The sun was setting, and Madison Square Park was basked in a pretty pink glow. The air had the distinct smell of New York in autumn, a mixture of smoking fireplaces, dried leaves, steaming hot dogs, dog pee, and bus exhaust.
Daniel was lying on his back on the park bench the way Vanessa had told him to, a wounded soldier, with his limbs sprawled out pathetically. Wounded in war and in love, he was tragically pale and thin and rumpled-looking. A little glass crack pipe lay on his chest. Lucky Vanessa had found it on the street in Williamsburg that weekend. It was the perfect prop for her sexily damaged prince.
“I’m going to read Natasha’s lines. Watch carefully,” she told Marjorie. “Okay Dan, let’s go.”
“Haven’t you been asleep?” Vanessa-as-Natasha said, peering at Dan-as-Prince Andrei.
“No, I have been looking at you for a long time. I knew by instinct that you were here. No one except you gives me such a sense of gentle restfulness . . . such light! I feel like weeping from very joy,” Dan-as-Prince Andrei said quietly.
Vanessa knelt at his head, her face radiant with solemn delight.
“Natasha, I love you too dearly! More than all the world!” Dan gasped, trying to sit up and then sinking back on the bench as if in pain.
He said he loved her! Vanessa grabbed his hand, her face flushed red at the thrill of it. She was completely caught up in the moment. Then she remembered herself, let go of Dan’s hand, and stood up.
“Now your turn,” she told Marjorie.
“ ’Kay,” Marjorie said, chewing her gum with her mouth open. She pulled the scrunchy out of her wiry red hair and fluffed it up with her hand. Then she knelt down by Dan’s bench and held up the script. “Ready?” she asked him.
Dan nodded.
“Haven’t you been asleep?” Marjorie said, batting her eyes flirtatiously and cracking her gum.
Dan closed his eyes and said his line. He could get through this without laughing if he kept his eyes closed.
Halfway through the scene, Marjorie put on a fake Russian accent. It was unbelievably bad.
Vanessa suffered in silence, wondering what she was going to do without a Natasha. For a moment she imagined buying a wig and playing the part herself, getting someone else to shoot it for her. But it was her project; she had to film it.
Just then, someone nudged her arm and whispered, “Do you mind if I try when she’s done?”
Vanessa turned to find Serena van der Woodsen standing beside her, a little breathless from running across the park. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were as dark as the twilit sky. Serena was her Natasha, if ever there was one.
Daniel bolted upright, forgetting his injuries and his line. The crack pipe rolled to the ground.
“Wait, we’re not done,” Marjorie said. She prodded Dan in the arm. “You’re supposed to kiss my hand.”
Dan stared at her blankly.
“Sure,” Vanessa told Serena. “Marjorie, do you mind giving Serena your script?”
Serena and Marjorie traded places. Dan had his eyes open now. He didn’t dare blink.
They began to read.
“I have been looking at you for a long time,” Dan said, meaning every word.
Serena knelt down beside him and took his hand. Dan felt faint, and he was grateful he was lying down.
Whoa. Easy boy.
He had been in lots of plays, but he had never felt that thing called “chemistry” before with anyone. And to be feeling it with Serena van der Woodsen was like dying an exquisite death. It felt like he and Serena were sharing the same breath. He was inhale and she was exhale. He was quiet and still, while she exploded around him like fireworks.
Serena was enjoying herself too. The script was beautiful and passionate, and this scruffy Dan guy was a really good actor.
I could get into this, she thought with a little thrill. She had never really thought about what she wanted to do with her life, but maybe acting was her thing.
They kept reading beyond the given stopping point. It was as though they’d forgotten they were acting. Vanessa frowned. Serena was great—they were great together—but Dan was swooning. It was totally nauseating.
Boys are so predictable, Vanessa thought and cleared her throat noisily. “Thanks, Serena. Thanks, Dan.” She pretended to scribble comments in her notebook. “I’ll let you know tomorrow, okay?” she told Serena. In your dreams, she wrote.
“That was fun!” Serena said, smiling at Dan.
Dan gazed up at her dreamily from the bench, still hungover from the moment.
“Marjorie, I’ll let you know tomorrow, too. Okay?” Vanessa told the redhead.
“ ’Kay,” Marjorie said. “Thanks.”
Dan sat up, blinking.
“Thanks so much for letting me try out,” Serena said sweetly, turning to go.
“See you later,” Dan said, sounding drugged.
“Bye,” Marjorie said, waving at him, and then rushing after Serena.
“Let’s practice your monologue, Dan,” Vanessa said sharply. “I want to shoot that first.”
“Which subway are you taking?” Marjorie asked Serena, as they walked out of the park.
“Um,” Serena said. She never took the subway, but it wouldn’t kill her to ride with Marjorie. “The 6, I guess,” she said.
“Hey, me too,” Marjorie said happily. “We can ride together.”
It was rush hour, and the subway was packed. Serena found herself jammed between a woman with a huge Daffy’s bag and a fat little boy with nothing to hold onto but Serena’s coat, which he kept grabbing every time the train lurched forward. Marjorie was holding onto the rail above their heads, but only her fingertips could reach it, and she kept staggering backwards, stepping on people’s feet.
“Don’t you think Dan is majorly cute?” Marjorie asked Serena. “I can’t wait until we start filming. I’ll get to hang out with him every day!”
Serena smiled. Obviously Marjorie thought she’d gotten the part, which was a little sad, because Serena was absolutely sure that she had the part. She had totally nailed it.
Serena imagined getting to know Dan. She wondered which school he went to. He had dark, haunting eyes, and he said his lines like he meant them. She liked that. They’d have to practice quite a bit together after school. She wondered if he liked to go out, and what he liked to drink.
The train came to a sudden stop at Fifty-ninth Street and Lexington—Bloomingdale’s. Serena fell forward onto the little boy.
“Ouch,” he said, glaring up at her.
“This is my stop,” Marjorie said, pushing her way to the door. “Sorry if you didn’t get the part. I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”
“Good luck!” Serena called. The subway car emptied out and she slid into a seat, her mind still on Dan.
She imagined drinking Irish coffees with him in dark cafés and discussing Russian literature. Dan looked like he read a lot. He could give her books to read and help her with her acting. Maybe they’d even become friends. She could use some new ones.
Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.
hey people!
I was in an interschool play once. I had one great line: “Iceberg!” Guess which play I was in and what I was dressed as? The one hundredth person to get it right will win a free Remi brothers poster.
But enough about me.
S’S MODELING DEBUT!
Be on the lookout this weekend for the cool new poster decorating the sides of buses, the insides of subways, the tops of taxis, and available online through yours truly (I’m telling you, I’m connected). It’s a great big picture of S—not her face, but it has her name on it so you’ll know it’s her. Congratulations to S on her modeling debut!
Sightings
B, K, and I all in 3 Guys eating fries and hot chocolates with big fat Intermix bags under the table. Don’t those girls have anywhere else to go? And we thought they were always out
boozing it up and partying down. So disappointing. I did see B slip a few splashes of brandy into her hot chocolate, though. Good girl. Also saw that same wigged girl going into the STD clinic downtown. If that is S, she’s definitely got a bad case of the nasties. Oh, and in case you’re wondering why I frequent the neighborhood of the STD clinic—I get my hair cut at a very trendy salon across the street.
Your E-mail
dear gossip girl,
are u really even a girl? u seem like the type 2 pretend to be a girl when u’r really a 50-yrs-old bored journalist with nothing better 2 do than to harsh on kids like me. loser.
—jdwack
Dearest Jdwack,
I’m the girliest girl you’d ever want to meet. And I’m pre-college, pre-voting age, too. How do I know you’re not some fifty-year-old bitter dude with boils on your face taking his inner angst out on innocent girls like me?
—GG
Dear GG,
I loooove your column so much I showed it to my Dad, who totally loved it!! He has friends who work at Paper and the Village Voice and other magazines. Don’t be surprised if your column gets much, much bigger!! I hope you don’t mind!!! Love always!!!
—JNYHY
Mind? No way. I’m all about being big. I’m going to be huge. No more crappy one-line parts in interschool plays for me. You might even see me on the side of a bus sometime soon.
Bring it on!
You know you love me,
dissed at recess
“Yum,” Serena said, eyeing the cookies laid out on a table in the Constance lunchroom. Peanut butter cream, chocolate chip, oatmeal. Next to the cookies were plastic cups full of orange juice or milk. A lunch lady was monitoring the cookies, making sure each girl took only two. This was recess, the daily twenty-minute break Constance gave its girls after second period, no matter what grade they were in.
When the lunch lady’s head was turned, Serena grabbed six peanut butter creams and glided away to stuff her face. It wasn’t exactly a healthy breakfast, but it would have to do. She’d stayed up late the night before trying to read her father’s leather-bound edition of War and Peace so she’d be better prepared for Vanessa’s film.
Whoa, War and Peace is like, two million pages long. Ever heard of CliffsNotes?
Serena saw Vanessa, wearing her usual black turtleneck and bored expression, coming out of the cafeteria kitchen with a cup of tea in her hand. Serena waved a cookie at her, and Vanessa came over.
“Hi,” Serena said cheerfully. “Made up your mind yet?”
Vanessa sipped her tea. She’d been up half the night trying to decide between Serena and Marjorie for the part. But she couldn’t get the look on Dan’s face when he read with Serena out of her head. And no matter how good Serena was, she never wanted to see that look on Dan’s face again. She certainly didn’t want to capture it on film.
“Actually, yes. I haven’t told Marjorie yet,” Vanessa said calmly, “but I’m giving her the part.”
Serena dropped the cookie she was eating on the floor, stunned. “Oh,” she said.
“Yeah,” said Vanessa, scrambling for a decent reason why she was using Marjorie when Serena was obviously perfect for the part. “Marjorie’s really rough and innocent. That’s what I’m looking for. Dan and I thought your performance was just a bit too . . . um . . . polished.”
“Oh,” Serena said again. She could hardly believe it. Even Dan had vetoed her? She had thought they were going to be friends.
“Sorry,” Vanessa said, feeling slightly bad. She knew she shouldn’t have brought Dan into it; he didn’t even know she was turning Serena down. But it sounded more professional that way. Like it wasn’t anything she had against Serena personally, not at all. It was strictly a business decision. “You’re a good actress though,” she added. “Don’t be discouraged.”
“Thanks,” Serena said. Now she wasn’t going to hang out with Dan and practice their lines like she’d imagined. And what was she going to tell Ms. Glos? She still didn’t have any extracurriculars, and no halfway decent college was going to want her.
Vanessa walked away, looking for Marjorie so she could tell her the good news. She was going to have to change the entire film now that Marjorie was her star. It would have to be a comedy. But at least she had saved herself from making Endless Love in the Park After Dark, starring Serena van der Woodsen and Daniel Humphrey. Blech.
Serena stood in the corner of the cafeteria, the remaining cookies crumbling in her hand. Gone With the Wind was a total cheese-fest, and she was too polished for War and Peace. What else could she do? She chewed on her thumbnail, deep in thought.
Maybe she could make a movie of her own. Blair took film—she could help. When they were younger they’d always talked about making movies. Blair was always going to be the star, wearing cool Givenchy outfits like Audrey Hepburn, except Blair preferred Fendi. And Serena always wanted to direct. She would wear floppy linen pants and shout through a bullhorn and sit in a chair with the word “director” on it.
This was their chance.
“Blair,” Serena nearly shouted when she saw Blair by the milk table. She rushed over to her, overcome by the brilliance of her idea. “I need your help,” Serena said, squeezing Blair’s arm.
Blair kept her body stiff until Serena let go.
“Sorry,” Serena said. “Listen, I want to make a movie, and I thought you could help me, you know, with the cameras and stuff, since you take film.”
Blair glanced at Kati and Isabel, who were quietly sipping milk behind her. Then she smiled up at Serena, and shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t,” she said. “I’ve got activities every single day after school. I don’t have time.”
“Oh, come on, Blair,” Serena said, grabbing Blair’s hand. “Remember, we always wanted to do this. You wanted to be Audrey Hepburn.”
Blair removed her hand and folded her arms across her chest, glancing at Isabel and Kati again.
“Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work,” Serena added hastily. “All you have to do is show me how to use the camera and the lighting and stuff.”
“I can’t,” Blair insisted. “Sorry.”
Serena pursed her lips to keep them from trembling. Her eyes seemed to be growing larger and larger, and her face was turning splotchy.
Blair had seen this transformation in Serena many times as they grew up together. Once, when they were both eight, they had walked the three miles from Serena’s country house into the town of Ridgefield to buy ice cream cones. Serena stepped out of the ice cream shop with her triple strawberry cone with chocolate sprinkles and bent down to pet a dog tied up outside. All three scoops fell splat into the dirt. Serena’s eyes had grown huge and her face looked like she had the measles. The tears had just started to roll, and Blair was about to offer to share her cone with Serena, when the shop owner came out with a fresh cone for her.
Seeing Serena on the verge of tears once more touched something deep inside of Blair, like an involuntary impulse.
“Um. But we’re going out on Friday,” she told Serena. “Drinks around eight at the Tribeca Star, if you want to come.”
Serena took a deep breath and nodded. “Just like old times,” she said, staving off her tears and attempting a smile.
“Right,” Blair said.
She made a note in her mental PalmPilot to tell Nate not to come out on Friday now that Serena was coming. Blair’s new plan was to knock back a few drinks with Serena at the Tribeca Star, leave early, go home, fill her room with candles, take a bath, and wait for Nate to come. And then they’d have sex all night long to romantic music. She’d already burned a sexy CD to play while they did it.
Even the best-bred girls resort to cheesy things like burning CD mixes when they’re losing their virginity.
The bell rang and the girls went their separate ways to class; Blair to her AP Academic-Achievers afternoon, and Serena to her plain old Kraft-American-Slices classes.
Serena couldn’t believe she had just been rejec
ted not once but twice in the last ten minutes. And as she gathered her books from her locker, she tried to come up with a new plan of action. She wasn’t going to give up.
Her picture wasn’t on the side of a bus for nothing.
westsider’s romantic dream up in smoke
Vanessa skipped the first five minutes of Calculus to call Daniel on his cell phone. She knew he had Study Hall fourth period on Thursdays, and he was probably hanging out outside, reading poetry and smoking cigarettes. A girl was using Constance’s pay phone in the hallway by the stairs, so Vanessa slipped outside to the pay phone on the corner of Ninety-third Street and Madison.
The lower-school boys were playing dodgeball in the Riverside Prep School courtyard, so when his cell phone rang, Dan was sitting on a park bench in the traffic island in the middle of Broadway. He’d just cracked open L’Etranger, by Albert Camus, which he was reading in French class that term. Dan was psyched. He’d already read the English translation, but it felt especially cool to read the French original, especially while sitting outside drinking bad coffee and smoking a cigarette in the middle of noisy, smelly Broadway. It was very hard-core. As people walked past in a hurry to get somewhere, Dan felt aloof and removed from the chaos of everyday life, just like the guy in the book.
Dan had dark circles under his eyes because he hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. All he could think about was Serena van der Woodsen. They were starring in a movie together. They were even going to kiss. It was too good to be true.
Poor dude, he had that right.
His cell phone was still ringing.
“Yeah?” Dan said, answering it.