gossip girl 9 英文-第30部分

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her　back　with　his　fingertips。　The　best　thing　about　Serena　was　her　total　lack　of　embarrassing　flab。　
Her　entire　body　was　as　long　and　lean　and　taut　as　the　strings　on　his　Prince　titanium　tennis　racket。　

It　was　painful　having　such　a　ridiculously　hot　best　friend。　Why　couldn？t　his　best　friend　be　some　
lard…assed　dude　with　zits　and　dandruff？　Instead　he　had　Serena　and　Blair　Waldorf；　hands　down　the　
two　hottest　girls　on　the　Upper　East　Side；　and　maybe　all　of　Manhattan；　or　even　the　whole　world。　

Serena　was　an　absolute　goddess？every　guy　Nate　knew　talked　about　her？but　she　was　mysterious。　
She？d　laugh　for　hours　if　she　spotted　a　cloud　shaped　like　a　toilet　seat　or　something　equally　
ridiculous；　and　the　next　moment　she？d　be　wistful　and　sad。　It　was　impossible　to　tell　what　she　was　


thinking　most　of　the　time。　Sometimes　Nate　wondered　if　she　would？ve　been　more　fortable　in　a　
body　that　was　slightly　less　perfect；　because　it　would？ve　given　her　moreincentive　；to　use　an　SAT　
vocabulary　word。　Like　she　wasn？t　sure　what　she　had　to　aspire　to；　since　she　basically　had　
everything　a　girl　could　possibly　want。　

Blair　was　petite；　with　a　pretty；　foxlike　face；　blue　eyes；　and　wavy　chestnut…colored　hair。　She　let　
everyone　know　what　she　was　thinking；　and　she　was　fiercely　petitive。　For　instance；　she　always　
found　opportunities　to　point　out　that　her　chest　was　almost　a　whole　cup　size　larger　than　Serena？s　
and　that　she？d　scored　almost　100　points　higher　than　Serena　on　the　practice　SAT。　

Way　back　in　fifth　grade；　Serena　had　told　Nate　she　was　pretty　sure　Blair　had　a　crush　on　him。　He　
started　to　notice　that　Blair　did　stick　her　chest　out　when　he　was　looking；　and　she　was　always　either　
bossing　him　around　or　fixing　his　hair。　Of　course　Blair　never　admitted　that　she　liked　him；　which　
made　him　like　her　even　more。　

Nate　sighed　deeply。　No　one　understood　how　difficult　it　was　being　best　friends　with　two　such　
beautiful；　impossible　girls。　

Like　he　would　have　been　friends　with　them　if　they　were　awkward　and　buttugly？　

He　closed　his　eyes　and　breathed　in　the　sweet　scent　of　Serena？s　Fr？d？ric　Fekkai　Apple　Cider　
clarifying　shampoo。　He？d　kissed　lots　of　girls　and　had　even　gone　to　third　base　last　June　with　
L？Wren　Knowes；　a　very　experienced　older　Seaton　Arms　School　senior　who　really　did　seem　to　
know　everything。　But　kissing　Serena　would　be　。　。　。　different。　He　loved　her。　It　was　as　simple　as　that。　
She　was　his　best　friend；　and　he　loved　her。　

And　if　you　can？t　kiss　your　best　friend；　whocan　you　kiss？　

upper　east　side　schoolgirl　uncovers　shocking　sex　scandal！　

？Ew；？　Blair　Waldorf　muttered　at　her　reflection　in　the　full…length　mirror　on　the　back　of　her　closet　
door。　She　liked　to　keep　her　closet　organized；　but　not　too　organized。　Whites　with　whites；　off…whites　
with　off…whites；　navy　with　navy；　black　with　black。　But　that　was　it。　Jeans　were　tossed　in　a　heap　on　
the　closet　floor。　And　there　were　dozens　of　them。　It　was　almost　a　game　to　close　her　eyes　and　feel　
around　and　e　up　with　a　pair　that　used　to　be　too　tight　in　the　ass　but　fit　a　little　loosely　now　that　
she？d　cut　out　her　daily　after…dinner　milk…and…Chips…Ahoy　routine。　

Blair　looked　at　the　mirror；　assessing　her　outfit。　Her　Marc　by　Marc　Jacobs　shell　pink　sheer　cotton　
blouse　was　fine。　It　was　the　fuchsia　La　Perla　bra　that　was　the　problem。　It　showed　right　through　the　
blouse　so　that　she　looked　like　a　stripper。　But　she　was　only　going　to　Nate？s　house　to　hang　out　with　
him　and　Serena。　And　Nate　liked　to　talk　about　bras。　He　was　genuinely　curious　about；　for　instance；　


what　the　purpose　of　an　underwire　was；　or　why　some　bras　fastened　in　front　and　some　fastened　in　
back。　It　was　a　big　turn…on　for　him；　obviously；　but　it　was　also　sort　of　sweet。　He　was　a　lonely　only　
child；　craving　sisterhood。　

　Right。　

She　decided　to　leave　the　bra　on　for　Nate？s　sake；　hiding　the　whole　ensemble　under　her　favorite　
belted　black　cashmere　Loro　Piana　cardigan；　which　would　e　off　the　minute　she　stepped　into　his　
well…heated　town　house。　Maybe；　just　maybe；　the　sight　of　her　hot　pink　bra　would　be　the　thing　to　
make　Nate　realize　that　he？d　been　in　love　with　her　just　as　long　as　she？d　been　in　love　with　him。

　Maybe。　

She　opened　her　bedroom　door　and　yelled　down　the　long　hall　and　across　the　East　Seventy…second　
Street　penthouse？s　vast　expanse　of　period　furniture；　parquet　floors；　crown　moldings；　and　French　
Impressionist　paintings。　？Mom！　Dad？　I？m　going　over　to　Nate？s　house！　Serena　and　I　are　spending　
the　night！？　

When　there　was　no　reply；　she　clomped　her　way　to　her　parents？　huge　master　suite　in　her　noisy　
Kors　wooden…heeled　sheepskin　clogs；　opened　their　bedroom　door；　and　made　a　beeline　for　her　
mom？s　dressing　room。　Eleanor　Waldorf　kept　a　tall　stack　of　crisp　emergency　twenties　in　her　
lingerie　drawer　for　Blair　and　her　ten…year…old　brother；　Tyler；　to　parse　from？　for　taxis；　cappuccinos；　
and；　in　Blair？s　case；　the　occasional　much…needed　pair　of　Manolo　Blahnik　heels。　Twenty；　forty；　
sixty；　eighty；　one　hundred。　Twenty；　forty；　sixty；　eighty；　two　hundred。　Blair　counted　out　the　bills；　
folding　them　neatly　before　stuffing　them　into　the　back　pocket　of　her　peg…legged　Seven　jeans。　

？If　I　were　a　cabernet；？　Blair？s　father？s　dramatically　playful　lawyer？s　voice　echoed　out　of　the　
adjoining　dressing　room；　？how　would　you　describe　my　bouquet？？

　Excusez…moi？　

Blair　clomped　out　of　her　mom？s　dressing　room　and　reached　for　the　chocolate　brown　velvet　
curtain　hanging　in　the　doorway　of　her　dad？s。　？If　you　guys　are　in　there　together；　like；　doing　it　while　
I？m　home；　then　that？s　really　gross；？　she　declared　flatly。　？Anyway；　I？m　going　over　to　Nate？s；　so？？　

Her　father；　Harold　J。　Waldorf；　Esquire；　pulled　aside　the　velvet　curtain；　dressed　in　his　cashmere　
tweed　Paul　Smith　bathrobe　and　nothing　else；　his　nicely　tanned；　handsome　face　looking　slightly　
flushed。　？Mom？s　out　looking　at　dishes　for　the　Guggenheim　benefit。　I　thought　you　were　out。　Where　
are　you　going　exactly？？　

Blair　stared　at　him。　He　wasn？t　holding　a　phone；　and　if　her　mom　was　out；　then　who　the　fuck　had　
he　just　been　talking　to？　She　stood　blinking　at　him　with　her　hands　on　her　hips；　tempted　to　peek　
inside　his　dressing　room　to　see　who　he　was　hiding　in　there。　


Does　she　really　want　to　know？　

Instead；　she　stumbled　out　of　the　master　suite；　clomped　her　way　across　the　penthouse；　grabbed　her　
blood　orange？　colored　Jimmy　Choo　treasure　chest　hobo；　and　ran　for　the　elevator。　

Outside　it　was　breathtakingly　cold；　and　fat　flakes　fell　at　random。　Usually　she　walked　the　twelve　
blocks　to　Nate？s　house；　but　today　Blair　had　no　patience　for　walking？she　had　just　discovered　that　
her　father　was　a　lying；　cheating　scum…bag；　after　all；　and　a　cab　was　waiting　for　her　downstairs。　Or　
rather；　a　cab　was　waiting　for　Mrs。　Solomon　in　4A；　but　when　the　hunter　green　uniform？clad　
doorman　saw　the　terrifying　look　on　Blair？s　normally　pretty　face；　he　let　her　take　it。　

Besides；　hailing　cabs　in　the　snow　was　probably　the　high…light　of　his　day。　

The　stone　walls　bordering　Central　Park　were　blanketed　in　snow。　A　tall；　elderly　woman　and　her　
Yorkshire　terrier；　dressed　in　matching　red　Chanel　quilted　coats　with　matching　black　velvet　bows　in　
their　white　hair；　crossed　Seventy…second　Street　and　entered　the　Ralph　Lauren　flagship　store。　
Blair？s　cab　hurtled　recklessly　up　Madison　Avenue；　past　Agn？s　B。　and　Williams…Sonoma　and　the　
Three　Guys　coffee　shop；　where　all　the　Constance　Billard　girls　gathered　after　school；　and　finally　
pulled　up　to　Nate？s　town　house。　

？Let　me　in！？　she　yelled　into　the　inter　outside　the　Archibalds？　elegant　wrought…iron…and…glass　
front　door　as　she　swatted　the　buzzer　over　and　over　with　her　hand。　

s　moves　out　

？I？m　going　to　169　East　Seventy…first　Street；？　Serena　van　der　Woodsen　said　to　the　cabbie　as　she　
slid　into　the　taxi？s　black　vinyl　backseat。　She　rolled　down　the　window　and　let　the　warm　late　
morning　air　blow　across　her　face。　Aah；　summer。　All　her　life　summer　had　meant　parties　at　her　
family？s　estate　in　Ridgefield；　Connecticut；　or　long；　sunny　afternoons　in　the　park；　reading　oldW　
magazines　and　slurping　Stoli…and…cranberry　popsicles　with　Blair。　Now；　for　the　first　time　ever；　
Serena　had　a　job。　She　turned　a　thick　manila　envelope　over　in　her　hands　and　removed　the　letter　
she？d　already　read　several　times：　

Holly：You　must　suffer　for　your　art。　You　must　BE　your　part。　Pack　your　bags。　The　keys　in　this　
envelope　are　the　keys　to　your　new　life？　the　original　life　of　Holly。　See　you　soon。　Kenneth。　

It　was　an　odd　letter；　sure；　but　what　else　did　she　expect　from　a　world…famous　eccentric　like　
KennethMogul？　He　was　her　director；　so　she　figured　she　better　do　as　directed。　

She　patted　the　two　old　monogrammed　red…and…white…striped　Kate　Spade　tote　bags　beside　her。　
They　still　smelled　deliciously　like　the　ocean　and　suntan　lotion　and　contained　a　stash　of　Cosabella　


underwear；　one　of　her　brother　Erik？s　old　Brown　T…shirts　that　she？d　swiped　the　last　time　he？d　been　
home；　a　flimsy　Milly　sundress；　her　most　fortable　Michael　Kors　flip…flops；　a　Cynthia　Vincent　
pink…and…black　paisley　print　jersey　dress；　her　trusty　Seven　jeans；　a　second　pair　of　flip…flops；　just　in　
case；　and　a　white　embroidered　Viktor　&　Rolf　top。　Only　the　essentials。　

She　stared　out　the　window　at　the　grand　steps　of　the　Metropolitan　Museum　of　Art；　the　lush　trees　
of　Central　Park；　the　grand　apartment　buildings　on　Seventy…second　Street；　the　panoramic　vista　of　
Park　Avenue；　and　then　at　the　unfamiliar；　ugly　modern　towers　on　Third　Avenue。　Ew。　

？We？re　here；　miss；？　the　cabdriver　announced；　grinning　at　her　in　the　rearview　mirror　with　a　
mouthful　of　gold…capped　teeth。　One　tooth　even　had　the　initialZ　stenciled　into　it。Maybe　for　Zorroor　
Zeus？Serena　wondered。　

？Oh。？　She　pulled　out　her　burgundy　Bottega　Veneta　wallet　and　thumbed　through　the　cash。　Then　
she　climbed　out　of　the　taxi；　balancing　her　packed…to…the…gills　tote　bags；　and　scanned　the　
putty…colored　town　houses　for　the　right　number。　

There　was　number　171；　and　there　was　number　167；　but　there　were　some　unmarked　buildings　in　
between　the　two；　and　she　couldn？t　figure　out　which　was　hers。　She　lugged　her　bags　to　the　nearest　
stoop　and　sat　down。　Judging　from　some　of　the　boxy；　low　buildings　on　the　street；　the　place　she　was　
moving　into　wouldn？t　bequite　on　par　with　what　she　was　accustomed　to。　She　dug　out　a　cigarette　
and　lit　it；　stepping　aside　as　a　stream　of　foul…smelling　gray　smoke　billowed　out　of　a　grate　in　the　
gutter。　

Wake　up；　Dorothy：　you？re　not　on　the　Golden　Mile　anymore。　

It　was　funny　how　everything　could　change　so　quickly？　she？d　gone　from　being　Serena　van　der　
Woodsen；　senior　at　Constance　Billard　and　sometimes…model；　to　being　Serena　the　working　actress。　
It　didn？t　seem　so　long　ago　that　her　biggest　worries　had　been　remembering　where　the　Catherine　
Malandrino　sample　sale　would　be　this　month；　or　bickering　with　Blair　in　the　VIP　room　at　Marquee；　
or　hooking　up　with　Nate　wherever　he　wanted？which；　for　a　short　while；　had　been　everywhere　and　
all　the　time。　

It？s　a　hard…knock　life。　

　？You　lost？？　

Serena　looked　up　。　。　。　and　up；　and　up。　Standing　above　her　was　a　gorgeously　tall　guy　with　broad　
shoulders；　preppily　cut　dark　brown　hair；　a　cleft　in　his　wide　chin；　and　pretty　blue　eyes。　He　was　
wearing　a　plain　gray　suit　and　stiff　navy　tie；　but　his　smile　was　so