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his hands shaking crazily。 If only he could have pulled off some heist like sabotaging theThe New
Yorker ？s printing presses so they couldn？t print vowels anymore。 Then all the Valentine？s Day
issues would have been recalled from the newsstands late last night。
As if he could ever have pulledthat off。
？Yo； dude；？ Dan heard the familiar； conceited voice of his least…favorite Riverside Prep classmate
behind him。 Dan stopped walking and turned around to see Chuck Bass flipping his signature navy
blue monogrammed cashmere scarf over one shoulder and running his manicured fingers through
his brown…and…blond highlighted hair。 ？Nice poem inThe New Yorker ； man。？ He gave Dan a
congratulatory clap on the shoulder； his monogrammed pinky ring glittering in the winter
sunlight。 ？Who knew you were such a stud？？
Was there something distinctlygay about Chuck Bass these days？ Or perhaps not。 Just because
he？d gotten blond highlights and was wearing a slim； cream…colored wool coat by Ralph
Laurenand orange leather Prada sneakers didn？t mean he？d given up molesting defenseless；
drunken girls at parties。 Perhaps he was simply expressing himself。
There？s certainly nothing wrong with that。
？Thanks；？ Dan mumbled as he fiddled with the plastic top on his coffee cup。 He wondered if
Chuck was planning on walking all the way to school with him so they could discuss his poem。
But then Dan？s cell phone rang； saving him from having to answer Chuck？s inane questions about
how many chicks he？d bagged before writing the poem； or whatever Chuck Bass liked to talk
about on his way to school in the mornings。
Dan put the phone to his ear and Chuck clapped him on t
