confessed to finally loosing her virginity to Nate the morning after it happened, but she'd resisted
too much detail and Serena resisted asking too many questions. After all, Serena and Nate had lost
their virginities together, so sex withy Nate was kind of an awkward subject.
"I have to go to this new Yale student' party," Serena responded. "Not that I'm going to Yale," she
hurriedly corrected herself. Her acceptance to Yale was an even worse subject. "My parents signed
us up though, so I have to go."
"Oh." Blair pouted her lips and turned around to examine her butt in her new black silk La Perla
underwear set. Of course she wasn't exactly into Yale yet, but she was on the fucking waiting list-
they still could have invited her.
"I was hoping you'd come with me," Serena added. "Since you're more likely to go to Yale than I
am."
Blair readjusted her bra straps. Nate was into Yale too, but he hadn't mentioned any Yale party.
And if he wasn't going, she certainly couldn't go. They might be... other-wise engaged.
Uh-huh.
"It's not until seven," Serena prompted. "You guys should be ready to venture outside by then."
"Can I call you about it tomorrow?" Blair asked dubiously.
"Whatever." Serena didn't mind going to parties by herself, since she was never by herself for very
long. Boys buzzed and hovered around her like flies at a picnic. "Have fun tonight. 'Bye, sweetie."
Blair hung up just as the bellboy arrived with the bottle of Dom Pérignon and the plate of caviar
and toast points she'd ordered from room service. She slipped into one of the Plaza's thick white
terrycloth robes and answered the door.
"Over by the bed," she commanded, loving how Joan Crawfordishly jaded she sounded. She
tipped the guy and waited until he closed the door. Then she slipped out of her robe, flopped down
on her side on the massive California king bed, and reached for the remote. Within seconds she'd
found AMC - American Movie Classics, the channel that regularly played all her favorites like
'Breakfast at Tiffany's', staring Audrey Hepburn, and "My Fair Lady' also staring Audrey Hepburn.
To her disappointment, 'Dirt Dancing' was playing. Since when was anything made after 1980 a
true classic? Blair wondered. All of a sudden she felt odd. But then, that seemed sort of
appropriate, considering she was about to have a hot-and-heavy liaison with her lover in a
sumptuous hotel suite. Where was Nate anyway? A cab away from his house to the Plaza would
only take seven minutes. If she were Nate, she'd have made it in five. She dialed his cell without
even looking at the buttons on her phone, but there was no answer. Maybe he was showering and
putting on his very sexy black Calvin Klein boxers in preparation for their rendezvous, she mused.
Or maybe not.
Blair stood up, removed her robe, and dimmed the lights. Then she spread a little caviar on one of
the toast points and stood watching herself in the over-sized gilt-framed dressing mirror as she ate
it. On the TV screen behind her, "Baby" was trying to look innocent after spending all night
having big sweaty sex with Patrick Swayze, the dance instructor at the summer resort where her
family was vacationing. Baby's dad was so seriously pissed off at her; Blair wondered fleetingly
how her own dad would feel if he knew she'd moved into a hotel suite just so she could have a
little privacy with Nate. Not that her gay, French-chateau-living,
pastel-argyle-socks-and-baby-blue-Gucci-sunglasses-wearing dad and Baby's responsible doctor
dad in 'Dirty Dancing' had anything in common. She dialed Nate once again and when he didn't
answer, she made herself another caviar toast point sandwich and called her dad's number in
southern France, where he'[d been living since he and Eleanor split up over his gayness almost
two years ago.
"Bear? Is everything okay? Did you hear from those fuck-head at Yale yet? Are you in? Her father
demanded as soon as he heard her voice.
Blair could picture him perfectly, naked except for a pair of royal blue silk boxers shorts, his
sleeping lover- Francois or Eduard or whatever his name was - snoring softly beside him. Harold
Waldorf, Esq. used to be managing partner at a major corporate law firm, married to society
hostess Eleanor and living in a penthouse with his two lovely children, Blair and Tyler. Now he
bottled his own wine from the vineyards surrounding his chateau, shopped at cute French
boutiques that catered exclusively to tanned gay men, and swam laps in his pool while his tanned
gay lovers attended him with fresh towels and glasses of cognac.
It was a luxe life, indeed.
"Guess where I Am?" Blair boasted in the same tone she'd used to talk to Serena. In fact, talking to
her dad was exactly like talking to one of her girlfriends. He didn't mind that it was almost two in
the morning in France and she had totally woken him up.
"Paris?" her dad asked hopefully. "I'll send a car for you. You'll be here in an hour."
"No, Dad," Blair whined, although she honestly wouldn't have minded being in Paris - as long as
she could bring Nate and her suite at the Plaza with her. "I'm at the Plaza. I'm living here now. In a
suite."
"You go girl!" her dad exclaimed. "I guess the penthouse might be a little crowded with the new
baby and all."
In the background Blair heard the sound of him pouring something into a glass. He was so into his
latest batch of white wine, he probably kept a bottle chilling next to the bed exactly for occasions
like this.
In 'Dirty Dancing' Land, Baby's bitchy sister was performing in a stupid talent show, wearing a
bikini top that was way to small for her. Blair muted the TV, spread another blob of caviar on a
toast point, lit a cigarette and sighed dramatically. "It's just that I'm almost graduating and I need
space- you know, to do my work and think about next year and..."
All of a sudden she had a very clear image of herself as a sort of reclusive Greta Garbo- like
movie star who rarely left her hotel room, communicating with the outside world only through the
roles she decided to play. The staff would pick through her trash and steal her clothes, and tourists
would stand on Central Park South opposite the hotel, just waiting to catch a glimpse of her. She'd
be the talk of the town.
As if she wasn't already.
"Oh, I'll bet your working," her dad scoffed between sips of whatever it was that he was drinking.
"I bet that hunky boyfriend of yours is massaging your feet as we speak."
If only.
Blair giggled and scarfed down another caviar sandwich between drags on her Merit Ultra Light.
"Actually Nate's on his way over," she admitted. She contemplated the bottle of champagne she'd
ordered, still chilling in its silver-plated ice bucket. Nate wouldn't mind if she opened the bottle
and had one tiny glass before he arrived, would he?
Or course not.
"I thought as much," her dad replied knowingly. "But you deserve it sweetie. You deserve to have
it all."
As if she didn't already know that.
Blair grabbed the bottle of champagne and held it between her bare knees, expertly untwisting the
wire keeper from around the cork and then inching the cork out of the bottle's neck,
slowly...slowly... until...
Pop!
"Oh. My. God. You are totally having a party!" her father exclaimed. "On a school night?" he
added, pretending to be horrified, as if he were a strict parent who actually cared about things like
that. "Let me talk to that hunky boyfriend of yours right now."
Blair filled the champagne flute, guzzled the entire contents, and then refilled it. On screen Patrick
Swayze was face-to-face with Baby's dad. "Nobody puts baby in a corner," Blair mouthed the
words, even though the TV had been muted. It was the cheesiest movie, but she still fantasized
about Nate defending her in such a determined, angry way. Nate was seriously hot when he was
angry, which was just about... never.
It's hard to get riled up when your stoned all the time.
"I told you, Dad," Blair corrected, "Nate's not here yet." She gritted her teeth and took another
gulp of the champagne. Although who knew what was taking him so goddamned long. "Anyway"-
she pouted her lips for the mirror or the camera or whatever happened to be spying on her through
a telescope from the treetops in Central Park- "if I deserve to have it all, then how come stupid
Yale hasn't let me in yet?"
"Oh, Bear," her dad sighed in his manly-but-motherly voice that made both men and women fall in
love with him instantly. "They will, dammit. They will let you in."
Blair reached for another toast point and discovered she'd eaten them all. Over the phone she
heard someone mumble something in sleepy French.
"look, sugar bear, it's late. I have to go." Her dad spoke over the mumbling. "You're okay though,
right? You just enjoy yourself."
Blair looked askance at the half-empty bottle of champagne and the crumbs of caviar scattered on
the white china plate. 'Dirty Dancing' had ended. "Good night, Dad," she replied, feeling a little
sad. She hung up and dialed Nate's cell phone again. No answer. She dialed his house line. No
answer, just his admiral dad in the answering machine, reading from the actual instructions the
machine came with that no normal person ever used: "You have reached the Archibald residence.
Please leave a brief message and we will return your call as soon as possible."
A streetcar Named Desire, starring Marlon Brando and Vivien Leigh, was about to start. Another
old favorite. Blair put the white terrycloth bathrobe back on a fluffed up the pillows on the giant
bed. Then she dialed room service again. "A hot fudge sundae, please. And a pack of Merit Ultra
Lights."
She sank back on the pillows and closed her eyes. When she left his house, Nate had been partying
with a bunch of stoners, including an annoying French hippie chick named Lexique. That stupid,
lazy asshole who so didn't deserve to go to Yale probably hadn't even noticed that Blair had left.
Tears seeped out from under her closed lids. Nate hadn't changed. Nothing had changed- except
the status of her virginity. She bit her lip and fought back an angry sob. Well, so what? Nate didn't
deserve sex. Besides, eating a hot fudge sundae in a Plaza hotel bed while plotting her revenge on
her asshole-of-a-loser-soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend was even better than sex.
Way better.
K AND I TAKE THEIR JOBS SUPER-SERIOUSLY
Dear Seniors,
We are so excited for next Friday, which as you know is Senior Cut Day, now known as the first
day of SENIOR SPA WEEKEND!!!! Yes, it's a school day. Unfortunately we'll be too busy getting
ready for our hot-stone facials and seaweed body wraps to remember to show up! Please don't be
worried about getting into trouble- not that you really are. Senior Cut Day is an ancient Constance
Billard School tradition, and no one's ever been expelled or even punished for it.
So here's what's happening.
Thursday night at 6:30 P.M we'll board the Archibald family's big sailboat, which is docked at
Battery Park City. The Archibalds are having their annual benefit cruise to the Hamptons, and they
have generously offered us a ride. As soon as we dock in Sag Harbor, we'll be picked up by a fleet
of limos, which will whisk us off to Isabel Coates's totally amazing beach house, where the
biggest, bestest girls-only slumber party will take place. NO BOYS ALLOWED. In the morning
we'll have breakfast by the pool, catered by... TBA (we're working on getting the chef who helped
Julia Roberts lose all that weight after having her twins). After that, a day of treatment brought to
us by Origins. And everyone will get an Origins gift bag valued at three hundred dollars to take
home wither totally refreshed and revitalized new self!
Dress: Resort casual. Towels, hairdryers, bath, and beauty products galore will be supplied. No
dogs, please even if they are really small. And NO BOYS!
Let's heard it for an amazing weekend of bonding with the girls!
Big Smoochies!!
Love,
Your classmates Kati Farkas and Isabel Coates
P.S We put a suggestion box in the senior lounge, so your ideas are welcome, not that we haven't
already planned the most perfect day!
P.P.S Two, four, six, eight, only one month till we graduate!!!
Gossipgirl.net
HEY PEOPLE!
SOME RECENT OBSERVATIONS
THE CASTAWAYS
I honestly don't know what's gotten into a certain group of people lately. I mean is it okay to just,
like, disappear Apparently a bunch of boys we all know and love (at least most of the time) have
hijacked a very large, well-appointed sailboat and are headed into the Atlantic. It could be just
another senior prank, except that half the boys on the boat are juniors. It's kind of random time to
take off, especially when all of us girls could use a little entertainment. Just who do they think
they are- Christopher Colombus?
YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST
They have their choice of guys, but for whatever reason, models can't get enough of guys with
guitars. Rumor has it the latest couple of the moment is a certain blond-haired Fifth
Avenue-dwelling senior girl and the lead guitarist from the Raves. How, when, and where they
met is a complete mystery, but talk about a perfect couple!
TO GAP OR NOT TO GAP?
Don't even try to pretend it was someone else: I saw you sneaking into the Gap on Eighty-sixth
and Madison and actually trying on a plum-colored Juicy Couture terrycloth zip-up hoodie in the
