ceiling； we should have just enough space for a double bed and a dresser and maybe even a small
love seat。？ We？
？And it？ll only be for a few weeks； anyway？before we find a cute little colonial house with ivy
and one of those claw…footed bathtubs and a woodstove。 That？s what the kitchen stuff is for。？ ？But
you don？t cook；？ Nate pointed out。 Suddenly the rest of what she？d said hit him in a rush。 ？And
wait？we？ But I？m going to be here in the city。 。 。 。？ Blair tossed the set of drawers on top of the
stack in the overflowing laundry bin。 ？Well； you could just take the train into the city in the
morning and e back to New Haven at night。You get out of school at； like； three anyway。？ She
moved down the aisle and held up a yellow…and…white…striped pillow with attached lap desk；
contemplating its usefulness。
Right； because she only buys useful things。 Like wine racks。
After talking to her father and realizing there was a distinct possibility he mightnot be able to get
Nate back into Yale？apparently colleges took those diploma things pretty seriously？Blair had gone
into full contingency…plan mode。 Nate would take the train into Manhattan in the morning and
e home to her at night。 They would be like one of those suburban families； where the dad
mutes to the city every day and then es back to his cozy home？not to mention his horny
wife？at night。 He would walk in the door； loosening his tie as he made his way toward the kitchen；
and she？d be waiting for him in nothing but a red…and…white polka…dot apron and bright red toenail
polish。 Then they？d stay blissfully in each other？s arms all night； kissing nonstop until dawn broke
in the morning and Nate had to leave again？already pining for her as he waited for the morning
train。
Okay； so it wouldn？t be the most glamorous thing in the world to tell her new Yale friends that
her boyfriend was still in high school； but she could easily tell them he had a great banking job
and was going to work for a year before starting college。 Or maybe he was just so smart he didn？t
need a college degree at all； he was one of those stock market prodigies she？d seen in the news。
The Prodigal Stoner？
Nate frowned。 ？Take the train every day？ But doesn？t it take like an hour and a half each way？
Why don？t I just stay here in the city during the week and visit you on weekends？？ ？And leave
you here all by yourself； with those slutty L？？cole girls？ I don？t think so；？ Blair responded tersely。
Nate shifted his eyes to the floor beneath her icy blue stare。 ？You can trust me；？ he mumbled。
Besides； he wouldn？t be with any L？？cole girls。 He？d be with Serena。 Not that he could actually
say that out loud。
？You can do yourhomework on the train；？ she added decisively。 Seriously； he was lucky she was
even talking to him。 Yale had been her dream her whole life； and for years now Nate had been a
part of that dream； too。 He？d pretty much shat all over her plans with his no…diploma bullshit。
Maybe he could be a little more conscious of the fact that she was giving him a second chance；
that sheneeded to keep her dreams intact。
She shook the lap desk up and down； trying to figure out what was in it； and then sat down
cross…legged on the floor； placing it on her lap and mock…writing on it。 Nate couldn？t help but
smile； watching her fake…scribble so intently like a little kid。
Blair signed her pretend letter with a flourish and then tossed the lap desk back on a shelf。 Nate
had never met anyone who knew so clearly what she wanted or didn？t want。 Each object she
tossed into that laundry basket somehow fit perfectly into the life she had mapped out for herself
years ago。 But to him the color…coordinated pencil holders； the shower totes； and the dry…erase
message boards looked like a bunch of useless junk； stuff he？d never use in a place he couldn？t
even picture。Yale was Blair？s dream； not his。
？Okay； I think we？re done here。？ She pulled a list out of her oversize brown leather Chlo？ bag
and examined it carefully to make sure she hadn？t forgotten anything。
Unlikely。
She led the way to the register； where she snatched up a little metal hook attached to a suction
cup。 ？For your razor；？ she explained。 Nate nodded in silence； his shoulders slouching under the
weight of the heavy laundry basket。 As crazy as Blair was； the fact that she was trying to squeeze
him into her tiny dorm room made him fall in love with her all over again。 Jesus； life was
confusing。
If only those people in their neat blue aprons could help。
speak your mind； and the rest will follow
It was a ridiculously hot day in Prospect Park。 Picnickers found shade underneath leafy green
trees； and small children ran around wearing as little clothing as possible。 The lake in the middle
of the park was surrounded by people looking longingly at the water； wishing it were swimmable；
and the dog beach was filled with wet pooches splashing and slobbering as their owners tried to
keep up with them； leashes tangling into one huge knot。
Tiny beads of sweat trickled down Vanessa？s back as she unloaded food from coolers onto a
picnic table near the lake； its white tablecloth flapping in the breeze。 She wiped a hand across her
brow； wishing the wind were stronger。 At least she？d ditched that hot； itchy blond wig。 Her crazy
night of table dancing at Coyote Ugly had been a lot of fun； but her wicked hangover the next
morning； bined with her reflection in the mirror； was positively sobering。 With black mascara
streaked all over her face； red lipstick smeared clownlike around her mouth； and the blond wig
hanging off her head like a dead animal； Vanessa hadn？t felt sexy anymore？she？d just felt like
roadkill。 Today； she was back to her trademark shorn scalp and black bat boots； though she
had worn a sky blue Betsey Johnson party dress for the occasion？Blair？s influence； of course。
Of course。
She pulled a tray covered in tinfoil from the last cooler and peeked inside。 Her sister？s famous
soy…tempeh lasagna。 Of course the wedding food was gross？other than Vanessa； the entire Abrams
family was vegetarian。 It would be the first time she？d seen her parents since their visit in March；
when their ？found art？ exhibit was on display at a gallery in the city。 The exhibit had rather
memorably included a chain of metal cheese graters tacked to a wall and a live horse； eating
Caesar salad from a wooden bowl and pooping freely on the floor。 During her parents？ short stay；
her father had even worn his full…length hemp skirt to a fancy party on Fifth Avenue。
So that？s what started the men…in…skirts trend。
？Eggplant！？ Vanessa？s mother？s voice rang out； calling her by her childhood nickname。 Gabriela
Abrams wore a brown…and…yellow African tribal robe despite the heat； and white ribbons tied at
the ends of her long braided gray pigtails。 She looked like a cross between Gandhi and Little Bo
Peep。
？Hey Mom；？ Vanessa mumbled as her mother threw her arms around her。 The robe was stiff and
scratched Vanessa？s bare arms。
Arlo Abrams appeared from behind Gabriela and joined in on the hug。 ？This place has good chi；？
he noted approvingly； pecking Vanessa quickly on the cheek。 His long gray hair was braided down
his back with another white ribbon tied in a bow at the bottom； and his body was cloaked in what
appeared to be a white linen bathrobe。 It was no surprise that Vanessa？s parents had similar
clothes and hair…styles。 If Gabriela didn？t dress Arlo； he？d simply walk around naked。
Let？s hope nothing ever happens to her。
Vanessa fidgeted； smothered by her parents？ embrace。 Vanessa looked over her dad？s shoulder
and spotted Dan approaching from a distance； wearing a stiff blue button…down shirt and tie。 She
didn？t even know heowned a tie。 Her stomach flip…flopped when she saw him； and she suddenly
wished she？d eaten breakfast that morning instead of drinking the Humphreys？ gross instant
coffee。
Don？t worry？there？s plenty of tempeh lasagna to go around。
？Mom； Dad； why don？t you sit over here？？ She ushered her parents toward one of the picnic
tables arranged alongside the grass aisle； wiping the sweat off her brow。 ？I have to talk to Ruby
and Piotr。？ She glanced at the two lovebirds who were standing at the makeshift altar/oak tree；
trying to keep their hands off each other and not doing a very good job。 In their usual
unconventional manner； her parents chose to perch on top of the picnic table rather than sit on the
bench。
？Our little girl？s a maid of honor！？ her mother cried； pulling a woven burlap handkerchief out
from between her breasts。
Her father put his hand on his wife？s knee and squeezed it。 ？Now； Gabriela； save your juices for
the wedding！？ Vanessa made her way down the aisle； wondering if that？s what happened to you
when you stayed in the woods of Vermont for too long。
Dan wove his way around picnic tables decorated with white balloons； hoping he？d have time to
stick napkins in his armpits to sop up the sweat trickling down his sides and staining his light blue
oxford shirt before reading his poem。
？Isn？t this romantic？？ Jenny？s voice br