Tuesday afternoon, Vanessa stood outside Riverside Prep, filming the frozen remains of a dead pigeon carcass and thinking about sex while she waited for Dan to appear. Dan had left a message for her at the reception desk at Constance Billard to come and meet him after school.Urgent. Meet me here at four, it said.What a freak, Vanessa thought lovingly. What could possibly be so urgent? He was probably just having an attack of paranoia because his poem had come out inThe New Yorker today. Either that or he was feeling extremely stimulated and couldn?twait to do it again. Before even taking a shower that morning Vanessa had run downstairs and bought sixNew Yorker s from the newsstand on the corner. That way there would always be a spare copy to wave in Dan?s face when he was feeling especially inadequate. When she really thought about it,she was the one who should have been freaking out. The poem was all about a guy feeling insecure around women, particularly his dominating girlfriend. People who knew them were going to think Vanessa was a real ball-breaker. But the last line was so sweet and sexy, she couldn?t really complain. Take care of me. Take me. Take care. Take me. Reading it made her want to rip off all her clothes and jump him.Gently , of course. Just then Dan burst through the black doors of Riverside Prep practically in midsentence. He waved his rumpled copy ofThe New Yorker at Vanessa and galloped up to her in his worn-out white Pumas and navy blue cords, planting a sloppy, wet kiss on her mouth. ?This has been the best day of my life!? he trumpeted. ?I love you!? ?You don?t have to be romantic to get in my pants again,? Vanessa giggled and kissed him again. ?I?m always available. And by the way, I love you, too.? ?Cool.? Dan smiled goofily back at her. Vanessa couldn?t believe this was the same old Dan she?d seen only yesterday. He was still pale, thin, and overcaffeinated, but his brown eyes were shining and there were traces of smiley-face dimples in his usually sallow cheeks. Wait a minute. Since when could she actually see his eyes? ?Whoa, you got a haircut,? she observed, standing back to check it out. Dan had asked the barber to cut his hair short with long sideburns, figuring the sideburns would keep him from looking like all the preppy assholes in his class. He swept his hand over his head self-consciously. It felt odd, but somehow cleaner than before, more . . .homogenous . And that was exactly what he wanted?to be judged by his work, not his hair. Whatever you say, Sideburn Man. Vanessa put her hands on the hips of her black parka coat. Something about Dan?s haircut was so deliberate, like he was actually going for a certain artsy, bohemian look instead of just stumbling upon one by mistake. ?It?s different,? she mused, already feeling a little nostalgic for the old scruffy-haired Dan. ?I guess I?ll get used to it.? Behind them a group of eighth-grade boys spilled out the school doors singing ?Hello Dolly? at the top of their lungs. They?d just been released from music class and were still too young and innocent to realize how gay they sounded. Hello, Dolly! Well hel-loo, Dolly! It?s so nice to have you back where you belong! Dan pulled a pack of unfiltered Camels out of his black messenger bag, tipped one out, and stuck it between his lips. His fingers trembled wildly as he lit it. Well, at leastthat hadn?t changed. He offered the pack to Vanessa. ?Want one?? Vanessa stared at him and chuckled in disbelief. ?Since when do I smoke?? Dan exhaled into the air above her head and rolled his eyes. ?Sorry. I don?t know why I just did that.? He shoved the pack back into his bag and grabbed Vanessa?s frozen fingers. ?Come on. Let?s walk somewhere. I have something major to tell you.? As they were taking off, Zeke Freedman walked out of school bouncing a neon blue basketball. Zeke was big and lumbering, but he was Riverside Prep?s star basketball player. He?d grown out his curly black hair so it hung down to his shoulders, and he was sporting a new slate gray snowboarding jacket. Zeke and Dan had been best friends since second grade, but they hadn?t really hung out in the last few months because Dan had been preoccupied with other things. Namely, women and poetry. Dan realized he didn?t even know where Zeke had applied to college. The distance between them was mostly his fault, and he felt bad about it. ?Hey Zeke,? he called over. Zeke stopped walking, his heavy body looking even more massive than usual inside his new parka. ?Hey Dan,? he replied with a careful smile, bouncing the blue ball in place on the frozen sidewalk. ?Hey Vanessa.? ?What do you think of Dan?s new haircut?? Vanessa asked with a wry smile. ?It?s part of his new Mr. Published Poet image.? ?Oh yeah?? Zeke didn?t seem to know what Vanessa was talking about. He glanced down the street, giving the basketball a good hard bounce before holding up his hand. ?See you guys.? ?See ya,? Dan called, watching his old friend dribble the ball down to the end of the street. ?So, what?s the big news?? Vanessa asked as they started to walk west on Seventy-eighth Street. Cold air blasted the clouds across the pale gray sky. Down the block, through the leafless branches of the trees in Riverside Park, Dan caught a silvery glimpse of the Hudson. ?Well,? he began suspensefully. ?This morning this big-deal literary agent named Rusty Klein called my cell phone and left me this crazy message. She thinks I?m the next Keats and she said we have to keep the momentum going now that we have the public?s attention.? ?Wow. EvenI?ve heard of her!? Vanessa responded, impressed. ?What does that mean, though?? Dan blew a puff of smoke into the air. ?I guess it means she wants to represent me.? Vanessa stopped walking. She wasn?t sure where they were going anyway. ?But you only wrote one poem. What?s she going to do? I don?t mean to be a downer Dan, but you have to be careful of people like that, you know? She could be trying to take advantage of you.? Dan stopped walking, too. He flipped up the collar of his black wool army-navy coat and then flipped it down again. Why was Vanessa being so negative? All of this was totally unexpected, but it was also extremely fucking cool. And it wasn?t like he was going to sell out and start writing clich?d Gap ads just because he had an agent, if that was what she was worried about. ?I don?t know. I think she can help me with my career. Maybe I can put a book together and she can try to get it published or something.? Vanessa blew on her hands and then rubbed her cold, bare ears. ?Can we go over to your house? I?m freezing my ass off. We?d better work on the film, too.? Dan threw his cigarette on the ground. ?Um, actually, I was thinking I might go back and read through all my note-books. You know, see if there?s a thematic link to some of the poems. Something I could work into a book.? Vanessa had been about to offer her services as a reader, but it didn?t sound like Dan wanted any help. ?Okay,? she said coolly. ?Call me if you need anything or whatever.? Dan flipped his collar up again and lit another cigarette, experimenting with his new look. ?Oh, wait. I wanted to ask you something. Rusty Klein invited me to this thing called Better Than Naked. ?The Better Than Naked show.? That?s what she said. Do you know if that?s a band or something?? Better Than Naked was the antifashion fashion label that Vanessa?s older sister, Ruby, blew all her gig money on. Most of their clothes looked like old thrift-store rags that had been run over by a fleet of street-cleaning machines, which was completely intentional. Very downtown ?fuck the trends? fashion. ?It?s Fashion Week starting on Friday,? Vanessa explained. ?It sounds like she?s inviting you to the Better Than Naked runway show, which I only know about because Ruby is totally crazy about their clothes and always watches the shows on the Metro Channel. I don?t know why Rusty Klein thinksyou would want to go, though. What do you care about clothes? And it?ll be full of posers and wanna-bes?you know, that whole vapid fashion scene.? Dan looked thoughtful as he puffed on his cigarette. ?I think I?m gonna check it out.? He wouldn?t have cared if Rusty Klein had asked to meet him at a pro wrestling match. This was about building his writing career. Filming Dan at the Better Than Naked show would have been perfect material for her film, but Vanessa didn?t want to butt in if Dan was meeting someone as important as Rusty Klein at the show. ?Okay, Mr. Hot Shit Poet. Don?t forget your old friends when you?re driving around in a limo drinking champagne with naked models and whatnot.? She reached up and mussed his neat little haircut. ?Congratulations.? Dan grinned widely back at her. ?It?s pretty amazing,? he agreed happily. Then, with one last sweet kiss, he turned and walked up Riverside Drive toward home, the iridescent silver Puma logos flashing on his heels as he went. Vanessa smiled fondly at the spring in his step. ?See you later, alligator.?