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act happy for once？ She was so tired of his pale； miserable；
introspective…poet act。
“All right；” she said。 “Forget it。 I’ll talk to you later。”
She clicked off and Dan shoved his cell phone back into the pocket
of his faded black corduroys。 He snatched a pack of cigarettes out
of his back pocket and lit another one with the burning stub of the
one he was already smoking。 His thumbnail got singed； but he
didn’t even feel it。
Serena van der Woodsen。
They had first met at a party。 No； that wasn’t exactly true。 Dan had
seen her at a party； his party； the only one he’d ever had at his
family’s apartment on Ninety…ninth and West End Avenue。
It was April of eighth grade。 The party was Jenny’s idea； and their
father； Rufus Humphrey； the infamous retired editor of lesser…known
beat poets and a party animal himself； was happy to oblige。 Their
mother had already moved to Prague a few years before to “focus
on her art。” Dan invited his entire class and told them to invite as
many people as they wanted。 More than a hundred kids showed up；
and Rufus kept the beer flowing out of a keg in the bathtub； getting
many of the kids drunk for the first time。 It was the best party Dan
had ever been to； even if he did say so himself。 Not because of the
booze； but because Serena van der Woodsen was there。 Never mind
that she had gotten wasted and wound up playing a stupid Latin
drinking game and kissing some guy’s stomach with pictures
scrawled all over it in magic marker。 Dan couldn’t keep his eyes off
her。
Afterwards； Jenny told him that Serena went to her school；
Constance； and from then on Jenny was his little emissary； reporting
everything she’d seen Serena do； say； wear； etc。； and informing
Dan about any uping events where he might catch a glimpse of
her again。 Those events were rare。 Not because there weren’t a lot
of them—there were—but because there weren’t many Dan had
even a chance of going to。 Dan didn’t inhabit the same world as
Serena and Blair and Nate and Chuck。 He wasn’t anybody。 He was
just a regular kid。
For two years Dan followed Serena； yearningly； from a distance。 He
never spoke to her。 When she went away to boarding school； he
tried to forget about her； sure that he would never see her again；
unless by some act of magic they wound up at the same college。
And now she was back。
Dan walked halfway down the block； then turned around and walked
back again。 His mind was racing。 He could have another party。 He
could make invitations and get Jenny to slip one into Serena’s locker
at school。 When Serena came to his apartment； Dan would walk
right up to her and take her coat； and wele her back to New
York。
It rained every day you were gone； he’d say； poetically。
Then they would sneak into his father’s library and take each
other’s clothes off and kiss on the leather couch in front of the fire。
And when everyone left the party； they would share a bowl of
Breyers coffee ice cream； Dan’s favorite。 From then on they would
spend every minute together。 They would even transfer to a coed
high school like Trinity for the rest of senior year because they
couldn’t stand to be apart。 Then they would go to Columbia and live
in a studio apartment nearby with nothing in it but a huge bed。
Serena’s friends would try to lure her back to her old life； but no
charity ball； no exclusive black…tie dinner； no expensive party favor
could tempt her。 She wouldn’t care if she had to give up her trust
fund and her great…grandmother’s diamonds。 Serena would be
willing to live in squalor if it meant she could be with Dan。
“Fucking hell； we’ve only got five minutes until the bell rings；” Dan
heard someone say in an obnoxious voice。
Dan turned around； and sure enough； it was Chuck Bass； or “Scarf
Boy；” as Dan liked to call him； since Chuck was always wearing that
ridiculous monogrammed cashmere scarf。 Chuck was standing only
twenty feet away with two of his senior Riverside Prep pals； Roger
Paine and Jeffrey Prescott。 They didn’t speak to Dan or even nod to
acknowledge his presence。 Why should they？ These boys took the
Seventy…ninth Street crosstown bus through Central Park each
morning to school from the swanky Upper East Side； only venturing
to the West Side for school or to attend the odd party。 They were in
Dan’s class at Riverside Prep； but they were certainly not in his
class。 He was nothing to them。 They didn’t even notice him。
“Dude；” Chuck said to his friends。 He lit a cigarette。 Chuck smoked
his cigarettes like they were joints； holding them between his index
finger and thumb and sucking hard on the inhale。
Too pathetic for words。
“Guess who I saw last night？” Chuck said； blowing out a stream of
gray smoke。
“Liv Tyler？” Jeffrey said。
“Yeah； and she was all over you； right？” Roger laughed。
“No； not her。 Serena van der Woodsen；” Chuck said。
Dan’s ears perked up。 He was about to head inside for class； but he
lit another cigarette and stayed put so he could listen。
“Blair Waldorf’s mom had this little party； and Serena was there
with her parents；” Chuck continued。 “And she was all over me。
She’s； like； the sluttiest girl I’ve ever met。” Chuck took another toke
on his smoke。
“Really？” Jeffrey said。
“Yes； really。 First of all； I just found out that she’s been fucking Nate
Archibald since tenth grade。 And she’s definitely gotten an
education at boarding school； if you know what I mean。 They had to
get rid of her； she’s so slutty。”
“No way；” Roger said。 “e on； dude； you don’t get kicked out for
being a slut。”
“You do if you keep a record of every boy you slept with and get
them hooked on the same drugs you’re doing。 Her parents had to
go up there and get her。 She was； like； taking over the school！”
Chuck was getting really worked up。 His face was turning red and
he was spitting as he talked。
“I heard she’s got diseases； too；” he added。 “Like； STDs。 Someone
saw her going into a clinic in the East Village。 She was wearing a
wig。”
Chuck’s friends shook their heads； grunting in amazement。
Dan had never heard such crap。 Serena was no slut； she was
perfect； wasn’t she？ Wasn’t she？
That’s yet to be determined。
“So； you guys hear about that bird party？” Roger asked。 “You
going？”
“What bird party？” Jeffrey said。
“That thing for the Central Park peregrine falcons？” Chuck said。
“Yeah； Blair was telling me about it。 It’s in the old Barneys store。”
He took another drag on his cigarette。 “Dude； everybody’s going。”
Everybody didn’t include Dan； of course。 But it very definitely
included Serena van der Woodsen。
“They’re sending out the invitations this week；” Roger said。 “It has a
funny name； I can’t remember what it is； something girly。”
“Kiss on the Lips；” Chuck said； stubbing out his cigarette with his
obnoxious Church’s of England shoes。 “It’s the Kiss on the Lips
party。”
“Oh； yeah；” Jeffrey said。 “And I bet there’s going to be a lot more
than kissing going on。” He sniggered。 “Especially if Serena’s there。”
The boys laughed； congratulating each other on their incredible wit。
Dan had had enough。 He tossed his cigarette on the sidewalk only
inches from Chuck’s shoes and headed for the school doors。 As he
passed the three boys he turned his head and puckered his lips；
making a smooching sound three times as if he were giving each
boy a big fat kiss on the lips。 Then he turned and went inside；
banging the door shut behind him。
Kiss that； assholes。
“What I’m going for is tension；” Vanessa Abrams explained to
Constance’s small Advanced Film Studies class。 She was standing at
the front of the room； presenting her idea for the film she was
making。 “I’m going to shoot the two of them talking on a park
bench at night。 Except you can’t really hear what they’re saying。”
Vanessa paused dramatically； waiting for one of her classmates to
say something。 Mr。 Beckham； their teacher； was always telling them
to keep their scenes alive with dialogue and action； and Vanessa
was deliberately doing just the opposite。
“So there’s no dialogue？” Mr。 Beckham said from where he was
standing in the back of the classroom。 He was painfully aware that
no one else in the class was listening to a word Vanessa was saying。
“You’re going to hear the silence of the buildings and the bench and
the sidewalk； and see the streetlights on their bodies。 Then you’ll
see their hands move and their eyes talking。 Then you’ll hear them
speak； but not much。 It’s a mood piece；” Vanessa explained。
She reached for the slide projector’s remote control and began
clicking through slides of the black…and…white pictures she’d taken
to demonstrate the look she was going for in her short film。 A
wooden park bench。 A slab of pavement。 A manhole cover。 A pigeon
pecking at a used condom。 A wad of gum perched on the edge of a
garbage can。
“Ha！” someone exclaimed from the back of the room。 It was Blair
Waldorf； laughing out loud as she read the note Rain Hoffstetter had
just passed her。