“Yeah,” said Vanessa, scrambling for a decent reason why she was using Marjorie when Serena was obviously perfect for the part. “Marjorie’s really rough and innocent. That’s what I’m looking for. Dan and I thought your performance was just a bit too . . . um . . . polished.” “Oh,” Serena said again. She could hardly believe it. Even Dan had vetoed her? She had thought they were going to be friends. “Sorry,” Vanessa said, feeling slightly bad. She knew she shouldn’t have brought Dan into it; he didn’t even know she was turning Serena down. But it sounded more professional that way. Like it wasn’t anything she had against Serena personally, not at all. It was strictly a business decision. “You’re a good actress though,” she added. “Don’t be discouraged.” “Thanks,” Serena said. Now she wasn’t going to hang out with Dan and practice their lines like she’d imagined. And what was she going to tell Ms. Glos? She still didn’t have any extracurriculars, and no halfway decent college was going to want her. Vanessa walked away, looking for Marjorie so she could tell her the good news. She was going to have to change the entire film now that Marjorie was her star. It would have to be a comedy. But at least she had saved herself from making Endless Love in the Park After Dark, starring Serena van der Woodsen and Daniel Humphrey. Blech. Serena stood in the corner of the cafeteria, the remaining cookies crumbling in her hand. Gone With the Wind was a total cheese-fest, and she was too polished for War and Peace. What else could she do? She chewed on her thumbnail, deep in thought. Maybe she could make a movie of her own. Blair took film—she could help. When they were younger they’d always talked about making movies. Blair was always going to be the star, wearing cool Givenchy outfits like Audrey Hepburn, except Blair preferred Fendi. And Serena always wanted to direct. She would wear floppy linen pants and shout through a bullhorn and sit in a chair with the word “director” on it. This was their chance. “Blair,” Serena nearly shouted when she saw Blair by the milk table. She rushed over to her, overcome by the brilliance of her idea. “I need your help,” Serena said, squeezing Blair’s arm. Blair kept her body stiff until Serena let go. “Sorry,” Serena said. “Listen, I want to make a movie, and I thought you could help me, you know, with the cameras and stuff, since you take film.” Blair glanced at Kati and Isabel, who were quietly sipping milk behind her. Then she smiled up at Serena, and shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t,” she said. “I’ve got activities every single day after school. I don’t have time.” “Oh, come on, Blair,” Serena said, grabbing Blair’s hand. “Remember, we always wanted to do this. You wanted to be Audrey Hepburn.” Blair removed her hand and folded her arms across her chest, glancing at Isabel and Kati again. “Don’t worry, I’ll do all the work,” Serena added hastily. “All you have to do is show me how to use the camera and the lighting and stuff.” “I can’t,” Blair insisted. “Sorry.” Serena pursed her lips to keep them from trembling. Her eyes seemed to be growing larger and larger, and her face was turning splotchy. Blair had seen this transformation in Serena many times as they grew up together. Once, when they were both eight, they had walked the three miles from Serena’s country house into the town of Ridgefield to buy ice cream cones. Serena stepped out of the ice cream shop with her triple strawberry cone with chocolate sprinkles and bent down to pet a dog tied up outside. All three scoops fell splat into the dirt. Serena’s eyes had grown huge and her face looked like she had the measles. The tears had just started to roll, and Blair was about to offer to share her cone with Serena, when the shop owner came out with a fresh cone for her. Seeing Serena on the verge of tears once more touched something deep inside of Blair, like an involuntary impulse. “Um. But we’re going out on Friday,” she told Serena. “Drinks around eight at the Tribeca Star, if you want to come.” Serena took a deep breath and nodded. “Just like old times,” she said, staving off her tears and attempting a smile. “Right,” Blair said. She made a note in her mental PalmPilot to tell Nate not to come out on Friday now that Serena was coming. Blair’s new plan was to knock back a few drinks with Serena at the Tribeca Star, leave early, go home, fill her room with candles, take a bath, and wait for Nate to come. And then they’d have sex all night long to romantic music. She’d already burned a sexy CD to play while they did it. Even the best-bred girls resort to cheesy things like burning CD mixes when they’re losing their virginity. The bell rang and the girls went their separate ways to class; Blair to her AP Academic-Achievers afternoon, and Serena to her plain old Kraft-American-Slices classes. Serena couldn’t believe she had just been rejected not once but twice in the last ten minutes. And as she gathered her books from her locker, she tried to come up with a new plan of action. She wasn’t going to give up. Her picture wasn’t on the side of a bus for nothing. Vanessa skipped the first five minutes of Calculus to call Daniel on his cell phone. She knew he had Study Hall fourth period on Thursdays, and he was probably hanging out outside, reading poetry and smoking cigarettes. A girl was using Constance’s pay phone in the hallway by the stairs, so Vanessa slipped outside to the pay phone on the corner of Ninety-third Street and Madison. The lower-school boys were playing dodgeball in the Riverside Prep School courtyard, so when his cell phone rang, Dan was sitting on a park bench in the traffic island in the middle of Broadway. He’d just cracked open L’Etranger, by Albert Camus, which he was reading in French class that term. Dan was psyched. He’d already read the English translation, but it felt especially cool to read the French original, especially while sitting outside drinking bad coffee and smoking a cigarette in the mi............