“’Ere,” Jenny said, desperately trying to hold in the smoke. She passed the pipe to Anthony.
“Nice hit,” Charlie remarked, nodding approvingly at her.
Jenny’s eyes were tearing. “Tanks,” she said, letting a little smoke seep out the corners of her lips.
“Jesus, this stuff is strong,” Nate said, shaking his golden head.
“Whew,” Jenny said in agreement, finally blowing out the rest of the smoke. She felt extremely cool.
The pipe made its way back to her, and this time she lit it herself, copying the way the boys had done it, while trying to look casual. Again, she held in the smoke for as long as she could bear to without coughing. Her eyeballs felt like they were going to explode.
“This reminds me of something,” she said, passing the pipe to Anthony once more. “I can’t remember what, but it’s definitely something.”
“Yeah,” Jeremy agreed.
“It reminds me of summer,” Anthony said.
“No, that’s not it,” Jenny said, closing her eyes. Her father had sent her to a hippie arts camp in the Adirondack Mountains for the summer. She’d had to write haikus about the environment, sing peace songs in Spanish and Chinese, and weave blankets for the homeless. The entire place smelled like pee and peanut butter. “My summer sucked. What I’m thinking of is something good, like Halloween when you’re a little kid.”
“Definitely,” said Nate. He lay back in the grass and looked up at the orange autumn leaves fluttering in the trees overhead. “It’s exactly like Halloween,” he said.
Jenny lay down next to him. Normally she never would have done such a thing, because when she lay down, her boobs oozed over the sides of her ribcage and bulged out of her clothing in a deformed manner. But for once she wasn’t worried about her boobs. It felt nice just to lie there beside Nate, breathing the same air that he was breathing.
“When I was little I used to cover my eyes and think no one could see me if I couldn’t see them,” she said, passing her hand over her eyes.
“Me too,” Nate said, closing his eyes. He felt completely relaxed, like a dog napping in front of the fire after a long run. This Jennifer girl was genuinely nice and so completely without expectation; it felt great to be with her.
If only Blair knew how easy it was to make him happy.
“When you’re younger, everything is pretty simple like that, you know?” Jenny said. Her tongue felt loose in her mouth, and she couldn’t stop talking. “Then the older you get, the more complicated things are.”
“Completely,” Nate said. “Like getting into college. All of a sudden we have to plan what we’re doing for the rest of our lives and try to impress people with how smart and involved we are. I mean, do our parents take eight classes a day, play on sports teams, edit the paper, and tutor underprivileged children, or whatever every single day? No.”
“It’s crazy,” Jenny agreed. She had yet to feel the pressure of getting into college, but she could empathize. “I mean, all my dad does all day is read and listen to the radio. How come we have to do so much?”
“I don’t know.” Nate sighed tiredly. He reached for Jenny’s hand and wound his fingers around hers.
Jenny felt as if she were melting into the grass. The side of her that was next to Nate was warm and humming, and her hand felt like it had fused to his. She’d never felt so wonderful in her entire life.
“Hey, do you want to come over to my house and get something to eat?” Nate said, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.
Jenny nodded. She knew she didn’t have to say anything. Nate could hear her.
She couldn’t believe how quickly life could change. How could she have known when she’d woken up that morning that today was the day she’d fall in love?
d is obsessed
Dan felt a little perverted at first, watching Serena’s film all alone in Vanessa and Ruby’s apartment. But as soon as he’d gotten himself a glass of Coke from their old brown fridge, settled on the end of Ruby’s unmade futon bed, and pressed play, he’d forgotten about feeling self-conscious.
The camera zoomed in on Serena’s glossy, red lips. “Welcome to my world,” she said, laughing. Then her lips started walking. Or rather, Serena herself was walking. The camera stayed focused on her lips while the background changed. “I’m hailing a cab,” Serena said. “I take so many cabs. It’s expensive.”
A cab stopped behind her and the lips got into the backseat. “We’re heading downtown now. To Jeffrey. It’s a great store. I don’t know what I’m looking for, but I’m sure I’ll find it.”
The camera remained on her lips, which were silent for the entire ride. Music played. Something ‘60s and French. Serge Gainsbourg, maybe. Glimpses of New York street scenes were visible through the smudged cab window.
Dan clutched his glass of Coke. It was such a tease to only see Serena’s lips. He felt like he was going to pass out.
“We’re here,” Serena’s lips said finally. The camera followed her lips out of the cab and through the large glass entryway of a bright, white store. “Look at all these fabulous clothes,” the lips murmured. They remained slightly parted as Serena took in the contents of the store. “I’m in heaven.”
Dan fumbled in his pants pocket for a cigarette, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He smoked one and then another as the camera patrolled the store along with Serena’s lips, stopping first to kiss a tiny brown handbag with a picture of a dog on it and then to drag a pair of sequined angora arm-warmers across the camera’s lens. Finally her lips discovered a dress that they just couldn’t get enough of.
“It’s so perfectly red,” her lips said in awe. “I’m way into red these days. Okay. I’m trying it on.”
Dan lit a third cigarette.
The camera followed Serena’s lips into the dressing room. They chattered away as Serena removed her clothes. “It’s freezing in here,” she said. “I hope this isn’t too small. I hate it when things are too small.” Her hair, her bare shoulders, her neck, her ear were all visible in the mirror for a fraction of a second, but nothing was in focus. It was almost unbearable to watch.
And then …
“Ta da!” the lips said. The camera panned back slowly, revealing Serena in her entirety, sporting a gorgeous, strappy red dress. Her feet were bare and her toes were painted red, too. “Isn’t it amazing?” she said, clapping her hands and spinning around and around, the dress flaring out around her knees. The French song came on again, and then the picture faded to black.
Dan fell back on the bed. He felt drugged. More than anything he wanted to be with Serena right now. Those lips! He wanted to kiss them again and again.
He dug his cell phone out of his coat pocket and pressed the buttons to search for her number, hitting send when he found it.
“Hello?” Serena picked up after the first ring.
“It’s Dan,” he said, his voice cracking. He could barely breathe.
“Hey. I’m so, so, so sorry I forgot to come meet you guys. Was Vanessa totally pissed or what?”
Dan closed his eyes. “I just watched your film,” he said. He reached for the remote and hit rewind.
Serena paused. How embarrassing. “Oh,” she said. “What’d you think?”
Dan took a deep breath. “I think—” Could he say it? Could he? All it took was three words. He could say them right now and be done with it. He could.
But he couldn’t.
“I loved … it,” he said instead, chickening out on the last word.
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, what does your sister think? She’s only seen bits and pieces of it. There was tons more film, but Vanessa and I finally streamlined it down to just the lips thing.”
“Jenny didn’t want to watch it without you,” Dan said. “It’s just me here. Vanessa gave me the key.” He felt weird admitting this, but he didn’t want to lie.
“Oh,” Serena said, remembering what Dan’s father had said about Dan
writing poetry about her. Now he was watching her film all alone in Vanessa’s house? Serena didn’t want to feel weird about it, but it was hard not to.
“I’m really psyched for next weekend,” Dan said, sitting up. “Do you think I should try and schedule an interv—?”
“Cool,” Serena said, cutting him off. “So I’ll see you Friday, right? Grand Central, three o’clock.”
“Okay,” Dan said. Was that it? They were done talking?
“’Bye,” Serena said and hung up. She didn’t want to linger on the phone in case Dan said something intense she couldn’t handle. Things were already far more intense than she’d intended.
“’Bye,” Dan said. He pressed play on the remote once more, his brain still fuzzy from the spell the film had cast. It couldn’t hurt to watch it again, could it?
Hmm … Anyone smell obsession? And we’re not talking about the perfume.
smooth sailing
“I’ve never been inside a house like this,” Jenny said, standing on the stoop of Nate’s town house. It was three stories high, with green-painted window boxes filled with geraniums, and ivy cascading from the roof. The door had a complicated series of alarms and locks, and a security camera was trained on the house front and back.
Nate shrugged as he punched a code into the alarm system. “It’s just like living in an apartment,” he said. “Except there are stairs.”
“Yeah,” Jenny said. “I guess.” She didn’t want to let on how truly awestruck she was.
Nate led her inside. The foyer floor was made of red marble. A giant stone lion stood in one corner. Someone had put a fur hat on its head. Down a set of stairs was an enormous sunken living room. There were original oil paintings by famous artists on every wall. Jenny even thought she recognized some of them. Renoir. Sargent. Picasso.
“My parents are into art,” Nate said when he noticed Jenny staring. Then he noticed something else. A wrapped package sat on the side table. The card had his name on it. Nate went over to it and ripped open the envelope.
BLAIR CORNELIA WALDORF was printed on the face of the card in classic Tiffany letterhead. Inside it read: For Nate. You know I love you. Blair.
“What’s that?” Jenny said. “Is it your birthday or something?”
“Nah,” Nate said. He stuffed the card back in its envelope, picked up the box, and stashed it on the floor of the coat closet. He wasn’t even curious about what was inside. It was probably just a sweater or some cologne. Blair was always giving him stuff for no reason, except to get attention. She could be so demanding sometimes.
“So what do you want to eat?” he asked Jenny, leading her down the hall and into the kitchen. “Our cook makes awesome brownies. I bet there are still some left.”
“Cook?” Jenny echoed, following him. “Of course you have a cook.”
Nate located a cookie tin on top of the enormous marble kitchen counter and opened it. He pulled out a brownie and shoved it in his mouth. “My mom’s not exactly the best cook in the world,” he said. The idea of his mother even making toast was a complete joke. She was a French princess who lived on restaurant food or catered meals at dinner parties. She’d barely even been in the kitchen.
“Try one,” Nate said. He handed Jenny a brownie.
“Thanks.” Jenny took the brownie even though she was too excited to eat it. It was going to melt in her sticky palm.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Nate said. “This way’s fastest.”
Jenny sucked in her breath. She had never been alone with a boy in his house before, and it was a little scary. But she wanted to trust Nate. He was so unlike that horrible Chuck Bass who had taken advantage of her at that party. Chuck had seemed dangerous and exciting at first, but he’d never even asked Jenny what her name was. Nate was polite. He seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her. And Jenny was genuinely interested in letting him.
Nate led Jenny out a side door and up a narrow stairwell. She had read enough Jane Austen and Henry James books to know that these were the servants’ stairs. On the third floor Nate opened the door at the top of the stairs onto a wide hallway lit overhead by a glass skylight. They passed an oil portrait of a little boy dressed in a sailor outfit and holding a wooden boat. It was Nate, Jenny realized.
Nate opened another door. “This is my room.”
Jenny followed him inside. Other than the antique sleigh bed and the ultramodern, ultracool desk with a wafer-thin laptop sitting on it, his room looked pretty normal. The bed was covered with a green-and-black plaid flannel comforter; there were DVDs scattered on the floor, dumbbells stacked precariously in a corner, shoes spilling out of the closet, and vintage Beatles posters hanging on the walls.
“It’s nice,” Jenny said, sitting down nervously on the edge of the bed. She noticed the model of a sailboat sitting on the bedside table. “Do you sail?”
“Yeah,” Nate said, picking up the model boat. “Me and my dad make boats. Up in Maine.” He handed the model to Jenny. “This is the one we’re working on now. It’s a cruiser, so it’s got a heavier hull than the boats we build to race with. We’re going to sail it to the Caribbean first. And then maybe even to Europe.”
“Really?” Jenny examined the model boat. She couldn’t imagine sailing across the Atlantic in something so small and delicate. “Does it have a toilet?”
Nate smiled. “Yeah. Here.” He stuck his pinky down into the cabin. There was a tiny oval door with the letters WC printed on it. “See it?”
Jenny nodded in fascination. “I’d love to know how to sail,” she said.
Nate sat down next to her. “Maybe you could come up to Maine and I could teach you,” he said quietly.
Jenny turned to him, her big brown eyes searching his emerald green ones. “I’m only fourteen,” she said.
Nate reached up and touched her curly brown hair, combing it ever so gently with his fingers. Then he put his hand down again. “I know,” he said. “It’s okay.”
Disclaimer. All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.
hey people!
EVERYBODY’S DOING IT
Even I am guilty of having taken an extra Kit Kat from the newsstand on the corner back in fifth grade. I did it on a dare, but I still have guilt-ridden nightmares about it. You don’t see me taking purses from Prada or undies from Armani. But some girls can’t help themselves.
Winona Ryder got caught stealing some nice clothes in an LA boutique. Claimed it was research for a role she was playing. Yeah, right. And Now B. She was even good enough at it not to get caught.
Of course what they stole is totally critical. It wouldn’t be very cool for them to have stolen, say, some duct tape from Ace Hardware or toilet paper from CVS. But a pair of cashmere pajamas? That’s majorly high class. It’s also majorly psychotic. Next thing you know, B will be stealing Jaguars and Mercedes-Benzes!
Sightings
B dropping off a wrapped present at N’s town house. N wasn’t home, so she gave it to the maid. D leaving V’s apartment in Brooklyn and walking almost all the way home to the Upper West Side. Now that’s a long walk. Guess he needed to chill out. S biting her nails and reading No Exit in The Corner Bookstore on Ninety-third and Madison. Trying to understand D a little better, maybe. Little J leaving N‘s house with a perma-grin plastered to her face. Love is a many-splendored thing. Careful, J—the Waspoid is not the most reliable breed to fall in love with.
For those who don’t know … Waspoid: noun. The elite version of the wasteoid, or stoner boy. Wears cashmere sweaters. Likes to smoke pot—a lot. Doesn’t like to commit. But maybe N will surprise us.
Your E-Mail
Q: Dear GG,
What do you think about older boys dating younger girls?
—Sneaky
A: Dear Sneaky,
It definitely depends on the age difference and the circumstances. For instance, if you were a college senior dating a high school sophomore I wou
ld say you had a bit of a Woody Allen-Soon Yi Previn problem. If you were a high school senior dating a college freshman, that would be okay. A high school senior dating a high school freshman is pushing it. It seems to work better when the girl is the younger one, mainly because we mature much faster—in all ways.
—GG
Q: Dear Gossip Girl,
I’m pretty sure I saw B stealing a bottle of Aveda shampoo from Zitomer. I mean, it’s not like she doesn’t have, any money. If she had any real friends, they’d get her some help.
—Spygirl
A: Dear Spygirl,
Thanks for the tip. The truth is, I don’t think shoplifting is B’s biggest problem right now. Have you seen the guy who’s about to become her new stepdad?
—GG
THE CONSTANCE BILLARD SCHOOL SENIOR FILM FESTIVAL AWARDS
V, B, and S have all entered. V with her little piece of War and Peace; B with a redo of the first ten minutes of Breakfast at Tiffany’s; and S with her… thing. Competition is high. Both V and B think they have it in the bag. S doesn’t think she has a chance. I’m taking bets!
You know you love me,
gossip girl
b and v can’t wait to graduate
“Where’s it going to be?”
“How many guests is she having?”
“How many bridesmaids?”
“What are you going to wear?”
“How many layers is she having on the cake?”
“Is your father invited?”
Blair held her breath. It was lunchtime, and she was waiting in line with Kati and Isabel in the Constance Billard School cafeteria. Blair wasn’t even hungry, not anymore. Kati had started the whole annoying inquisition by mentioning that she’d seen a really cool wedding dress in a ‘60s Vogue she’d found in a thrift shop. The dress had little crystal daisies all over it, white velvet trim, and a big white velvet bow in the back. Then Isabel had asked Blair if her mother was going to wear a traditional white wedding dress or something different. Now Blair was surrounded by eager Constance girls with Monday-bright eyes, all firing questions at her about her mother’s wedding. To her disgust, her senior classmates weren’t the only ones who thought they had a right to know all the boring details. Becky Dormand and her group of annoying junior followers were practically pulling on Blair’s black cashmere sweater, drooling over any tidbit of wedding news. Even a few bold ninth-graders were lingering nearby hoping to hear enough to brag about it to their friends.