had been black sheets hanging in the windows and plaster crumbling onto the barely furnished
floors. Now it was freshly painted and filled with cool modern furniture. Lemongrass-scented
candles burned on the coffee table, and cool black-and-white toile curtains billowed from the open
windows in the living room.
"Whoa," she gasped.
"I know," Vanessa called over from the open kitchen where she was busy filing little ceramic
bowls with Greek olives, baby carrots, and tamari-roasted almonds so their guests would have
something to munch on before the pizza arrived. "Can you believe it?" she trust her pale leg into
the air and waggled her foot so Serena could see that she'd borrowed Blair's wedge-soled black
patent leather Sigerson Morrison Mary Janes. "Like my shoes?"
Blair padded barefoot out of the bedroom with an empty tumbler of ice in her hand, looking very
Williamsburg in a tight black T-shirt, a short black Seven jeans skirt, and mod silvery pink lipstick.
She kissed Serena's cheek. "Isn't it great?" she asked. Looking genuinely thrilled.
While her cab idled in traffic on the Williamsburg bridge on the ride over, Serena had geared
herself up to tell Blair that she'd decided to go to Yale next year. But now that they were
face-to-face, she could feel herself chickening out.
She dipped her hand into Blair's glass and stole a vodka tonic-soaked ice cube. "I hope you took
before and after pictures."
Don't worry." Vanessa stomped out of the kitchen in Blair's shoes and handed Serena a vodka tonic
of her own. "I even got the painters' butt cracks."
Of course she did.
The three girls sat down on Ruby's old futon sofa, which had been refurbished with a new birch
frame and a new gray faux-suede cover.
"So what happened with Damian?" Blair wanted to know. "I thought we were going to be reading
about you guys in the paper tomorrow."
Serena rolled the leg of her jeans up to her bony knees. "Well, he's good-looking and everything,
but..." she hesitated and rolled her pant leg back down again. Then she took a sip of her drink and
quickly changed the subject. "Who else is coming over tonight anyway?"
Blair bit her lip. It hadn't really occurred to her that Serena might be the odd one out. "You're not
going to like this, but I kind of invited that Stanford Parris kid from the Yale party? And Aaron-
you know, my stepbrother? I think he and Vanessa are, like, made for each other."
Vanessa took a huge gulp of her rum and Coke. "We'll see," she belched loudly.
Serena's huge dark blue eyes shone as she digested this information. She'd actually been in love
with Aaron for a week or two that winter, but enough time had passed now that she could handle
hanging out with him on a just-friends basis. And Blair was right- Vanessa and Aaron were perfect
for each other. "Cool," she told her friend graciously, even though she thought that Stan 5 guy was
a conceited jerk.
The downstairs buzzer rang and Blair and Vanessa shot out of their seats and bolted to the window
overlooking the street. Aaron Rose and Stanford Parris V were standing on the sidewalk, each
looking dubiously up at the second floor apartment.
"Oh my God, they're here!" the oddly paired roommates squealed in unison.
All of a sudden Serena felt like a chaperone at a junior high sleepover party. She rolled her eyes.
"Do you girls want me to get the door so you can fix your hair or something?" she offered
jokingly.
"Yes, please!" Blair cried. She grabbed Vanessa's arm and dragged her toward the bathroom.
Serena chewed on a piece of ice and pressed play on Vanessa's CD player as she waited for the
boys to mount the stairs. The Raves song "Ice Cream" came on and she quickly selected the next
disc one of Ruby's weird German disco albums.
Someone knocked on the door and she hurried over to answer it. Now if they could just avoid the
topic of college for the rest of the evening...
Not likely.
WAY TO ALIENATE YOUR SISTER AND LOSE YOUR JOB
Dan would have perfectly happy eating sushi with Monique and taking in an old French film down
at the artsy movie theater on Twelfth Street. But Monique had insisted that they could slip into
Damian's party unnoticed, steal a bottle of champagne and a few cigars, and then creep out onto
one of the fire escapes and have a party of their own.
Bedford Street was exactly the kind of uber-cool, exclusive, West Village neighborhood Dan
envisioned himself living in when he became an absurdly famous rock star, and it felt extremely
cool to swagger down the street with gorgeous Monique on his arm. She was wearing an
ankle-length, completely see-through, white silk sundress and white sandals, and he was wearing
his favorite pair of worn-in rust-colored corduroys and a soft black T-shirt. He thought they looked
pretty good together.
Guess no one told him about the white thing either.
The door to Damian's town house was standing open and the scent of shrimp pad Thai wafted out
of it. Before they wanted reached the top of the white marble steps, Dan distinctly heard the voice
of his sister, Jenny. And she wasn't talking- she was singing.
Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me!
Dan let go of Monique's hand and blinked in the bright whiteness. His fingers trembled and his
palms began to sweat. Damian's entire place was white, white, white. Even all the other guests at
the party were wearing white. Sure, it was cool. He just wished someone had told him.
Jenny's voice continued to blare out over the stereo.
Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me!
"Hey," Dan called unevenly. He walked over to where Jenny sat on the white sectional sofa, her
butt in Lloyd's lap and her calves resting on Damian's knees. "What's going on? Dad told me you
were spending the weekend up at Elise's country house."
Jenny giggles, obviously enthralled with her own craftiness. "Elise is in the country." She giggled
and leaned back against Lloyd's chest. "But I'm here. Dad's so totally gullible."
Dan didn't like the idea of Jenny lying to their dad. Sure, he'd told his share of harmless untruths,
but little sisters were supposed to be pure and innocent and true, not lying schemers who sat on
older guys' laps, flirting their heads off while dressed in flimsy, see-through white undershirts and
a pair of guy's boxer shorts. He would have written a poem about how she kind of reminded him
of Ophelia, except he was too friggen' pissed off.
"With doz breasts, you must get away with murder!" Monique pointed at Jenny's barely clad
boobs.
Dan's hands were shaking uncontrollably now. He reached for the pack of Camels in his back
pocket and trust one ion his mouth. "I don't even know what you're doing here," he growled at his
sister with the unlit cigarette between his teeth. "This is my band," he added, sounding completely
immature.
Damian raised his nicely arched strawberry blond eyebrows. "Actually, Jenny is singing for us
now."
Dan waited for Damian to bust into a fit of giggles and tell him he was joking, but Damian kept a
straight face.
"Dad's always saying I need a job to support my shopping habit," Jenny gushed, her face shinny
with excitement and full of adorable dimples.
"And we decided we need a softer sound," Lloyd added, stroking Jenny's curly hair. "Of course,
we'll still use your songs. Just with Jennifer's voice.
Excusez-moi?
Dan lit his cigarette with his neon green plastic Bic and tossed the lighter on the white sofa out of
sheer rebellion. The way Damian was holding Jenny's bare feet while not wearing a shirt over his
well-developed, manly chest was totally infuriating.
Damian eyed Monique warily. "I thought you went back to St. Barts, sweetie."
Monique grinned. "Vell, I have been trying to get Dan to o there with me, but he says he has to
finish school first." She rolled her eyes. "Boring."
"Serena van der Woodsen was here," Jenny told her brother. "But she left. Not that you care."
"And she'd prettier than you, Monique," Lloyd added bitchily. He squeezed Jenny around the
waist. "But not nearly as cute as you, dumplin'."
Dan sucked furiously on his cigarette, trying desperately not to scream his fucking head off. It
would have been nice to see Serena, but he kind of had other things on his mind. "Uh, Damian,
could I talk to you for a minute?" he demanded between gritted teeth.
"Ciao, ciao, darling!" Monique called to someone across the room and drifted away from Dan to
smother a bald Moby look-alike in a white linen tracksuit with her wet, pine nut-scented kisses.
Dan waited for Damian to remove his hands from Jenny's feet, stand up, put a shirt on, and talk to
him in private, like a man.
Yeah.
But Damian stayed where he was. "Anything you need to say can be said in front of Lloyd and
your big sister. We're all family right?"
Big sister?
Dan's free hand closed in a sweaty fist. "Jenny's not my big sister," he hissed. "I'm turning
eighteen in two weeks. And she'll be fifteen in July."
"Thanks a lot!" Jenny complained.
Damian and Lloyd's eyes bulged a little ebit, but they didn't say anything. Then Lloyd cracked a
grin. "Well at least she's not married."
Damian elbowed him in the ribs. "I'll handle this." He pulled a tiny bottle of Stoli out of his back
pocket and took a swig. His red-blond hair was shorter than it had been only a week ago, and more
stylishly tousled.
Maybe that was because he had it cut by Sally Hershberger only yesterday?
"Dan," Damian continued. "You sang like shit last Saturday. And you basically threw up on stage.
Then you hooked up with my wife."
Wife?
Dan's stomach dropped. Monique had never said anything about being anyone's wife. He had a
sudden urge to take a very long shower.
"We're estranged," Damian clarified.
Oh, well, that's a relief.
"I respect your words, yeah?" Damian told him solemnly. "But I'm just not feeling the love."
Dan shifted his gaze to the other party guests- visions of coolness and sophistications, wearing
white designer clothes, happily quaffing their boiled-egg martinis and munching on shrimp shu
mai and rice noodles, their hair as shiny and Sally Hershberger- groovy as Damian's. Dan wore
corduroys from Old Navy and got a haircut at Supercuts once a year. He liked instant coffee and
hot dogs bought on the street. He liked coming home in the evenings and laughing at the local
news with his dad. His bedroom had linty maroon wall-to-wall carpeting that he was actually sort
of fond of. He only owned two pairs of shoes. He was never meant to be a rockstar.
"Come on, Jenny. Let's go home." He held a grim hand out to his little sister.
Jenny glared at him. Was he crazy? The guys in the Raves didn't mind that she was only fourteen.
She was definitely staying. "You go home," she challenged.
Dan flapped a sweaty hand at her. "We can get a cab. I'll pay."
Jenny shrank away from him, her back pressed against Lloyd's chest. "Please don't be an idiot,
Dan," she yawned dismissively. "And don't say anything to Dad. I'll deal with him on my own."
"Fine." Dan shoved his hands in his pockets. He had a feeling Jenny sort of wanted to get into
trouble with their dad, but he wasn't going to tell on her. She was doing fine in the trouble
department all on her own. "If you think I'm going to give you any of my poems, though, you can
forget about it."
Damian raised his eyebrows, Lloyd rolled his eyes, and Jenny kicked at the white sofa with her
bare feet- as if they were all bored with Dan's little tirade. Across the room Monique was eating
noodles right out of the serving dish with a pair of ivory-lacquered chopsticks. A girl in a white
embroidered bolero jacket who looked a like Chloe Sevigny was braiding Monique's long,
honey-colored hair while she ate.
"Tell you wife I said good-bye," Dan grumbled at Damian. He hesitated, giving Jenny one last
chance to leave with him, but she'd shifted around on Lloyd's lap so her back was to him.
"Bye, Dan," she said, sounding like she couldn't wait for him to be gone.
Dan shuffled down the white marble steps and out onto Bedford Street, unsure whether to laugh or
to cry. It was kind of a relief knowing he'd never had to sing onstage again. He could go to college,
be a normal kid, have a normal girlfriend, and a normal life.
Whatever that meant.
TRUTH OR DARE
Blair remained in the bathroom, preparing for her entrance, leaving Vanessa to hang back near the
kitchen like a shy thirteen-year-old while Serena answered the door. Vanessa felt like a total
dweeb wearing Blair's super shiny lip gloss and that one pair of black stretch Levis she'd stopped
wearing over a year ago because she decided they were too tight. In fact, she felt like a total
dweeb, period. Aaron would probably be a complete snob who thought she was a fat, bald weirdo,
just like Blair had always thought before she'd lost her mind and decided to move in with her.
"Hey." Aaron stepped into the apartment and kissed Serena on the cheek. "You live here too?" he
was wearing an orange hemp wife beater T-shirt, his usual army-issued pants, and black
cruelty-free rubber flip-flops. He pinned his dark dreadlocks back with two turquoise heart-shaped
barrettes stolen out of Blair's bathroom, obviously trying to gauge Vanessa's vegan-freak tolerance
