strapless Oscar de la Renta silk evening gown and carrying a little gold satchel and gold opera
glasses- Obviously just stopping by at the party on her way to the theater. She kissed Serena
quickly on both cheeks. "Have you seen my son?" she whispered in Serena's ear, her green eyes
flashing.
Serena shook her head. "No. But Blair's--" she stopped short, wondering if Mrs. Archibald really
wanted to know that Blair and Nate were holed up in a Plaza Hotel suite, having lots of sex. "Have
you tried his cell?" she asked instead.
Mrs. Archibald batted her eyelashes and waved her opera glasses in the air. "Never mind, darling,"
she sighed, before rustling off to find her husband, the admiral.
Stan 5 was still standing by as if it were only right that the handsomest blond guy and the most
beautiful blond girl in the room should be talking to each other. A woman in a black caterer's
uniform handed Serena a flute of champagne. "Where's your nametag?" Serena asked Stan 5,
scanning his black oxford-cloth shirt that had been unbuttoned and tieless.
What a rebel.
He grinned and cleared his throat. "I didn't think I needed one."
Oh, so like everyone is just supposed to know who you are?
Serena was ready to ditch the party already- she'd shown up and stayed ten minutes, what more
did her parents want? But then old Mr. Parris shuffled over to talk to her again, and she didn't want
to be rude.
"Your mother was just telling me what a wonderful actress you are," he boomed in his New
England accent. He adjusted his burgundy-and-navy-blue-striped bow tie. "You know, I played the
lead in nineteen productions back when I was a Yalie. The school was men only in those days. I've
got some old pictures if you would like to take a look."
"Honestly, Granddad," Stan 5 huffed in an effort to shut his grandfather up.
"Actually, I'd love to," Serena replied with genuine interest. There was nothing she liked better
than to look at old pictures. She loved the elaborate clothes, the dramatic bouffant hairstyles, and
the way everyone wore hats and gloves and handbags that matched their shoe.
Stan 5 frowned in confusion, as if he couldn't believe Serena was about to ditch him for his
wrinkly old grandfather. She flashed him a gracious smile her mom had flashed his grandfather,
and then followed the elder Mr. Parris through the apartment and down a narrow corridor to his
library. His right leg seemed to be giving him trouble, causing him to list to the left, and she
gripped the elbow of his dapper gray pinstriped blazer for fear he would fall.
The Parris library was decorated in chocolate brown with hints of navy blue and gold fleur-de-lys.
Three crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and four chocolate brown leather club chairs
stood around an ornately painted antique card table.
"There I am in Hamlet." Mr. Parris pointed to a large black-and-white photograph hanging over
the mantel. Serena expected to see a young Mr. Parris in a full suit of armor, looking fierce and
haughty. Instead a beautiful young girl with a long thin face and a distinctive clef in her chin lay
with her long-lashed eyes closed and her hands folded across her chest, a chain of daisies
entwined in her loose hair.
"That's you?" Serena asked in amazement.
The old man chuckled. "I was a pretty boy back then. They made me play Ophelia."
Serena starred at the photograph. "You were kind of hot."
Mr. Parris patted her hand. "I like to think so. And I was so much better at dying than the other
fellows." He went over to the wet bar in the corner, filled two crystal tumblers full of scotch, and
set them on the card table. Then he pulled a worn green leather-bound album off the bookshelf. He
flipped through the pages of the album and pointed to one of the leather club chairs. "I've got
hundreds of photographs," he warned Serena.
Serena sat down and took a sip of scotch. Then she scooted back in her chair, tucked her feet up
underneath her, and reached for the album. She felt cozy and comfortable and genuinely interested
in looking at Stanford Parris III's old Yale pictures. And as she slowly turned the pages, examining
the wonderful black-and-white images of young Mr. Parris and his handsome Yale acting buddies
rehearsing onstage, she realized she hadn't thought about acting at college. She could even
imagine playing Ophelia just like Mr. Parris had, fluttering her eyes and folding up like a flower
when it was time to die.
"Here I am in 'Kiss Me Kate'." Mr. Parris pointed to a photograph of the same long-faced beauty
glaring at the camera, her dark eyes flashing, her cleft chin raised disdainfully.
"What a witch, that Kate."
Serena studied the photograph. Mr. Parris as Kate reminded her of someone she knew, but just
couldn't place her.
Let's give her a hint. Her first name starts with B.
She continued to flip through the photographs, her mind racing. Yale was the only school that
hadn't stalked her with perky e-mails and overzealous fan mail. Even the Whiffenpoofs - Yale's
all-male capella singing troupe, whom she'd met last mouth, had the decency not to e-mail her
everyday asking her when she was planning to arrive on campus so they could help her with her
bags or take her out for coffee or whatever. And the y certainly hadn't asked about Damian from
the Raves, whom she'd never even met.
Mr. Parris tapped Serena on the knee. "You have the face of a leading lady," he added. "Yale
knows what they're doing."
"You think so?" Serena replied enthusiastically. Suddenly, ditching the Yale party to check out the
Raves concert seemed totally unnecessary. And out of respect for old Mr. Parris, she almost
wished she'd worn the entire gray-and-blue outfit her mom had laid out on her bed. She was going
to be Yale University's greatest leading lady since Stanford Parris III. New Haven was so close to
New York, she could still model, and with a bit more acting experience under her belt, she might
even get a film deal! Blair would be totally thrilled if they went to school together- not that she
was going to say anything until Blair found out she was off Yale's wait list. Blair could be kind of
unreasonable when Serena had something she wanted for herself.
Kind of?!
PARTY CRASHER FINDS KINDRED SPIRIT
"Brave soul." A tall blond boy wearing an open-collared black oxford-cloth shirt greeted Blair as
she stepped off the elevator alone and into Stanford Parris III's country club of an apartment.
"Everyone else was dragged here by their parents. One guy even bagged, so his parents had to
come alone."
Wonder who that was?
"I'm Stanford Paris the Fifth, by the way." The boy extended his hands and flashed her a proud
smile that seemed to say, "As if you didn't know that."
Blair grinned back. She loved boys with titles, especially tall blond ones with cute dimples in their
chins, and especially ones who where going to Yale next year. "Blair Waldorf," she said shaking
his hand. She fingered the custom-engraved Cartier pendant at her throat- the very same one she'd
stolen from her baby sister. It was a simple nameplate, just the word Yale in gold cursive, tied with
a light blue satin ribbon around her neck. "So where are your parents?" she demanded.
"In Scotland. We have a castle there," Stan 5 boasted casually.
Blair giggles. "So do we! My aunt lives there."
Aw, isn't that cute? If they got married and honeymooned in Scotland, they could go
castle-hoping!
"Anyway, this is Granddad's party. I'm just here to..." Stan 5 paused and cleared his throat, as if
he'd momentarily forgotten why he was there. Or maybe he'd just drunk too much scotch. "To get
out class excited for next," he explained finally.
Blair rubbed her well-glossed lips together. Stanford Parris's grandson. She'd stumbled upon the
youngest member of one of Yale's mosty influential alumnae families without even trying! If
anyone could get her off the wait list and into Yale, he could.
Stan 5 pointed to the Yale pendant at her throat. "That's unusual," he observed. "Guess you're
really excited about next year, huh?"
That's one way of putting it.
Blair blushed fiercely. She had prepared herself for this sort of question. "My parents had it made
for me when I found out I was in," was what she'd planned on saying. But she opted for the truth.
She stood on tiptoe and cupped her hand around Stan 5's aristocratic ear. "I'm not actually in yet,"
she whispered. "I got wait-listed."
"Well, we'll just have to see what we can do about that," Stan 5 chuckled sympathetically. He
snatched two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and handed her one. They clinked glasses and
a little thrill ran up Blair's spine. She was about to get lucky, she could just tell.
In more ways than one!
Suddenly there was a rustle of tulle and Nate's mother enveloped her in a Chanel No.5- soaked
embrace. "Darling, where is Nate?" Mrs. Archibald demanded in her dramatic, Anglo-French
accent.
Blair didn't want to have to explain to Stan 5 who Nate was, and she didn't want Nate's mom to
think she couldn't keep her own boyfriend. But she also didn't want her to suspect that she was
hiding something. After all, she was dying to find out where Nate was too- so she could kick the
shit out of him.
"I've been staying at the Plaza, so I haven't had the chance to check my messages at home," she
responded vaguely. "I think maybe his cell phone broke or something because he never answers."
"I know." Mrs. Archibald pursed her fiery red lipsticked lips. "The gardener found his cell phone
on the roof." She raised her eyebrows suspiciously. "You sure he's not staying at the Plaza with
you?"
Blair glanced self-consciously at Stan 5 and then shook her head, refusing to have to admit to your
boyfriend's mom that actually no, you hadn't managed to lock him up in a hotel for days of wild,
passionate sex. In fact, that plan had totally backfired.
"Well then." Mrs. Archibald kissed her on both cheeks and smiled tightly as if to say, "I don't
believe a word you're saying, but I'm late for the opera, so c'est la vie."
"If you do see him, darling, tell him his mother and father are quite cross with him, and have gone
to La Bohème."
Blair clasped her hands behind her back and nodded dutifully. Where the fuck was Nate anyway?
She watched Nate's father help Mrs. Archibald on with her beaded silk Oscar de la Renta capelet
and then escort her to the elevator. She thought of going over to say hello, but Admiral Archibald
was famous for his bad temper, and if he was angry with Nate, it was probably best to stay out of
his way.
Besides, she had more important things to do. Like flirt with Mr. I-Can-Get-You-Into-Yale the
Fifth.
Blair noticed that he was wearing what looked like an antique Yale insignia ring. "It's my
Granddads,' Stan 5 explained. "He gave it to me when I got in. Yale is like Granddad's whole life.
I'd introduce you but he disappeared into his study with this beautiful blond girl, and who knows
when they'll come out. Not that he's a pervert or anything. He's probably just boring her to death
with his Yale stories."
Blair's eyes swept the room. The "beautiful blond girl" sounded suspiciously like Serena. Old Mr.
Parris was an actual trustee of Yale, and far more influential than his grandson. How typical of
Serena to monopolize the one person in the room who could probably get her into Yale once and
for all.
A man in a catering uniform took their empty champagne glasses and handed them each a fresh
one.
"To Yale," Stan 5 said, before clinking his glass against hers.
Blair fingered the pendant around her neck and downed her drink, wondering if she should
demand an introduction to his grandfather. Stan 5 took a step toward her and lowered his
aristocratic chin. "Don't worry," he murmured reassuringly, as if reading her mind. "Granddad and
I are very close."
Blair clutched the stem of her champagne flute and batted her eyelashes, willing her face not to
flush too retardedly red. How lucky she was to have nabbed the younger, hotter Stanford Parris
while Serena was stuck with the old moldy one!
"I kissed my Yale interviewer," she confided before she could stop herself. It wasn't exactly
something she was proud of. But she wanted Stan 5 to know what he was up against.
Stan 5 smiled delightedly. "Granddad keeps a room for me down the hall. I've got this whole
collection of vintage Yale catalogs in there. Want to take a look?"
Blair giggles giddily. How wonderful to meet a boy who was as crazily enthusiastic about Yale as
she was. Eagerly, she followed Stan 5 into his room. She couldn't wait to kiss his catalogs.
Kiss?
Why not, when she had more in common with Stanford Parris V than she did with any other boy
she'd ever met, including her lame-ass, no-show boyfriend, who was already into Yale anyway and
was totally unsympathetic and useless?
Well, then. Guess she meant kiss after all.
N ABANDONS SHIP
"Oops, I think I'm winning." Lexie giggles and popped another Oreo half into her mouth.
"Nice one, "Nate responded, not even trying to fend off her chocolaty lips.
It had been Lexie's idea to smoke another joint and play checkers with Oreos, so she'd made up the
rules: Every time she nabbed one of Nate's white-faced Oreo halves with her whole Oreos, she got
