Don't You Forget About Me (23 page)

Well, people, I need to go fix myself a pre-party Grey Goose martini with just a
splash
of vermouth, relax on the new pink velvet chaise lounge I bought myself for school (so Marie Antoinette goes to college!), and try to calm my nerves for the big, big night ahead. It’s kind of hard to pay attention to writing to you kittens when my freshly painted fingernails in Chanel’s Black Satin (yes, I have it and you don’t) are
so
totally distracting. See you at the party.

You know you love me.

gossip girl

the gift that keeps on giving

Blair glided through the arched entry to the Met’s newly reopened Greek and Roman exhibition space and glanced around the enormous limestone room. Corinthian columns propped up the forty-foot ceiling, where a domed skylight opened up to the night sky. Ancient war scenes emerged from gold-veined marble walls, and dozens of marble pillars propped up the very anatomically correct Greek statues. Waiters in gold togas with silver trays wove expertly through the throngs of superbly dressed revelers.

The party was a who’s who of Blair’s life. Standing in little clusters were the elegantly dressed parents of almost everyone she had grown up with, delicately sipping champagne and smiling politely while gossiping furiously under their breath. Serena’s parents looked as tall, blond, and poised as ever, her mother, Lillian van der Woodsen, looking statuesque in a stunning silver Oscar de la Renta strapless gown that even most girls Blair’s age couldn’t pull off. Chatting with Mrs. van der Woodsen was Misty Bass, Chuck’s mother, her hair piled high on her head like a sad imitation of Marie Antoinette.

Let them eat cake!

Next to Misty was her husband, Bartholomew, trying to get a peep down Isabel’s mother, Titi Coates’s low-cut black chiffon Badgley Mischka dress.

Like father, like son . . .

Mr. Coates, Isabel’s middle-aged movie-star has-been father, was in a crisp black tuxedo, looking even more distinguished than usual standing next to the bulbous, sweaty Cyrus Rose, who was patting his pot belly and grabbing fistfuls of appetizers from every platter within reach. Blair shuddered in disgust but was comforted by the fact that she’d be seeing her real father tonight—if he ever made it. He’d called from the Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris eight hours ago to tell them they’d missed their flight because Ping was having a bit of fit, projectile vomiting all over the place, and that they might only catch the tail end of the party. They’d have to drop the twins off with the Waldorf Roses’ nanny and then hurry over. Well, at least baby Yale could teach the little brats some manners.

The classical Greek statues crowding the walls made the party seem even more packed than it already was. Blair bent down to fix the strap of her cerulean patent-leather Manolos. The shoes were a perfect match to her night-sky blue Viktor & Rolf strapless party frock, and they gleamed like they’d been candy-coated, glistening in the candlelight. Something moved behind her and Blair whipped her head around, losing her balance and nearly toppling onto the cool marble floor. Did one of those Adonises just
move
? The chiseled statue gave her a wink as he changed from one classical pose to another. Blair looked closer and realized that mixed in with the classical Greek and Roman sculptures were models covered in chalky clay-colored paint.

“Blair-Bear!” A voice broke into Blair’s thoughts and she looked up to see her father, looking dapper and handsome in a jet-black Gucci tux. His sandy brown hair was spiked up like a kid’s, and the distinguished-looking laugh lines at the corners of his bright blue eyes were the only signs of his real age.

“Daddy!” She ran to her father’s outstretched arms and instantly felt comforted. “I was sure you weren’t coming.” She buried her head in his crisp white shirt.

“I wouldn’t dream of missing your big night, Blair-Bear. And you’re going to be even happier when I give you your gift.” Her father pulled back and stroked her cheek. He was wearing his emerald green cuff links that Blair had always thought were the same color as Nate’s eyes. His tanned fingers were manicured, and his hand smelled of some new, powdery cologne.

Johnson & Johnson’s Eau de Bebe Ass?

“What gift?” Blair liked the sound of that. “You already got me a car for graduation.” She looked up at him expectantly. What could be better than a car? A plane? A horse? Her own New York apartment? Her own New Haven town house?

Way to think small.

Her father leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I talked to the dean of admissions at Yale.” He paused, his bronzed face crinkled into his trademark case-winning grin.

Blair threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Daddy!” She hugged him tightly. She didn’t even need to hear the rest. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

A handsome, tall, tuxedoed man approached, streaks of gray in his dark, fashionably long, combed-back hair. “Giles!” Harold Waldorf called out to him. “Finally, you get to meet my little angel, Blair!”
“Enchanté!”
Giles exclaimed, grabbing Blair’s hand and kissing it. His teeth were blindingly white and his chocolate-brown eyes warm. “She is
magnifique
!” he exclaimed in a heavy French accent.

Blair blushed and gave him a little curtsy. She was finally starting to feel like the belle of the ball. About time.

Didn’t she
just
arrive?

“Blair, dear, we have to check on the babies.” Her father gave her a quick hug. “We’ll be back soon though. I think you’ve got some good news to share with someone anyway.” Giles kissed Blair first on one cheek, and then the other.

“Au revoir, jolie mademoiselle,”
he bid her graciously.

Blair grinned, not even caring that her father had just arrived and was now leaving again. Nate was back into Yale, handsome French men were kissing her hands, and this was
her
party. All was right with the world. “Say hi to Ping and Pong for me,” she called after them, feeling particularly generous.

After her father and Giles left, Blair scanned the room for Nate. Instead, she found Serena standing by the bar, her elegant silver Valentino silk cocktail dress shining in the light, thin silver bands cinching her tiny waist. Blair walked toward her, her cobalt blue Viktor & Rolf gown with its intricately beaded bodice trailing silkily behind her like an inky pool of water. She smiled giddily to herself. Serena might look stunning, but next year she’d be stuck in the dirty old city while

Blair and Nate were miles away in their cozy New Haven love nest, feeding each other cornichons and oysters and all sorts of other cute, couple-y foods. Her father might not have given her a town house yet, but her birthday was coming up in November. . . .

Well, her mom did buy her an island.

“Hey.” Blair kissed the air near Serena’s cheeks.

Mwah! Mwah!

“Isn’t this wild? Check out the naked guys in body paint over there!” Serena set her empty champagne flute down on the faux-marble bar behind her and grabbed a full one. She hated how nervous she felt around Blair. How much did Blair know about her and Nate? How much would Serena be brave enough to tell her? “It’s
beyond
. Your mom really outdid herself.” Maybe it was best just to act cheerfully, casual, like she wasn’t about to steal her best friend’s boyfriend right out from under her nose.

Blair pushed closer to the bar, practically knocking over Rain Hoffstetter. Rain’s chestnut brown hair was usually sweaty from soccer and pulled back in a lopsided ponytail, but tonight she was wearing it in loose waves around her face, and a black-and-silver Calvin Klein gown made her athletic body look slightly less manly.

But only slightly.

Next to Rain stood Nicki Button, famous for her two nose jobs—which Blair didn’t think had done her all that much good. Rain and Nicki fought more than Serena and Blair did, mostly over clothes, not boys, but since both were headed to Vassar, maybe they’d made their peace.

Until five minutes from now, when they both realize they’re wearing the same Prada slingbacks in silver and white. Totally last spring.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Both girls practically jumped backwards as Blair reached past them and grabbed a flute of champagne. She turned back to Serena and clinked her glass against her friend’s. “To us,” she toasted heartily. She could afford to be a little magnanimous. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted—as usual.

The two girls downed the contents of their glasses in one gulp. Then Blair put a delicate hand on her hip. “Have you seen Nate?” she asked, raising one perfectly arched dark eyebrow. “I need to talk to him.” Serena grabbed another glass of champagne. She wished there were some simple solution to this, but there wasn’t. Blair looked so happy tonight, she didn’t want to ruin the party for her. She and Nate would just have to wait to tell her that they were together when Blair was happily settled in at Yale, and then maybe she wouldn’t even mind that much. Finally she took the flute of champagne away from her lips. “I haven’t seen him yet,” she admitted.

Blair had noticed Serena stiffen at the sound of Nate’s name, and for a second she almost felt sorry for her—what with that desperate love letter and all. She was dying to tell Serena about getting Nate into Yale, but it just seemed wrong to tell her before telling Nate himself. After all, Serena probably still harbored some desperate dream that she and Nate would live happily ever in the city together while Blair was up in New Haven. Like that would
ever
happen.

“Well, I’m off to find him,” Blair chirped gaily.

As soon as she sauntered away, Rain and Nicki quickly filled the spot next to Serena. Rain held a cocktail napkin in her hand, and Nicki held a pen as they awkwardly tripped over themselves to get Serena’s attention. So that was it—they wanted Serena’s autograph. To Blair’s surprise, she didn’t even feel jealous. People were always drooling over Serena, and they always would be. What did she care? She had everything she’d ever wanted.

And by “everything,” she meant a living, breathing person, right?

Blair was about to check the neighboring European sculpture room when she spotted Nate out of the corner of her eye. He was leaning against a tall Romanesque column near the dance floor, looking glum. Jeremy Scott Tomp-kinson, Nate’s skinny, sideburned friend from school and Anthony Avuldsen, looking incredibly blond and athletic, were periodically punching him in the arm, clearly trying to pry him away from the column and get him to dance or drink or at least smile. Nate just waved his hand at them, so they shuffled off to the dance floor alone, dancing like idiots three feet apart from each other. Well, if the sight of his stoner friends jerking their arms and legs spastically on the dance floor couldn’t cheer up Nate, Blair knew something that would. She pushed through the dancing crowd, practically trampling over Laura Salmon, dressed in a salmon-colored silk Dior dress that sagged in the chest and was way too old for her.

Salmon in salmon. How appropriate.

Blair bounded up to Nate, throwing her arms around him. “Guess what?” she demanded, her blue eyes sparkling. “I have really big news.” Nate smiled at her wordlessly, but his eyes were a million miles away. She plowed ahead anyway, grabbing his black bow tie and forcing him to pay attention. “So I told my dad about your little problem, and he talked to Yale, and
I got you in
!” She threw her arms tightly around him again and whispered in his ear. “Now we can be together at Yale—
just like we planned
!” Her whole body shook with excitement, but Nate just stood there, stock-still. He’d hardly even hugged her back. She pulled back and looked into his stunning green eyes, searching them questioningly.

“Wow.” Nate shook his head slowly. “I don’t know what to say.” He blinked, trying to process what she’d just said. Go to Yale, for real? Not just take the train to New Haven twice a day and pretend he went there? “Blair . . . you’re amazing.” Now that was more like it. “I know.” Blair was about to give Nate a kiss he’d never forget when she spotted her mother approaching from across the room, wearing an ivory-colored floor-length Versace gown encrusted with millions of tiny gold sequins, and Gucci stilettos that looked like they were made of twenty-four-carat gold ropes. Ever since Eleanor had lost all her baby weight, she’d been wearing tacky look-at-me outfits, but Blair was too happy to be annoyed with her crazy mother tonight.

Davita Fjorde strode alongside Eleanor, wearing a black Miu Miu minidress and hot pink satin Miu Miu peep-toe platforms, barking orders into her headset. “No, no, no!” she hissed. “Just wash him off and get him out there as a regular waiter.
Nonflammable
paint only! I don’t need a human torch streaking through my party!” She smiled tightly at Eleanor and then murmured into her headset, “Okay, photo one, you’re up once we find Blair.” Blair knew that her mom and Davita were preparing to drag her off somewhere so she could pose for some god-awful pictures her mother would no doubt blow up so large you’d be able to see every one of Blair’s pores.

Knowing they’d be separated momentarily, she leaned in to whisper in Nate’s ear. “Our train leaves at 10 A.M. tomorrow morning from Grand Central,” she told him softly, loving the smell of Acqua Di Parma on his skin—a fresh, lemony scent she knew he only used on special occasions. “I know we could drive, but this will be so much more romantic!” She drew back and smiled sweetly up at him again.

Nate had never seen Blair look so beautiful—or so happy. Her skin was golden brown, her face rosy against her bright blue dress. The diamond studs in her tiny earlobes shone in the light. Across the room, Serena was standing at the bar, wearing a long, gauzy silver dress, her golden hair falling in gleaming tendrils down her bare back. Her face was in profile, and her features were so unbelievably gorgeous his breath caught in his chest. He forced himself to shift his attention back to Blair—his beautiful girlfriend, still wrapped in his arms. The sight of her glowing, hopeful face tore at his heart. Yale. He was going to Yale. He should have been ecstatic, but he didn’t know what to say or even what to feel. He pulled her close and breathed in the familiar honey-almond scent of her hair. His chest felt tight, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. Blair nestled into him like there was no place she’d rather be. “I love you,” he whispered into her hair, hoping the words would ground him. But now, more than ever before, Nate felt like a small wooden dinghy set adrift.