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？Yeah。？　Vanessa　downed　the　rest　of　her　coffee　in　one　gulp。　？You。　The　one　in　the　cape。？　Supergay？　
Captain　Gaypants？　

Dan　scratched　his　head。　Ever　since　his　recent　？revelation；？　he　hadn？t　felt　much　like　writing。　In　
fact；　he　hadn？t　written　a　single　word　since　he？d　kissed　Greg。　It　was　as　if　all　his　confused　feelings　
were　trapped　inside；　circulating　furiously；　and　he　couldn？t　get　any　of　them　out　and　onto　the　
page。　？But；　what？s　it　supposed　to　be　about？？　he　wondered　aloud；　rubbing　his　unshaven　cheek　
against　the　magenta　silk。　The　only　thing　he　could　possibly　write　about　right　now　was　penis…shaped　
cream　puffs；　and　he　didn？t　think　that　was　going　to　go　over　too　well　at　a　wedding。　Even　a　European　
one。　

？I　don？t　know。？　Vanessa　pulled　out　a　chair　from　the　table　and　sat　down　beside　Dan；　her　
now…empty　coffee　cup　in　front　of　her。　？Love；　I　guess。？　She　shivered；　suddenly　cold。　

？Okay；？　Dan　responded。　It　occurred　to　him　that　the　only　person　he？d　ever　really　loved　was　sitting　
right　next　to　him。　Certainly　he　could　write　a　poem　for　Vanessa？s　sister；　who　he　actually　happened　
to　like。　？I　can　do　that。？　？I　just　hope　their　friends　don？t　like；　boo　you　off　the　altar　or　whatever；？　
Vanessa　joked。　？And　that　they　understand　a　little　English。？　Suddenly　the　weight　of　what　Dan　had　
agreed　to　sank　into　him。　Get　totally　mushy　and；　well；　pletely　。　。　。gay　in　front　of　a　whole　bunch　
of　Williamsburg　hipsters？　

That？s　one　way　to　e　out。　


can　n　weather　this　storm？

　Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeak。　

Nate　Archibald　opened　the　glass…and…wrought…iron　front　door　of　his　Park　Avenue　town　house；　
cringing　at　the　moan　of　the　hinges。　With　any　luck；　the　Captain　would　be　long　asleep；　and　Nate　
could　just　stumble　off　to　bed？avoiding　his　father　pletely。　He　had　waited　until　almost　midnight　
to　e　home　for　just　that　purpose。　After　he？d　left　Blair？s；　he？d　headed　for　the　boat　pond　in　
Central　Park；　smoking　joint　after　joint　and　watching　the　clouds　of　smoke　drift　over　the　calm　
surface　of　the　water。　It　reminded　him　of　sailing；　of　how　peaceful　it　had　been　out　there　on　the　ocean；　
surrounded　by　nothing　but　water　and　more　water。　

As　Nate　stood　looking　out　at　the　boat　pond；　his　brain　all　fuzzy　from　the　pot；　he　couldn？t　help　
remembering　the　way　he　and　Blair　and　Serena　had　spent　afternoons　at　the　park　when　they　were　
kids　sailing　miniature　boats。　Their　nannies　would　sit　talking　quietly　on　glossy；　dark　green　benches；　
and　the　three　of　them　would　throw　rocks　in　the　water　and　lick　their　Popsicles？which　both　girls　
would　eventually　grow　tired　of；　and　Nate　would　promptly　eat。　And　now　here　he　was；　sneaking　
around　his　own　home　at　age　eighteen；　and　not　much　had　changed。　He　was　still　a　troublemaker。　He　
still　loved　sailboats　and　popsicles。　And　most　of　all；　he　still　loved　Blair　and　Serena。　

Nate　sighed；　walking　down　the　carpeted　hall　as　noiselessly　as　possible。　Somehow；　things　seemed　
so　much　simpler　back　then。　He　didn？t　need　to　be　reminded　that　lately；　things　were　far　from　simple。　
After　getting　caught　stealing　Coach　Michaels？s　Viagra；　Nate　hadn？t　received　his　diploma　at　
graduation。　He　was　supposed　to　work　for　Coach　all　summer；　helping　to　fix　up　his　house　out　on　
Long　Island　and　earn　his　diploma　that　way。　But　after　Mrs。　Michaels　started　ing　onto　him；　Nate　
took　off　without　a　word　of　explanation　to　anyone。　He？d　stolen　his　dad？s　car；　kidnapped　Blair；　
andthen　stolen　theCharlotte　。　Jesus；　what　hadn？t　he　done？　And　because　of　all　his　screwups；　his　
future　was　totally　up　in　the　air。　As　he　tiptoed　past　his　father？s　study；　it　was　impossible　to　miss　the　
sliver　of　yellow　light　that　peeked　out　from　the　half…open　door。　Nate？s　heart　sank　in　his　chest。Fuck　。　
He　ran　his　hands　through　his　hair　and　tried　his　best　to　straighten　up。　He　wasn？t　reallythat　stoned；　
was　he？　

Is　that　a　serious　question？　

？Who？s　there？？　His　father？s　voice　boomed　out　into　the　hall；　echoing　off　the　polished　wood　
floors。　？Nate？　You　home？？　Nate　sighed；　ran　his　fingers　through　his　hair　one　last　time；　and　slowly　
pushed　open　the　door。　

The　study　was　paneled　in　rich；　dark　wood；　and　it　reminded　Nate　of　the　sea　caves　he？d　once　
explored　while　sailing　off　the　Amalfi　coast　in　Greece。　Captain　Archibald　was　sitting　in　a　


rust…colored　leather　chair。　His　feet；　clad　in　gray　cashmere　Ralph　Lauren　socks；　were　propped　up　on　
a　matching　leather　ottoman。　A　crystal　tumbler　of　Glenlivet　rested　on　the　armrest；　the　amber　liquid　
sparkling　in　the　light。　His　father？s　hair　was　gray；　with　a　touch　of　yellow？a　reminder　of　his　younger　
days　as　a　hot…young…Yale…lacrosse…player…turned　naval…captain。　His　eyes　were　bottle…green；　like　
Nate？s；　without　the　sparkle。　As　usual；　he　was　wearing　a　gray　cashmere　suit　tailored　in　England　
expressly　for　him；　his　navy　blue　silk　tie　slightly　askew。　

Nate　braced　himself　for　the　shitstorm　that　was　surely　about　to　rain　down　on　him。　All　he　wanted　
right　now　was　to　take　a　long　nap？maybe　sleep　until　this　whole　stupid　thing　blew　over。　But　then；　
shockingly；　the　Captain？s　face　broke　into　a　wide　grin。　Was　heseeing　things？　Nate　blinked　his　eyes　
rapidly；　trying　to　clear　them。　

After　three　hours　of　smoking；　he　was　kind　of　past　the　point　of　Visine。　

？Nate；　my　boy！　Home　at　last！？　The　captain　threw　down　theWall　Street　Journal　and　jumped　to　his　
feet；　throwing　his　arms　around　his　son　and　squeezing　tightly；　clapping　him　roughly　on　both　
shoulders　as　he　pulled　away。　Nate　felt　dazed；　as　if　he？d　just　woken　up　from　a　long　sleep。　What　the　
hell　was　going　on？　

His　father　sat　back　down　and　motioned　to　the　matching　leather　chair　across　from　him。　？Sit；　my　
boy。　We？ve　got　a　lot　to　catch　up　on。？　Nate　sank　down　in　the　chair　and　started　fiddling　with　the　
gold　lighter　in　his　pocket。　Blair　had　given　him　that　lighter　two　summers　ago；　and　the　smooth　
weight　of　it　under　his　fingers　calmed　him　down　a　little。　

？So；　you？ve　been　on　quite　the　sailing　adventure；　haven？t　you？？　Captain　Archibald　noted；　peering　
contemplatively　at　his　son。　It　was　more　of　a　statement　than　a　question。　

？Uh；　yeah。　With　Blair。　It　was　great。？　Nate　shifted　unfortably　in　his　seat。　It　wasn？t　like　his　
father　to　make　small　talk。　

？Tell　me；　son；　are　you　looking　forward　to　Yale？？　The　Captain　reached　up　and　loosened　his　tie　
even　more　as　he　spoke；　finally　pulling　it　from　around　his　neck　and　dropping　it　on　the　desk；　where　
it　lay　like　a　puddle　of　blue　silk。　So　that　was　it。　The　Captain　had　no　clue　that　Coach　hadn？t　granted　
Nate　his　diploma　and　that　there　was　no　way　Yale　would　take　him。　

？Yeah；？　Nate　answered；　letting　out　some　of　the　breath　he？d　been　holding。　？Um；　I　think　so。？　His　
father　didn？t　know。　But　how　long　could　he　keep　it　from　him？　

As　if　reading　Nate？s　mind；　the　Captain　sat　forward　in　his　chair；　a　fierce　look　in　his　green　
eyes。　？Youthink　so？？　Uh…oh。　

His　father　sat　back　in　his　chair　and　waved　one　hand　in　the　air。　？Let？s　stop　all　the　pussyfooting　
around？we？ve　got　some　important　things　to　discuss。？　Nate？s　heart　sank　in　his　chest。　He　dragged　a　
scuffed　Stan　Smith　tennis　sneaker　back　and　forth　across　the　Oriental　rug；　knowing　whatthat　meant。　


He　squirmed　in　his　chair；　wishing　that　he　was　just　about　anyplace　else？but　most　of　all　that　he　was　
out　on　the　water；　with　the　waves　lapping　against　the　sides　of　the　boat。　He　braced　himself；　waiting　
nervously　for　his　father　to　speak。　

？I？ve　heard　from　Coach　Michaels；　and　I　know　exactly　what？s　going　on。？　Captain　Archibald？s　
voice　was　neutral　but　firm；　and　Nate　began　shifting　nervously　again　in　his　chair。　Whenever　his　dad　
adopted　this　tone　of　voice；　it　meant　that　he？d　decided　something　with　plete　finality？usually　
something　that　Nate　didn？t　want　to　do。　？And　this　time；　I？m　not　bailing　you　out。You？ll　repeat　
senior　year　at　St。　Jude？s。　End　of　story。？　Nate　stared　at　him；　openmouthed。　He？d　never　really　
considered　that　not　getting　his　diploma　would　mean　he？d　actually　have　torepeat　senior　year。　
Maybe　take　a　year　off；　do　some　？munity　service？　building　outhouses　on　a　beach　in　Costa　Rica　
or　something；　but　another　year　of　high　school？　Taking　the　same　boring　classes；　doing　the　same　
boring　things；　while　his　friends　were　all　off　at　college；　having　fun　without　him？　

Next　stop：　total　humiliation。　

His　father　took　a　slow；　deliberate　sip　of　scotch；　and　Nate　could　hear　the　frosty　sound　of　ice　cubes　
rattling　against　the　crystal。　He　fingered　the　stubbed…out　joint　that　remained　in　his　pocket；　wishing　
he　could　pull　it　out　and　light　up　right　there。　He？d　promised　Blair　that　he　wasn？t　going　to　smoke　so　
much　anymore？she　didn？t　think　it　was　mature；　or　collegiate；　or　whatever？but　this　was　an　
emergency。　He　had　to　calm　down。　Then　maybe　he　could　think。

　Ornot　think。　

His　father　swallowed　and　set　his　tumbler　down　on　the　armrest　of　his　chair。　？And　there？s　
something　else。？　Something　else？　What　other　torture　could　his　father　possibly　inflict　on　him？　
What　could　be　worse　than　not　graduating　with　the　rest　of　his　friends？　Military　school？　Reform　
school？Prison？　

Nope；　repeating　senior　year　would　be　far　more　humiliating　and　way　less　exciting。　

The　Captain？s　face　was　so　somber　that　Nate　had　to　lower　his　eyes　to　his　father？s　nautical…striped　
dress　shirt　in　order　to　keep　from　pletely　panicking。　Once　a　year　his　mother　ordered　a　plete　
custom…made　wardrobe　from　one　of　the　exclusive　men？s　boutiques　on　Jermyn　Street　in　
London？new　suits；　ties；　and　dress　shirts？all　fitted　to　the　Captain？s　proportions。　

？I　want　you　to　meet　my　friend；　Captain　Chips　White；？　his　father　continued。　？I　obviously　haven？t　
gotten　through　to　you；　but　if　anyone　can；　it？s　my　old　navy　mentor。？　Nate　slunk　down　further　in　his　
chair。　Not　only　did　he　have　to　get　chewed　out　by　his　father；　but　this　scary　Captain　Chips　guy　his　
dad　was　always　going　on　about　would　be　in　on　his　demise　too？　Chips　would　probably　use　some　
archaic　navy　torture　technique　to　teach　him　a　lesson？hold　him　underwater　until　he　nearly　drowned；　
or　take　him　sailing；　cut　off　his　nuts；　and　then　throw　him　overboard　to　swim　back　to　Manhattan　
through　the　polluted　Hudson。　Nate　would　probably　grow　an　extra　arm　or　a　tumor　on　his　back；　and　
he？d　go　from　being　happy…go…lucky；　easygoing　Archibald　to　a　hunchbacked；　three…armed；　


no…balled　freak。　Blair　would　be　all　over　him　then。　

Captain　Archibald　raised　his　glass　with　a　smug　smirk；　and　Nate　felt　his　chin　begin　to　quiver　as　he　
gripped　the　roach　in　his　pocket。　

Prison？s　not　looking　so　bad　now；　is　it？　

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ABC　Amber　LIT　Converter　v2。02　
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Disclaimer：　All　the　real　names　of　places；　people；　and　events　have　been　altered　or　abbreviated　to　
protect　the　innocent。　Namely；　me。　

　hey　people！　

The　days　until　we　leave　for　college　are　tick；　tick；　ticking　away；　and　our　mailboxes　are　piling　up　
with　college　orientation　packets。　You　might　be　tempted　to　actually　read　those　flashy　booklets　sent　
by　your　school　in　their　collegiate　colors；　but　really？get…to…know…you　camping　trips？　
Meet…and…greet　on…campus　sessions？　Let　me　tell　you；　there？s　no　better　way　to　be　labeled　a　dork　
than　to　fall　for　that　one。　Do　you　really　want　to　get　introduced　to　that　lax　hottie　down　the　hall　with　
leaves　in　your　hair　and　bear　poo　smeared　all　over　your　
never…before…worn…and…never…to…be…worn…again　North　Face　hiking　boots？　Honestly。　Trust　falls　are　
for　losers　without　trust　funds。　You？ve　just　got　to　trust　me　on　this　one！　

So　here？s　my　question；　people：　why　can？t　the　deans　figure　out　a　way　to　make　college　orientation　
not　a　repeat　of　fifth…grade　summer　camp？　As　usual；　it？s　up　to　me　to　show　those　stuffy　academic　
types　the　way。　

suggestions　for　making　college　orientation　fun　instead　of　unbearably　loserish　

（1）　Bonding　activities。Ban　all　camping　trips；　sightseeing　tours；　or　campus　scavenger　
hunts。Nobody　wants　to　be　dragged　around　a　muddy　forest；　sit　in　a　stale…smelling　tour　bus　all　day；　
or　check　retardedly　obscure　objects　off　a　list　as　part　of　a　？bonding　experience。？　If　there？s　one　
thing　we　know　how　to　do；　it？s　bond。　Just　lead　us　to　an　open　bar　and　leave　us　to　our　own　devices。　
（2）　Age　limits。Any　freshmen　wele　event　that　involves　adults？read：　deans；　RAs；　and　other　
people　who　will　soon　be　responsible　for　getting　us　in　trouble？is　a　total　killjoy。　IDs　should　be　
checked　at　the　door；　and　anyo