gossip girl 9 英文-第16部分

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went　on　in　an　oblivious　loud　voice；　eating　up　the　attention。　？Everyone　has　a　calling；　and　I　think　
fashion　is　mine。？　

？What　about　London？　What　about　Lord　Whatsisname？？　Serena　demanded。　Were　the　rumors　
about　his　English　fianc？e　actually　true？　She　didn？t　usually　listen　to　gossip；　but　there　had　to　be　a　
reason　for　Blair　to　give　up　a　royal　romance　in　London　to　e　home　and　take　a　summer　job。　

？It？s　a　long　story。？　Blair　sighed　dramatically。　She　was　a　working　woman　with　a　past。　Now　if　
Serena　would　just　loan　her　that　dress　。　。　。　

？Tell　it　to　me　tonight；？　Serena　whispered　excitedly。　？Ken？s　putting　me　up　in　my　own　apartment。　
You　should　totally　e　over。　Shit；　screw　that？move　in　with　me！？　

？Well　。　。　。？　Blair　hesitated。　She？d　moved　around　a　lot　lately：　the　Plaza　Hotel；　Williamsburg；　the　
Yale　Club；　London。　And　wasn？t　she　supposed　to　be　home；　close　to　her　baby　sister？　

？Did　I　mention　that　I？m　now　living　on　East　Seventy…first　Street？？　Serena　knew　full　well　that　
Blair　Waldorf　of　all　people　would　recognize　that　address。　

Move　into　the　apartment　fromBreakfast　at　Tiffany？s　！　

？I　just　need　to　pack　my　bags；？　Blair　responded　stoically；　as　if　she　could　hide　the　fact　that　she　was　
practically　peeing　in　her　pants　with　excitement。　？I？ll　be　there　tonight。？　

She　threw　her　arms　around　Serena　in　a　fit　of　impetuous　enthusiasm。　Everything　always　had　a　
way　of　turning　out　just　right；　especially　when　Serena　was　involved。　This　time　they　really　would　
stay　friends　forever。　

If　you　can　call　the　next　few　days　forever！　


karma　chameleon　

Dan　Humphrey　slipped　into　the　disgusting　employees…only　restroom　in　a　dank　corner　of　the　
basement　of　the　Strand　clutching　a　tiny　black　tote　bag　emblazoned　with　the　logo　of　the　literary　
magazineRed　Herring　。　Double…checking　that　the　door　was　locked　tight；　he　pulled　his　threadbare　
Bauhaus　T…shirt　over　his　head　and　unbuttoned　his　fine…wale　Levi？s　cords；　dropping　them　to　the　
floor。　He　paid　no　attention　to　the　literary　graffiti　a　generation　of　disaffected　Strand　employees　had　
scrawled　all　over　the　walls？legend　had　it　that　some　bitter　former　clerk　had　jotted　down　the　actual　
New　Hampshire　home　telephone　number　of　the　famously　reclusive　J。　D。　Salinger。　He　had　only　ten　
minutes　to　meet　Bree　in　Union　Square　and　he　had　to　get　out　of　his　everyday　clothes？which　reeked　
of　smoke？and　into　something　cleaner　and　more　exercise…friendly。　

So　he　wasn？t　the　most　athletic　guy　in　the　world。　His　relationship　or　connection　or　whatever　with　
Bree　was　based　on　more　than　Lycra　clothing　and　naked　yoga　sessions。　Bree　had　opened　Dan？s　
eyes；　helped　him　think　about　the　world　in　a　way　he　never　had　before。　Bending　and　posing　in　a　hot　
room　with　a　sweaty　naked　guy　leaning　into　him　wasn？t　Dan？s　idea　of　a　romantic　evening；　but　
reading　Bree？s　favorite　books　was　stimulating　and　thought…provoking。　He？d　done　so　much　in　his　
life　already？had　a　poem　published　in　theNew　Yorker　；　interned　atRed　Herring　；　sung　his　original　
songs　with　the　Raves？but　it　was　kind　of　thrilling　to　discover　something　deeper　and　more　
meaningful　than　fleeting　fame。　

Finding　enlightenment　in　less　than　a　week？it　must　be　some　kind　of　world　record。　

He　pulled　a　clean；　bright　green　American　Apparel　T…shirt　over　his　head；　smoothed　out　his　tousled　
light　brown　hair；　and　laced　up　his　ice…blue　New　Balances。　He　popped　a　piece　of　icy　mint　gum　into　
his　mouth　and　exhaled　into　the　palm　of　his　hand　to　double…check　his　breath：　not　a　trace　of　tobacco。　
He　wadded　up　his　work　clothes　and　stashed　them　in　his　employee　locker；　then　jogged　up　the　stairs　
and　out　of　the　store；　toward　nearby　Union　Square。　

Bree　was　waiting　for　him　near　the　statue　of　a　placidly　smiling　Gandhi　in　the　southwest　corner　of　
the　bustling　park　near　skanky…but…getting…better　Fourteenth　Street。　？I　like　to　go　there　sometimes；？　
she？d　told　him　over　the　phone。　？To　read　and　reflect　on　Gandhi？s　message　of　peace。？

　Don？t　we　all？　

Bree　had　braided　her　platinum　blond　hair　and　wound　it　tightly　into　a　bun　at　the　base　of　her　neck。　
She　was　sporting　a　clean　white　T…shirt　emblazoned　with　the　Adidas　logo　and　iridescent　blue　
running　shorts　that　were　cropped　short　and　showcased　her　well…muscled；　lean；　long　legs。　When　
she　spied　Dan；　she　stood　and　waved　excitedly。　

？Right　on　time！？　When　he　reached　her；　she　threw　her　arms　around　him　in　a　warm　
embrace。　？Namaste；？　she　whispered。　？You　smell　nice。？　

？Thanks；？　Dan　responded　with　relief　as　he　inadvertently　breathed　in　the　bouquet　of　Bree？s　


organic　sage　deodorant　and　the　patchouli　oil　she　wore　dabbed　behind　each　ear。　

？Let？s　get　warmed　up；？　Bree　ordered。　She　released　Dan　from　her　embrace；　turned；　and　put　her　
right　foot　on　the　bench　where　she？d　just　been　sitting；　then　leaned　in；　shifting　all　her　weight　to　that　
leg。　

Dan　imitated　her；　wincing　in　pain　as　he　tried　to　awaken　the　muscles　in　his　legs。　This　was　a　lot　
more　demanding　than　his　usual　workout：　a　walk　to　the　corner　for　smokes。　

？Feels　great；　huh？？　Bree　grinned　enthusiastically　while　she　stretched；　as　though　a　good　stretch　
was　better　than　a　hot　bath。　

　？Yeah；？　Dan　wheezed。　？Excellent。？　

？I　thought　we？d　start　here；？　Bree　explained；　putting　her　feet　back　on　the　ground。　She　locked　her　
knees；　then　reached　down；　touching　the　ground　with　both　palms。　？You　know；　head　across　
Fourteenth　Street　to　the　Hudson　and　then　downtown　to　Battery　Park。？　

Dan　did　some　mental　math。　That　was　at　least　two　miles；　which　was　two　miles　farther　than　he？d　
ever　jogged　in　his　life。　

What　had　he　gotten　himself　into？　

At　first　it　seemed　like　he　was　going　to　be　fine：　the　first　block　went　by　without　incident。　Dan　
followed　the　sexy　wiggle　of　Bree？s　ass　as　she　jogged　down　the　sidewalk；　dodging　pedestrians　and　
strollers。　

This　is　fun！he　told　himself。It　feels　great。　

When　they　reached　the　corner　of　Fifth　Avenue；　they　paused　for　the　light；　and　Bree　turned　to　
him。　？Are　you　okay？？　She　furrowed　her　brow　in　worry。　

Dan？s　skin　felt　prickly。　The　sweat　poured　off　of　his　forehead　and　down　his　nose；　dripping　on　the　
sidewalk。　The　early　evening　sun　was　beating　down　on　them。　He　was　pretty　sure　he？d　be　dead　by　
sundown。　

？Sure；？　he　responded　shakily。　？I？m　fine。？　

When　they？d　been　moving；　the　burn　in　his　legs　and　the　pounding　in　his　chest　had　been　somehow　
bearable；　but　as　soon　as　they？d　stopped　his　knees　had　felt　like　they　might　buckle　underneath　him。　

The　light　changed　and　Bree　dashed　into　the　street。　？e　on！？　she　called　over　her　shoulder　
happily。　


Dan　took　a　deep　breath　and　stumbled　into　the　street；　just　missing　running　over　an　old　lady　in　a　
big　straw　hat；　pulling　a　shopping　trolley。　

？Watch　it；　asshole！？　she　shouted。　

Ignoring　her；　Dan　kept　running；　following　Bree　like　a　dog　at　the　track　chasing　that　mechanical　
rabbit。　His　heart　pounded　in　his　ears　as　they　jogged　down　the　sidewalk　past　Sixth；　then　Seventh；　
Eighth；　and；　finally；　Ninth　Avenues。　Between　Ninth　and　Greenwich　the　traffic　cleared；　so　Bree　ran　
in　the　street。　Ignoring　the　hot　blasts　of　exhaust　from　the　oning　buses；　Dan　followed　behind；　
jogging　toward　the　shimmering　Hudson　River；　just　two　blocks　away。　

Hang　in　there；　he　told　himself。Just　make　it　to　the　river。　Just　keep　going　。　He　had　no　idea　how　
he？d　make　it　all　the　way　down　to　Battery　Park；　on　the　tip　of　Manhattan；　but　first　things　first：　he　
had　to　get　to　the　river。　His　feet　throbbed　inside　his　not…quite…broken…in　ice　blue　New　Balance　
bought…for…ten…bucks…at…the…Paragon…Sports…sale　running　shoes。　He？d　wiped　so　much　sweat　from　
his　forehead　that　he　was　scared　that　he　might　be　pletely　dehydrated。　He　was　dying　for　a　drink　
of　water。　He　was　dying　to　sit　down。　

Maybe　he　was　just　plaindying　？　

They　dashed　across　the　West　Side　Highway　and　into　Hudson　River　Park；　where　a　wide；　paved　
jogging/rollerblading/　bike　path　ran　from　midtown　to　Tribeca。　They　weren？t　the　only　ones　taking　
advantage　of　the　clear；　sunny　day？hundreds　of　people　were　running　and　rollerblading；　bicycling；　
and　strolling　hand　in　hand。　Bree　beat　him　across　the　street　and　wove　through　the　crowd　until　she　
reached　the　chain…link　fence　that　presumably　kept　people　from　diving　right　into　the　river。　She　
kicked　her　legs　up　in　front　of　her；　jogging　in　place　as　she　waited　for　Dan　to　catch　up。　Despite　the　
heat；　she　was　barely　sweating。　

Dan　hurled　himself　in　Bree？s　direction。This　is　great　；　he　told　himself。　He　felt　great！　The　sun　was　
bright；　the　air　was　fresh；　and　there　was　a　breeze　blowing　in　off　the　river。　He　grinned　wildly。　He　
could　do　this！　

Then　his　legs　gave　way　underneath　him　and　he　landed　on　the　rough　pavement　with　a　thud　as　he　
crumpled　to　the　ground。　

？Dan！？　Bree　cried；　leaning　over　him。　？Are　you　okay？？　

Dan　looked　up　to　see　her　flushed　face　framed　by　wispy　ringlets　of　flaxen　hair。　His　vision　started　
to　cloud。　

？Am　I　dying？？　he　asked　out　loud。　？Are　you　an　angel？？　

？I　better　administer　CPR；？　Bree　announced　sternly；　crouching　down　and　pressing　her　mouth　to　
his。　


As　if　that　wouldn？t　give　him　an　even　bigger　heart　attack。　

from　the　frying　pan　to　the　fire　

Wobbling　uneasily；　Vanessa　Abrams　gripped　the　wrought…iron　railing　and　steadied　herself　on　the　
low　marble　steps　leading　up　to　the　ivy…covered　mansion　on　Eighty…seventh　Street。　She　burped　
noisily　and　jabbed　at　the　illuminated　doorbell　four　or　five　times　before　she　finally　managed　to　ring　
it。　Maybe　consoling　herself　with　an　ice…cold　bottle　of　pinot　grigio　hadn？t　been　the　wisest　decision　
she？d　ever　made；　especially　since　she　was　minutes　away　from　a　job　interview。　

After　being　unceremoniously　thrown　off　the　set　ofBreakfast　at　Fred？s　；　Vanessa　had　ridden　the　
elevator　with　the　possibly　humanoid　Blair…Waldorf…in…training　Jasmine；　who　had　informed　
Vanessa　that　it　just　so　happened　that　her　mother　was　looking　for　a　highly　qualified；　energetic；　and　
enthusiastic　person　for　a　very　important　job。　Vanessa　had　been　too　upset　to　get　the　exact　details；　
but　Jasmine　tore　a　page　from　her　Louis　Vuitton　agenda　and　scribbled　an　address；　urging　Vanessa　
to　follow　up　on　it　immediately。　

After　a　few　glasses　of　wine　pilfered　from　Rufus　Humphrey？s　personal　stash；　Vanessa　had　started　
to　see　things　more　clearly。　

Ken　Mogul　is　a　soulless　sellout。　He　was　making　a　run…of…the…mill　Hollywood　teen　soap　while　she　
was　an　experimental　auteur！　She　had　no　business　wasting　her　time　and　her　talent　on　that　crap。　She　
was　bound　for　NYU；　the　best　film　program　in　the　country。　She？d　have　access　to　the　finest　
professors；　world…class　equipment；　and　an　entire　acting　program　full　of　the　most　talented　student　
actors　around。　Why　should　she　be　wasting　her　time　as　a　hack；　working　on　a　project　she　didn？t　
believe　in　when　she　could　be　working　her　ass　off　and　saving　up　the　cold　hard　cash　to　produce　her　
own　film　in　the　fall。　She　already　had　an　idea　for　a　feature；　about　a　conflicted　young　artist　forced　to　
choose　between　following　her　muse　or　staying　in　a　rapidly　decaying　relationship　with　her　insane　
incense…and…herbal…tea…addicted　writer　boyfriend。　

Sounds　like　a　case　of　art　imitating　life。　

A　sour…faced　maid　in　an　honest…to…God　black　skirt　with　white　apron　and　little　white　lace　doily　on　
her　head　opened　the　heavy　glass　door。　？Can　I　help　you？？　she　demanded　suspiciously。　

？I？m　here