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d to tell Blair about Charles; the only Rastafarian
at Hanover Academy; who’d asked her to elope with him to Jamaica。
About Nicholas; the French college guy who never wore underwear
and who’d chased her train in a tiny Fiat all the way from Paris to
Milan。 About smoking hash in Amsterdam and sleeping in a park
with a group of drunk prostitutes because she forgot where she was
staying。 She wanted to tell Blair how much it sucked to find out that
Hanover Academy wouldn’t take her back senior year simply
because she’d blown off the first few weeks of school。 She wanted
to tell Blair how scared she was to go back to Constance tomorrow
because she hadn’t exactly been studying very hard in the last year
and she felt so pletely out of touch。
But Blair wasn’t interested。 She grabbed another roll and took a big
bite。
“Wine; miss?” Esther said; standing at Serena’s left with the bottle。
“Yes; thank you;” Serena said。 She watched the C。te du Rhone spill
into her glass and thought of the Red Sea once more。 Maybe Blair
does know; she thought。 Was that what this was all about? Was that
why she was acting so weird?
Serena glanced at Nate; four chairs down on the right; but he was
deep in conversation with her father。 Talking about boats no doubt。
“So; you and Nate are still totally together?” Serena said; taking a
risk。 “I bet you guys wind up married。”
Blair gulped her wine; her little ruby ring rattling against the glass。
She reached for the butter; slapping a great big wad on her roll。
“Hello? Blair?” Serena said; nudging her friend’s arm。 “Are you
okay?”
“Yeah;” Blair slurred。 It was less an ans