gossip girl 11 英文- 第5部分

If　picturing　her　family　dead　doesn？t　make　her　happy；　maybe　she　should　try　something　less　
violent；　like　meditation。　

？Wow；？　Serena　observed　glumly；　twirling　a　long　piece　of　golden　hair　around　one　finger；　suddenly　
feeling　sad　and　serious。　She　looked　out　to　Fifth　Avenue　again；　just　as　a　bus　with　theBreakfast　at　
Fred？s　ad　rolled　by。　She　quickly　turned　away；　not　sure　why　seeing　it　made　her　feel　jittery　and　
unsettled。　？I　can？t　imagine　you　anywhere　else　but　right　here。　I　mean；　we？ve　lived；　like；　ten　blocks　
away　from　each　other　our　wholelives。　？　Blairhad　always　been　here　in　the　city；　right　by　her　side。　
Even　when　they　weren？t　getting　along？which　was　a　lot　of　the　time？it　had　made　her　feel　better　to　
know　that　Blair　was　just　half　a　mile　away；　sleeping　in　the　room　Serena　knew　so　well。　What　would　


Thanksgiving　or　Christmas　break　be　like　now　with　her　in　California？　Or　the　summers；　for　that　
matter？　Serena　had　always　thought　they？d　be　together　forever；　and　now　she　wasn？t　so　sure。　She　
looked　over　at　Blair；　who　was　deep　in　thought。　

？So；　I　told　you　about　how　the　release　date　of　my　movie　got　pushed　up；　right？　I？m　totally　stressed　
about　the　premiere；？　Serena　said；　deciding　to　change　the　subject　for　both　their　sakes。　She　pushed　
her　mass　of　hair　over　her　shoulder。　？There？s　a　press　conference　at　the　Soho　House　on　Tuesday；　
and　I？m　really　nervous。？　Blair　turned　to　her　friend　and　took　another　swig　of　cold　sweet　coffee。　
Serena　certainlyhadn？t　told　her　the　release　date　had　been　moved　up；　but　that　explained　why　she？d　
seen　her　face　and　the　words　？True　Love　Never　Lies？　pass　by　on　three　different　buses　since　they？d　
sat　down。　Serena　was　staring　straight　ahead；　and　Blair　couldn？t　tear　her　gaze　away　from　her　
perfect　profile。　Even　though　her　face　was　flushed　and　a　little　bit　sweaty　from　the　sun　overhead；　it　
should？ve　been　etched　in　glass　and　then　minted　onto　a　fucking　coin。　But　however　jealous　she　
might　be　of　the　fact　that　Serena　was　going　to　be　an　overnight　sensation；　she　had　to　admit　she　felt　
kind　of　proud；　too。　The　only　thing　better　than　having　fame　and　fortune　happen　to　you　was　to　have　
it　happen　to　your　best　friend。　

Excuse　me；　but　what　happened　to　the　Blair　we　all　know　and　love？　

？Don？t　worry。？　Blair　turned　and　gave　Serena？s　knee　a　squeeze。　？You？re　going　to　be　
fine。？　？Thanks。　That　means　a　lot　to　me；？　Serena　replied　slowly；　her　voice　soft。　？Oh；　and　will　you　
e　shopping　with　me　for　the　Met　party？？　？Of　course。？　Blair　nodded。　She　remembered　how　
much　fun　they　used　to　have　playing　dress…up　when　they　were　little；　trying　on　clothes　in　her　room　
all　afternoon　and　drinking　Campari　and　sodas　with　lime；　giggling　together　in　the　bathroom　mirror　
as　Serena　expertly　painted　Blair？s　lids　with　black　liner；　or　lacquered　her　nails　with　ballet　slipper　
pink　Essie　polish。　

Even　if　Serena　had　written　Nate　that　stupid　love　letter；　Blair　was　the　one　who　was　with　him　now。　
There　really　wasn？t　any　reason　they　couldn？t　still　be　best　friends。　Serena　would　be　the　famous　one　
and　Blair　would　be　。　。　。　the　happy　one。　

　Right。　

all　n　needs　now　is　a　peg　leg　

Nate　crossed　West　Forty…fourth　Street　and　headed　toward　the　imposing　beaux…arts　limestone　
building　that　housed　the　New　York　Yacht　Club。　The　large　bay　windows　resembled　the　sterns　of　
ships　and　made　Nate　wish　desperately　that　he　was　still　out　at　sea　with　Blair；　her　wet；　sandy　hair　
tickling　his　skin；　nothing　in　the　distance　but　blue　sky　and　endless　horizons。　He　only　felt　like　
himself　when　he　was　on　board　theCharlotte　；　far　away　from　the　city　and　the　pressures　of　real　life。　
Why　did　real　life　always　have　to　be　soplicated　？　He？d　been　back　on　dry　land　for　one　day；　and　


he　was　already　in　serious　trouble。　

Story　of　his　life。　

He　pushed　open　the　front　door　and　stepped　inside　the　opulent　interior　of　the　old　club。　The　
paneling　was　all　deep；　rich　mahogany；　and　everything　in　sight　was　gilded　in　gold。　He　pushed　his　
shoulders　back　and　tried　to　stand　up　a　little　straighter　as　he　climbed　the　ornate；　winding　marble　
staircase　toward　an　impeccably　dressed　attendant。　

？I？m　here　to　see　。　。　。　uh　。　。　。　Captain　Chips；？　Nate　said　stupidly；　realizing　he　couldn？t　even　
remember　Chips？s　last　name。　？I？m　Nate；　um；　Nathaniel　Archibald。？　The　attendant　looked　down　at　
his　metal　clipboard　and　quickly　found　his　name；　placing　a　neat　check　mark　right　beside　it。　

？Right　this　way；　Mr。　Archibald。　CaptainWhite　is　expecting　you　in　the　Grill　Room。？　The　attendant　
emphasized　the　name　White；　as　if　implying　that　Nate　ought　to　remember　it。　Nate　gulped　and　
followed　him　down　the　wooden　stairs　to　a　set　of　heavy　oak　doors。　

The　gracefully　curved　ceiling　of　the　Grill　Room　was　fashioned　out　of　planks　of　oak；　the　floors　
and　walls　paneled　in　the　dark　wood。　Round　tables　covered　in　white　linen　tablecloths　were　
scattered　around　the　cozy；　underground　space。　It　was　like　being　in　the　belly　of　a　tall　ship；　and　Nate　
instantly　felt　a　thousand　times　more　fortable。　He　could　almost　hear　the　wood　creaking　under　
his　feet　as　he　was　led　toward　a　man　dressed　in　full　navy　uniform；　gold　medals　shining　on　his　lapels。　
His　white　hair　was　neatly　bed　back　from　a　deeply　tanned；　severely　lined　face。　A　gold　wedding　
band　winked　from　his　wrinkled；　leathery　hand。　As　Nate　approached；　the　man　stood　and　gripped　
Nate？s　palm。　

？Nate　Archibald。　You？re　the　spitting　image　of　your　father；？　Chips　growled　with　a　Scottish　accent。　
He　looked　at　Nate　with　crinkly…lidded　blue　eyes　beneath　bushy　white　brows；　and　motioned　to　the　
leather…cushioned　chair　across　from　his。　？Sit。　Have　a　drink。？　Chips　sat　back　down　and　gestured　to　
the　waiter；　a　man　in　his　forties　with　neatly　bed　sandy　hair　falling　over　a　wide　forehead。　Chips　
pointed　at　his　glassful　of　amber…colored　liquid　and　held　up　two　wizened　fingers。　？You　like　scotch？？　
He　cocked　an　eyebrow　at　Nate。　

？Sure。？　Nate　shuffled　his　legs　under　the　table。　？Anything？s　fine。？　The　waiter　leaned　in；　speaking　
softly。　？I？m　sorry；　sir；？　he　whispered　apologetically。　？I？m　going　to　need　to　see　some　ID。？　Nate　
paused　for　a　second；　feeling　like　he？d　been　trapped。　He？d　already　agreed　to　have　scotch；　but　now　
he？d　have　to　show　his　fake　ID。　Was　Chips　setting　him　up？　He　gulped　and　reached　into　the　back　
pocket　of　his　cargo　shorts；　retrieving　the　battered　brown　leather　wallet　his　dad　had　given　him　for　
his　sixteenth　birthday。　He　pulled　out　the　fake　ID　he？d　gotten　off　the　Internet。　It　looked　pretty　good；　
and　it　usually　worked？except　for　the　fact　they？d　mixed　up　the　hair　and　eyes　categories；　so　if　you　
read　it　closely　it　said　？brown　eyes；　green　hair。？　The　waiter　peered　at　the　ID　for　a　long　moment　and　
Nate　shifted　in　his　chair　guiltily。　When　the　waiter　looked　up；　he　shot　him　a　wry　smile。　？Very　
good；sir　；？　he　added；　handing　Nate　back　the　laminated　card。　


？I　always　say；？　Chips　declared；　？that　all　it　takes　to　cure　life？s　woes　is　a　bottle　of　good　scotch　and　
the　open　sea。？　He　chuckled　and　slapped　the　tabletop　with　one　hand　as　if　to　punctuate　his　speech。　

Nate　nodded　lamely　as　he　leaned　back　in　his　chair；　trying　to　get　fortable。　He　glanced　around　
the　room。　He　was　the　youngest　person　there　by　at　least　forty　years？clusters　of　wizened　old　men　
were　gathere