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Dan　chuckled；　feeling　slightly　ashamed。　Countless　notebooks　filled　with　his　father？s　odd；　
disjointed　poems　were　stashed　in　a　dusty　box　in　the　broom　closet。　Even　though　he　was　an　editor　of　
lesser…known　Beat　poets；　the　truth　was；　Rufus　had　never　actually　been　published。　

？And　you？ll　never　believe？；？　Rufus　continued；　but　then　his　voice　broke　off。　Dan　heard　the　toilet　
flush　in　the　background。　Typical。　His　dad　had　been　talking　to　him　while　he　was　in　the　can。　


Dan　gulped　his　coffee　and　picked　up　his　pace；　crossing　Broadway　and　heading　down　
Seventy…seventh　Street。　He　was　going　to　be　late　for　first…period　chemistry　if　he　didn？t　hurry　up。　
Not　that　that　would　be　such　a　bad　thing。　？Dad？　You　still　there？？　he　asked。　

？Hold　on；　kid；？　Rufus　replied　distractedly。　？I　got　my　hands　full　here。？　

Dan　could　picture　his　dad　drying　his　hands　on　the　frayed　red　towel　hanging　on　the　back　of　the　
bathroom　door　and　then　pulling　his　rolled…up　copy　ofThe　New　Yorker　out　from　under　his　hairy　
arm　so　he　could　read　Dan？s　poem　again。　

？The　deans　of　admissions　from　Brown　and　Columbia　just　called　to　tell　me　what　a　prodigy　you　
are；？　Rufus　explained。　It　sounded　like　his　mouth　was　full　of　something；　and　Dan　could　hear　water　
running。　Was　he　brushing　his　teeth？　？They　were　slobbering　all　over　themselves；　the　greedy　
bastards。？　

？Brown　and　Columbia？　Really？？　Dan　repeated　in　disbelief。　Ahead　of　him　the　sidewalk；　
shopfronts；　and　pedestrians　suddenly　all　blurred　together　into　a　slow…moving；　oceanic　mass。　？Are　
you　sure　it　was　them？　Columbia　and　Brown？？　

？As　sure　as　my　piss　is　still　yellow；？　Rufus　answered　blithely。　

Usually　Dan　blanched　at　his　father？s　crudeness；　but　right　now　he　was　too　preoccupied　with　his　
own　success。　Maybe　being　a　published　poet　wouldn？t　be　such　a　bad　thing　after　all。　Ahead　of　him　
the　black　metal　doors　of　Riverside　Prep？s　upper…school　entrance　loomed　before　him。　？Hey　Dad；　I　
have　to　get　to　class；　but　thanks　for　calling。　Thank　you　foreverything　；？　he　gushed　with　a　rush　of　
affection　for　his　belligerent　old　dad。　

？That？s　all　right；　kid。　Don？t　let　this　go　to　your　head；　though；？　Rufus　joked；　unable　to　hide　the　
pride　in　his　gruff　voice。　？Remember；　poets　are　a　humble　bunch。？　

？I？ll　remember；？　Dan　promised　earnestly。　？Thanks　again；　Dad。？　

He　clicked　off　and　pushed　open　the　school　doors；　waving　to　Aggie；　the　ancient　front…desk　
receptionist　who　wore　a　different　wig　every　day　of　the　week；　as　he　signed　in。　His　cell　phone　
beeped　and　he　realized　he？d　missed　a　call　while　he？d　been　talking　to　his　father。　Cell　phones　were　
forbidden　during　school　hours；　but　first　period　had　already　begun　and　the　halls　were　empty。　
Trudging　up　the　concrete　stairs　on　the　way　to　the　chemistry　lab；　he　called　his　voice…mail。　

？Daniel　Humphrey；　this　is　Rusty　Klein　from　Klein；　Lowenstein　&　Schutt。　I　read　your　poem　
inThe　New　Yorker　and；　assuming　you　don？t　have　an　agent　yet；　I？m　going　to　represent　you。　I？ve　
got　you　on　the　guest　list　for　the　Better　Than　Naked　show　Friday　night。　Let？s　talk　then。　You　may　
not　know　it　yet；　but　you？re　hot　shit；　Daniel。　The　public　needs　a　serious　young　poet　to　make　them　
feel　worthless　and　superficial。　And　now　that　we？ve　got　their　attention；　we？d　sure　as　hell　better　


keep　the　momentum　going。　You？re　the　next　Keats；　and　we？re　going　to　make　you　so　famous　so　fast；　
you？ll　think　you　were　born　that　way。　Looking　forward　to　it。　Ciao！？　

Dan　wobbled　outside　the　door　of　the　chemistry　lab　as　he　listened　to　Rusty　Klein？s　loud；　
breathless　message　for　a　second　time。　He？d　heard　of　Rusty　Klein。　She　was　the　agent　who？d　
negotiated　the　million…dollar　book　deal　for　the　Scottish　jockey　who？d　claimed　to　be　Prince　Charles？　
illegitimate　son。　Dan　had　read　about　it　in　theNew　York　Post　。　He　had　no　idea　what　the　Better　Than　
Naked　show　was；　but　it　was　pretty　cool　of　Rusty　to　put　him　on　the　guest　list　for　it　when　they？d　
never　even　met。　He　also　loved　being　called　the　next　Keats。　Keats　was　one　of　his　major　influences；　
and　if　Rusty　Klein　could　recognizethat　after　reading　only　one　of　his　poems；　he　definitely　wanted　
her　to　represent　him。　

Tucking　his　phone　back　into　his　bag；　he　pulled　out　his　copy　ofThe　New　Yorker　again。　This　time　
he　turned　to　the　Contributors　page；　reading　his　short　bio　before　he　turned　to　his　poem　on　page　
forty…two。　He　read　the　poem　from　start　to　finish；　no　longer　ashamed　to　see　his　own　work　in　print。　
Rusty　Klein　thought　he　was　good？Rusty　Klein！　So　maybe　it　was　true。　Maybe　hewas　good。　He　
looked　up　and　peeked　through　the　little　window　in　the　chemistry　lab　door　at　the　row　of　boys？　
heads；　all　lined　up　like　chess　pieces　facing　the　blackboard。　School　suddenly　seemed　so　trivial。　He　
was　on　to　phenomenally　bigger　and　infinitely　better　things！　

Suddenly　the　lab　door　swung　open　and　the　bizarrely　short　Mr。　Schindledecker　stood　gazing　up　at　
Dan；　wearing　an　ugly　double…breasted　suit　and　pulling　on　his　wiry　brown　mustache。　？Are　you　
planning　to　join　us；　Mr。　Humphrey；　or　would　you　rather　stay　out　here　and　watch　through　the　
window？？　

Dan　rolled　up　his　copy　ofThe　New　Yorker　and　tucked　it　under　his　arm。　？I　think　I？ll　join　you；？　he　
replied；　stepping　inside　the　lab　and　walking　calmly　to　a　seat　at　the　back　of　the　room。　How　strange。　
Dan　never　did　anything　calmly；　and　he？d　barely　recognized　his　voice　when　he？d　spoken　just　now；　
for　in　it　was　a　brazen　note　of　cockiness；　as　if　something　new　inside　of　him　had　blossomed　and　was　
ready　to　be　let　loose。　

It　was　like　that　line　in　the　Keats　poem；　？Why　Did　I　Laugh　Tonight？？Verse；　Fame；　and　Beauty　are　
intense　indeed。　。　。　。　

And　Dan　was　definitely　feeling　it。　

the　scoop　on　the　stoop　

？Let？s　go　outside　and　smoke　cigarettes；？　Elise　whispered　in　Jenny？s　ear　as　they　headed　down　to　
the　cafeteria　for　recess；　Constance　Billard？s　11A。M。　juice…and…cookies　break。　Only　
second…semester　seniors　were　allowed　to　leave　school　during　recess；　so　she　was　very　clearly　


proposing　something　pletely　illegal。　

Jenny　stopped　on　the　stairs。　？I　didn？t　know　you　smoked。？　

Elise　unzipped　the　small　outside　pocket　of　her　beige　Kenneth　Cole　backpack　and　pulled　a　pack　of　
Marlboro　Lights　halfway　out。　？Only　every　once　and　a　while；？　she　replied；　pushing　the　pack　back　
inside　in　case　a　teacher　came　down　the　stairs。　？Are　you　ing？？　

Jenny　hesitated。　If　the　receptionist　noticed　them　leaving；　she　might　yell　at　them　and　then　call　
their　homeroom　teacher　or　even　their　parents。　？How？？？　

？Let？s　justgo　；？　Elise　urged；　tugging　on　Jenny？s　hand。　She　started　to　run　down　the　stairs；　pulling　
Jenny　after　her。　？Go；　go；go　！？　

Jenny　held　her　breath　as　she　followed　Elise　downstairs　and　sprinted　across　the　red…carpeted　
reception　hall　toward　the　front　doors。　Trina；　the　school　receptionist；　was　barking　into　her　headset　
and　sorting　the　mail　at　the　same　time。　She　didn？t　even　notice　the　two　freshman　girls　streak　past　
without　stopping　to　sign　out。　

Blair　sat　alone　on　the　East　Ninety…fourth　Street　stoop　favored　by　the　Constance　Billard　senior　
girls；　furiously　smoking　a　Merit　Ultra　Light　and　running　through　the　college　interview　questions　
she？d　been　prepared　to　answer　since　October。　There　were　only　two　days　left　until　her　interview　
with　Owen　Wells；　and　she　absolutely　refused　to　fuck　this　one　up。　

Tell　me　about　your　interests。　What　kinds　of　things　are　you　involved　in　after　school？　

I？m　president　of　the　French　club　and　the　social　services　board　at　school。　I？m　also　a　peer　group　
leader；　counseling　freshmen　on　social　issues。　I？m　nationally　ranked　in　tennis？I　play　all　summer；　
but　only　twice　a　week　during　the　winter。　I　volunteer　in　soup　kitchens　whenever　I　can。　I　also　chair　
the　organizing　mittees　for　about　eight　charity　functions　a　year。　We　were　going　to　do　a　
Valentine？s　Day　ball　this　Sunday　to　benefit　Little　Hearts；　a　charity　for　children　with　heart　
problems；　but　the　ball　got　canceled　because　of　Fashion　Week。　We　were　worried　no　one　would　
e。　I　sent　a　letter　to　everyone　on　the　guest　list　and　still　raised　almost　300；000。　Fundraising　has　
always　been　one　of　my　particular　strengths；　and　I　definitely　plan　to　volunteer　my　services　at　Yale。　

Blair　could　just　imagine　Owen？s　eyes　widening　in　impressed　surprise。　How　could　Yalenot　accept　
her？　She　was　first　class。　

A　first…class　liar　is　more　like　it。　The　whole　soup　kitchen　thing　is　pletely　bogus；　and　she？d　sort　
of　skipped　the　part　about　the　sevenother　chairpeople　who？d　helped　raise　the　money　for　Little　
Hearts。　

　？Hey　Blair！？　


Serena　was　ambling　down　the　sidewalk　toward　her；　wearing　black　fishnets　with　a　hole　in　one　
knee；　her　luminous　blond　hair　pulled　up　in　a　messy　bun。　For　some　girls　this　would　have　been　a　
very　white…trash　moment；　but　for　Serena　it　was　an　
I…can…get…away…with…this…because…I…look…good…in…anything　moment。　A　cab　rushed　down　the　street　
and　the　driver　whistled　out　the　window　and　honked　as　he　drove　by。　Serena　was　so　used　to　the　
sound　of　men　whistling　and　cars　honking；　she　never　even　bothered　to　turn　around。　

She　sat　down　next　to　Blair　and　pulled　a　crumpled　turquoise…colored　pack　of　American　Spirits　out　
of　her　pocket。　She？d　started　smoking　them　when　she　and　Aaron　had　gotten　together；　because　they　
were　supposed　to　be　all　natural　and　additive…free。　

As　if　there？s　such　a　big　difference　between　all…natural　carbon　monoxide　and　fake　carbon　
monoxide。　Get　real。　

？I　still　can？t　believe　how　cool　you　look；？　Serena　breathed；　admiring　Blair？s　hairdo　as　she　lit　her　
cigarette。　？Who　knew　you？d　look　sohot　with　short　hair。？　

Blair　touched　her　head　self…consciously。　She？d　thought　she　was　supposed　to　be　mad　at　Serena　but　
now　she　couldn？t　even　remember　why。　Her　haircutwas　hot；　if　she　did　say　so　herself。　

Flattery　can　work　wonders。　

？So；　I？ve　been　trying　to　think　of　a　good　present　to　get　for　Aaron；　you　know；　to　congratulate　him　
on　getting　into　Harvard？　Can　you　think　of　anything　he　really　wants；　or　maybe　something　he　
needs？？　

Now　Blair　remembered　why　she　was　mad　at　Serena。Aaron；　Aaron；　Aaron。　It　was　boring　to　the　
point　of　utter　nausea。　？Not　really；？　she　yawned　in　response。　？A　makeover？？　

？Very　funny；？　Serena　replied。　？Hey；　don？t　we　know　those　girls？？　

Across　the　street；　Jenny　and　Elise　were　walking　in　that　self…conscious；　bumping…into…each…other　
way　fourteen…year…old　girls　have　of　approaching　people　they？re　embarrassed　to　talk　to。　

Eventually　the　two　girls　bumbled　across　the　street。　？We　brought　our　own　cigarettes；？　Jenny　
announced　as　nonchalantly　as　she　could；　still　a　little　freaked　out　that　she？d　just　sneaked　out　of　
school。　

Elise　pulled　a　pack　of　Marlboros　out　of　her　bag；　but　before　she　could　offer　one　to　Jenny；　Serena　
tossed　over　her　pack　of　American　Spirits。　？Put　those　away。　These　are　so　much　better　for　you。？　

Elise　nodded　her　head　seriously。　？Thanks。？　She　pulled　two　cigarettes　out　of　the　pack　and　stuck　
them　both　between　her　lips。　Then　she　flicked　on　her　mint　green　Bic　lighter；　puffing　on　them　


simultaneously　before　handing　one　to　Jenny。　

Jenny　sucked　on　it　hesitantly。　After　Nate　had　broken　up　with　her；　she？d　tried　to　take　up　smoking　
as　part　of　her　new　jaded…woman　image；　but　they？d　given　her　such　bad　sore　throats；　she？d　had　to　
quit　after　only　a　few　days。　

？So；　have　you　checked　your　e…mail　today？？　Blair　asked　her；　cocking　a　freshly　plucked　eyebrow　
mysteriously。　

Jenny　coughed　out　a　lungful　of　smoke。　？My　e…mail？？　

Blair　smirked　to　herself。　Even　though　that　blond　boy　in　Bendel？s　had　been　kind　of　dorky　looking；　
he　and　Jenny　would　make　a　very　cute　couple。　The　beanpole　and　the　big…breasted　cutie…pie。　？Forget　
it；？　she　replied　even　more　mysteriously。　？Just　be　sure　to　check　it　regularly　from　now　on。？　

Of　course　now　Jenny　wanted　to　sprint　back　to　school　to　check　out　her　e…mail；　but　she　couldn？t　
just　abandon　Elise；　especially　not　when　two　more　senior　girls　were　walking　toward　the　stoop　to　
join　the　smoking　party。　

？My　fucking　feet　are　killing　me　in　these　boots。　It？s　like　Japanese　foot　binding。？　Kati　Farkas　
plopped　herself　down　beside　Blair　and　unzipped　her　peacock　blue　Charles　Jourdan　ankle　boots。　

？Stopwhining　about　those　boots；？　Kati？s　glued…together…at…the…hip　friend　Isabel　Coates　moaned。　
Isabel　leaned　against　the　stoop？s　metal　railing　and　took　a　sip　from　a　paper　cup　full　of　whipped　
cream？top