Serena sat on a chaise lounge by the pool, watching her mother do laps and painting each one of her toenails a different color. She'd wanted to do the colors of the rainbow, but she was missing some crucial hues like yellow and violet. She settled for one foot in different shades of red and browns and one foot in different shades of pinks and blacks. Actually, they looked kind of cool. She wouldn't be surprised if she started a trend.
As if everything she'd ever done in her life didn't start a trend?
It was another one of those sweltering mid-August days when the only reasonable thing to do was to stay wet. Her mother was wearing a white-and-black vertical-striped forties-style bathing suit that fit low on the leg and tied at the neck. Serena thought she looked exactly like Katharine Hepburn, at least underwater. She was a strong swimmer, too, slicing through the water with her capable, impeccably manicured hands and kicking rhythmically with her size eleven feet. It was kind of fascinating to watch a person who dressed so well, gave money to all the right charities, had such marvelous parties, and even tended her own roses, do something so basic as go for a swim.
Serena's cell phone whirred and bounced atop the glass outdoor table. Serena saw the word NATE appear on the phone's tiny screen. She snatched it up and flipped it open.
"Natie?" she cried, clutching the phone. Did he know how much she'd thought about him all summer long? Did he realize how much she missed him? How lonely and sad she'd been? "Where are you?"
"I'm here. At home. In the city." He took a deep breath. "Can you come down?"
Serena's whole body trembled. If only she could have beamed herself to Manhattan, she could be standing in front of Nate right now, kissing, and kissing, and kissing him. Not that he necessarily wanted to kiss her. No, she would have to control herself. But she could pretend.
She checked her watch. It was 2:45 p.m. There was a train out of Ridgefield every hour at seven minutes past the hour. "Meet me at Grand Central at four thirty-five." She flipped her phone closed and flew into the house to change. Upstairs, she yanked a dress over her head and shoved her feet into a pair of flip-flops. Then she flew down the stairs again. The keys to the family's old Mercedes station wagon were on the kitchen table. She'd drive it to the station, leave the doors unlocked, and leave the keys under the seat. Erik did it all the time.
That was the joy of being a van der Woodsen. Things just worked out.
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Gossip Girl: It Had To Be You
Teen Fiction'Welcome to New York City's Upper East Side, where my friends and I all live in huge, fabulous apartments and go to exclusive single-sex private schools. We aren't always the nicest people in the world, but we make up for it in looks and taste.' Ent...
