第一小说网

手机浏览器扫描二维码访问

第27部分（第1页）

Serena　glanced　up　at　the　entrance　again。　If　she　didn’t　e　in　five　minutes；　she　was　leaving。

That　won’t　be　necessary。

Sweeping　into　the　bar；　not　bothering　to　take　off　her　oversize　Louis　Vuitton　sunglasses；　was　Blair。　She　wore　a　dark　pair　of　skinny　jeans　and　an　oversize　black　sweater；　looking　like　a　more　glamorous　version　of　Katie　Holmes。

“Blair！”　Serena　called；　standing　up　and　waving　wildly。　Blair　flicked　her　eyes　to　Serena’s　corner；　as　if　she　were　pletely　uninterested　or　unimpressed　to　see　her　there。

Blair　put　her　hands　on　her　hips　and　glared　at　her　former　friend。　What　the　fuck　was　Serena　doing　here？　First　Nate；　now　this？　That　was　it；　she　was　never　ing　back　to　New　York　after　this　trip。　She’d　have　bagels　FedExed　to　her　in　New　Haven　and　deal　with　the　Barneys　at　The　Grove　when　she　visited　her　mom　in　LA。　She　could　probably　go　through　the　rest　of　her　life　never　ing　to　the　city　again。

“What　are　you　doing　here？”　Blair　finally　asked。　She　felt　like　hell。　She’d　barely　slept　last　night。　Chuck　had　been　true　to　his　word　and　had　picked　her　up　for　brunch。　It　might　have　been　fun—Chuck　had　ridiculous　stories　about　life　at　Deep　Springs；　and　had　done　his　best　to　avoid　the　topic　of　Nate—but　Blair　had　been　hungover　and　shaky　and　tired。　She’d　been　napping　on　and　off　all　afternoon。　She　probably　looked　like　hell；　too。　She　was　still　wearing　the　same　jeans…and…sweater　bination　she’d　been　wearing　last　night；　but　no　way　did　she　want　to　go　back　to　her　own　hotel　room　and　take　the　chance　of　running　into　Nate　or　Pete。　She　was　sure　they　were　both　gone　by　now—long　gone。　But　just　in　case。

“I　wanted　to　see　you。　Please　sit　down？”　Serena　begged。　Blair　paused；　but　then　reluctantly　slid　onto　a　leather　ottoman　opposite　Serena。

“What　is　it？”　Blair　snapped。

Serena　took　a　deep　breath。　At　first　she　wanted　to　tell　Blair　everything：　that　she’d　been　burned　by　Nate；　that　she　hadn’t　been　able　to　stop　thinking　about　Dan　Humphrey　for　two　days；　and　that；　most　important；　she　was　going　to　Yale。　But　she　didn’t　know　where　to　begin。

“Vodka　soda？”　the　server　said；　plunking　a　tumbler　on　top　of　a　pink　star…shaped　coaster。　“And　what　would　your　friend　like？”

“Nothing。”　Blair　impatiently　waved　the　server　away　with　her　hand。　“You　came　to　tell　me　something？”　Blair　asked　pointedly；　as　if　she　were　conducting　a　job　interview　with　someone　who　had　absolutely　no　shot　in　hell　of　getting　the　position。

“Look；　I　know　you’re　mad　at　me。　I’m　sorry。　I　hate　how　we　fight。　It’s　so　pointless。　And　I　wanted　you　to　know—I’m　ing　to　Yale　next　fall；”　Serena　blurted。　“We’ll　be　at　the　same　school　again—without　Mrs。　McLean　watching　us！”　she　joked；　hoping　Blair　would　laugh；　remembering　their　Talbots　pantsuit–loving　former　headmistress。　Blair　just　raised　her　eyebrow　and　sighed。

The　sound　track　at　the　bar　suddenly　changed　to　a　cheesy　pop　song；　reminding　Serena　of　how　much　fun　the　two　of　them　used　to　have；　back　when　they　would　dance　around　her　bedroom　until　they　collapsed　in　a　tired　heap　on　top　of　each　other。　Back　before　Nate　came　between　them。　Serena　managed　a　watery　smile。　“Can’t　we　be　friends？”　she　asked　finally。

Blair　stared　into　Serena’s　large　blue　eyes；　which　looked　so　innocent　and　pleading。　They’d　had　so　many　fights；　followed　by　so　many　teary　makeup　sessions。　For　a　moment；　Blair　wanted　to　throw　her　arms　around　Serena　and　tell　her　everything　would　be　okay；　that　they　would　always　be　friends。　But　that　wasn’t　exactly　true。　Everything　wasn’t　okay。　Serena　had　stolen　Nate；　had　cost　her　Pete；　and　now　wanted　to　e　to　Yale—and　who　knew　what　she　would　do　once　she　got　there？

Blair　stood　up。　Maybe　forgiveness　had　worked　in　the　past；　but　she　had　to　move　forward。　And　her　future　had　no　place　for　Serena。　Serena　had　taken　Nate　from　her　and　now　that　she’d　already　lost　him；　she　wanted　to　take　Yale。　She　could　have　it。　Blair　wasn’t　going　to　be　around　to　watch。

“Actually；　I’m　going　abroad　next　year；　so　we　won’t　really　see　each　other。”　She　slung　her　Chloé　hobo　bag　over　her　shoulder。　“’Bye！”　she　called；　not　bothering　to　look　back。

Au　revoir…

III

hey　people！

a　note　to　all　you　study　abroaders

We　know　who　you　are。　We　can　hear　and　smell　you　from　a　mile　away。　You’re　the　guys　and　girls　who　pronounce　everything　with　a　slightly　clipped　British　accent；　like　Madonna；　or　roll　your　r’s　even　when　you’re　speaking　English。　You’re　the　ones　talking　about　how　the　siesta　really　suits　you；　or　how　a　glass　of　wine　with　lunch　really　calms　the　nerves。　You’re　the　ones　who　won’t　shut　up　about　how　much　better　your　adopted　country　is—even　though　you’ve　spent　most　of　your　first　semester　getting　drunk　with　fellow　study　abroaders　and　you　can　only　say　one　sentence　in　the　language　of　your　host　country：　“Where’s　the　bathroom？”　or　“toilet；”　as　they　say　in　the　U。K。

Don’t　get　me　wrong—I　understand　the　appeal　of　your　international　environs。　Take　a　look　at　B。　Even　though　a　bevy　of　well…bred　British　boys　have　been　following　her　through　the　medieval　streets　of　Oxford；　she’s　been　spotted　drinking　pints　and　sharing　snogs　with　a　fellow　American…　a　very　familiar　one。　Is　it　just　me；　or　are　American　boys　that　much　sexier　when　they　go　abroad？

on　the　home　front

I　haven’t　forgotten　about　all　of　you　who　stayed　stateside。　My　first　subject：　S；　current　cause　célèbre　at　Yale。　Sadly　for　the　Yale　drama　club　and　all　the　other　school　societies　eager　to　claim　her　as　a　member；　she’s　practically　a　part…time　student；　hopping　on　the　Metro　North　every　Thursday　afternoon　after　Moral　Philosophy　class。　Her　destination？　The　Upper　West　Side；　where　she　spends　most　of　her　time　holed　up　with　D。　Those　two　only　venture　out　occasionally；　blissfully　disheveled；　for　pancakes　and　coffee　on　Sunday　mornings。　Boring　couple　alert！

Meanwhile；　V　has　been　keeping　a　low　profile　at　her　Williamsburg　loft；　occasionally　emerging　to　walk　her　adorable　dog。　Whatever　happened　to　that　filmmaker　boyfriend　of　hers？　It’s　an　awfully　big　apartment　for　just　one　person。　N　has　been　spotted　out　at　Deep　Springs；　his　eyes　glittering　for　one　girl　only…　a　newborn　albino　calf　named　Gertie。　Or　perhaps　I　should　refer　to　her　as　Baby　G？　Finally；　little　J　is　back　in　the　city　for　the　holidays；　last　seen　lunching　at　Balthazar　and　poring　over　college　catalogs　with　her　dark…haired；　violet…eyed　boarding　school　friend。　Is　our　little　J　all　grown　up？　All　I　can　say　is；　boarding　school　has　been　very　good　to　her。