You Know You Love Me Page 10

  “Hey.”

  Blair rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Kitty Minky peered out of the closet, her eyes glowing yellow. “Um, I was wondering if maybe you changed your mind and wanted to come up to Yale with me—” Blair’s voice broke off. She really was going to cry.

  “Nah, the guys are all psyched for our road trip,” Nate said.

  “Okay,” Blair said. “I just … this whole wedding thing … and now …” She stopped. Tears fell out of the corners of her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

  “Hey, are you crying?” Nate asked.

  Fresh tears fell out of Blair’s eyes. Nate sounded like he was thousands of miles away. She was too upset to explain everything to him. He hadn’t even thanked her for her present. What the fuck?

  “I have to go,” Blair sniffed. “Call me tomorrow, okay?”

  “I will,” Nate said. But Blair could already tell that he wouldn’t. He probably wouldn’t even remember the phone call. He was too baked.

  “’Bye,” Blair said and clicked off. She tossed the phone on her bed and scratched her nails against the bedspread. Kitty Minky crept out of the closet and jumped up on the bed.

  “It’s okay, baby,” Blair told her, stroking her head. She picked the cat up and put her on her stomach. “It’s okay.”

  Kitty Minky closed her eyes and settled into the warm folds of her sweater, purring contentedly. Blair wished she could find someone to make her feel that content. She’d thought Nate was that someone, but he was turning out to be just as crappy and disappointing as everything else in her messed up life.

  Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent. Namely, me.

  hey people!

  FAMILY MATTERS

  I know hate is a strong word and everything, but it’s okay: we’re teenagers. We’re supposed to hate our parents every once in a while. We’re also allowed to hate any siblings, older or younger, who annoy us, especially those not even related to us who we didn’t even ask for.

  However, if one of these unasked for siblings happens to be a rather cute boy with dreadlocks who I happen to know is a very good guitar player and is just about the sweetest boy in the entire world, you might want to be nice. Innocent flirting with your stepbrother-to-be isn’t sick or illegal. In fact, it’s pretty fun and pretty damned convenient if you live in the same house! It’s just a thought. Although it doesn’t look like B has considered this option.

  Your E-Mail

  Q: Dear Gossip Girl,

  I hear B is a total klepto. Like in kindergarten she stole other kids’ Barbie erasers and pencils and shit. And you couldn’t invite her over for sleepovers cause she’d steal your clothes. I also heard she stole a watch from Tiffany.

  —Peekaboo

  A: Dear Peekaboo,

  B’s been wearing a Rolex since sophomore year so I’m not sure about that one. Thanks for the scoop, tho.

  —GG

  Q: hey gossip grl,

  i’m pretty sure i saw n talking to that Constance ninth grader outside the gap on 86th Street.

  —owl99

  A: Dear ow199,

  And?? They’re already old news. You’re going to have to do better than that.

  —GG

  Sightings

  N buying a super-family-sized bag of pot at his trusty pizza place on the corner of Eightieth and Madison. Preparing for his road trip, I guess. B and her new and enlarged family in Saks, shopping merrily for wedding things. Actually, B spent most of her time there in the ladies lounge, sulking. S wandering through the cosmetics department of Barneys again, biting her nails. D pining on a bench in Riverside Park, chain-smoking. J scribbling N’s name in discreet places all over town using her excellent calligraphy. My placemat at Jackson Hole was covered with it.

  COLLEGE VISITING MUST-HAVES

  A car.

  Friends. Preferably ones who aren’t so hyped up about college that they’re going to freak out if you decide to skip the college tour and watch movies and play drinking games in the motel room instead.

  Clothes you don’t mind sleeping in and leaving behind in the motel rooms you’re probably going to trash en route.

  Nice clothes to wear to your interview. You don’t want to look too fabulous, though, or you might give your interviewer an inferiority complex.’’ Most of them don’t know the difference between Barneys and Wal-Mart.

  Sundries (Bud in cans, Entenmann’s chocolate-covered donuts, Pringles, etc.).

  You know you love me,

  gossip girl

  b gets the hell out

  “You don’t think it’s too Little Bo Peep?” Blair’s mother asked. She twirled around on the raised platform in Saks Fifth Avenue’s bridal department, the skirt of the white satin-and-lace wedding dress fanning out around her feet.

  Blair shook her head. The sight of her mother all dolled up in a pouffy white low-cut wedding dress made her want to gag, but the sooner they were out of there the better. She had to get ready for her Yale interview tomorrow. “It looks nice,” she lied.

  “It’s kind of shameful for me to wear white,” Mrs. Waldorf mused. “I mean, I already had my white wedding.” She turned to Blair. “What if I had it dyed? It might look lovely in a nice golden beige or a pale lilac.”

  Blair shrugged and shifted uncomfortably on the fake antique loveseat she was sitting on. “I don’t mind white.” The dyeing thing sounded like it would take longer.

  “We can always dye it once it’s made,” the saleswoman suggested. “Shall I go ahead and fit you for this one, then?” Even she was getting impatient. They had already been through seven dresses and three skirt-and-jacket combinations. If Mrs. Waldorf wanted her dress to be ready in only two weeks, she was going to have to hurry her ass up.

  Blair’s mother stopped twirling and examined herself critically in the four-way mirror. “I do think it’s the most flattering one I’ve tried on,” she said. “Don’t you, Blair?”

  Blair nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely, Mom. It makes you look tiny.”

  Her mother smiled, delighted.

  The way to any girl’s heart is to tell her she looks tiny.

  Girls kill to be tiny.

  “All right then,” she said, glowing with excitement. “Let’s do it.”

  The saleswoman began tucking and pinning the dress, measuring things and jotting them down on a piece of paper. Blair looked at her watch. It was already three-thirty. This whole boring episode was taking for-fucking-ever.

  “Have you found anything you like for the bridesmaids to wear?” her mother called over to her.

  “Not yet,” Blair said, although she hadn’t even looked. Her mother wanted her to find one off-the-rack dress that she absolutely loved and get it for all the bridesmaids. Blair loved to shop, but she was having a hard time getting excited about buying this particular dress. She hated wearing the same thing as other people. After all, she’d spent most of her life in a fucking school uniform.

  “I saw a gorgeous one in Barneys. ChloÉ, I think the designer was. Chocolate beaded silk with spaghetti straps. Long, cut on the bias. Very sophisticated. It would look stunning on Serena, with her slim legs and fair coloring. I’m not sure though—it might make you look a little … hippy.”

  Blair glared at her mother’s reflection in the mirror in stunned silence. Was she suggesting that Blair was fat? Fatter than Serena?

  Blair stood up and picked up her book bag. “I’m going home, Mom,” she said angrily. “I don’t have time to talk about clothes anymore. In case you’d forgotten, I have my Yale interview tomorrow, which, to me, is kind of more important.”

  Her mother whirled around, causing the saleswoman to drop her pincushion. “That reminds me!” Mrs. Waldorf cried, completely oblivious to Blair’s hurt tone of voice. “When Cyrus heard you were planning to take the train up to New Haven tomorrow, he had a terrific brainstorm.”

  Uh-oh.

  Any brainstorm
of Cyrus’s had to be hellish. Blair cocked her head, preparing for the worst.

  “It’s all arranged—Aaron’s going to take you! He wants to look at Yale, too, and he has a car parked in a garage on Lexington,” her mother explained in a rush. “Isn’t that just perfect?”

  Blair felt like she was going to cry again. No! she wanted to shout. It, isn’t perfect, Mom! It sucks! But she wasn’t about to cry in the bridal department at Saks. That would be beyond pathetic.

  “I’ll see you later,” she said abruptly, turning to leave.

  Her mother frowned after her. Poor Blair, she thought. She must be nervous about her Yale interview.

  Blair walked the twenty-two blocks home biting back tears of outrage. She thought about checking into the Pierre Hotel and beginning the first stages of her disappearance. She could call her father and ask to live with him and his boyfriend in their chteau in France. She could learn how to stomp grapes, or whatever the hell they did there.

  But she had to finish her senior year at Constance. She had to finally do it with Nate. And she had to go to Yale.

  She was going to have to suck it up.

  When she got upstairs to the penthouse, Mookie dashed down the hallway and hurled himself at her, licking her face and wriggling his bottom exuberantly. Blair dropped her book bag and sat on the floor, letting the dog tread all over her as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Mookie’s breath smelled like ass.

  She’d definitely hit an all-time low.

  Aaron poked his head out of the library. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked, walking over to her. “Mookie, no!” he yelled, pulling the dog away. “You shouldn’t let him do that. He’s going to fall in love with you and starting humping your leg and stuff.”

  Blair stifled a sob and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  “So, you ready to rock on up to Yale tomorrow?” Aaron asked, holding out his hand to pull her up off the floor.

  Blair ignored his hand. She wanted a drink badly. “I can’t wait to get the hell out of here,” she mumbled miserably.

  “Well, we could leave now if you want. It’d be more fun if we didn’t have to wake up early to get you up there for your interview,” Aaron said. He pushed his dreadlocks behind his ears. Blair had never seen anyone do that before.

  “Now?” Blair accepted Aaron’s hand and stood up shakily. It wasn’t what she’d planned. But why the hell not? This way, she and Aaron would be on the road at night. They’d have to stay in a hotel somewhere. They’d have a car. They could go anywhere. Anywhere that wasn’t here.

  She was going to be spontaneous for once.

  “Okay,” Blair said with a sniffle. “I just have to pack.”

  “Cool,” Aaron said. “Me too. Hey Tyler!” he shouted.’ Tyler padded out of the library in his sock feet. He was wearing one of Aaron’s LEGALIZE HEMP T-shirts and had chocolate on his face. “Sorry, man, I can’t finish watching The Matrix sequel with you,” Aaron told him. “Blair and I are going on a road trip.”

  “That’s cool,”Tyler said. “Sequels suck.”

  Blair pushed past her brother and hurried into her bedroom to get ready. Her heart was pounding. She might have hated Aaron, but she was so eager to get the fuck out of there she didn’t even mind that it had to be with him. Just as long as he didn’t try to act all brotherly and Mother Naturey and shit.

  rendezvous at grand central station

  When Serena arrived at the bar upstairs in Grand Central Station, Dan was already there, smoking a cigarette and drinking a gin and tonic. He looked nervous.

  “Hey,” Serena said breathlessly.

  She was always breathless because she was always late. Dan liked to imagine her descending from the heavens to get there. It was a long flight.

  “Our cook gave me some sandwiches in case we get hungry,” she said.

  Her cook! Well, she was a fairy princess—of course she had a cook.

  Dan swirled the ice around in his glass. Serena was wearing a blue sweater that made her eyes look bigger and bluer than he had ever seen them.

  “I brought a bottle of wine,” he told her. “We can have a picnic.”

  Serena slid onto the bar stool next to him. The bartender placed a Kir royale, all bubbly and lavender-colored, on the cocktail napkin in front of her. “I love this place,” she said, picking up the drink.

  The bartender already knew what she wanted. How cool was that?

  Dan offered her a cigarette, put one in his mouth, and lit them both. He felt incredibly suave.

  Serena exhaled, blowing smoke at the station’s ornate ceiling. “I think the thing I love most about going someplace is the stations and the airports and the taxis. They’re so … sexy,” she said.

  Dan sucked on his cigarette. “Yeah,” he said, although he couldn’t have disagreed more. He couldn’t wait to just get there. As soon as he and Serena were alone he would …

  Yes?

  He wasn’t sure what was going to happen, but he was sure it was going to be something.

  “You’ll like my brother, Erik,” Serena said, sipping the Kir royale. “He likes to philosophize. But he’s kind of a big partier, too.”

  Dan nodded and pulled at his brown curls. He’d forgotten about Erik. Hopefully Erik would be partying with his roommates while they were there. That way Dan would have Serena all to himself.

  The departures and arrivals boards flashed and fluttered as new times were posted and trains came and went. The station was busy with the weekend rush. People dashed to meet their trains or stood around waiting to greet their friends.

  Serena squinted at the departures board. “Our train leaves in fifteen minutes,” she said. “One more cigarette for the road, and then we should go.”

  Dan fished two more cigarettes out of the pack and swiveled around on his stool to pick up his lighter.

  “So,” Serena said. “I read your poem.” She had to bring it up sometime, and now was as good as ever. The poem was good, but it still freaked her out.

  Dan froze.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw four vaguely familiar boys saunter into the Vanderbilt Avenue entrance to the station. One of them stopped and stared at Serena.

  Nate was baked, but he wasn’t hallucinating. Serena van der Woodsen was sitting right there at the Grand Central bar, wearing white flared cords, a bright blue V-neck sweater, and her favorite pair of brown suede boots. The sweater made her eyes look deeper and darker than he’d ever seen them.

  Blair had made him promise to forget about Serena, but Nate had never been sure if he’d succeeded. He’d been trying to avoid her, because seeing Serena usually made his heart hurt.

  Not this time, though. This time, something was different. When he looked at Serena all he saw was a beautiful old friend.

  “Hey, I know those boys!” Serena said, hopping off her stool. She left her unlit cigarette on the bar and walked over to Nate.

  “Wait,” Dan said. She hadn’t told him what she thought of his poem.

  He watched Serena approach the boy who’d been staring at her and kiss him on the cheek. All of a sudden Dan knew why these boys looked so familiar. They were the same boys he’d seen playing ball with his sister in the park.

  “Hey, guys,” Serena said, smiling her inimitable smile. “Where’re you going?”

  It was just like her to walk up, give Nate a kiss, and say “Hey,” as if she hadn’t noticed that Nate had been ignoring her ever since she’d come back to New York last month.

  Serena wasn’t one to hold a grudge. Unlike some people we know.

  “We’re heading up to Brown,” Anthony said. “But first we have to pick up Jeremy’s mom’s car in New Canaan.”

  Serena’s eyes lit up. “No way. We’re going up to Brown, too! My brother goes there, so we’re staying with him. Want to ride with us?”

  Nate frowned. Riding up to Brown with Serena was definitely not in Blair’s you-can-go-away-without-me rule book. But who said he had to follow her rules?


  “Right on,” said Jeremy. “Sounds like a party.”

  “Cool,” Serena said. “You guys can probably stay with my brother, too.” She turned and waved at the pale scruffy boy hunched over the bar. “Hey, Dan. Come here.”

  Dan got up and came over. Serena noticed he looked a little sad.

  “Guys, this is Dan. Dan this is Nate, Charlie, Jeremy, and Anthony. They’re going to ride with us up to Brown.”

  Serena smiled brightly at Dan, and he tried to smile back—he really did, but it was hard. Why hadn’t they gotten on the train early? They could’ve been happily drinking wine and eating Serena’s cook’s sandwiches instead of sharing rides with four spoiled St. Jude’s boys who would totally monopolize Serena and change the whole tone of the trip. There would be no whispering to each other in all-night diners, holding hands under the table. No sleeping together on her brother’s floor. It wasn’t a romantic weekend away anymore: it was a college-visiting road trip, a meaningless party.

  Woo-hoo!

  Dan had never felt so disappointed. “Cool,” he said. He wished he were back in his room, writing about the weekend that could have been.

  “Okay, let’s roll. We better make that train,” Charlie said.

  Serena slipped her arm through Dan’s and pulled him down the steps with her. “Come on!” she cried, running.

  Dan stumbled after her. He had no choice.

  Nate walked behind them, feeling a little bit sad himself. He wished he’d brought someone with him, and it wasn’t Blair he was thinking of.

  best western vs. motel 6

  “Maybe we should drive through Middletown on the way. Look at Wesleyan,” Aaron suggested. He punched in the Saab’s lighter and opened the sunroof.

  They had just pulled onto 1–95 in Connecticut. Blair had ridden the whole way in silence as Aaron maneuvered his way out of the city. Some kind of hippie-happy reggae music she had never heard of was playing on the stereo.

  “You want to lively up yourself!”

  Blair slipped off her shoes and put her sock feet up on the dashboard. “I’m not applying anywhere else but Yale,” she said. “But we can drive through Wesleyan if you want.”