and he didn't think anyonewouldcom e "happy birthday." dan handed vanessa the poem he'd written for her and leaned against the door frame. "i wanted to give you this before anyone gets here." "don't say, 'if anyone is coming,'" vanessa warned. "they'll come." she leaned over the bathroom sink, squinting at her reflection as she applied tiphany's purpley-black lipstick to her lips. then she sat down on the toilet and began to read the poem out loud. a list of things you love: black steel-toed boots dead pigeons dirty rain irony me a list of things i love: cigarettes coffee you and your apple-white arms but the thing about lists is they tend to get lost "thanks," vanessa said. she folded the piece of paper and nicked it into the drawer in the vanity under the sink where kuby kept all her hair goop and makeup. it was kind of a weird response to a poem that was supposed to be bittersweet. "jesus, dude, you need to start taking happy pills," tiphany muttered from out in the hall. "how can you write your girlfriend a birthday poem that sounds so melancholy?" she nudged dan out of the way, grabbed the tube of lipstick from off the sink, and smeared some on her lips. "roses are red, violets are blue." she pulled vanessa upright and kissed her on the cheek, leaving a smudgy, purpley-black imprint. then she kissed her on the other cheek. "babe, you look hot with lips all over you!" the two girls giggled and checked each other out in the mirror. tiphany was wearing a black silk camisole borrowed from ruby's closet. "nice shirt," vanessa noted. "nice pants," tiphany said back. vanessa had borrowed ruby's zebra-striped pajama bottoms and they actually kind of worked with a black denim miniskirt, a black t-shirt, and combat boots. very blondie meets the sex pistols. dan wandered away, wishing tiphany hadn't been her usual rude self and eavesdropped on his poem. so what if it wasn't all happy and cheerful and fun? it was still a love poem. and there was a message in it, if only vanessa had taken the time to listen. "i was thinking tonight might be a good night for a little piercing," tiphany announced. vanessa glanced at her in the mirror. tiphany's ears weren't even pierced. "really? like where?" tiphany grinned and wiggled her eyebrows ominously. "not me, silly. you!" the downstairs buzzer rang repeatedly and tiphany grabbed vanessa's arm and tugged her out of the bathroom. "i invited some people. you don't mind, do you?" "of course not," vanessa said, glad to get away from the topic of piercing. dan buzzed them in and a moment later a troop of enormous guys in dusty, paint-smeared coveralls stomped into the apartment in their work boots. "hey boys." tiphany dragged her army-issue duffel bag across the living room and opened it up. it was full of pint bottles of grey goose vodka. "this is my construction team. they don't speak much english." she handed each guy a bottle and then cracked one open herself. "time to get happy!" dan went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of bad coffee. the construction guys smelled like paint thinner and were probably all psychopaths, just like tiphany. but if they didn't speak english, he wouldn't have to talk to them, which was a good thing. like paint thinner and were probably all psychopaths, just like tiphany. but if they didn't speak english, he wouldn't have to talk to them, which was a good thing. "'prick my finger, kiss my ass!'" ruby's voice howled from out of the speakers. "serena! i just met a girl named serena!" a more melodic group of voices echoed from outside the apartment. the front door was still open. out in the hall stood a boyish blond boy followed by nine other guys, all wearing navy blue suits and yale ties, with red roses in their buttonholes. "is serena here yet?" the blond boy asked. actually, he didn't ask the question so much as sing it. "noooot yeeeet" tiphany sang back. "but cooommmme oonnn innnnn!" she handed each boy a bottle of grey goose. "do you guys dance, too, or just sing?" dan stood in the kitchen, chain-smoking and gulping coffee. the party was turning into something out of west side story—the construction workers versus the singers. maybe there'd even be a rumble. vanessa perched on the windowsill, filming people. the party was already so random, she couldn't imagine what would happen next. then the front door edged open a crack and a white monkey wearing a little red monogrammed s t-shirt scampered in. "sweetie!" tiphany cried, scooping the monkey up in her arms. "tooter's asleep in the closet. but if he knew you were here, i bet he'd come out and play." "anyone want a cigar?" chuck bass asked, brandishing a handful of them. "my dad's footman just brought back a whole suitcaseful from cuba." his footman? the whiffenpoofs and tiphany's construction team helped themselves to cigars. tiphany carried chuck's monkey over to the closet where tooter was sleeping on the floor, curled up on top of dan's favorite gray sweater. "no monkey business in there, okay, kids?" she said, closing the door partway to give them some privacy. she turned to vanessa. "now how 'bout that piercing?" vanessa smiled nervously. "i always kind of wanted one on my lip." "done!" tiphany grabbed one of .her burly construction guys by the shirt. "ice, needles, vodka, matches. in the bathroom. go," she ordered, pushing him away again. suddenly four blond girls wearing gray georgetown sweatshirts appeared at the door, holding hands. "is blair waldorf here yet?" one of them asked. "not yet," tiphany replied, as if she'd known blair all her life. she doled a bottle of vodka out to each girl. "but i'm giving piercings in the bathroom if you want to come." the four girls glanced giddily at one another, their shining. they'd always wanted matching tattoos. matching navel pierces would be even better. "let's do it!" they cried in unison. vanessa put down her camera and followed them down the hall to the bathroom. after all, it was her birthday. why shouldn't she? because it was going to hurt like hell? b&n yale had a full-time baby-nurse who was sharing myrtle's room, but whenever blair heard the baby fuss, she'd dash into the room before the baby-nurse even got there and stroke yale's bald head until she settled down again. she'd been doing it so regularly, the baby-nurse didn't even bother to get up when she heard yale cry through the baby monitor, for soon enough she'd hear blair croon, "who's my little princess?" in a voice no one knew blair was capable of. tonight, though, the baby-nurse would actually have to do her job, because blair was going out. "i'll be back in two hours," she promised her tiny sister. the cab let her off on a scrap of broadway in williamsburg that could only be described as miserable. garbage was strewn all over the sidewalk and every doorway was scrawled with graffiti. she supposed that shaven-headed freak vanessa and her sister thought it was urban and tough and cool to live in a place like this, but blair could live without urban and tough and cool, thank you very much. fifth avenue suited her just fine. the cab let her off on a scrap of broadway in williamsburg that could only be described as miserable. garbage was strewn all over the sidewalk and every doorway was scrawled with graffiti. she supposed that shaven-headed freak vanessa and her sister thought it was urban and tough and cool to live in a place like this, but blair could live without urban and tough and cool, thank you very much. fifth avenue suited her just fine. "i think they left it open," said a familiar voice. blair whipped around to find nate standing below her on the sidewalk. there they were, together, in brooklyn. it was most unexpected. as if he wasn't the reason she'd come to the party in the first place. "i only came by to see who was here. i can't stay for long," she told him hastily. nate looked kind of tired and unkempt, but in a cute way. like he'd taken a nap in his clothes. actually, he looked exactly the way she felt. "me too," he said, shyly checking her out with those glittering green eyes of his. "you look pretty. i—i like your hair." blair touched her hair. he was the only person in the entire universe who'd noticed that it was slightly darker than before. "thanks." "so how's everything at home with the baby and all?" nate asked. he shoved his hands in his pockets as though he wasn't sure what to do with them. someone threw a bottle of vodka out of an upstairs window and it splintered on the sidewalk only twenty feet away. blair stepped down off the cement slab. she wasn't going upstairs, not now. "yale is . . ." her voice trailed off as she struggled to find the right words to describe her little sister. "perfect," she said finally. there was a happy sheen in blair's eyes that hadn't been there before. "i'd really like to meet her sometime," nate added. blair reached for his arm. what were they doing at a party in brooklyn that neither of them wanted to go to? "let's go now." just then a taxi pulled up and serena, jenny, elisc, and tow guys dressed in matching banana yellow dolce & gabbana suits stepped out. then another cab pulled up and out came four models in carmen miranda outfits complete with fruit bowl headdresses. then another cabload of models, and then the raves—yes, the entire band, minus the lead singer, who had just quit—pulled up in yet another cab. "our hummer limo broke down so we had to get cabs," jenny explained to blair and nate with a happy giggle. blair tightened her grip on nate's arm and pulled him toward the first empty taxi. "come on." serena winked as they climbed into the backseat. "be good, you two!" blair smiled and let her head fall back against the cab's fake-leather upholstery. nate's leg was touching hers and her whole body was burning with the warmth of it. she felt kind of like sandy at the end of the original grease movie, when she and danny ride off into the sky in that souped-up car, leaving everyone else at the school carnival. it was always pretty obvious to blair what sandy and danny were about to do next, what with sandy wearing those black vinyl hot pants and everything. he couldn't keep his hands off her. "you're the one that i want—ooh, ooh, ooh, honey!" nate slipped his hand between blair's knees and left it there. oh, she'd be good all right. j travels with an entourage dan hardly recognized his sister. she and serena burst into the party looking like movie stars in matching turquoise-and-black-striped leggings, white pointy ankle boots, and turquoise leather vests. matching turquoise-and-black-striped leggings, white pointy ankle boots, and turquoise leather vests. very eighties biker bitch meets the mod squad. .better still, they were followed by a whole crew of models and fashion people from their photo shoot, and the members of a very hot new band called the raves. elise was there, too, wearing the bright orange jumpsuit that jonathan joyce had given her as a gift for being such a doll on the shoot. jenny sashayed up to dan and kissed him on the cheek. "happy birthday!" she squealed, even though she knew perfectly well it wasn't his birthday. she'd had the time of her life today and she was brimming with adrenaline. "where's vanessa?" dan tucked his ninetieth cigarette of the evening between his lips and lit it quickly. "in the bathroom, getting pierced," he answered bitterly. "wow!" jenny kissed him on the cheek again. "what a great party!" the band began to set up their equipment in the mom. elise came over to drag jenny away. "if you'll excuse us, daniel, there's something i'd like to show jennifer." she grabbed jenny's elbow. "you've got to see this. it's in the closet." would that be two little animals making fuzzy whoopee, perhaps? dan didn't know what he'd been so worried about. jenny was fine. maybe that was the difference between fourteen and eighteen. when you were fourteen, something that seemed like the end of the world today could be completely forgotten tomorrow. when you were eighteen, your life was that much closer to being over. oh, please. he's not even eighteen yet! the band began to play and immediately people started throwing their bodies around. in the last hour a steady stream of people had trickled in and the apartment was packed with kids from every private school in manhattan. now that they were second-semester seniors, it didn't matter whether they knew vanessa or not. give them a reason to get crazy and people would turn up. dan didn't much feel like dancing or getting crazy. instead he decided to get drunk. wandering into the living room, he grabbed a bottle of grey goose from tiphany's half-empty sack and then hunkered by the wall to drink and watch the band play. chuck bass was dancing with one of the girls from georgetown. the girl's newly pierced navel was covered with a band-aid and the metal whistle hanging from a chain around her neck kept bobbing up and slapping her in her seriously pugged nose. considering her dance partner, that whistle just might come in handy. a girl in army fatigues, complete with helmet and dog tags, walked up to dan and saluted. "have you seen blair waldorf?" she asked. dan shook his head and took a giant swig of vodka. he wasn't exactly sure how it would manifest itself, but his own brand of craziness was not far off. s can't keep her boys straight serena danced with the two gay stylists from the shoot, their banana yellow suits clashing with her turquoise-and-black leggings in a garish eighties way she just couldn't get enough of. "serena?" a tall boy with silver-rimmed spectacles bobbed into her line of vision and took her hand. serena stopped dancing, her heart all aflutter. it was drew, from harvard. or was it brown? "hi," she said slowly, batting her fake eyelashes at him. she pointed at her crazy striped leggings and pointy white boots. "you see, this is the way i normally dress." she was struggling now to place drew. already the boys had blurred together. was he the xylophone player or the painter? drew smiled tightly. he looked sort of uncomfortable in his neatly pressed j. crew ensemble and brown suede shoes. it was as if he couldn't wait for her to say, let's blow this joint and go have an intimate cup of coffee someplace nice and quiet. serena hesitated. she wanted to be that girl, she really did. the girl who drank coffee with her boyfriend. a couple. but she didn't want it badly enough to miss the party. all of a sudden someone grabbed her around the waist and lowered her into an exaggerated dip. serena's breath caught in her throat as she gazed up into the square-jawed-jock face of drew's meathead roommate. "whoa!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide. all of a sudden someone grabbed her around the waist and lowered her into an exaggerated dip. serena's breath caught in her throat as she gazed up into the square-jawed-jock face of drew's meathead roommate. "whoa!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide. wade pulled her close and kissed her on the lips. smack! "aren't you glad?" he demanded. serena didn't want to appear easy, but she had to admit that she was glad. the more the merrier, as far as she was concerned. a petite strawberry blond woman with a tidy black kate spade purse tapped her on the shoulder. "do you know nate archibald?" the woman asked. serena nodded. "he already left." drew was still standing next to her, hands in his pockets, looking as if he needed something to do. "this is my friend drew," serena told the strawberry blond woman. "he goes to— "harvard," drew said, holding out his hand in that geekily charming way of his. on the other side of the room the whiffenpoofs began singing backup for the raves. they sounded fantastic. serena stood on tiptoe to wave at them and all ten boys blew her a kiss. but wasn't there somebody missing? the artist from brown. didn't he love her as much as the others? oh, did he ever. people were huddled by the windows, looking out at something happening down on the street. "put me on your shoulders?" she asked wade sweetly. wade carried serena over to the windows and she gazed over the tops of the onlookers' heads to see what all the fuss was about. down on the street, someone was spray-painting a mural in shades of green and gold. it was christian. his dark head bent seriously over his work. as the mural took shape it became apparent that it was a portrait of serena, with fluorescent green butterflies in her hair and gold wings sprouting out of her shoulders, like some sort of glorious angel. serena giggled, embarrassed by christian's gaudy adoration, but reveling in it just the same. maybe it wasn't true love she wanted after all. maybe it was just . . . love. and that was all around her. b's teething rattle turns n on "walk on this side of the room," blair whispered. "the floorboards creak over there." nate followed her across the nursery, lit only by a paper moon nightlight, to where yale lay sleeping in her white lace-covered bassinet. in the corner by the window, the life-size dappled gray pony he'd had sent over from fao schwarz stood watching them like a sentry. the baby was swaddled in a pink blanket and was lying on her back, her face puckered and red and new-looking. "see how her eyes are moving underneath the lids," blair whispered. "she's dreaming." nate couldn't imagine what somebody so new to the world could be dreaming about, but he supposed it must be kind of like one of those dreams he had when he was severely stoned. nothing happened, he just felt stuff. and he always woke up hungry. blair reached into the bassinet and retrieved a little silver rattle. it looked like a tiny barbell. "this was mine when i was a baby." she turned it over. "see all the little bite marks?" she handed the rattle to nate. at first glance it appeared smooth, but when he looked closely he could see hundreds of indentations. it was no surprise that blair had been a various teether, obsessive and aggressive right from the start. but there was something calm about her now, as if through soothing the baby she'd learned to soothe herself. nate handed the rattle back and it shook noisily. instantly, yale began to fuss and whimper, her arms and legs lucking out in all directions and her face puckering like a dried apricot. blair leaned over the bassinet and picked her sister up. "shhh," she whispered. "it was nothing. go back to sleep." she rocked back and forth until yale stopped fussing. then she put the baby down and tucked the blanket up around her. "there. go to sleep," she said again, and then looked up at nate. and tucked the blanket up around her. "there. go to sleep," she said again, and then looked up at nate. the penthouse was so hushed, blair could practically hear her own heart beating. tyler and aaron were watching movies in the library, and her mom and cyrus were out. but she couldn't exactly have sex with nate while yale lay sleeping innocently in the next room. she closed her eyes and kissed him again before whispering, "okay, i'm ready." finally. j looks forward to a scandalous mure jenny had never been a big dancer, but how could she not dance in those crazy white pointy boots? and the amazing thing about her turquoise leather vest was it held everything in place. no boob whiplash. no accidental groping. no wiggly-wobbly. even without the vest, though, she would have been okay. better than okay. the raves stopped playing and announced that they were taking a short break. the whiffenpoofs, however, were just getting going. "one, two, a one, two, three—"they began to sing in their traditional a cappella harmony. " jenny, oh, jennifer," they began to serenade her. "serena's little sister, jennifer. they don't look alike. one's tall, one's short, but they're the craziest gals in any pan." serena came and draped her arm around jenny's shoulders, swaying back and forth to the song. the other party-goers drifted back and forth across the room, not paying much attention now that the real music had cut out. "jennifer, she's got big huge bazongas!" chuck bass sang loudly as he staggered past the two girls, shaking his ass drunkenly with his monkey on his shoulders and his military school beret on his head. a few titters echoed throughout the room. uh-oh. "you know they did it once, right?" a girl from seaton arms whispered to her friend. "got caught at a party in october, in the bathroom. she was, like, totally naked and chuck was giving it to her on the toilet." "i thought he was gay," said a girl wearing a brand-new vassar t-shirt. "everyone wants to squeeze jenny's great big boobeez!" chuck carried on obnoxiously. "chuck bass has a hairy ass!" serena countered loudly. "just ignore him," she told jenny. but instead of turning purple with outrage and utter shame, jenny couldn't stop giggling. two weeks ago chuck's little performance would have been devastating. now everyone was laughing at him, not with him. and now that she'd been through a scandal—or two or three—and come out ahead, she was more resilient. she had a past, a history. she was the girl no one would be able to stop talking about. big bazongas and all, she, jennifer, was destined for success. and if life took a crappy turn and things went irreparably wrong, she could always get sent to boarding school like her father had threatened. there she could reinvent herself. maybe she'd even come back from boarding school and reinvent herself again, just like serena had done. she might even have as many boyfriends as serena. one day. d explores a new talent "could i borrow a smoke, bro?" damian polk, the lead guitarist of the raves and one of dan's musical favorites, asked him. dan was too drunk to be starstruck. he held up the rumpled half-empty pack of camels he'd opened only a half hour ago, then damian lit his cigarette with dan's yellow plastic bic. damian was wearing a sort of brown canvas military, coat with words in finnish or some other random language painted on it in black. it was the type of coat only a famous person could get away with. "don't happen to know who lives here, do you?" he asked. bic. damian was wearing a sort of brown canvas military, coat with words in finnish or some other random language painted on it in black. it was the type of coat only a famous person could get away with. "don't happen to know who lives here, do you?" he asked. damian nodded thoughtfully. "any idea who wrote all those songs in those black leather books in the other room?" dan wondered suddenly if he hadn't passed out and was dreaming this entire conversation. "poems," he corrected, blinking away the happy melodic notes of the whiffenpoofs, who were still serenading his sister. a tall guy with wire-rimmed glasses and a short woman with strawberry blond hair tangoed across the floor. "those are my poems." he tried to stand up but his ankles buckled and he slumped against the wall again. if he didn't move soon, he was going to piss himself. damian tucked his coat behind him and squatted down in front of dan. "i'm telling you, man, they're songs." dan stared woodenly at the famous five-inch-long scar that cut across damian's famous forehead. it was supposedly from a bmx bike accident. was he brain damaged or something? "dude," he insisted. "i wrote them. they're poems." "songs. songs, songs, songs." damian held out his hand and coaxed dan into a standing position. "come on, i'll show you." dan stumbled along after damian, bumping into people and slurring his sorrys. "when you guys gonna start playing again?" someone yelled. "soon, asshole," damian muttered, giving them the finger. vanessa's room was just as crowded as the living room. the other members of the raves were gathered on her bed, sorting through dan's notebooks. "did you see this one? it's called 'sluts,'" the bass player told damian, holding up the poem. "it'd be the perfect, like, pissed-off love ballad, you know? like the perfect middle song for a show. especially after this funny one, 'killing tooter.'" dan stared at them. there was still a very good chance he was dreaming or had died after being stepped on by one of tiphany's huge construction-worker friends. damian nudged him forward. "i found the guy who wrote them. he's good-looking enough to be a front man." dan swayed in front of the others. front man? "but can he sing?" the drummer asked, giving dan the once-over and pulling on his weird, scary mustache. the raves had a mixed-bag kind of style. part cool older brother, part serial killer. sing? damian clapped dan on the back. "you'll give it a try, won't you? they're your songs, after all. sing 'em however you want to. we play pretty loud, so you'll feel like you're shouting." he patted dan's back again. "just make it sound good, yeah?" "yeah." as he followed the band into the living room, dan felt like his body was in the hands of some maniacal puppeteer with a very twisted sense of humor. next thing he knew, he'd be taking his shirt off. well, he is the front man, after all. the drummer whacked his drums a few times and a hush of anticipation fell over the room. "we'll do 'killing tooter' first, yeah?" he asked dan. dan nodded. he barely knew the words, but he was so drunk anyway, it wasn't like he'd be enunciating. the band broke into a frenetic, rhythmic, slamming beat with an undulating bass line. it was perfect for the poem, or song, or whatever the fuck anyone wanted to call it. '"you hungry? i made you something! die, tooter, die!'" dan screamed into the microphone. " 'you tired? i'll put you to sleep! die, tooter, die!'" 'you tired? i'll put you to sleep! die, tooter, die!'" the room was packed and immediately people picked up on the craziness of the moment, slam dancing and taking their clothes off. dan ripped off his shirt. what the hell? he gave everyone the finger. '"you want some more? come and get it! die, tooter, die!'" okay, so maybe he was completely shit-faced, but this was still better than wallowing in self-pity and dust bunnies back in the corner. and at least he knew now, after all these years, that he'd been writing twisted, morbid songs, not poems. v gets a kick in the ass "yo, is there somebody named vanessa in there?" a guy yelled from outside the bathroom. "yeah?" vanessa called back, and opened the door a crack. for the last half hour she'd been bent over the bathroom sink, running her lip under cold water, but it was still bleeding. the guy shoved the phone into her hand. he was shirtless, and had a tattoo of a snake on his chest. "same bitch called like five hundred times. doesn't she get we're trying to listen to music out here?" vanessa took the phone and cradled it between her chin and shoulder while tiphany applied ice to her lip. "hello?" "hey, it's your sister, remember me?" ruby shouted on the other end of the line. "what the fuck is going on over there?" "i'm having a party," vanessa explained, although it hardly explained anything. ruby knew perfectly well that, other than dan, vanessa had exactly zero friends. "oh, yes, miss birthday girl? and who might be attending this party?" vanessa glanced at tiphany. "is that your sister?" tiphany mouthed. vanessa nodded, and tiphany pressed a fistful of ice into her hand. "catch you later." she kicked away the blood-soaked towels littering the bathroom floor, leaving the door open behind her as she left. the cacophony of music and shouting and the smell of smoke and vodka almost knocked vanessa over. "is that the raves—live? what, did mtv like hire you to film their video or something?" ruby demanded. "i'm not sure," vanessa answered honestly. she knew the party had swelled tremendously since she'd disappeared into the bathroom, but she hadn't realized to what extent. "so anyway, tiphany has been staying here." "tiphany who?" "tiphany. you gave her the key. she said you told her she could crash here for as long as she wanted. she's been sleeping on your bed." ruby was silent for a moment. "wait, i think i know who you're talking about. she has a ferret, right? and she comes with this whole story about how she's traveled the world and done all these things and she just needs a place to crash for a while?" check. "i can't believe she still has the key. don't you remember the story about the girl who was, like, squatting in the apartment when i moved in? i finally got the landlord to get rid of her, and the whole time she acted like we were best friends." that did kind of sound like tiphany. "but she's not even from here," vanessa faltered. "she's from all over. she's got wanderlust." it was one of tiphany's favorite words, but boy did it sound idiotic when vanessa said it. "she's a fuckup," ruby corrected. "and a user. i bet she hasn't paid for any food or anything since she's been there. except maybe alcohol." vanessa didn't know what to say. it was true. she and dan had basically been feeding tiphany for over a week. for over a week. vanessa was on the verge of tears. how could she have been so stupid and let this girl she didn't even know takeover her life? it was like poison ivy, that awful drew barrymore movie vanessa was embarrassed to admit she'd rented, where bad girl drew moves in with a nice innocent girl and totally ruins her life. "i'll call you tomorrow, okay?" ruby promised. "okay." vanessa hung up. her hands were shaking. she tossed the phone into the sink and stormed into the living room, forgetting all about her bleeding lip. christ. the apartment was mobbed. girls from constance billard and seaton arms and all the other schools vanessa wished she had nothing to do with were slam dancing and gyrating their asses against the pelvises of boys from st. jude's and riverside prep. the members of tiphany's "construction team," who vanessa now suspected were probably professional burglars or worse, were attacking the living room wall with tiphany's pick-axe; tiphany's ferret and chuck bass's monkey were chasing each other and humping on ruby's futon; and tiphany herself was parked in front of the tv, playing one of the films vanessa had made a few months back for all to see. but where was dan? had she been ignoring him or was he ignoring her? pushing through the crowd, vanessa lunged at tiphany and yanked the remote out of her hand. "that's private!" she yelled, snapping the tv off. little by little she could feel her old outraged, pissed-off self coming back . . . and it felt great. what made her even more angry was that tiphany had stolen it away from her. atta girl. tiphany laughed her goofy, loud, ain't-we-just-the-bestest-friends laugh. "dan's a boring poet, and a really bad actor." she pointed across the living room. "but mix them together and look what you get!" vanessa glared at her, and then turned to see what she was pointing at. she didn't know how she could have missed it. there was dan, standing on top of an overturned milk crate, shirtless and sweaty, biting the microphone as he spat out the words to his poems, pretending they were songs. she turned away again. she'd deal with him later. "that's my sister's shirt," she told tiphany levelly. "put it back." tiphany's mouth opened slightly. "you're wearing her pants." "she's my sister. give it back," vanessa ordered. "and then find your friends and your goddamned ferret and get the fuck out of here." the rage that had been building since her conversation with ruby in the bathroom suddenly consumed her. it was her birthday and no one seemed to give a flying fuck that they were trashing her house. she didn't even know most of these people. "fuck everybody!" she shouted. "i want you all fucking out!!" of course no one could hear her, not over the din of dan's drunken howl. vanessa had one thing going for her, though. it was her apartment and she knew where the fuse box was. shoving her way past a half-naked sweaty boy and his teetering- drunk girlfriend, she tore into the kitchen, climbed up on the counter, and opened the metal box above the stove. with a flick of a few switches, the music went dead and the only light left on was the one above her head. "everybody out!" she shouted again, her mouth opening inhumanly wide, like lucy on peanuts when she's seriously pissed off at charlie brown, which hurt like hell with such a newly pierced lip. "what the fuck?" a guy wearing nothing but a pair of orange princeton boxer shorts demanded. "who the hell is she?" his girlfriend whined. but these were well-bred kids, and no one likes to stick around at a party when they're not welcome. slowly, people began to trickle out the door and down the stairs. vanessa even thought she heard the distinct sound of a pick-axe clattering to the floor. heard the distinct sound of a pick-axe clattering to the floor. "why didn't she just ask us to keep it down or something?" somebody grumbled. "what are we supposed to do now? it's only midnight," someone else complained. of course chuck bass had the perfect solution. "we'll move the party to my house!!" he cried, gathering up his monkey and tucking it into his shirt. he put his arm around two of the blond georgetown girls. "you can even sleep over if you want." tiphany stalked past the kitchen wearing only a black bra, which was probably ruby's too. she tossed something at vanessa. "there's her goddamned shirt." vanessa didn't think that sort of behavior warranted a response. she watched with smug satisfaction as tiphany grabbed her ferret by the scruff of the neck and dragged her army duffel bag across the living room and out the door. it wasn't like she'd be homeless. chuck had plenty of mom. d and v do it with words there were only a few stragglers left now. vanessa turned the fuses back on and surveyed the damage. she would have to hire a cleaning service to help her deal with it. maybe she could find some way to charge it to tiphany. dan was on his hands and knees, looking for his shirt and shoes. his scraggly brown hair was matted over his eyes and he, could barely see. vanessa hopped off the stove. "you can stay," she told him gently. what had happened was her fault, after all. if she hadn't been so swept up in tiphany's bullshit, she and dan would be living together and getting along fine instead of drowning in disaster. dan found one puma sneaker and shoved it on. one was better than none. he stood up. vanessa's upper lip was crusty with blood but she still looked better than he felt. "gotta catch up with the band. they want me to be their front man," he slurred with drunken urgency. vanessa had no idea what he was talking about. maybe if they just sat down and talked to each other like they always used to, things would go back to normal. "it's my birthday," she reminded him, trying to keep her voice from breaking. "will you read me the poem you wrote for me?" dan shook his head. nearly everything he'd ever written was for vanessa. "it's a song. they're all songs." "whatever." vanessa retrieved the piece of paper from the bathroom drawer, grateful that some nosy girl hadn't rummaged around in there for some hair gel or something and taken the poem with her. she handed it to dan and sat down in front of him. it was such a relief just to be alone together again, even if the walls were crumbling down around them. dan's heart was still pumping wildly, but the rest of his body had slowed way down. he read the poem carefully, his tongue heavy with liquor and fatigue. a list of things you love: black steel-toed boots dead pigeons dirty rain irony me a list of things i love: cigarettes coffee you and your apple-white arms but the thing about lists is they tend to get lost "they are lyrics, aren't they?" dan observed. "i mean, that would be so much better with music." he tried to reread the poem again to himself, but the words began to dance around the page and he couldn't make sense of them anymore. he knew he'd written them for a reason, but he couldn't remember what the reason was. vanessa made a funny little gasping sound and he looked up to find her crying the gaspy, chokey sort of crying of someone who doesn't cry very often. only a moment ago dan had been having a ball, shouting his lungs out into u microphone. how had everything gotten so serious all of a sudden? vanessa took his hand. her face was wet and blotchy, her nose was running, and there was a bloody silver ring in her upper lip. "look, i know everything is all messed up, but it's still gonna be okay. i mean, it's just like in your poem. i like ugly things. we both like it when things aren't perfect, right?" dan's hand hung limply in hers. he knew what vanessa was saying was important, but he couldn't concentrate. what he needed was a cigarette, and as far as he could remember he was all out. or maybe his cigarettes were with his other shoe. "i need to find my shoe," he told her. the tears kept falling. vanessa gripped his hand tightly, desperate to finish what she'd started, to explain what she thought dan's poem meant and how true she thought it was. "we don't have to go to the same school or even live together. we can just be." she wiped her nose on the back of her free hand. there were little spots of blood on her zebra-striped pants from her piercing. she rubbed at them angrily. "no matter what we do, we'll always sort of be together, right?" dan nodded. "right," he agreed robotically. it wasn't that he didn't feel her pain, he just couldn't have such an intense conversation right now. vanessa's shoulders shook with a silent sob. she wiped her nose again, leaned forward, and kissed him on the lips. dan tried to kiss her back, but he was afraid of hurting her lip. "all right." she let go of his hand and attempted a smile. "get out of here. go be a rock star or whatever." dan stared at her. she was letting him go? duh. "would you just leave already?!" vanessa gave his chest a nudge as she fought back another round of sobs. dan scrambled to his feet. he could barely see the floor, it was so littered with cigarette butts, empty bottles, left-behind clothes, and destroyed crap. "i can come back tomorrow and help clean up," he offered lamely as he limped away through the mess. like tomorrow he was going to be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to put on rubber gloves and mop up with the mr. clean? b and n do it for real "you still have this?" blair pulled the moss-green cashmere v-neck she'd given nate over a year ago off the back of his desk chair, where he'd left it the night before. she turned it inside out, checking to see if the tiny gold heart pendant she'd sewn inside one of the sleeves was still there. it was. nate stood in the middle of the room, watching her. he wanted to whip his clothes off, grab her, and throw her on the bed, but he knew from experience that blair liked to do things her way, so he would have to try and wait. blair put the sweater down and ran her hand over the model sailboat on nate's desk. beside it was a picture of him and his buddies from st. jude's, holding up the two big fish they'd caught on a fishing trip up in maine. with his strong, tanned arms, broad white smile, golden brown hair, and glittering green eyes, nate was the cutest of them all. not that she hadn't always known that. was a picture of him and his buddies from st. jude's, holding up the two big fish they'd caught on a fishing trip up in maine. with his strong, tanned arms, broad white smile, golden brown hair, and glittering green eyes, nate was the cutest of them all. not that she hadn't always known that. "do you want to listen to some music or put a movie on or something?" nate asked, wondering if he needed to enhance the mood. if only he had some candles or incense or something. massage oil? handcuffs? okay, let's not get carried away. blair walked over to the bookshelf and turned on the ridiculous globe lamp that nate had had since he was five. then she switched off the overhead light. light from the globe mingled with the moonlight shining through the skylight overhead, casting the room in a soft blue glow. "there." she kicked off her black kate spade flats. her toes were painted dark red and looked sexy even to her. she grinned at nate. "come here." he did as he was told, tucking his hands up under her shirt and helping her off with it while she practically tore his head off removing his. her bra was filmy, white, and wireless, and when she unhooked it, it fell away like tissue paper to the floor. nate stood his ground. he'd gotten this far so many times before, it wouldn't have surprised him if blair's mom knocked on the door and told them that she was actually having triplets and the other two babies were arriving just this minute. blair wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body into his. all the times she'd imagined doing it, she'd put herself and nate in place of the actors in a love scene in some old movie. audrey hepburn and gary cooper in love in the afternoon. kathleen turner and william hurt in body heat. but this was so much better, because it was real, and it felt so nice. he couldn't stop kissing her. she guided his hand down to the waistband of her jeans and then reached for his. okay, maybe no one was going to knock on the door and the sky wasn't going to fall in. maybe this time it was really going to happen. she pulled him backwards onto the bed and they shimmied out of their pants and underwear. then there was nothing left but them. they kissed again in every kissable spot, until it became obvious that certain measures needed to be taken. nate fumbled in his bedside bureau drawer for a condom. now for the awkward part. only it wasn't awkward. without a word, blair took the condom, kissed her way down his body, and carefully rolled it on. there. all better. nate had forgotten what it was like being with blair. how touching her wasn't a haunted-house experience, where he blindly had to guess where things were and what they were, and wound up bumping into walls. with blair, he just knew. and everything seemed to fit just right. blair didn't even have to tell nate to slow down. they were so in sync, all she had to do was close her eyes and wrap her arms around him, arch her back a little, and feel it happening. toda! when it was over, they lay on their backs, holding hands and smiling up at the ceiling, because they knew that in a few minutes they could do it again. they could spend the rest of their lives doing it if they wanted to. have food sent up to nate's wing of the town house. take their finals online. "maybe i won't even go to college," nate mused. why should he, when there was so much pleasure to be had? he kissed her hand. "we could sail around the world together. have adventures." blair closed her eyes and tried to imagine sailing around the world with nate on the yacht he'd build especially for them. "i'd wear a different missoni bikini every day and have the best tan," she whispered out loud. in her head the fantasy continued. their bodies would be all strong and wiry from working on the yacht and from their diet of raw fish, seaweed, and champagne. at night they'd make love under the stars and in the morning they'd make love to the sound of the seagulls' caws. they'd have beautiful, tan, blond, green-eyed babies who swam like dolphins and never wore clothes. they'd stop in exotic ports, where the natives would dance for them and give them gifts of rare jewels and furs. eventually, they'd amass such a collection of treasure, they'd be known around the world as the richest seafarers in the universe, and pirates would come after them to plunder their booty and steal their impossibly beautiful ralph lauren model-type children. by then, having nothing better to do with all those hours on the boat, she and nate would have their black belts in karate, and they would fight off the pirates, sending them plunging to their deaths in the shark-infested seas. then they would sail off into the moonlight, unharmed, and more in love than ever. and in the morning they'd make love to the sound of the seagulls' caws. they'd have beautiful, tan, blond, green-eyed babies who swam like dolphins and never wore clothes. they'd stop in exotic ports, where the natives would dance for them and give them gifts of rare jewels and furs. eventually, they'd amass such a collection of treasure, they'd be known around the world as the richest seafarers in the universe, and pirates would come after them to plunder their booty and steal their impossibly beautiful ralph lauren model-type children. by then, having nothing better to do with all those hours on the boat, she and nate would have their black belts in karate, and they would fight off the pirates, sending them plunging to their deaths in the shark-infested seas. then they would sail off into the moonlight, unharmed, and more in love than ever. "or maybe we'll both go to yale," she said hopefully. some doctor at her mom's hospital had left a note with her doorman today saying he wanted to write her a recommendation to yale's premed program. she'd never considered becoming a doctor, but if it was going to get her into yale, why not? "i'll play lacrosse and major in geology," nate murmured into her hair. "yes," blair agreed dreamily. nate would excavate the connecticut woods looking for rocks and wearing the beautiful aran sweaters she'd knit for him during her lengthy premed lectures. all the female premed students would be in love with a brilliant young biologist who also happened to be blair's advisor, but she would pay him no mind—she'd only have eyes for nate. "and we'll live together," she added aloud. in a ramshackle old victorian house right near campus. they'd make hot cider on the wood stove and cook s'mores in the fireplace. nate grinned happily. "we'll get a great dane." "no, two great danes and two cats," blair corrected. and they'd be so involved in their studies and making love on their antique bed in their creaky victorian bedroom that they'd forget to cut their hair or buy new clothes and they'd look like hippies, but they'd still graduate magna cum laude. "and we'll get married," he whispered. "yes." blair squeezed his hand beneath the sheets. they'd have a gigantic wedding in st. patrick's cathedral, and when they returned from their yearlong honeymoon in the south of france, they'd live in a fifth avenue penthouse overlooking the park. she'd be the surgeon general of new york, and he'd stay home with their four golden-haired, green-eyed children, building sailboats in the living room. and he'd always pack a hershey's kiss in her lunch to show that he loved her. blair turned over and rested her head on nate's chest. the possibilities were endless, but they didn't have to decide now. the only decision they had to make right now was whether to do it again, or wait a few minutes and then do it. his heartbeat rang in her ears, an urgent, vibrate sound. she lifted her head and kissed him. why wait? gossipgirl.co.uk topics previous next post a question reply disclaimer: all the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. namely, me. hey, people! a movable feast last i checked, everyone was still breathing, barely. would last night—which wound up carrying on until late this afternoon—count as one party or two? were those really the raves, or just some geeky williamsburg bar band impersonating them? and was our own favorite upper west side poet really so drunk that he couldn't find his other shoe? not that it affected his singing. he almost sounded better in manhattan than he did in brooklyn, but maybe that's because we were all so merry by then. my favorite part of the evening was when those blond girls with the matching georgetown sweatshirts and the whistles and tummy band-aids did a little cheerleader cheer to the music and then invited all the guys into the bedroom to play spin-the-bottle. and i'd heard georgetown girls were all so chaste. two notably missing persons remained missing throughout the evening, and are still reported missing. word has it they are missing together and that for the remainder of the school year we will have to watch them being sappy together because love is a beautiful thing and blah, blah, blah. but i'm sure we can drum up a few surprises to make their lives more interesting— right? your e-mail dear gg, i'm just worried about my sister. she had a huge party in brooklyn last night and a lot of shit went down. chances are you were there. is she okay? —rb dear rb, she looked too pissed off when she kicked us all out to be permanently scarred. we girls are pretty resilient. although her lip may take some time to heal, and she could definitely use some help with the cleanup. —gg dear gg, okay, so we go all the way up to new york to recruit this girl to go to our school and then she totally disappears. then we wind up, like, almost breaking this pact that has basically been our mission in life for two years. it's all her fault, and we really don't want her to go to our school or be in our sisterhood anyway. —bees dear bees, i'm not sure what i can do to help you out at this point. you've still got each other—right? —gg sightings s hosting a small all-male brunch at her fifth avenue apartment. last the staff checked, the table was set for fourteen. j and d signing autographs outside mtv studios. they may not be famous yet, but if you act famous, the world is your oyster. v putting uproommate wanted signs throughout williamsburg. c and his black-and-purple-haired girl chum pushing their pets in a doll carriage through the central park zoo. looks like he's found the perfect nanny for his monkey while he's away at west point next year. missing persons: b and n. last seen sprinting from her building on seventy-second street and fifth to his town house on eighty-second street off park around eleven-thirty last night. my head is still spinning with visions of monkeys and ferrets and girls in turquoise leather vests, but i'm not too hungover to throw out more questions: are d and v still together, or is it a just-friends thing now? what kind of "roommate" is she looking for exactly? will d become an internationally famous rock god? will b finally get into yale? will she have to join the army or become a doctor to do it? will b and n and s all go to yale together? is that really a good idea? will j become a famous and untouchable supermodel or will she mess up again and have to go to boarding school to escape the burning stares of passersby? will n ever be unfaithful to b again? if so, will he consider doing it with me?

i know you're dying to find out. but first, please, go home and get some rest. you know you love me, gossip girl