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Serena’s long, slender waist. “Darling, I’d like you to meet my special friend, Cyrus Rose,” she said. “Cyrus, this is Serena.”
    “Stunning,” Cyrus Rose boomed. He kissed Serena on both cheeks and hugged her a little too tightly. “She’s a good hugger, too,” Cyrus added, patting Serena on the hip.
    Serena giggled, but she didn’t flinch. She’d spent a lot of timein Europe, and she was used to being hugged by horny European gropers who found her completely irresistible—and who’d died happily groping her. She was a full-on groper magnet. Lucky for Cyrus, she’d come to the party unarmed.
    “Serena and Blair are best, best,
best
friends,” Eleanor Waldorf explained to Cyrus. “But Serena went away to Hanover Academy in eleventh grade and spent this summer traveling. It was so hard for poor Blair with you gone this past year, Serena,” Eleanor said, growing misty-eyed. “Especially with the divorce. But you’re back now. Blair will be so
pleased
.”
    “Where is she?” Serena asked eagerly, her perfect, bruised peach cheeks glowing with the prospect of seeing her old friend again. She stood on tiptoe and craned her head to look for Blair, but she soon found herself surrounded by parents—the Archibalds, the Coateses, the Basses, and Mr. Farkas—who each took turns kissing her and welcoming her back with the same mixture of rapture and loathing everyone battled in Serena’s presence.
    Serena hugged them happily. These people were home to her, and she’d been gone a long time. She could hardly wait for life to return to the way it used to be. She and Blair would walk to school together, spend Double Photography in Sheep Meadow in Central Park, smoking and drinking Coke, pulling the legs off ants and splicing earthworms, feeling like hardcore artistes. They’d have cocktails at the Star Lounge in the Tribeca Star Hotel again, which always turned into sleepover parties because they’d get too drunk to go home, so they’d spend the night in the suite Chuck Bass’s family kept there, at the risk of being attacked by Chuck. They’d sprawl on Blair’s four-poster bed and watch all of Blair’s favorite twisted old movies, like
Rosemary’s Baby
and
The Shining
, wearing vintage lingerie and drinking vodka andcranberry juice, pretending it was blood. They’d cheat on their Latin tests like they always did:
Pereo
,
peres
,
peret
—“I die, you die, s/he dies”—was still tattooed on the inside of her elbow in permanent marker (thank God for three-quarter length sleeves!). They’d drive around Serena’s parents’ estate in Ridgefield, Connecticut, in the caretaker’s old Buick station wagon singing the hymns they sang in school at the top of their lungs and running over already dead roadkill. They’d pee in the downstairs entrances to their classmates’ townhouses and then ring the doorbells and run away, barking like wild dogs. They’d take Blair’s little brother, Tyler, to the Lower East Side and leave him there to see how long it took him to get abducted or find his way home. They’d make teeny cuts on their hands and rub them together to renew their blood sister pact even though blood was “more dangerous than feces these days,” according to the Human Health teacher they’d had in sixth grade who’d been fired for bringing her own fecal matter into school for the class to examine.
    Blood sisters once more, they’d go back to being their same old fabulous selves, just like always. And with Nate gone, their friendship would be even stronger. Serena couldn’t wait.
    “Got you a drink,” Chuck Bass said, elbowing the clusters of parents out of the way and handing Serena a tumbler of whiskey. “Welcome back,” he added, ducking down to kiss Serena’s cheek and missing it intentionally, so that his probing lips landed on her mouth.
    “You haven’t changed,” Serena remarked, accepting the drink. She took a long sip. “So, did you miss me?”
    “Miss you? The question