　
gym　shorts；　heading　for　soccer　practice。　
“See　you　tomorrow；　Serena；”　Lily　Reed　said　softly；　blushing　because　
she　was　wearing　her　riding　breeches；　which　always　embarrassed　
her。　
“Bye；”　Carmen　Fortier　said；　chewing　gum　in　her　leather　jacket　and　
jeans。　She　was　one　of　the　few　scholarship　girls　in　the　junior　class　
and　lived　in　the　Bronx。　She　claimed　she　couldn’t　wear　her　uniform　
home　or　she’d　get　beaten　up。　Carmen　was　headed　to　the　Art　of　
Floral　Design　Club；　although　she　always　lied　to　her　friends　in　her　
neighborhood　and　said　she　took　karate。　
Suddenly　the　hallway　was　empty。　Serena　opened　her　locker；　pulled　
her　Burberry　coat　off　the　hook；　and　put　it　on。　Then　she　slammed　her　
locker　shut　and　trotted　downstairs　and　out　the　school　doors；　turning　
left　down　Ninety…third　Street　toward　Central　Park。　
There　was　a　box　of　orange　Tic　Tacs　in　her　pocket　with　only　one　Tic　



Tac　left。　Serena　fished　the　Tic　Tac　out　and　put　it　on　her　tongue；　but　
she　was　so　worried　about　her　future；　she　could　barely　taste　it。　
She　crossed　Fifth　Avenue；　walking　along　the　sidewalk　that　bordered　
the　park。　Fallen　leaves　scattered　the　pavement。　Down　the　block；　
two　little　Sacred　Heart　girls　in　their　cute　red…and…white　checked　
pinafores　were　walking　an　enormous　black　Rottweiler。　Serena　
thought　about　entering　the　park　at　Eighty…ninth　Street　and　sitting　
down　for　a　while　to　kill　time　before　the　play　rehearsal。　But　alone？　
What　would　she　do；　people…watch？　She　had　always　been　one　of　
those　people　everyone　else　watches。　
So　she　went　home。　

Home　was　994　Fifth　Avenue；　a　ritzy；　white…glove　building　next　to　the　
Stanhope　Hotel　and　directly　across　the　street　from　the　Metropolitan　
Museum　of　Art。　The　van　der　Woodsens　owned　half　of　the　top　floor。　
Their　apartment　had　fourteen　rooms；　including　five　bedrooms　with　
private　bathrooms；　a　maid’s　apartment；　a　ballroom…sized　living　
room；　and　two　seriously　cool　lounges　with　wet　bars　and　huge　
entertainment　systems。　
When　Serena　got　home　the　enormous　apartment　was　empty。　Her　
parents　were　rarely　home。　Her　father　ran　the　same　Dutch　shipping　
firm　his　great…great…grandfather　had　founded　in　the　1700s。　Both　her　
parents　were　on　the　boards　of　all　the　big　charities　and　arts　
organizations　in　the　city　and　always　had　meetings　or　lunches　or　
fundraisers　to　go　to。　Deidre；　the　maid；　was　out　shopping；　but　the　
place　was　spotless　and　there　were　vases　of　fresh　cut　flowers　in　
every　room；　including　the　bathrooms。　
Serena　slid　open　the　door　to　the　smaller　of　the　lounges　and　flopped　
down　on　her　favorite　blue　velvet　armchair。　She　picked　up　the　
remote　control　and　pressed　the　buttons　to　open　the　TV　cabinet　and　
turn　on　the　flat…screen　TV。　She　flipped　through　the　channels　
impatiently；　unable　to　focus　on　anything　she　saw；　finally　settling　on　
TRL；　even　though　she　thought　Carson　Daly　was　the　most　annoying　
man　alive。　She　hadn’t　been　watching　much　TV　lately。　At　boarding　
school；　her　dormmates　would　make　popcorn　and　hot　chocolate　and　
watch　Saturday　Night　Live　or　Jackass　in　their　pajamas；　but　Serena　
preferred　to　slip　away　to　drink　peach　schnapps　and　smoke　cigars　
with　the　boys　in　the　chapel　basement。　
But　what　bothered　her　most　now　was　not　Carson　Daly　or　even　the　
fact　that　she　was　sitting　alone　in　her　house　with　nothing　to　do；　but　
the　thought　that　she　might　spend　the　rest　of　her　life　doing　just　that　
—watching　TV　alone　in　her　parents’　apartment—if　she　didn’t　get　her　
act　together　and　get　into　college！　Why　was　she　so　stupid？　Everyone　
else　seemed　to　have　their　shit　together。　Had　she　missed　the　all



important　“it’s　time　to　get　your　shit　together”　talk？　Why　hadn’t　
anyone　warned　her？　
Well；　there　was　no　point　in　freaking　out。　She　still　had　time。　And　she　
could　still　have　fun。　She　didn’t　have　to　bee　a　nun　just　because　
she　was　joining　the　Interschool　Drama　Club；　or　whatever。　
Serena　clicked　the　TV　off　and　wandered　into　the　kitchen。　The　van　
der　Woodsens’　kitchen　was　massive。　Glass　cabinets　lined　the　walls　
above　gleaming；　stainless…steel　counter　tops。　There　were　two　
restaurant　stoves　and　three　Sub…Zero　refrigerators。　An　enormous　
butcher…block　table　stood　in　the　center　of　the　kitchen；　and　on　the　
table　was　today’s　pile　of　mail。　
Serena　picked　up　the　mail　and　sifted　through　it。　Mostly；　there　were　
invitations　for　her　parents—white　square　envelopes　printed　with　
old…fashioned　typefaces—to　balls；　benefit　dinners；　fundraisers；　and　
auctions。　Then　there　were　the　art　openings—postcards　with　a　
picture　of　the　artist’s　work　on　one　side　and　the　details　of　the　
opening　on　the　back。　One　of　these　caught　Serena’s　eye。　It　had　
obviously　been　lost　in　the　mail　for　a　little　while；　because　it　looked　
beaten　up；　and　the　opening　it　announced　was　beginning　at　4　P。M。　
on　Wednesday；　which　was　。　。　。　right　now。　Serena　flipped　the　card　
over　and　looked　at　the　picture　of　the　artist’s　work。　It　looked　like　a　
close…up　black…and…white　photograph　of　an　eye；　tinted　with　pink。　
The　title　of　the　work　was　Kate　Moss。　And　the　name　of　the　show　was　
“Behind　the　Scene。”　Serena　squinted　at　the　picture。　There　was　
something　innocent　and　beautiful　about　it；　and　at　the　same　time　it　
was　a　little　gross。　Maybe　it　wasn’t　an　eye。　She　wasn’t　sure　what　it　
was。　It　was　definitely　cool；　though。　There　was　no　question　about　it；　
Serena　knew　what　she　was　doing　for　the　next　two　hours。　
She　flew　into　her　bedroom；　whipped　off　her　maroon　uniform；　and　
pulled　on　her　favorite　pair　of　black　leather　jeans。　Then　she　grabbed　
her　coat　and　called　the　elevator。　Within　minutes　she　was　stepping　
out　of　a　taxi　in　front　of　the　Whitehot　Gallery　downtown　in　Chelsea。　

The　minute　she　got　there；　Serena　grabbed　a　free　gin　martini　and　
signed　the　guest　list。　The　gallery　was　full　of　twenty…something　
hipsters　in　cool　clothes；　drinking　free　martinis　and　admiring　the　
photographs　hanging　on　the　walls。　Each　picture　was　similar　to　the　
one　on　the　postcard；　that　same　close…up　black…and…white　eye；　blown　
up；　all　in　different　shapes　and　sizes　and　tinted　with　different　colors。　
Under　each　one　was　a　label；　and　on　every　label　was　the　name　of　a　
celebrity：　Kate　Moss；　Kate　Hudson；　Joaquin　Phoenix；　Jude　Law；　
Gisele　Bundchen；　Cher；　Eminem；　Christina　Aguilera；　Madonna；　Elton　
John。　
French　pop　music　bubbled　out　of　invisible　speakers。　The　photo



artists　themselves；　the　Remi　brothers；　identical　twin　sons　of　a　
French　model　and　a