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random？especially　when　he　was　stoned？but　neverthis　random。　Gianni　tapped　his　tortoise…shell　


b　against　the　back　of　her　chair　impatiently。　？Well；　good　for　you；？　she　responded　finally。　？Look；　
I　have　to　go；　okay？？　

Blair　sounded　distracted；　and　Nate　wasn？t　even　sure　why　he？d　called　her　in　the　first　place。　？See　
you；？　he　mumbled；　tucking　his　phone　back　into　his　coat　pocket。　

？Bye。？　Blair　tossed　her　silvery　pink　Nokia　phone　into　her　red　bowling　bag　and　sat　up　straight　in　
the　leather　swivel　chair。　？I？m　ready；？　she　told　Gianni；　trying　to　sound　confident。　？Just　remember；　I　
want　it　short　butfeminine　。？　

Amused　creases　appeared　in　Gianni？s　tanned；　intentionally　stubbly　cheeks。　He　winked　a　
long…lashed；　dark　brown　eye。　？Jes　lika　Katerina　Hepburn。　Right？？　

　Uh…oh。　

Blair　tightened　the　belt　on　her　beige　salon　robe　and　glared　at　Gianni？s　overly　pomaded　black　hair　
in　the　mirror；　praying　he　wasn？t　as　stupid　and　inpetent　as　he　sounded。　Maybe　it　was　a　just　a　
language　thing。　？No；not　Katherine　Hepburn。　

AudreyHepburn。　You　know；　likeBreakfast　at　Tiffany？s　？My　Fair　Lady　？Funny　Face　？？　Blair　
searched　her　brain　for　a　more　current　celebrity　reference；　someone　with　a　decent　short　haircut。　？Or　
maybe　like　Selma　Blair；？　she　added　desperately；　even　though　Selma？s　haircut　was　more　
tomboyish　than　what　she　had　in　mind。　

Gianni　didn？t　respond。　Instead；　he　ran　his　fingers　through　Blair？s　damp　brown　tresses。　？Sucha　
bee…ootiful　？air；？　he　said　wistfully　as　he　picked　up　his　scissors　and　gathered　her　hair　in　his　fist。　
Then；　without　further　ado；　he　lopped　the　entire　pony…tail　off　with　one　brutal　snip。　

Blair　closed　her　eyes　as　the　rope　of　hair　fell　to　the　floor。Please　make　me　look　pretty；　she　prayed　
silently；and　sophisticated　and　poised　and　elegant　。　She　opened　her　eyes　and　stared　in　horror　at　her　
reflection。　Her　wet；　blunt；　ear…length　mop　was　sticking　out　in　all　directions。　

？Don？t　worry；？　Gianni　reassured　her　as　he　exchanged　his　big　scissors　for　a　small　pair　of　
shears。　？Now　we　shape。？　

Blair　took　a　deep　breath；　steeling　herself。　It　was　too　late　to　back　out　of　it　anyway。　Most　of　her　
hair　was　on　the　floor。　？Okay；？　she　gasped。　Then　her　cell　phone　rang　again　and　she　lunged　at　
it。　？Wait；？　she　told　Gianni。　？Hello？？　

？Yes；　is　this　Blair　Waldorf？　Harold？s　daughter？？　

Blair　studied　herself　in　the　mirror。　She　wasn？t　exactly　surewho　she　was　anymore。　She　looked　
more　like　a　new　inmate　getting　her　preprison　crop　than　the　daughter　of　notorious　corporate　lawyer　
Harold　Waldorf；　who？d　divorced　Blair？s　mother　two　years　ago　and　now　lived　in　a　chateau　in　


France；　where　he　ran　a　vineyard　with　his　？life　partner；？　who　just　happened　to　be　a　man。　

Considering　the　turbulent　state　of　her　present　existence；　Blair　really　wouldn？t　have　minded　being　
someone　pletely　different；　which　was　part　of　the　reason　she？d　decided　to　submit　herself　to　
Gianni　in　the　first　place。　She？d　even　settle　for　Katherine　instead　of　Audrey　as　long　as　the　look　was　
totally　new。　

？Yes；？　Blair　answered　feebly。　

？Good；？　the　guy　on　the　phone　replied。　His　voice　was　deep　and　cajoling；　making　it　hard　to　guess　
how　old　he　was。　Nineteen　or　thirty…five？　？This　is　Owen　Wells。　Your　father　mentored　me　at　the　
firm　when　I　was　first　starting　out。　We？re　both　Yalies；　and　I　understand　you？re　interested　in　going　
there　yourself。？　

Interested？Blair　wasn？t　justinterested　in　going　to　Yale？it　was　her　sole　purpose　in　life。　Why　the　
hell　else　would　she　be　takingfive　APs？　

？Yes；　I　am；？　she　squeaked。　She　glanced　up　at　Gianni；　who　was　mouthing　the　words　to　a　cheesy　
Celine　Dion　song　wafting　out　of　the　salon？s　sound　system。　？I　kind　of　messed　up　my　interview；　
though。？　

Actually；　she？d　kind　of　told　the　interviewer　her　whole　life？s　sob　story　and　then　kind　ofkissed　him；　
which　was　more　than　kind　of　a　major　？whoops。？　

？Well；　that？s　exactly　why　I？m　calling；？　Owen　Wells　replied；　his　sexy　voice　resonating　like　the　
bass　notes　of　a　cello。　？Your　father？s　support　means　a　lot　to　the　school；　and　they　want　to　give　you　a　
second　chance。　I？m　volunteering　my　services　as　your　alumnus　interviewer；　and　the　admissions　
office　has　already　agreed　to　use　my　write…up　when　they　review　your　application；　instead　of　the　
interview　you　did　back　in　November。？　

Blair　was　dumbstruck。　A　second　chance？it　was　almost　too　good　to　be　true。　Tired　of　waiting；　
Gianni　dropped　his　scissors　on　the　wheeled　cart　next　to　Blair？s　chair；　snatched　the　latest　issue　
ofVogue　out　of　Blair？s　lap；　and　minced　away　to　plain　about　her　to　his　colleagues。　

？So　when　are　you　available？？　Owen　Wells　persisted。　

Now；　Blair　wanted　to　say。　But　she　couldn？t　very　well　ask　Owen　to　sit　and　watch　Gianni　cut　her　
hair　while　he　asked　her　all　those　boring　stereotypical　interview　questions　like；　Who　are　the　most　
influential　people　in　your　life？　

？Anytime；？　she　chirped。　Then　she　realized　she　shouldn？t　soundtoo　desperate；　not　when　she　was　
supposed　to　be　a　total　whiz　kid　with　an　insane　schedule。　？Actually；　today　is　kind　of　busy　for　me　
and　tomorrow　might　be　a　little　crazy；　too。　Wednesday　or　Thursday　after　school　would　be　better。？　


？I　tend　to　work　pretty　late；　and　I？ve　got　meetings　up　the　wazoo　this　week；　but　how　about　
Thursday　night？　Around　eight…thirty？？　

？Fine；？　Blair　responded　eagerly。　？Do　you　want　me　to　e　to　your　office？？　

Owen　paused。　Blair　could　hear　his　office　chair　creak　and　she　imagined　him　surveying　his　
Philippe　Starck？designed　Tribeca　office　with　its　view　of　New　York　Harbor；　wondering　if　it　was　an　
appropriate　place　to　meet。　She　imagined　him　tall　and　blond；　with　a　tennis　tan；　like　her　father。　But　
Owen　Wells　would　be　at　least　ten　years　younger　than　her　dad；　and　so　much　better　looking。　She　
wondered　if　he　knew　how　cool　it　was　that　there　was　aw　in　each　of　his　names。　？Why　don？t　we　
meet　at　the　pton　Hotel？　They？ve　got　a　nice　little　bar　that　should　be　pretty　quiet。？　He　
laughed。　？I　can　buy　you　a　Coke；　although　your　father　tells　me　you　prefer　Dom　Perignon。？　

Blair？s　face　burned。　Her　stupid…ass　father？what　else　had　he　said？　？Oh；　no；　Coke　is　fine；？　she　
stammered。　

？Good。　I？ll　see　you　Thursday　night。　I？ll　be　wearing　my　Yale　tie。？　

？I？m　looking　forward　to　it。？　Blair　tried　to　maintain　a　businesslike　tone　despite　her　vivid　
Owen…at…the…office　fantasy。　？Thank　you　so　much　for　calling。？　She　clicked　off　the　phone　and　
looked　directly　into　the　gilt　mirror　in　front　of　her。　Her　blue　eyes　already　seemed　larger　and　more　
intense　now　that　she　had　less　hair。　

If　she　were　really　an　actress　starring　in　the　movie　of　her　life？which　was　what　she　always　liked　to　
imagine？thiswould　be　the　turning　point：　the　day　she　transformed　her　look　and　began　rehearsing　for　
the　biggest　role　of　her　career。　She　glanced　at　her　watch。　There　was　only　half　an　hour　left　before　
she　was　due　back　at　Constance　for　gym。　There　was　no　reason　to　rush　back；　though；　especially　not　
when　Bendel？s　was　only　three　blocks　away　and　a　new　dress　for　meeting　Owen　Wells　on　Thursday　
night　was　calling　her　name。　It　was　absolutely　worth　getting　in　trouble　for　cutting　gym　if　her　new　
haircut　and　new　dress　were　going　to　help　get　her　into　Yale。　

Gianni　was　drinking　coffee　and　flirting　with　the　shampoo　boys。　Blair　shot　him　a　menacing　look；　
daring　him　to　fuck　up　her　hair。　

？Whenever　you？re　ready；　miss；？　he　called　over　in　a　bored　tone；　as　if　he　couldn？t　have　cared　less　
if　he　cut　her　hair　or　not。　

Blair　took　a　deep　breath。　She　was　erasing　the　past？her　failed　relationship　with　Nate；　her　mother？s　
revolting　new　husband　and　embarrassing　pregnancy；　her　botched　Yale　interview？and　recreating　
herself　in　a　new　image。　Yale　was　giving　her　a　second　chance；　and　from　now　on　she　would　be　the　
master　of　her　own　destiny；　writing；　directing；　and　starring　in　the　movie　that　was　her　life。　She　could　
already　see　the　headline　in　the　Styles　section　of　theNew　York　Times　；　featuring　her　haircut。A　
headof　the　Times：　Gorgeous　Brunette　Goes　Short　for　Yale　Debut！　


Her　face　broke　into　the　winning　smile　she　was　already　practicing　for　her　interview　with　Owen　
Wells　on　Thursday　night。　？I？m　ready。？　

　apathy　vs。　poetry　

？Happy　Valentine？s　Day；　loverboy；？　Zeke　Freedman　greeted　Dan　as　fourth…period　U。S。　history　
was　about　to　begin。　He　handed　Dan　a　pink　paper　shopping　bag。　？Aggie　asked　me　to　give　this　to　
you。　A　messenger　just　brought　it　to　the　front　desk。？　

The　handles　of　the　bag　were　tied　with　red　satin　ribbon。　Dan　tugged　on　the　bow　and　emptied　the　
contents　of　the　bag　out　onto　his　desk：　a　small　white　box　and　a　slim　red　leather　book。　Inside　the　
white　box　was　a　stubby　silver　pen　on　a　silver　chain。　A　card　inside　the　box　described　it　as　an　
antigravity　pen；　the　kind　used　by　astronauts　in　space。　Dan　put　the　chain　around　his　neck　and　
opened　the　leather　book　up　to　the　first　page　where　someone　had　scrawled　a　note：Kick　gravity？s　
ass；　you　charmer。　Dig？　

Dan　reread　the　note；　pletely　dumbfounded。　It　was　too　bizarre　for　Vanessa；　which　meant　it　
was　definitely　from　Mystery。　The　final　bell　rang　and　Mr。　Dube　strode　into　the　room　and　started　
erasing　the　blackboard。　Dan　tucked　the　bag　of　presents　under　his　seat　and　opened　his　notebook；　
pretending　to　listen　to　what　Mr。　Dube　was　saying　about　Vietnam　and　apathy。　School　seemed　so　
lame　and　inconsequential　when　a　big…time　agent　like　Rusty　Klein　wanted　to　represent　him；　and　an　
obviously　brilliant；　intriguingly　sexy　poet　had　sent　him　those　exquisitely　astute　Valentine？s　Day　
gifts。　

Then　Dan　remembered　Vanessa　and　his　hands　began　to　tremble。　He　hadn？t　sent　her　anything　for　
Valentine？s　Day？　not　that　Vanessa　was　at　all　into　such　a　？mercial　bullshit　holiday；？　as　she　
called　it；　but　he　hadn？t　even　called　her。　Actually；　his　biggest　problem　was　。　。　。　he？d　cheated　on　her。　
And　not　just　kissing　cheating　either。Cheating　cheating。　

　Whoops。　

It　was　all　Mystery？s　fault。　With　her　see…through　slip　and　crooked　yellow　teeth　she？d　made　him　
feel　like　he　was　living　inside　of　one　of　his　poems；　kissing　a　beguilingly　odd　girl　he？d　created　at　a　
raucous；　screwball　party　he？d　invented。　He　hadn？t　been　able　to　help　but　let　his　imagination　run　
amok；　sending　him　stumbling　across　the　snowy　landscape　to　her　ramshackle　Chinatown　studio　
apartment　and　making　love　to　her　in　all　sorts　of　odd　yogalike　positions　on　her　unfortable　futon　
bed　as　the　sun　was　rising　over　the　bleak；　snow…covered　city。　It　was　almost　as　if　none　of　it　had　
actuallyhappened　。　It　wasfiction　。　

Except　it　wasn？t　fiction。　He？d　cheated。　


Dan　had　been　dreadfully　hungover　for　the　remainder　of　the　weekend　and　too　deeply　mired　in　
existential　guilt　and　self…loathing　to　answer　Vanessa？s　countless　messages　on　his　cell　phone。　

He　flipped　to　the　back　of　his　history　notebook。　What　if　he　wrote　Vanessa　a　poem　and　e…mailed　it　
to　her　during　lunch　next　period？　That　would　be　more　meaningful　than　flowers　or　chocolate　or　a　
cheesy　Valentine？s　Day　card。　The　best　thing　about　it　was　that　he　wouldn？t　have　to　talk　to　her　and　
possibly　admit　that　he？d　cheated　on　her；　because　he？d　never　been　any　good　at　telling　lies。　

Mr。　Dube　was　writing　on　the　board　now。　Dan　pretended　to　makes　notes　in　his　notebook。　

Chalk　angels；he　wrote。Making　meaning。　

Then　he　thought　about　something　Mystery　had　said　when　they　were　drinking　their　fourth　or　fifth　
Red　Bull　cocktails。　Something　about　how　she　was　tired　of　writing　obscure　poems　that　skirted　
around　what　she　was　really　trying　to　say。　Subtle　was　out。　Direct　was　in。　

Kiss　me。　Be　mine。Dan　wrote；　imitating　the　little　slogans　on　those　candy　hearts　girls　were　always　
passing　around　on　Valentine？s　Day。Hot　stuff！　

He　reread　the　words　without　really　seeing　them。　His　mind　was　still　too　full　of　his　night　with　
Mystery　to　process　anything　else。　Her　stringy　dirty　blond　hair　had　smelled　like　toast　and　when　
she？d　touched　his　bare　stomach　with　her　cold；　clammy　hands；　his　whole　body　had　rippled。　He？d　
never　even　asked　her　what　she　meant　by　premature　death　or　how　his　poem　？Sluts？　had　saved　her　
life；　but　he？d　been　so　intoxicated　by　the　taurine　in　the　Red　Bull　and　by　her　appallingly　yellow　
teeth；　he　probably　wouldn？t　have　remembered　anyway。　

Lost　my　virginity　again；Dan　wrote；　which　was　the　truth。　Doing　it　with　Mystery　was　like　losing　it　
again。　Was　it　possible　that　every　time　he　made　love　to　a　new