to Sweetie under his breath。 Maybe Dan was losing his mind pletely； but it sounded like
Sweetie was actually answering Chuck in some kind of crazed monkey…speak。
Dan shook his head and wove through the crowded kitchen to the living room。 His dad stood in
the center of the room； holding court before an enraptured audience of middle…aged guys with
straggly； bushy beards。 Rufus was dressed in a light…pink ？70s leisure suit with a PFLAG pin on
one insanely wide lapel。
？Dan！？ Rufus bellowed。 ？There you are！？ He put his arm around his son？s shoulders and turned
to the group of bearded Rufus clones surrounding them。 ？Dan； these are the members of my
gastronomic society？they brought the wild boar pat？。？ The group of men raised their glasses in
greeting； and Rufus pointed to a plate of suspiciously lumpy brown pat？ over on the battered
wooden coffee table。 ？Try some？it？s fantastic。？ Silence = death。
？And Dan。？ Rufus leaned in to speak more privately； ？I was thinking about this whole transition
you？re going through。？ He stopped and scratched his mess of a beard。 ？Well； maybe its not so
much atransition as it is a realization；？ Rufus mused； stuffing a mushy glob of pat？ into his
mouth。 ？But I think；？ he continued； the boar pat？ sputtering out of his mouth in chunks； ？that in
the long run it will probably make you a better writer； like Oscar Wilde or W。H。 Auden。？ Rufus
took a gallant swig from the Cosmo in his hand； washing down his meaty mouthful。 ？Just think of
all you？ll have to say now！？ he exclaimed。 ？I imagine that your marginalized position will be very
productive for your writing。？Marginalized position？ Dan didn？t feel very marginalized？more like
pletely overwhelmed。 And curious。 What else had his mother e…mailed？ And to whom？ He
noticed out of the corner of his eye that Greg had taken a seat on the sofa next to Chuck and his
idiotic pink…Cosmo…stained monkey。 They seemed to be giggling over the rims of their martini
glasses。 Just then Greg looked up； caught Dan？s eye； and waved； smiling happily。 ？C？mere；？ he
mouthed； gesturing with one hand。
？I？ll be right back；？ Dan told his father； who was chewing another massive slice of pita bread
with some of the scary pat？ smeared on it。
Greg untangled himself from Chuck and met Dan halfway across the living room。 Some of the
rainbow crepe paper was falling down； and it brushed Dan？s shoulders as he moved。
？Listen。？ Greg ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair。 ？Not now； but sometime soon； I？d
really like to talk to you about some stuff。？ He looked meaningfully into Dan？s eyes； and Dan
took a sip of his Cosmo？fruit punch flavor be damned？and swallowed hard。 What with Greg？s
grandmother dying； Dan knew he had to be supportive？be there for him in his time of need and all
that。 But what if what Greg wanted was to make things between them more 。 。 。official ？just like
everyone else？
Dan？s head was still spinning with the discovery that he was gay？and that he？d probablyalways
been gay。 But if he was going to be gay； shouldn？t he at least find a boyfriend who made him feel
something besides awkward and nervous？ His eyes scanned the room； finally landing on Vanessa；
who was talking to his mother and nodding like she actually had some clue as to what Jeanette
was talking about。 She caught his eye and winked； and Dan instantly felt a little bit better。
？Sure；？ he replied weakly。 ？That？d be good。？
A look of relief swept over Greg？s face。 ？Thanks。 You？re the best。？ He gave Dan？s hand a little
squeeze before returning to sit next to Chuck； who was feeding his monkey wild boar pat？； its
fingers covered with the soft brown goo。 Dan watched in horror as the monkey screeched；
throwing its furry head back and smearing the pat？ all over the freshly washed white wall。
So much for redecorating。
Copyright ？ 2007 by Alloy Entertainment
All rights reserved。
Little； Brown and pany
Hachette Book Group USA
237 Park Avenue； New York； NY 10017
Visit our Web site atHachetteBookGroupUSA。
First eBook Edition： May 2007
The characters and events in this book are fictitious。 Any similarity to real persons； living or dead；
is coincidental and not intended by the author。
ISBN： 978…0…316…04206…2
There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about；and that is not being talked
about。
？Oscar Wilde
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Disclaimer： All the real names of places； people； and events have been altered or abbreviated to
protect the innocent。 Namely； me。
hey people！
It？s finally August； and you know what that means： New York City is officiallyhot； hot； hot 。 Not
that I would actually know。 My friends and I have spent the last month hiding out in our quaint
beach houses in the dunes of Montauk and in little country cottages on Gin Lane in
Southampton？and bylittle I mean eight bedrooms and five baths； of course？soaking up the summer
sun and working on our Bain de Soleil tans。
So who are we？ If you really have to ask； then the question is； Darling； where have youbeen ？
We？re the girls in batik…print Marni sundresses； nursing our hangovers with Veuve Clicquot
mimosas under wide…brimmed straw Philip Treacy hats while we watch the show…jumping at the
Hampton Classic。 We？re the crowd skinny…dipping on Main Beach at daybreak； waking up at 2
p。m。 and going to bed at 6 a。m。？who has time to sleep when there are so many poolside soirees to
attend？ We？re the ones you love to look at？not to mention talk about？and we？re at our summer
best。
But summer？s almost over； and change is in the air。 The Hamptons are emptying out； the
jet…setters are jetting back from Europe （by private jet； of course）； and our families？ decorators are
already out there collecting samples for us to choose from for our dorm room d？cor。 Yup； the
countdown has officially begun： in just ten days the most recent graduates of Manhattan？s most
exclusive private schools are headed to college。 Pretty soon you？ll find us settling into our dorm
rooms on Ivy League campuses across New England； the first fallen leaves crunching beneath our
new； camel…colored Coach riding boots as we stride purposefully to classes with names like
Explorations in the Romantics and Chaos Theory。 No more back…to…school coffees on the steps of
the Met； no more sneaking out of AP French class for a cigarette； and no more itchy poly…blend
uniforms 。 。 。 unless you？re planning on driving all the frat boys wild by dressing up as a pigtailed
schoolgirl for Halloween。
College is the time to reinvent yourself （read： your chance to pretend you weren？t a colossal
loser in high school）； so with only a little over a week left before we leave for those institutions of
higher learning； it？s time to figure out who you？re going to be next。 What color is your parachute；
my dears？ The options are endless； but let me help you eliminate one： the role of observant；
fabulously chic Web…logging gossip is already taken。
And while we？re all busy reinventing ourselves； there will be a whole new s