You Know You Love Me

by Cecily von Ziegesar

  —MsPink

  A: Dear MsPink,

  I want to not believe you because yeah, that is gross.

  —GG

  Q: Dear Gossip Girl,

  I heard that the cops showed up at a Best Western somewhere in Mass. and busted up a party full of kids. Apparently everyone involved spent the night in jail. Just thought you’d want to know.

  —Dragonfly

  A: Dear Dragonfly,

  I don’t know if our friends are dumb enough to get busted or not. I hope not!

  —GG

  Sightings

  Let’s stick to the city, shall we? J moping in Central Park Friday after school. Guess she misses N terribly. V putting the finishing touches on her movie. She’s hosting a preview at The Five and Dime this weekend. Pretty cocky of her, if you ask me. D buying new razors at a drugstore on Forty-second Street before heading into Grand Central Station on Friday. Guess he wanted to be nice and clean shaven for S. A buying a cheesy Hallmark card in CVS on Friday on his way to get the car. Wonder who it was for?

  That’s all for now. I’m sure there’ll be lots more news when everyone gets back.

  Keep up the good work.

  You know you love me,

  gossip girl

  the morning after

  Sunshine streamed through the window, hitting the bag of Chips Ahoy hard enough to melt the chips. Blair caught the scent of gooey chocolate and woke up. She rolled over, knocking into Aaron, and then rolled the other way, crushing the half-empty bag of Fritos.

  “Shit,” she muttered under her breath. She pulled her watch up close to her face and stared at it. Her Yale interview was at eleven. She was lying facedown on a bag of Fritos in a seedy motel room in East Asshole, Connecticut, and it was already ten o’clock.

  “Fuck!” Blair cried, leaping out of bed. “Aaron. Wake up. Now!”

  It was kind of hard not to note the panic in her voice. “What time is it?” Aaron mumbled. He sat up, shaking his head back and forth sleepily.

  “Three minutes after ten!” Blair screeched at him, digging through her bag. She hadn’t even bothered to hang up her clothes, so her interview skirt was all rumpled. What was wrong with her? Was this not, like, the most important day of her life?

  “Don’t worry,” Aaron said.

  It was the wrong thing to say.

  “Shut up!” Blair screamed, throwing a black Gucci loafer at him. “This is all your fault!”

  Aaron reached under the covers to scratch his butt. “What’s my fault?”

  “Just shut up,” Blair said. She wadded up her clothes, stomped into the bathroom, and slammed the door.

  “I’m going to go see if they have coffee by the front desk,” Aaron called out to her. “I’ll check us out and wait for you by the car.”

  He swung his feet to the floor and pulled his jeans on. Then he stood up and examined his reflection in the motel room mirror. One dreadlock stuck straight up from the middle of his head. There was a chocolate smudge on his T-shirt. Aaron shrugged. He wasn’t the one having the interview. He pulled his jacket on and grabbed the room key. No way was Blair going to blame him for screwing her life up. He’d get her there.

  In the shower, Blair scrubbed at herself furiously as she went over practice interview questions in her head.

  Why Yale? Because it’s the best. I’m not going to college to have fun. I want the best teachers and the best selection of courses offered and the best facilities. I don’t want to just get through the next four years. I want to be challenged.

  Tell me about yourself. What kind of person are you? I’m very organized (chuckle). My friends think I’m kind of anal. I’m ambitious. I can’t stand the idea of being just average at anything. I’m determined. I push myself to do the best I can. I suppose I’m a little stubborn. I’m very social. I organize parties and charity events. I try to stay politically aware, although with all the reading at school, I have to admit I don’t read the paper every day. I love animals. I try to be a thoughtful daughter and sister and do nice things for my family without them asking.

  Who is your role model? I have two. Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Audrey Hepburn. They were both remarkable, strong, respected, beautiful women. Full of grace.

  Blair turned off the tap and grabbed a towel. She didn’t have time to wash her hair. Hopefully it wouldn’t reek of smoke. She examined her face in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy, and a small zit shone pinkly above her left eyebrow. She spritzed her face with cucumber toner and dabbed La Mer eye cream under her eyes. Yale wasn’t admitting her based on her looks, anyway. She pulled on her light blue Calvin Klein button-down shirt, her black pleated DKNY skirt, and black tights. Then she brushed her hair back into a loose ponytail. There. She looked like the kind of girl who liked to hang out in bookstores reading poetry. She looked serious and intelligent.

  Blair dug around in her cosmetics bag for her Stila compact. She brushed a light pink glow over her cheeks, the bridge of her nose, and her forehead. Then she smeared some clear gloss on her lips. She was as ready as she’d ever be.

  Ignoring the sick, nervous feeling in the pit of her bloated stomach, Blair stuffed her things into her bag, slipped on her Gucci loafers and her black wool coat, and charged out of the room. She was organized, ambitious, determined, politically aware … she reached the bottom of the staircase and pushed open the door to the parking lot. The hood was up on the Saab. Aaron was bent over the engine, attaching some kind of clamp to the battery. Blair stopped and sucked in her breath. What the hell was wrong with the fucking car?

  Aaron turned around and squinted at her. “Battery’s dead,” he said. “We must have left the lights on all night.”

  “We?” Blair dropped her bag and stamped her foot angrily. “Now what am I supposed to do?” she wailed.

  “The manager’s going to jump-start us,” Aaron said, pushing his dreadlocks behind his ears. “It’s cool.”

  “Excuse me, but it is not cool. We should be there by now!” Blair screamed, even though Aaron was standing right in front of her.

  A bleached blond woman in her forties pulled up beside the Saab in an old brown Suburban. She left the motor running and hopped out.

  “Let’s get this done quick,” she told Aaron. “I don’t like to leave the phones ringing.” She lifted up the hood of the Suburban.

  Blair looked at her watch again. It was ten-thirty.

  “How far are we from Yale?” she asked.

  “The university? About twenty-five miles,” the woman said. “My son goes there. It takes him about twenty minutes or so.”

  Blair frowned. It had never occurred to her that the sons of the types of people who managed Motel 6es could go to Yale.

  “How long is this jump-start thing going to take?”

  Aaron handed the woman the clamps for the jumper cables. He laughed. “Oh, it could take anywhere from five minutes to two hours,” he said, winking at the motel manager.

  Blair crossed her arms over her chest. “We don’t have two hours!”

  Aaron opened the door to the Saab and started the engine, revving the gas a few times to make sure it was well and truly fired up to go. He left the engine running and motioned for Blair to get in.

  “You’re lucky,” he said, and winked at the hotel manager again. She switched her car off and Aaron removed the cables, closed the Saab’s hood, and got in next to Blair. He pulled an envelope out of his jacket and handed it to her.

  Blair ripped it open. It was a cheesy Hallmark card with a picture of a little girl on it. TO MY SISTER, it read. ON HER SPECIAL DAY.

  “Ready?” Aaron said.

  Blair closed the card. “Just drive, please,” she ordered. She touched the zit on her forehead. It felt like it was growing exponentially with each minute that passed.

  What’s your biggest strength?

  I never give up.

  And your biggest weakness?

  I’m a little impatient. But only a little.

  Yeah, right.


  j makes nice

  “Why don’t you go out for a run or something?” Rufus Humphrey suggested to his daughter on Saturday morning. He scratched at the gray wiry hair sticking out in tufts at the neckline of his yellowed undershirt. “Your mother was a runner.”

  Jenny scowled. She hated talking about her mother. “Mom only ran with her personal trainer. They were sleeping together, remember?”

  Her father shrugged. “You look bored, that’s all,” he said. “Want to go to the movies with me?”

  “No,” Jenny said. She sipped her tea. “I’d rather just stay here and watch TV.”

  “Fine,” her father said. “Just make sure it’s something educational. You know, like Sesame Street.” He smacked the top of Jenny’s head with the Saturday Times and headed into the bathroom.

  Jenny stayed seated at the kitchen table, staring into her mug. Marx, their overweight tabby cat, leapt up onto the table and sniffed her ear.

  “I’m bored,” Jenny told him. “Are you bored?”

  Marx sat down and licked his enormous belly. Then he jumped off the table and headed for his bowl of cat food.

  When in doubt, eat.

  Jenny stood up and opened the refrigerator door. She stood there for a while, staring into it. Swiss cheese. A grapefruit. Sour milk. A box of cornflakes put in the fridge to hide it from the roaches. A lone English muffin.

  The phone rang.

  Jenny didn’t move. No way was it for her, anyway. Nate, Dan, Serena—they were all away.

  It rang again and again and again.

  “Jenny, dammit!” she heard her father yell from the bathroom.

  Jenny slammed the fridge closed and picked up the phone.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Hey, Jennifer, it’s Vanessa.”

  “Hey,” said Jenny.

  “Is Dan around?”

  “No. Dan went up to Brown with Serena for the weekend. He didn’t tell you?” Jenny said.

  “No.”

  “That’s weird,” Jenny said.

  “Yeah. We haven’t really been speaking that much lately,”

  Vanessa said.

  “Oh.” Jenny walked back to the fridge and opened it again. Swiss cheese. She could have Swiss cheese melted on the English muffin.

  “Okay, well, I guess if he’s not there, he’s not there,” Vanessa said. She sounded really disappointed. Disappointed and hurt.

  Vanessa’s whole charade with her cool, older boyfriend didn’t fool Jenny for a minute. Vanessa was totally in love with Dan. If Dan told Vanessa he’d marry her if she grew her hair out, wore bright colors, and got some exercise, Vanessa would do it. Jenny felt kind of sorry for her.

  Jenny put the Swiss cheese back on its shelf. “Hey, I have kind of a weird question,” she said, deciding to be nice. “Do you want to like, do something today? I mean, together?”

  There was a brief little pause. The sound of Vanessa hesitating.

  “Sure,” she said. “I’m holding a screening of my film at The Five and Dime at noon. You could come to that and we could hang out afterwards or something.”

  Jenny closed the refrigerator and leaned against it. Vanessa wasn’t exactly her favorite person in the world, but what else was she going to do with Nate gone? “All right,” she said. “I’ll see you there.”

  Who knew? She and Vanessa might even wind up becoming friends.

  the interview: how to make an impression

  “Thank you for waiting,” Blair’s interviewer said, sweeping into the cold blue waiting room of the Yale admissions office, where Blair had been sitting stiffly on the edge of a wing-back chair for over fifteen minutes. Aaron had almost hit several people getting her there on time, and then she’d had to wait. Now she was a nervous wreck.

  “Hi!” Blair squeaked, jumping to her feet. She thrust out her hand. “I’m Blair Waldorf.”

  The interviewer, a tall, tanned man with gray hair at his temples and sparkling green eyes, took her hand and shook it. “So glad to meet you. I’m Jason.” He turned and led Blair into his office. His pants were a little tight in the ass, Blair noticed. “Have a seat,” he said, crossing his legs and pointing to the blue velvet armchair across from him.

  He reminded her of her father.

  Blair sat down and crossed her legs. She had to pee. There were cat hairs on her skirt that she hadn’t noticed before.

  “So, tell me about yourself,” Jason said, smiling at her with his nice green eyes. Green, like Nate’s.

  “Um,” Blair said. She couldn’t remember if this was one of the questions she’d prepared for or not. It seemed so vague. Tell me about yourself. Tell him what?

  She twirled her ruby ring around and around on her finger. She really, really had to pee.

  Blair took a deep breath and began talking. “I’m from New York City. I have a younger brother. My parents are divorced. I live with my mom, who’s getting remarried soon, and my dad lives in France. He’s gay. He loves to shop. I have a cat, and my new stepbrother Aaron has a dog. My cat hates the dog, so I don’t know how it’s going to work out.” She stopped for breath and looked up. She realized that the entire time she’d been speaking she’d been staring at Jason’s black lace-up shoes. This was a no-no. She was supposed to make eye contact. She was supposed to make an impression.

  “I see,” Jason said pleasantly. He jotted a few things down on his pad.

  “What are you writing?” Blair asked, leaning forward to look,

  Good grief, surely that was another no-no.

  “Just a few notes,” Jason said, hiding what he’d written with his hand. “So tell me why you’re interested in Yale.”

  This one she’d prepared for.

  “I want the best. I am the best. And I deserve the best,” Blair said confidently. She frowned. That didn’t sound right. What was wrong with her? “My dad went to Yale, you know,” she added hastily. “He wasn’t gay then.”

  Jason frowned and scribbled away. “Yes, he did, didn’t he?”

  Blair yawned discreetly into her fist. She was extremely tired, and her shoes hurt like hell. She uncrossed her legs, rested her elbows on her knees, and slipped her heels out of her shoes. That was better.

  Except that now she looked like she was sitting on the toilet.

  As he wrote, Jason’s gold monogrammed cufflinks gleamed in the cold November light coming through the window. Blair’s father had worn cufflinks like that the night he took her out for her birthday. The night all hell broke loose.

  “Can you tell me about a favorite book you’ve read recently?” Jason asked, looking up.

  Blair stared at him, scanning her brain for the title of a book?any book?but she couldn’t think of a single one.

  Winnie the Pooh? The Bible? The dictionary for God’s sake?it’s really not that hard.

  Then something clicked in Blair’s brain. Or rather, her brain switched off completely and something else took over.

  This is not recommended during an important college interview.

  “I haven’t been able to read much in the last few months,” Blair confessed, her lip trembling. She closed her eyes, as if in pain. “Everything is a mess.”

  She was back?the leading lady in the tragic film that was her life. She imagined herself staring out to sea on a deserted beach wearing a trendy, short black trench coat. Rain and salt water pelted her face, mingling with her tears.

  “I stole a pair of pajamas,” Blair continued dramatically. “For my boyfriend. I don’t know what made me do it, but I think it’s a sign, don’t you?” She glanced at Jason. “Nate didn’t even thank me.”

  Jason shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Nate?”

  Blair snatched a Kleenex from the box on his desk and blew her nose noisily. “I’ve thought about ending it all,” she declared. “I’m serious, I have. But I’m trying to be brave and hold on.”

  Jason had stopped writing. A boy sprinted by the window, wearing a Yale sweatshirt. “And what about sports? Are you intere
sted in sports?”

  Blair shrugged. “I play tennis. But the only thing I’m really interested in right now is starting over. Beginning a new life,” she said. She slipped her right shoe off entirely, placed her right foot on her left knee, and began massaging her toes. “It’s been so hard,” she added tiredly.

  Jason put the cap on his pen and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “Er ? do you have any questions for me?”

  Blair stopped rubbing her toes and put her foot back on the floor. She scooted her chair forward and reached out to touch Jason’s knee. “If you can promise me to let me in early, I promise to be the best student Yale University has ever had,” she said earnestly. “Can you promise me that, Jason?”

  Oh. My. God. Goodbye Yale University, hello community college!

  Jason groped in his pocket, retrieved his pen, and scribbled something else on his pad, underlining it twice.

  Let’s guess what he wrote. FREAKSHOW?

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Jason said. He stood up and held out his hand once more. “Thanks so much for coming in.” He shook Blair’s hand. “Good luck.”

  Blair wriggled her feet back into her shoes and smiled winningly at him. “See you next fall,” she said.

  And then she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.

  As if she hadn’t already made enough of an impression.

  guess who’s getting into brown?

  “I thought I’d feel more nervous,” Serena said, stamping her feet in a pile of dried autumn leaves outside Corliss-Brackett House, the small brick building where the Brown University admissions office was located.

  She had woken up in the hotel bed holding Nate’s hand. When he’d opened his eyes a moment later, they’d smiled at each other, and Serena had known everything was going to be all right between them. There was still Blair to contend with, and they would never be as close as they once were. Things were different. But the look of distrust was gone from Nate’s eyes, and so was the look of longing. She was just an old friend. She was safe.