“It’s really not such a big deal,” Blair said impatiently. “She’s been married before, you know.”
“Who are the bridesmaids?” Becky Dormand asked.
“Me, Kati, Isabel …” Blair slid her lunch tray along the cafeteria counter and picked up a coffee yogurt. “Serena and my aunts,” she added quickly.
Fudge-frosted brownies on little white plates sat temptingly on a shelf at eye-level. She picked one up, examined it for any defects, and then put it on her tray. Even if she actually decided to eat it, she could always throw it up later.
It wasn’t much, but at least she had that much control over her life
“Serena?” Becky repeated, glancing at her groupies in shocked surprise. “Really?
“Yes,” Blair snapped. “Really.”
If it weren’t for the fast that she was head of Constance’s social services board, leader of the French club, and chairwoman of all the worthwhile junior social functions in the city, Blair would have told Becky to fuck off. But Blair was a role model: she had a reputation to uphold.
She tossed a few leaves of spinach onto a plate and slopped some bleu cheese dressing on top of them. The she picked up her tray and headed into the cafeteria. Grades one through eight had already eaten, so the room was filled with uniformed upper-school girls gossiping about each other and picking at their food.
“I heard Blair is getting liposuction before the wedding just to make sure she looks good in Vogue,” snitched a junior girl to her friends.
“I thought she already had it,” quipped another girl. “Isn’t that why she always wears black tights? To hide the scars?”
“I heard Nate is cheating on her, but Blair won’t break up with him before they get their pictures taken together at the wedding,” Becky Dormand said, joining them. “Isn’t that so typical?”
Serena van der Woodsen was sitting alone reaching a book at the table where Blair usually sat. Serena had pulled her blond hair up into a bun, and she was wearing a black V-neck sweater with nothing underneath it. Her legs were crossed, and her short maroon wool uniform actually looked stylish. She looked like a model for Burberry or Miu Miu.
Actually, she looked better than a model because she wasn’t trying to look good: she just did.
Blair turned away and headed for a table by the windows. Just because her mother had asked Serena to be a bridesmaid didn’t mean she had to talk to her.
When they were younger, Blair and Serena had taken baths together. They’d had sleepovers every weekend, during which they practiced kissing on pillows, made prank calls to their nerdy seventh-grade bio teacher, and stayed up all night giggling. Serena had been there for Blair when she got her period at the end of eight grade and was terrified of tampons. They’d gotten drunk for the first time together. And they’d both loved Nate like a brother. At least at first.
But Serena had gone away to boarding school two years ago and spent all of her vacations parting in Europe, sending Blair only the occasional postcard. It had been especially hurtful when Blair’s father had announced he was gay and her mother had sued him for divorce. Blair had had no one to turn to.
There was also the small matter that Serena and Nate had already slept together, while Blair and Nate still hadn’t.
So when Serena had returned to the city, Blair had decided to pay her back by ignoring her and demanding that all their other friends ignore Serena, too. She had turned Serena into a social leper.
Blair sat down and began poking angrily at her salad. After she’d left Barneys the day before, she’d sat on a park bench for a while, waiting for Serena to clear out of the area. When she finally returned home, her mother informed her that she’d just closed her bank account and opened a new joint account with Cyrus. Blair’s new credit card would be coming in a day or two. That explained why her credit card didn’t work. Thanks for the update, Mom.
Blair had found a nice box in her closet to put the pajama bottoms in. She wrapped it in pretty silver paper and tied it with a black bow, and then she took it over to Nate’s house. But Nate hadn’t called last night to thank her. What was his problem, anyway?
Kati and Isabel sat down across from Blair.
“Why don’t you just tell your mom you don’t want Serena to be a bridesmaid?” Isabel reasoned. She wound her thick brown hair into a knot on top of her head and took a sip of skim milk. “I’m sure she’d listen to you.”
“Just tell your mom you and Serena aren’t friends anymore,” Kati put in. She picked a frizzy blond hair out of her tea. Her hair always got all over everything.
Blair stole a glance at Serena. She knew her mother had already talked to Serena’s mother and that Serena already knew that she was supposed to be a bridesmaid. Tempting as it was, she couldn’t ask her mother to unask her. That would be tacky. And Blair didn’t want to risk giving Serena anything to complain about, just in case Serena had seen her take those pajamas in Barneys. Serena might smear her name all over the Upper East Side.
“It’s too late,” Blair said and shrugged. “I’m really not that bothered by it. She’s just going to walk into the church with us wearing the same dress, or whatever. It’s not like we have to hang out together.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Her mother was planning some sort of luncheon and a day of beauty for all the bridesmaids, but Blair was pretending that that wasn’t happening.
“So what do the dresses look like? Have you and your mom picked anything out yet?” Kati asked, biting into her brownie. “Please tell me we don’t have to wear anything tight. I promised myself I’d lose ten pounds before Christmas, but look at me eating this stupid brownie!”
Blair rolled her eyes and stirred up her yogurt. “Who cares what we wear?” she said.
Isabel and Kati stared at her. Neither of them could believe she’d just said that. Of course it mattered.
When a girl like Blair says a thing like that, you know something is up.
Blair took a bite of her yogurt, ignoring them. What was wrong with everyone anyway? Couldn’t they just shut up about the wedding and leave her alone?
“I’m not really hungry,” she said, suddenly standing up. “I think I’m going to go send some e-mails or something.”
Kati pointed to the untouched brownie on Blair’s tray. “Aren’t you going to eat that?” she asked.
Blair shook her head.
Kati picked up the brownie and put it on Isabel’s tray. “We can share it,” she said.
Isabel scowled and tossed the brownie back at Kati. “If you want to eat it, you take it,” she insisted.
Blair picked up her tray and hurried away. She couldn’t wait to fucking graduate.
Jenny spotted Serena the instant she walked into the cafeteria with her cup of tea and her banana. She was sitting alone, reading something. Jenny hurried over.
“Is it okay if I sit with you?” she asked.
“Of course,” Serena said, closing her book. It was The Sorrows of Young Werther, by Goethe. Jenny had never heard of it.
Serena caught her looking at the book. “Your brother recommended it to me. I honestly don’t know how he can read this shit. It’s seriously boring.” Actually, Dan hadn’t recommended the book to her, but he’d mentioned that he’d read it. It was all about a guy who was totally obsessed with a girl. She was all he thought about and all he could write about. It was kind of creepy.
Jenny laughed. “You should see some of the poetry he writes,” she said.
Serena frowned. She wished she could see some of the poetry Dan had written, since supposedly some of it was about her.
She closed the book. “Promise you won’t tell on me if I don’t finish this?” she said.
“I won’t say anything,” Jenny promised. “As long as you promise not to tell him I told you his poetry was boring.”
“I promise,” Serena said.
Jenny sneaked a peek under the table. As usual, Serena was wearing the maroon polyester-blend pleated kilt, the uniform unoffici
ally reserved for seventh-grade losers. Except she looked amazing in it. She always looked amazing. “You know, you’re like, the only senior who wears the maroon uniform,” Jenny remarked.
Serena shrugged. “I think it’s cool,” she said. “Navy blue is boring, and wearing the gray one makes you never want to wear gray again in your life, and I like gray.”
Jenny was wearing the gray uniform. “I guess you’re right,” she said. “I have a pair of gray pants I never wear. Maybe that’s why.” She cleared her throat. What she really wanted to talk to Serena about was Nate.
“Hey, sorry I messed up yesterday,” Serena said. “I forgot all about meeting up with you and Vanessa.”
“That’s okay,” Jenny started to say. “As it turned out, I had an amazing—”
“Hey guys,” Vanessa Abrams said, walking up to their table. She was wearing black tights that did their best to hide her chunky knees. “What’s up?”
“Hey. Sorry about yesterday,” Serena said.
Vanessa shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m sort of sick of watching those films over and over anyway.” Especially your film, she thought bitterly. It’s too fucking good.
Serena nodded. “Grab a chair.”
Jenny glared at Vanessa. She wanted Serena all to herself.
“Sorry, I can’t,” Vanessa said. “Um, Jenny, we really have to get going developing film for this month’s Rancor feature. There’s like twenty rolls of it, and the dark room’s totally free right now. Do you think you could help me out?”
Jenny glanced at Serena, who shrugged and stood up. “I should get going anyway,” she said. “I have a college meeting with Ms. Glos. Fun, fun, fun.”
“I just had mine,” Vanessa said. “Watch out, she’s having another bloody nose.”
Ms. Glos had yellow-tinged skin and frequent bloody noses. All the girls were convinced she had some terrible contagious disease. If she gave you a handout or loaned you a college catalog, you had to wear gloves when you read it. Either that or wash your hands in very hot water afterward.
“Great,” Serena giggled. “Okay, I’ll see you guys later.”
Vanessa sat down and waited for Jenny to finish eating her banana.
Jenny took the last bite and folded the peel up into a paper napkin.
“Ready?” Vanessa said.
Jenny shrugged. “Actually, I can’t. I have a history paper to print out for next period. Sorry,” she said, standing up.
Vanessa frowned. “Fine,” she said. “But let me know when you’re free. I really do need help.”
“Okay,” Jenny said breezily. “I’ll let you know. Oh, and do you think you could call me Jennifer, instead of Jenny, from now on? I’d really prefer it.”
Vanessa stared at her. “Okay. Jennifer.”
“Thanks,” Jenny said, and hurried off to the computer room. Maybe Nate had e-mailed her!
Vanessa watched Jenny leave, wondering how she had turned into such a royal bitch. She’d thought hanging out with Jenny would make her feel closer to Dan, but it had only pissed her off. Jenny was just like all the other six-hundred-odd girls at Constance—shallow and stuck up.
Vanessa, too, could not wait to fucking graduate.
amor omnia vincit
Instant Message
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Bwaldorf: hey natie
Bwaldorf: i’m going insane here, everyone wants to talk about the wedding, as if i could give a fuck.
Bwaldorf: nate? i know you’re online, are you meeting me after French club today or what?
Bwaldorf: did you get the present i left for you yesterday? Bwaldorf: hello????
Bwaldorf: fine.
Instant Message
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Narchibald: hey Jennifer.
Jhumphrey: hey
Narchibald: want to meet me in the park after school?
Jhumphrey: um, ok. what are we doing?
Narchibald: I don’t know, what do you want to do?
Jhumphrey: i dunno. will ur friends be there?
Narchibald: no, just me. still want to come?
Jhumphrey: definitely. I can meet u outside ur school if u want.
Narchibald: just meet me in front of the Met.
Jhumphrey: okay, see u then.
Jenny logged off, feeling even cooler than ever. She was still only a ninth-grader, but her name was Jennifer, and after school she was meeting Nate, the hottest senior boy in the entire city. She was going to have to blow off helping Vanessa with Rancor, but it was completely worth it. If she were Dan, she’d write a lovesick poem about how gorgeous Nate was and how twisted fate could be, bringing two people who had nothing in common together. How it was destined for tragedy. But Jenny was more of an optimist. She satisfied herself by writing Mrs. Jennifer Archibald in her best calligraphy on the back of the gray mouse pad she was using.
Don’t laugh. That’s what ninth-graders do when they’re in love.
Across town at Riverside Prep, Jenny’s brother Dan was at that very moment e-mailing Serena his latest love poem, entitled “The Last Time I Died.”
Your rope snug around my neck, I jumped.
Your lips kissed me as I fell, and falling still
“Come on, freak,” his friend Zeke Freedman called from the door of the computer lab. “We’re late for Latin.”
Amo ergo sum, Dan thought. I love therefore I am.
“I’m busy,” he said. He typed in Serena’s e-mail address at Constance.
“Well, I don’t want detention,” said Zeke, leaving. “Want to play some b-ball in the park later?”
“Fine,” Dan answered, distracted. “I’ll see you there.” He began constructing a brief e-mail to send along with his attachment.
Dear Serena,
This weekend is going to be awesome. I got an interview set up for Saturday, and my dad’s giving me some extra cash. I can’t wait.
I attached a poem here. Just something I wrote this morning. Hope you like it.
I’ll be in the basketball court near the Meadow if you want to hang out after school.
Love,
Dan
Amor omnia vincit! Love conquers all.
d turns stalkeresque
Jenny stood in front of the Met steps, trying not to be grossed out by the guy lying on the steps behind her. His pants were pulled down, and she was pretty sure his penis was hanging out.
You get used to seeing this stuff when you live in the city, but it’s still seriously gross.
She really wanted to move, but Nate had told her to wait there, and Jenny didn’t want to risk missing him.
“Take a hike!” the penis man shouted at a tourist.
A hot-dog vendor on the sidewalk nearby was talking on his cell phone. Jenny edged closer so she could listen, hoping he was calling the cops. But it sounded more like he was talking to his mother or something because all he said was, “Fine,” over and over.
Someone touched her shoulder. “Hey, Jennifer.”
Jenny wheeled around. “Hey,” she said, smiling up at-Nate. Her hands rose self-consciously to her face, pushing her unruly brown curls behind her ears. “I’m glad you’re here. That guy was freaking me out.”
“Yeah,” Nate said. He put his arm around her. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
At his touch, all the blood rushed to Jenny’s brain. “Okay,” she gasped, leaning into Nate’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Nate kept his arm around her as they headed into the park, winding their way to Sheep Meadow. They found a nice sunny place in the grass and sat down facing each other, cross-legged, with their knees touching. It felt so nice Jenny was having trouble believing she wasn’t dreaming. Out of all the girls in the entire city Nate liked her. It was incredible.
“I hope you don’t mind, my friends are going to meet us here in little while,” Nate said, pulling a bag of pot from his pock
et.
Jenny shrugged. “I don’t mind,” she said, although she was a teensy bit disappointed. Warily, she watched Nate pull a few tufts of weed from the bag and sprinkle them into a rolling paper. Then he expertly rolled a tight little joint and licked the paper to seal it.
He offered it to Jenny and she shook her head. “I’m okay,” she said. She knew it might sound lame, but she already felt a little out of it, sitting so close to Nate. She didn’t want to lose her head completely.
“That’s cool,” Nate said. He dropped the joint into the bag and stuffed it back into his coat pocket.
Jenny blew out a small breath of relief. She wanted to get to know Nate when he was just Nate, not when he was all baked.
“So, have you been visiting colleges on the weekends and stuff?” Jenny asked. “Deciding where you want to go?”
“Yeah,” Nate said, frowning. “But I’m also thinking about maybe taking a year or two off. Going sailing with my dad. I might even try to get on a team for the America’s Cup.”
“Wow,” Jenny said, impressed. “That sounds amazing.”
“Maybe I’ll take three years off and we can go to college together,” Nate said, taking her hand. She had the smallest fingers.
Jenny caught Nate’s gaze and they smiled at each other for a moment.
He let his head roll forward and it fell onto her shoulder. She smelled like clean laundry. “Mmmn,” he said. He couldn’t get over how comfortable he felt with her. He usually had to smoke up or have a few drinks before meeting Blair, just to deal with her constant planning and nagging about the future. But with Jennifer he didn’t even need to be high.
Oh my God, Jenny thought. He’s about to kiss me.
You Know You Love Me Page 8