a tattoo？〃 he asked out of nowhere as he traced the lines of her shoulder blades。
Except for a brief stint in rehab earlier that year； Nate had been pretty stoned pretty much all day
every day since he was eleven； and Blair was used to his random questions。 She wrinkled her
pointy； slightly upturned nose at the thought of having a big scar filed with black ink。 〃Gross；〃 she
responded。 Leave that to skanky…looking actresses like Angelina Jolie。
Nate shrugged。 He'd always thought carefully chosen； tiny tattoos in just the right places were
insanely sexy。 A little black cat between Blair's shoulder blades； for instance would totally suit her。
But before he had a chance to take the notion any further； Blair briskly changed the subject。
〃Nate？〃 she nuzzled her face into his manly； perfect collarbone。 〃Do you think your parents would
mind if I stayed……？〃 Before she could finish her sentence； the downstairs buzzer rang。
Nate's personal wing of the town house took up the entire top floor； necessitating his very own
front door buzzer。
He rolled away from Blair and swung his feet to the floor。 〃Yeah？〃 he called； pressing the button
on the inter。
〃Delivery！〃 Jeremy Scott Tompkinson shouted in his hoarse stoner voice。 〃Hurry while it's still
hot！〃
Nate heard laughter and other voices in the background。 Blaire waited for him to tell them to get
lost。 Instead； he pressed the button to unlock the door and let them in。
〃I should get dressed；〃 Blair observed tersely。 She slid out of bed and stomped into Nate's
adjoining bathroom。 How could he be smart enough to get into Yale； yet too dumb to understand
that inviting his stoner friends up to their steamy love den would totally ruin the mood？
Not that Yale had accepted Nate because of his smarts： the school needed a few good lacrosse
players。 End of story。
At least Blair had an excuse to use the delicious L'Occitane sandalwood body shampoo the
housekeeper stocked in Nate's shower。 She toweled herself off with a thick navy blue Ralph
Lauren towel； slipped on her flimsy pink silk Cosabella underwear； zipped up her
blue…and…white…seer…sucker Constance Billard School spring uniform skirt； and buttoned two of
the six buttons on her white linen Calvin Klein three…quarter…sleeve blouse。 Braless and barefoot；
it was the perfect my…girlfriend…just…got…out…of…the…shower…and…would…you…please…leave？ look。
Hopefully Nate's friends would get the hint； make like the bees and fuck off。 She tousled her damp
hair with her fingers and pushed open the bathroom door。
〃Bonjour！〃 a buxom； raven…haired； long…legged L'école girl greeted Blair from Nate's bed。 Blair
had met the girl before at parties。 Her name was Lexus or Lexique or something equally annoying；
a sixteen…year…old junior who'd done some modeling as a child in Paris was now working on
perfecting the French hippie…slut look。 Lexique； whose name was really Lexie； was wearing a
lavender…and…mustard…yellow hand…dyed cotton wraparound dress that looked homemade but had
actually been purchased at Kirna Zabete for four hundred and fifty dollars； and those ugly flat
Pakistani sheep herder sandals from Barneys that everyone but Blair seemed to think were so cool
this year。 Lexie's face was makeup…free； and she cradled an acoustic guitar in her skinny arms。 On
the bed beside her was a Ziploc bag full of pot。
What a rebel。 Most L'école girls never go anywhere without a pack a Gitanes； red lipstick； and
heels。
〃The boys are making bong hits on the roof；〃 Lexie explained。 She strummed her thumb across the
guitar strings。 〃Alors； want to jam with me till they get back？〃
Jam？
Blair wrinkled her nose with even more emphasis that she had at the thought of getting a tattoo。
She was so not into the whole getting…high；
playing…guitars…and…laughing…at…your…friends'…totally…stupid…stoned…observations scene； and she
really didn't want to hangout with this Lexique girl。 Who obviously thought she was the coolest
French girl in New York。 She'd rather watch Operah reruns on Oxygen in her cat…pee…soaked room
while her delusional mom wept over baby alpacas。
Someone had stuck a stick of burning amber incense into the cork heel of one of Blair's new mint
green Christian Dior espadrilles。 She grabbed the stick of incense and jammed it into a porthole in
one of Nate's beloved model sailboats on his desk。 Then she laced up her shoes； buttoned a few
more buttons on her blouse； and grabbed her vintage Gucci bamboo…handled tote bag。 〃Please tell
Nathaniel that I've gone home；〃 she instructed briskly。
〃Peace！〃 Lexie saluted Blair with stoned gaiety。 〃Au revoir！〃 A tattoo of the sun； moon and stars
was printed on her shoulder blade。
Hence Nate's sudden interest in tattoos？
Blair stomped down the stairs and let herself out onto Eighty…Second Street。 It felt like summer
already。 The sun was still two hours from setting； and the air smelled of fresh…cut grass from
Central Park； and suntan lotion from all the half…naked girls hurrying home to their apartments on
Park Avenue。 A gaggle of eleventh…grade St。 Jude's Nate…and…Jeremy…wannabe's were hovering
around the downstairs buzzer outside Nate's town house。 One of them had a guitar slung over his
shoulder。
〃Bien sur。 e on up！〃 Blair heard Lexie call out to them over the inter； as if she lived there。
Nate's house seemed to draw all the stoner kids on the Upper East Side with some sort of magnetic
pull。 And Blair swore she didn't mind… really； she didn't… as long as she didn't have to sit around
watching them all jam。 After all she and Nate had been through； Blair knew it was going to be
different this time。 She and Nate were together spiritually； and now physically； too； which meant
she could leave him alone； feeling perfectly confident that he wouldn't dream of cheating on her。
She carried down Eighty…Second Street toward Fifth Avenue； checking her cell phone for a
message from Nate at every corner。 Obviously he'd call any se3cond now。 Like all possessive；
aggressive； obsessive girls； she liked to think Nate didn't have a life without her。
Then again； if he didn't； she'd go pletely nuts。
LITTLE DIVA GIVES BIG DIVA SOME SOUND DEVICE
〃They gave us five spreads；〃 Serena van der Woodsen explained as she flipped through the
hot…off…the…press June issue of W magazine。 〃That's ten whole pages！〃 The world…famous fashion
designer Les Best had just messengered the fashion magazine over to her apartment with a note
that read； 〃As ever； you are fabulous； darling。 And so's that dark…haired little hottie friend of
yours！〃
The same dark…haired little hottie； fourteen…year…old Jenny Humphrey； was desperately trying not
to pee her pants。 Serena； the coolest senior girl at Constance Billard； and totally famous and
beautiful model/ Upper East Side girl…about…town； had actually asked her to hang out after school
today。 She was now sitting in Serena's huge； awesomely old…fashioned bedroom… her private
sanctuary… on her bed； flipping through the latest issue of the coolest fashion magazine in the
world； looking for pages featuring the two o