be the envy of Constance Billard's entire ninth grade, her dad knocked on her door and announced,
"You're not going to school today, babe."
Jenny put down her eyeliner and opened the door. "What do you mean? Why not?"
Rufus was wearing a child-sized Mets baseball that he'd bought for Dan when he was eight. It sat
like a beanie atop a nest of wild and wooly gray hair. He was also wearing blue-and-white-striped
elastic-waist cotton pants that looked exactly like pajama bottoms.
"Mrs. M and I had a little talk last night," Rufus told her.
Uh-oh.
Jenny tugged on her super-short seersucker school uniform. "How come?" she asked innocently,
even though she knew perfectly well how come.
Rufus ignored her Miss I-Didn't-Do-Anything act. "She basically laid it on the line. Either you
repeat ninth grade, or next year you're going to school elsewhere."
Jenny resisted hurling herself at her father and smothering him in a bear hug. She was going to
boarding school! It was really happening!
Not so fast, missy.
"I'm not going here," Jenny insisted before the cab even stopped.
"That's what you think," her father grumbled. He paid the cabbie and opened the door. "Come,
Your Tartiness. Let's take a look."
They'd pulled up in front of the Sloan Centre for Bright Minds, a hippie experimental school on a
flat, wide strip of boring-looking three-story buildings in Flushing, Queens. It was miles away
from Manhattan and nothing like the ivy-trimmed brick buildings of the boarding school of her
dreams. On the way over Rufus had shoved a Sloan Centre brochure at her, and she'd thumbed
through it. There was no real dress code, the lunchroom was organic and vegetarian, the students
all had greasy hair and acne, and none of the teachers wore Chanel suits. In other words, jenny
hated it already.
A giant birchbark peace sign greeted them as they passed through the biodynamically grown
natural oak school doors. The peace sign was hanging from the ceiling of the entryway, spinning
round and round in the breeze created by the student-built watermill standing at the base of the
stairs. Pure spring water cascaded down a bamboo gutter at the centre of the stairs, feeding the
mill.
"Our upper-schoolers built the water mill last winter," explained Calliope Trask, the school's
director, at the start of their tour. "Every January we have what's called Winter Work. There are no
academics, and the students focus on building something functional with their hands. The year
before we had a chicken coop with twenty laying hens, right here in out gym. We had so many
eggs we had an egg scale and raised money to buy new hemp mats for our pre-schoolers to nap
on!
Woo-hoo!
Calliope Trask's hair hung in a gray braid down to her bottom and she was wearing a
mustard-yellow-linen Eileen Fisher tank dress that did wonders for her frizzy black underarm hair.
Her legs were unshaven too, and coarse black leg hairs stuck out between the straps of her
tied-at-the-ankle beige canvas Earth shoes.
"Those are wonderful sunglasses." She pointed at the gigantic pair of pink Gucci shades masking
Jenny's smoldering brown eyes. "But at Bright Minds we don't allow designer labels or emblems
on clothing or accessories of any sort."
Before Jenny could even say, "What the fuck?" Rufus had whipped the glasses off her face and
stuck them in his gray sweatpants-material jacket pocket.
"That's better. Now we can see your beautiful face," Calliope trilled, as Jenny scowled hideously
at her.
She followed Calliope and her father up the stairs, tempted to tell them both to take the Sloan
Centre for Bright Minds' hemp mats and smoke them while she ran away to the Czech Republic to
live wither crazy, selfish, and neglectful mother. The Raves could do a tour of Eastern Europe and
she could buy all the Gucci she wanted for half-price on the black market.
They reached the second floor and Calliope opened the door to of the classrooms. "Our classes are
mixed-age and broken up into 'bundles' names for the endangered species of the Galapagos.
Jennifer, you'd be in one of the thirteen-to-fifteen-year-old bundles. I'll walk you to the area where
the Giant Tortoise bundle is gathered for this mornings work and then let your student guide take
over."
The floor of the classroom was covered in sand, the walls were lined with stalks of bamboo, and
the ceiling was plastered with palm fronds. NO SMOKING, read a huge hand-painted sign
overhead.
Jenny had never really been much of a smoker, but she was dying for a cigarette. She pulled off
her white Miss Sixty cardigan to reveal the cute little Lacoste alligator marching across the left
boob of her new pink shirt, given to her by Lloyd Collins of the Raves. Anything to avoid
becoming a Giant Tortoise.
"Hakuna matata, Miss. Calliope," a pudgy girl wearing what looked like a goatskin bikini greeted
them.
"Hakuna matata, Cherisse," Calliope replied with a smile. "The Giant Tortoise bundle is exploring
the country of Namibia in Africa this week," she told Jenny and Rufus, as if that explained
everything. Jenny stared as the rest of the Giant Tortoises- five greasy-haired, pudgy,
crooked-tooth girls and three skinny, glasses-wearing, acne-ridden boys- all wearing some form of
goatskin clothing that might have been stylish is it had been designed by Stella McCartney instead
of Hippies R Us. They stood in a circle, their hands joined as they sang a Namibian rain chant.
Even Rufus looked a little startled. "Do you have any data on where your graduates go to
college?" he asked, sounding a lot like the parents of Jenny's Constance Billard classmates.
Although he'd never admit it, Rufus was deadly serious about the whole college admission thing
and had nearly opened all of Dan's acceptance letters before he even got home from school. He
may have been an anarchist, but he was a strong believer in formal education.
Calliope frowned. "We try to keep our school as non-competitive as possible. Our students are
encouraged to take some time off and explore the world. Live off the grid. Once they decided what
their calling is, they may or may not seek further training."
Whatever the hell that meant.
"I hear you're an artist." Cherisse smiled at Jenny with crooked yellow teeth. "Come, I'll show you
our mural. It's done entirely in buck's dung."
Rufus held Jenny's hand protectively as Cherisse led them over to a bizarre mural of elephants and
zebras cavorting in the grass. Cherisse dipped her hands into a clay bowl on the floor and smeared
something brown on the back of one of the elephants. Rufus shook his head tiredly and pulled
Jenny over to a table in the corner of the room, where he sat down. He loved the idea of an
alternative school, but deep down he wanted his daughter to graduate from Berkeley or Columbia,
not wander around the world painting murals with deer shit.
Jenny sat down across from him and pulled a vial of Chanel Vamp nail polish out of her pink
DKNY hobo bag. "So why are we here again?" she demanded. She unscrewed the vial and began
painting her nails.
Rufus readjusted his baseball cap and rubbed his bleary eyes, looking like he needed about six
more hours of sleep and three more cups of coffee. "Look, Jen," he told her earnestly. "You can't
just shack up with rock stars in hotels and lie to your father all the time. But I want you to be
happy. What do you want to do?"
Jenny screwed the top back on her nail polish and put it back in her purse. She knew her dad
wasn't going to like what she had to say, because he secretly adored having a house full of crazy
kids to embarrass and infuriate. But the only way she was going to give up her career as a Raves
groupie was if she got to go away to school, where the opportunities for adventure were limitless.
Hey, he'd said it himself: He wanted her to be happy.
Across the room Calliope Trask was helping the Giant Tortoise fling buck's dung at the mural,
Jackson Pollock-style.
Jenny looked up at her dear father with hopeful doe-brown eyes, her red mouth forming the shape
of a heart as she murmured eight melodic words:
"Dad, may I please go to boarding school?"
A BRIEF REMINDER
Dear Constance Billard Seniors,
As if you needed reminding, Senior Spa Weekend starts tomorrow! We just wanted to tell you how
excited we are! And to ensure that you're that you're appropriately dressed for the boat ride, we've
had these fantastic Senior Spa Weekend long-sleeved baby tees made just for you by Three Dots.
Now remember, we're the Archibalds' guests. Let's try to behave like ladies. But as soon as we get
to the Coateses' estate- anything goes!
Can't wait- see you tomorrow!!!
Love,
Your classmates, Isabel and Kati
A BIRD'S-EYE VIEW
It was a perfect afternoon for sailing. The sun was hot and the breeze was cool. The sky was deep
blue and the water was calm. Small round tables with silk tablecloths in the Charlotte's colors-
gold and blue- littered the deck, a heavy marble vase full of floating candles at the centre of each
one. In the bow of the yacht a man wearing a white tux played the double bass while a fat woman
in red muumuu crooned Nina Simone songs flawlessly. The tenants of all the finest Upper East
Side addresses clutched their cocktails and chatted to one another, wearing the latest couture resort
wear bought in Cannes and St. Barts. Behind them the skyline grew smaller and smaller as they
coursed towards Long Island Sound and Sag Harbor.
"How is your son?" Misty Bass asked Mrs. Archibald, her razor-thin black eyebrows knitted in
concern. A diamond cluster necklace swung heavily on her Cap d'Antibes-tanned neck as the
Charlotte bobbed in the waves, white sails billowing. "I hear he's in trouble again. It isn't... drugs,
is it?" she ventured, eager for the latest gossip.
"Nate is fine." Nate's mother bristled, the corners of her red-painted lips turned defiantly down.
"He's home, studying," she lied, refusing to admit that Nate had been grounded for stealing the
family boat. "Is Chuck excited about military college?"
Misty Bass poured the rest of her bourbon down her throat. Chuck had his own apartment and
she'd been traveling a lot lately, so the truth was she hadn't seen him in a while. "Oh, yes," she
replied vaguely. She glanced around for a cocktail server. "I do wish these glasses weren't quite so
small."
"Oh, Misty!" Eleanor Waldorf cried, throwing her arms around her old friend, "You just have to
see the villa in Tuscany I bought for Cyrus. It has a website and everything!"
On the leeward side of the boat, the guests' elder daughters were clustered in tightly packed groups,
wearing their long-sleeved pink Senior Spa Weekend T-shirts, hiding from their parents, and
pretending their Cokes weren't spiked with rum.
"I can't believe Nate Archibald didn't even come to his own party," Isabel Coates complained.
"That's because we said no boy allowed, stupid," Kati Farkas replied, thinking that for once she
sounder smarter than her best friend.
"Don't be ridiculous," Isabel scoffed. "Boys are allowed on the boat, just not at my house for Spa
Weekend."
Duh.
"Oh." Kati responded, like she'd only just gotten it.
"So vhere iizz hee?"
The two girls stared at Lexie. She went to L'école, not Constance Billard, which meant she was
completely not invited to Senior Spa Weekend. Plus, everyone knew that her mother and Nate's
mother had gone to a Catholic boarding school in France together and totally hated each other. So
what was Lexie doing aboard the Charlotte wearing the Masonic tunic with the plunging neckline
that both of them coveted but could never find, even online, her long black hair in braids like some
sort of French hippie Heidi.
"Nate is grounded," Blair informed them, even though she hadn't spoken to Nate herself since
their encounter at the Plaza. "He's not here." Mr. Archibald was such a hardass-of course Nate was
grounded. She swayed in her three-inch beige Prada boat sandals and sucked the cherry out of her
empty Coke glass, feeling extremely proud of herself for not scratching Lexie's eyes out, because
the fact was she could talk about Nate without missing him at all.
Yeah, right.
Serena handed Blair another spruced-up Coke. "I'm not so sure." She was of the opinion that Nate
would never miss his parents' Hamptons cruise even if he was grounded, and that he was hiding
somewhere on the boat.
"Nate's not that creative," Blair countered, reading Serena's mind. "If he was here, we'd know."
"Nate is purrfect," Lexie drawled, toking on a joint. None of the adults onboard seemed to notice
that she was getting high right on deck, perhaps because she was French and wearing Missoni.
Blair rolled her eyes and turned her back on the stupid French retch. He might have been the only
boy she would ever love, but anyone who thought Nate Archibald was perfect was a complete
idiot. She watched her stepbrother Aaron scurry below deck to fetch Vanessa another rum and Diet
Coke, his head newly shaved to match Vanessa's. Aaron barely knew Nate and had very definitely
not been invited, but these days wherever Vanessa went, he went. If they both weren't so un-cute,
they'd almost have been the cutest couple ever.
All of a sudden Serena felt someone tugging on the hem of her pink Spa Weekend T-shirt.
"Hey," Jenny said, standing on tiptoe to kiss her cheek. Elise was at her side, and they were both
