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Chapter 15
I wasn’t ready before, but now I am. My Mom and Cyrus are going away on Friday and I really want you to sleep over. I love you. Call me. Love, Blair. Nate read Blair’s e-mail twice and then closed the file so he wouldn’t have to look at it anymore. It was only Wednesday. Was it possible that Blair could remain ignorant about him and Serena until Friday, even though she was in school with Serena every day and they were best friends and told each other everything? Chances were, no. And what about Chuck Bass? He wasn’t exactly good at keeping secrets. Nate rubbed his pretty green eyes viciously. It didn’t matter how Blair found out. Any way he looked at it, he was fucked. He tried to come up with a plan, but the only plan he could think of was to wait and see what happened when he saw Blair on Friday night. There was no point in getting all worked up about it now. Just then the door to the computer lab opened, and Jeremy Scott Tompkinson poked his head around the door. “Yo, Nathaniel, we’re cutting Gym. Come to the park with us and play some ball.” The second bell rang. Nate was late for Gym anyway, and after Gym he had lunch. Cutting sounded like an excellent idea. “Yeah, sure,” Nate said. “Hold on a sec.” He clicked on Blair’s e-mail and dragged it across the screen and into the trash. “Okay,” he said, standing up. “Let’s go.” Hmmm, if he really loved her, he probably would’ve saved the e-mail, or at least answered it, right? It was a sunny October day in Central Park. Out in Sheep Meadow lots of kids were cutting school, just lying in the grass, smoking, or playing Frisbee. The trees surrounding the meadow were a blaze of yellows, oranges, and reds, and beyond the trees loomed the beautiful old apartment buildings on Central Park West. A guy was selling weed, and Anthony Avuldsen bought some to add to what Nate had picked up at the pizza place yesterday at lunch. Nate, Jeremy, Anthony, and Charlie Dern passed an enormous joint between them as they dribbled a soccer ball around on the grass. Charlie puffed on the joint and passed it to Jeremy. Nate shot him the ball and Charlie tripped over it. He was six feet tall, and his head was too big for his body. People called him Frankenstein. Ever the blond athletic one, even when he was stoned, Anthony dove for the ball, kicked it up in the air and headed it at Jeremy. It hit Jeremy in his puny chest and he let it roll to the ground, dribbling it between his feet. “Shit, this stuff is strong,” Jeremy said, hitching up his pants. They were always sliding down below his skinny hips, no matter how tightly he buckled his belt. “Yeah, it is,” Nate agreed. “I’m all fucked up.” His feet were itchy. It felt like the grass was growing through the rubber soles of his sneakers. Jeremy stopped dribbling the ball. “Hey, Nate. Have you seen Serena van der Woodsen yet?” he asked. “I heard she’s back.” Nate looked at the ball longingly, wishing he had it so he could dribble it away across the field and pretend he hadn’t heard Jeremy’s question. He could feel the other three boys staring at him. He bent down and pulled his left sh............
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