acting strange, and
Serena fought down a rising panic. Maybe Nate was wrong, maybe Blair really was mad at
her. Serena had missed out on so much. The divorce, for instance. Poor Blair.
It must really stink without your dad around, Serena said. But your mom looks so good, and
Cyrus is kind of sweet, once you get used to him. She giggled. But Blair still wasnt
smiling. Maybe, she said, staring out the window at the hot-dog stand. I guess Im still
not used to him. All six of them were silent for a long, tense moment.
What they needed was one more good, stiff drink. Nate rattled the ice cubes in his glass.
Who wants another? he offered. Ill make them. Serena held out her glass. Thanks, Nate, she
said. Im so fucking thirsty. They locked the damned booze cabinet up in Ridgefield. Can
you believe it? Blair shook her head. No, thanks, she said. If I have another, Ill be
hungover at school tomorrow, Kati said. Isabel laughed. Youre always hungover at school,
she said. She handed Nate her glass. Here, Ill split mine with Kati. Let me give you a
hand, Chuck offered. But before he could get very far, Mrs. van der Woodsen joined them,
touching her daughters arm. Serena, her mother said. Eleanor would like us all to sit
down. She made an extra place next to Blair for you, so you two girls can catch up. Serena
cast an anxious glance at Blair, but Blair had already turned away and was headed for the
table, sitting down next to her eleven- year-old brother, Tyler, who had been at his place
for over an hour, reading Rolling Stone magazine. Tylers idol was that movie director,
Cameron Crowe, who had toured with Led Zeppelin when he was only fifteen. Tyler refused to
listen to CDs, insisting that real vinyl records were the only way to go. Blair worried
her brother was
turning into a loser. Serena steeled herself and pulled up a chair in the space next to
Blair. Blair, Im sorry Ive been such a complete asshole, she said, removing her linen
napkin from its silver ring and spreading it out on her lap. Your parents splitting up
must have totally sucked. Blair shrugged and grabbed a fresh sourdough roll from a basket
on the table. She tore the roll in half and stuffed one half into her mouth. The other
guests were still making their way toward the table and figuring out where to sit. Blair
knew it was rude to eat before everyone was seated, but if her mouth was full, she couldnt
talk, and she really didnt feel like talking. I wish Id been here, Serena said, watching
Blair smear the other half of her roll with a thick slab of French butter. But I had a
crazy year. I have the most insane stories to tell you. Blair nodded and chewed her roll
slowly, like a cow chewing its cud. Serena waited for Blair to ask her what kind of
stories, but Blair didnt say anything, she just kept on chewing. She didnt want to hear
about all the fabulous things Serena had done while she was away and Blair had been stuck
at home, watching her parents fight over antique chairs that nobody sat on, teacups nobody
used, and ugly, expensive paintings. Serena had wanted to tell Blair about Charles, the
only Rastafarian at Hanover Academy, whod asked her to elope with him to Jamaica. About
Nicholas, the French college guy who never wore underwear and whod chased her train in a
tiny Fiat all the way from Paris to Milan. About smoking hash in Amsterdam and sleeping in
a park with a group of drunk prostitutes because she forgot where she was staying. She
wanted to tell Blair how much it sucked to find out that Hanover Academy wouldnt take her
back senior year simply because shed blown off the first few weeks of school. She wanted
to tell Blair how scared she was to go back to Constance tomorrow because she hadnt
exactly been studying very hard in the last year and she felt so completely out of touch.
But Blair wasnt interested. She grabbed another roll and