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town　house　between　Park　and　Lexington。　Plus；　all　they　really　ever　did　was　fool　around　because　a）　
they？d　known　each　other　since　they　were　toddlers；　so　there　wasn？t　anything　new　to　know；　and　b）　
even　though　Serena　would　have　been　happy　to；　they　couldn？t　go　all　the　way　because　Nate　seemed　
to　be　having　a　problem　lately。？　

Oh？And　what　sort　of　？problem？　might　that　be？　

？Hey；　Serena；？　Isabel　called　over　from　the　Stella　McCartney　rack。　？I　heard　you　got　nominated　
for　senior　speaker　by　Mr。　Beckham。？　

Serena　propped　the　purple…fruited　headband　back　on　its　hook。　？Really？？　she　responded　with　
genuine　amazement。　Mr。　Beckham　was　Constance　Billard？s　film　teacher。　She　had　stopped　taking　
film　in　ninth　grade　and　hadn？t　even　been　at　Constance　the　next　two　years。　She？d　been　up　at　
Hanover　Academy；　in　New　Hampshire？until　she　kind　of　missed　the　first　few　weeks　of　senior　year　
and　they　wouldn？t　take　her　back。　Why　would　Mr。　Beckham；　of　all　people；　nominate　her　for　senior　
speaker？

　Good　question。　

？So；　are　you　going　to　do　it？？　Isabel　persisted。　


Serena　tried　to　imagine　herself　standing　at　the　podium　in　Brick　Church　on　Park　Avenue；　
addressing　her　class；　dressed　in　their　pristine　white　dresses　and　white　gloves。Oh；　the　places　you？ll　
go。　Our　future？s　so　bright；　we？re　going　to　have　to　wear　shades　；　etc。　She　might　have　liked　acting　
and　modeling；　but　inspirational　speaking　wasn？t　exactly　her　thing。　Surely　one　of　her　other　
classmates　would　be　way　more　into　it。　

？Maybe；？　she　replied；　nonmittally。　

You　bitch；　Blair　thought；　her　ears　aching　from　eavesdropping。　Ever　since　the　infamous　bathtub　
incident　at　Isabel？s　party；　Blair　had　been　obsessively　determined　to　surprise　everyone　by　rising　
above　Serena　and　Nate？s　stupid；　hurtful　behavior；　making　it　look　like　she　really　couldn？t　give　a　
damn；　and　end　the　school　year　as　the　girl　everyone　most　admired。　

Not　that　she　wasn？t　already　the　girl　everyone　most　admired。　She？d　always　had　the　best　clothes；　
best　bags；　best　fingernails；　coolest　hair；　and　by　far　the　best　shoes。　But　this　time　she　wanted　to　be　
admired　for　her　courage；　independence；　and　intelligence。　And　being　senior　speaker　at　graduation　
was　definitely　part　of　that　package。　Right　now　Vanessa　Abrams；　Blair？s　unlikely；　shaven…headed；　
black…wearing　roommate；　was　back　at　Constance　nominating　Blair　for　senior　speaker。　But　as　usual；　
that　sneaky　bitch　Serena　had　to　go　and　fucking　copy　her。　

The　tricky　part　of　it　was；　no　one　actually　campaigned　to　be　senior　speaker。　And　usually　there　
wasn？t　even　a　vote；　because　usually　only　one　person　got　nominated。　Being　senior　speaker　was　
one　of　those　things　that　justhappened　？another　mysterious　Constance　Billard　tradition　that　no　one　
ever　quite　understood。　Things　were　bound　to　get　a　little　interesting　now　that　two　girls　were　about　
to　be　nominated。　

Especially　these　two。　

Serena　understood　instantly　that　Blair　would　think　that　she　actually　wanted　to　be　senior　speaker；　
which　was　totally　not　the　case。　But　how　could　she　defend　herself　when　Blair　wouldn？t　even　look　
at　her？　Unable　to　resist；　she　pointed　at　the　goth…wears…white　Morgane　Le　Fay　dress　in　Blair？s　
hands。　？Oh　my　God；　that　would　look　so　amazing　on　Vanessa。　That？s　who　it？s　for；　right？？　she　
asked　with　a　bright　smile。　

Oh；　so　you　think　it？s　okay　to　talk　to　me？Blair　thought。Wrong　。　Unable　to　muster　a　succinct　
spoken　reply；　Blair　shrugged　and　carried　the　dress　over　to　the　makeshift　register　set　up　on　a　
banquet　table　near　the　door；　paying　for　it　with　one　of　her　three　platinum　credit　cards；　which　were　
paid　off　by　her　mother？s　accountant；　Ralph。　

This　isn？t　going　to　be　easy；　Serena　thought　with　a　theatrical　sigh。　？I？m　not　in　the　mood　to　buy　
anything　anyway；？　she　added　out　loud　and　glanced　around　for　Nate。　Fighting　with　Blair　was　
always　so　exhausting。　Especially　when　it　involved　being　madly　in　love　with　Nate　Archibald。　

Or　at　least；　pretending　to　be。　


A　funny　thing　happened　at　the　yale　club　

？So　good　to　have　you　with　us；　Miss　Waldorf；？　the　Yale　Club？s　uptight　concierge　greeted　her。　？If　
you？ll　just　follow　me；　Dominick　will　tend　to　your　luggage。？　

？Thank　you；？　Blair　replied　graciously；　pleased　with　herself　for　having　made　Chuck　call　and　
pretend　to　be　her　father；　booking　her　a　suite　only　minutes　before　she　arrived。　Of　course；　she　could　
have　asked　her　dad　to　call　himself；　but　he　was　in　Germany　buying　a　plane　or　a　car？she　wasn？t　sure　
which？for　his　new　French　boyfriend；　Giles；　and　she　didn？t　want　to　bother　him。　

The　Yale　Club　lobby　was　businesslike　and　unfussy；　with　a　black…and…white　marble　floor；　white　
walls；　and　a　few　Yale…blue　wing…back　chairs　scattered　about。　Blair　kept　her　chin　up　as　the　staff　
scurried　about　with　her　bags　and　keys；　imagining　she　was　Elizabeth　Taylor；　back　in　the　days　when　
she　was　beautiful；　thin；　and　glamorous；　arriving　at　some　simple　bed…and…breakfast　in　a　small　town　
in　Scotland　where　her　new　film　was　being　shot。　She　could　tolerate　the　old…fashioned；　crusty　
surroundings　so　long　as　she　spent　most　of　her　time　in　the　bar。　

She　followed　the　black…vested；　bow…tie…wearing　concierge　into　one　of　the　old　wood…paneled　
elevators　and　stood　silently　waiting　for　the　door　to　close；　praying　that　her　suite　would　have　lots　of　
closet　space　and　decent　sheets。　It　was　precisely　one　of　those　awkward；　mundane　little　moments　
that　made　her　feel　like　most　of　life　was　just　waiting　for　something　to　happen。　

But　then；　somethingdid　happen。　

？Hold　it！？　a　tall；　broad…shouldered　boy　shouted　as　he　dashed　into　the　elevator。　His　light　brown　
hair　was　short　and　wavy；　and　his　skin　was　tanned　a　nice　golden　brown　color。　His　glittering　green　
eyes　were　framed　by　long；　golden　brown　lashes；　and　his　girlish　red　mouth　was　set　off　by　a　
masculine　square　chin。　

？Cheers；？　he　thanked　the　concierge　in　a　British　accent。　Then　he　turned　and　stood　facing　Blair；　
unabashedly　checking　her　out　as　the　elevator　doors　rolled　shut　behind　him。　

Looks　like　Elizabeth　has　found　her　Richard　Burton。　

Blair　teetered　on　her　gold　Manolo　Egyptian　Goddess　sandals　as　they　glided　upwards。　What　a　
charming　British　accent。　What　a　beautiful　crisp　white　shirt　and　perfectly　ironed　Helmut　Lang　jeans。　
What　adorable　Church？s　of　London　tan　lace…up　shoes。　What　golden　brown　hair；　what　green　eyes；　
what　great　height！　He　was　like　a　taller；　handsomer　version　of　Nate？but　even　better　than　Nate；　
because　of　that　delicious　accent！　


Isn？t　she　supposed　to　be　through　with　men？　But　a　super…British　version　of　Nate？　e　on；　who　
could　resist？　

The　elevator　stopped　on　the　fourth　floor。　The　boy　stood　aside；　and　the　concierge　stepped　out。　？If　
you？ll　just　follow　me；　miss；？　he　said；　motioning　to　Blair　to　follow　him。　Blair　hesitated。　How　could　
she　leave　such　a　delicious…looking　boy　behind？　

？After　you；　miss；？　the　boy　murmured　quietly；　pressing　the　door…open　button　so　Blair　wouldn？t　
get　squashed。　

？Right　this　way；？　the　concierge　prompted；　leading　the　way　down　the　Yale　blue？carpeted　hallway。　

Blair　stepped　out　into　the　hall　and　began　to　follow　the　concierge；　walking　as　slowly　as　possible。　
Then　suddenly　the　boy　was　walking　beside　her；　exuding　pleasant　odors　and　looking　delighted　with　
his　own　hotness。　

The　concierge　stopped　at　the　end　of　the　hallway。　？Yours　is　the　junior　suite；　miss。　Right　next　to　
His　Lordship？s。？

　HisLord　ship？！　

The　English　boy　smiled　at　Blair　as　he　fumbled　with　his　key。　？Lord　Marcus　Beaton…Rhodes；？　he　
introduced　himself；　thrusting　his　hand　out。　Blair　noticed　right　away　he　was　wearing　a　Yale　
ring。　？Embarrassingly　enough；　my　friends　at　Yale　all　call　me　Lord。？　

Lord。　I？d　like　you　to　meet　my　boyfriend；　Lord。　This　is　my　husband；　Lord。　We　met　at　Yale。　The　
lord　and　his　gorgeous　wife　will　be　vacationing　on　their　yacht　in　the　South　of　France　this　spring　
with　their　perfect　family　before　a　long　sojourn　at　their　summer　castle　in　Cornwall。　？　

　？And　you　are？？　

Blair　fluttered　her　thick；　mascaraed　eyelashes；　awakening　from　her　delicious　daydream。　？Blair　
Cornelia　Waldorf；？　she　trilled；　sounding　exactly　like　Audrey　Hepburn　inBreakfast　at　Tiffany？s　
when　she　first　introduces　herself　to　her　new　neighbor；　Paul　Varjak。　？Actually；　I？m　starting　at　Yale　
this　fall。？　

？And　I？ve　just　finished　there。　Wa…hey！？　Lord　Marcus　tossed　his　keys　into　his　room　and　kicked　
off　his　shoes　in　the　doorway。　？Blimey；　I？m　late　for　squash；　but　let？s　？？　He　smiled　shyly。　？Shall　we　
get　together　for　a　drink　tonight？？　

Blair　nodded　in　dumb　agreement。　She　could　hardly　believe　her　luck。　

？See　you　in　the　lounge　at　seven；　then。？　


The　lord　closed　his　door　and　the　concierge　deposited　the　adjacent　suite？s　keys　into　Blair？s　
hand。　？Your　bags　will　be　here　in　a　moment。　Is　everything　all　right；　Miss　Waldorf？？　

？Bloody　hell！？　she　heard　the　lord　exclaim　in　his　adorable　accent　as　he　crashed　around　in　his　suite。　
Blair　imagined　him　throwing　his　beautiful；　tailor…made　English　clothes　all　over　the　place　as　he　
hunted　for　something　to　wear　for　squash。　If　she　were　his　girlfriend；　she？d　color…code　his　shirts　for　
him　and　alphabetize　his　shoes　according　to　designer　so　he　wouldn？t　have　to　thrash　around　so　
much　looking　for　things。　

Of　course　she　would。　

She　stepped　inside　her　room　and　flopped　down　on　the　king…size　bed　to　listen；　her　eyes　darting　
around　the　room　as　she　did　so；　taking　it　all　in。　It　was　small　and　shabby…chic；　erring　on　the　shabby　
side；　the　gold　accents　on　the　curtains　and　bedspread　and　the　Regency　blue？patterned　wallpaper　the　
only　attempts　at　grandeur。　It　wasn？t　exactly　the　Plaza；　but　therewas　a　hot　English　lord　living　next　
door。　

Yes；　yes？everything　wasmore　than　all　right。　

what　boarding　schoolers　do　when　they？re　bored　

It　was　already　five　in　the　afternoon　by　the　time　Jenny　and　her　father　arrived　at　the　Croton　School；　
in　Croton　Falls；　New　York。　Rufus？s　weekly　wine　and　beat　poetry　night　with　his　weirdo　anarchist　
poet　cronies　was　starting　in　an　hour　at　a　speakeasy　in　Greenwich　Village；　and　he　was　getting　antsy。　
Croton　was　only　an　hour　and　a　half　from　the　city　by　train；　and　Jenny　was　anxious　to　ditch　him；　
anyway；　so　she　offered　to　take　the　train　home。　

？Don？t　get　off　at　125th　Street；？　Rufus　advised；　even　though　the　stop　was　closest　to　their　
apartment。　He　handed　Jenny　three　twenty…dollar　bills。　？Go　all　the　way　to　Grand　Central　and　then　
get　a　cab。　And　call　me　when　you？re　leaving　so　I　can　tell　your　brother　when　to　expect　you。？　

Like　Dan　really　cared　if　sheever　came　home。　Lately　Dan　had　been　so　preoccupied；　he　barely　
seemed　to　remember　that　they　used　to　kind　of　be　friends。　

Jenny　kissed　her　father　on　the　cheek。　It　was　cute　how　he　babied　her；　but　she　was　almost　
fifteen？she　could　take　care　of　herself。　？Have　a　nice　night；　Daddy；？　she　told　him　sweetly。　She　
waved　good…bye　as　the　battered　navy　blue　Volvo　station　wagon　disappeared　down　the　road。　Then　
she　unbuttoned　her　blouse　another　notch　and　stepped　inside　a　cute　red　clapboard　house　with　a　gold　
plaque　on　its　hunter…green…painted　door　that　read　ADMISSIONS；　eager　to　meet　her　Croton　tour　
guide。　


？You！？　a　male　voice　crowed　enthusiastically　as　soon　as　she　opened　the　door。　？It？s　you！？　

Jenny？s　pretty　red　mouth　dropped　open　in　shock。　Leering　at　her　from　across　the　quaintly　
decorated　admissions　office　reception　area　was　a　more　masculine；　less　flamboyantly　dressed　clone　
of　Chuck　Bass。　Same　European…aftershave…mercial…handsome　face；　same　slicked…back　dark　
hair；　same　cocky　smile；　same　perverted　twinkle　in　the　eye。　He　walked　over　and　held　out　his　hand；　
a　gold　monogrammed　pinky　ring　flashing　on　his　right　hand。　？I？m　your　tour　guide。　Name？s　Harold　
Bass。　Call　me　Harry。　You　may　know　my　cousin　Charles　Bass？goes　by　Chuck。　He　told　me　all　about　
you。　And　of　course　I？ve　seen　your　pictures　on　the　？Net。？

　Oh；　God。　

Jenny　mustered　a　smile。　Chuck　Bass　had　nearly　deflowered　her　in　a　stall　in　a　ladies？　room　in　the　
old　Barneys　building　during　her　first　dressy　benefit　party　that　fall；　and　Jenny　was　still　a　little　
scared　of　him。　But　the　Basses　were　a　powerful　Upper　East　Side　family　notorious　for　their　
philanthropy　and　decadence　and　the　wild　ways　of　their　fucked…up　children。　If　Chuck？s　cousin　
liked　it　at　Croton；　then　it　was　probably　just　the　sort　of　school　Jenny　was　looking　for。　

？Don？t　be