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act　happy　for　once？　She　was　so　tired　of　his　pale；　miserable；　
introspective…poet　act。　
“All　right；”　she　said。　“Forget　it。　I’ll　talk　to　you　later。”　
She　clicked　off　and　Dan　shoved　his　cell　phone　back　into　the　pocket　
of　his　faded　black　corduroys。　He　snatched　a　pack　of　cigarettes　out　
of　his　back　pocket　and　lit　another　one　with　the　burning　stub　of　the　
one　he　was　already　smoking。　His　thumbnail　got　singed；　but　he　
didn’t　even　feel　it。　


Serena　van　der　Woodsen。　
They　had　first　met　at　a　party。　No；　that　wasn’t　exactly　true。　Dan　had　
seen　her　at　a　party；　his　party；　the　only　one　he’d　ever　had　at　his　
family’s　apartment　on　Ninety…ninth　and　West　End　Avenue。　
It　was　April　of　eighth　grade。　The　party　was　Jenny’s　idea；　and　their　
father；　Rufus　Humphrey；　the　infamous　retired　editor　of　lesser…known　
beat　poets　and　a　party　animal　himself；　was　happy　to　oblige。　Their　
mother　had　already　moved　to　Prague　a　few　years　before　to　“focus　
on　her　art。”　Dan　invited　his　entire　class　and　told　them　to　invite　as　
many　people　as　they　wanted。　More　than　a　hundred　kids　showed　up；　
and　Rufus　kept　the　beer　flowing　out　of　a　keg　in　the　bathtub；　getting　
many　of　the　kids　drunk　for　the　first　time。　It　was　the　best　party　Dan　
had　ever　been　to；　even　if　he　did　say　so　himself。　Not　because　of　the　
booze；　but　because　Serena　van　der　Woodsen　was　there。　Never　mind　
that　she　had　gotten　wasted　and　wound　up　playing　a　stupid　Latin　
drinking　game　and　kissing　some　guy’s　stomach　with　pictures　
scrawled　all　over　it　in　magic　marker。　Dan　couldn’t　keep　his　eyes　off　
her。　
Afterwards；　Jenny　told　him　that　Serena　went　to　her　school；　
Constance；　and　from　then　on　Jenny　was　his　little　emissary；　reporting　
everything　she’d　seen　Serena　do；　say；　wear；　etc。；　and　informing　
Dan　about　any　uping　events　where　he　might　catch　a　glimpse　of　
her　again。　Those　events　were　rare。　Not　because　there　weren’t　a　lot　
of　them—there　were—but　because　there　weren’t　many　Dan　had　



even　a　chance　of　going　to。　Dan　didn’t　inhabit　the　same　world　as　
Serena　and　Blair　and　Nate　and　Chuck。　He　wasn’t　anybody。　He　was　
just　a　regular　kid。　
For　two　years　Dan　followed　Serena；　yearningly；　from　a　distance。　He　
never　spoke　to　her。　When　she　went　away　to　boarding　school；　he　
tried　to　forget　about　her；　sure　that　he　would　never　see　her　again；　
unless　by　some　act　of　magic　they　wound　up　at　the　same　college。　
And　now　she　was　back。　
Dan　walked　halfway　down　the　block；　then　turned　around　and　walked　
back　again。　His　mind　was　racing。　He　could　have　another　party。　He　
could　make　invitations　and　get　Jenny　to　slip　one　into　Serena’s　locker　
at　school。　When　Serena　came　to　his　apartment；　Dan　would　walk　
right　up　to　her　and　take　her　coat；　and　wele　her　back　to　New　
York。　
It　rained　every　day　you　were　gone；　he’d　say；　poetically。　
Then　they　would　sneak　into　his　father’s　library　and　take　each　
other’s　clothes　off　and　kiss　on　the　leather　couch　in　front　of　the　fire。　
And　when　everyone　left　the　party；　they　would　share　a　bowl　of　
Breyers　coffee　ice　cream；　Dan’s　favorite。　From　then　on　they　would　
spend　every　minute　together。　They　would　even　transfer　to　a　coed　
high　school　like　Trinity　for　the　rest　of　senior　year　because　they　
couldn’t　stand　to　be　apart。　Then　they　would　go　to　Columbia　and　live　
in　a　studio　apartment　nearby　with　nothing　in　it　but　a　huge　bed。　
Serena’s　friends　would　try　to　lure　her　back　to　her　old　life；　but　no　
charity　ball；　no　exclusive　black…tie　dinner；　no　expensive　party　favor　
could　tempt　her。　She　wouldn’t　care　if　she　had　to　give　up　her　trust　
fund　and　her　great…grandmother’s　diamonds。　Serena　would　be　
willing　to　live　in　squalor　if　it　meant　she　could　be　with　Dan。　
“Fucking　hell；　we’ve　only　got　five　minutes　until　the　bell　rings；”　Dan　
heard　someone　say　in　an　obnoxious　voice。　
Dan　turned　around；　and　sure　enough；　it　was　Chuck　Bass；　or　“Scarf　
Boy；”　as　Dan　liked　to　call　him；　since　Chuck　was　always　wearing　that　
ridiculous　monogrammed　cashmere　scarf。　Chuck　was　standing　only　
twenty　feet　away　with　two　of　his　senior　Riverside　Prep　pals；　Roger　
Paine　and　Jeffrey　Prescott。　They　didn’t　speak　to　Dan　or　even　nod　to　
acknowledge　his　presence。　Why　should　they？　These　boys　took　the　
Seventy…ninth　Street　crosstown　bus　through　Central　Park　each　
morning　to　school　from　the　swanky　Upper　East　Side；　only　venturing　
to　the　West　Side　for　school　or　to　attend　the　odd　party。　They　were　in　
Dan’s　class　at　Riverside　Prep；　but　they　were　certainly　not　in　his　
class。　He　was　nothing　to　them。　They　didn’t　even　notice　him。　
“Dude；”　Chuck　said　to　his　friends。　He　lit　a　cigarette。　Chuck　smoked　
his　cigarettes　like　they　were　joints；　holding　them　between　his　index　
finger　and　thumb　and　sucking　hard　on　the　inhale。　


Too　pathetic　for　words。　
“Guess　who　I　saw　last　night？”　Chuck　said；　blowing　out　a　stream　of　
gray　smoke。　
“Liv　Tyler？”　Jeffrey　said。　
“Yeah；　and　she　was　all　over　you；　right？”　Roger　laughed。　
“No；　not　her。　Serena　van　der　Woodsen；”　Chuck　said。　
Dan’s　ears　perked　up。　He　was　about　to　head　inside　for　class；　but　he　
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　and　I　will　visit　you　wh