“Ha!” someone exclaimed from the back of the room. It was Blair Waldorf, laughing out loud as she read the note Rain Hoffstetter had just passed her. For a good time ?call Serena v.d. Woodsen ?Get it –VD?? Vanessa glared at Blair. Film was Vanessa's favorite class, the only reason she came to school at all. She took it very seriously, while most of the other girls, like Blair, were only taking Film as a break from Advanced Placement hell–AP Calculus, AP Bio, AP History, AP English Literature, AP French. They were on the straight and narrow path to Yale or Harvard or Brown, where their families had all gone for generations. Vanessa wasn't like them. Her parents hadn't even gone to college. They were artists, and Vanessa wanted only one thing in life: to go to NYU and major in film. Actually, she wanted something else. Or someone else, to be precise, but we'll get to that in a minute. Vanessa was an anomaly at Constance, the only girl in the school who had a nearly shaved head, wore black turtlenecks every day, read Tolstoy's War and Peace over and over like it was the Bible, listened to Belle and Sebastian, and drank unsweetened black tea. She had no friends at all at Constance, and lived in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, with her twenty-two-year-old sister, Ruby. So what was she doing at a tiny, exclusive private girls' school on the Upper East Side with princesses like Blair Waldorf? It was a question Vanessa asked herself every day. Vanessa's parents were older, revolutionary artists who lived in a house made out of recycled car tires in Vermont. When she turned fifteen, they had allowed the perpetually unhappy Vanessa to move in with her bass guitarist older sister in Brooklyn. But they wanted to be sure she got a good, safe, high-school education, so they made her go to Constance. Vanessa hated it, but she never said anything to her parents. There were only eight months left until graduation. Eight more months and she would finally escape downtown to NYU. Eight more months of bitchy Blair Waldorf, and even worse, Serena van der Woodsen, who was back in all her splendor. Blair Waldorf looked like she was absolutely orgasmic over the return of her best friend. In fact, the whole back row of Film Studies was atwitter, passing notes tucked into the sleeves of their annoying cashmere sweaters. Well, fuck them. Vanessa lifted her chin and went on with her presentation. She was above their petty bullshit. Only eight more months. Perhaps if Vanessa had seen the note Kati Farkas had just passed to Blair, she might have had a tad more sympathy for Serena. Dear Blair, Can I borrow fifty thousand dollars? Sniff, sniff, sniff. If I don't pay my coke dealer the money I owe him, I'm in big trouble. Shit, my crotch itches. Let me know about the money. Love,Serena v.d. Woodsen Blair, Rain, and Kati giggled noisily. “Shhssh,” Mr. Beckham whispered, glancing at Vanessa sympathetically. Blair turned the note over and scrawled a reply. Sure, Serena. Whatever you want. Call me from jail. I hear the food is really good there. Nate and I will visit you whenever we're free, which might be . . . I don't know . . . NEVER?! I hope the VD gets better soon. Love,Blair Blair handed the note back to Kati, feeling only the tiniest speck of remorse for being so mean. There were so many stories about Serena flying around, she honestly didn't know what to believe anymore. Plus, Serena still hadn't actually told anyone what she was doing back, so why should Blair say anything in her defense? Maybe some of it was true. Maybe some of this stuff had really happened. Besides, passing notes is so much more fun than taking them. “So I'm going to be writing, directing, and filming this. And I've already cast my friend, Daniel Humphrey, from Riverside Prep, as Prince Andrei,” Vanessa explained. Her cheeks heated up when she uttered Dan's name. “But I still need a Natasha for the scene. I'm casting her tomorrow after school, in Madison Square Park at dusk. Anyone interested?” she asked. The question was a private little joke with herself. Vanessa knew no one in the room was even listening to her; they were too busy passing notes. Blair's arm shot up. “I'll be the director!” she announced. Obviously she hadn't heard the question, but Blair was so desperate to impress the admissions office at Yale, she was always the first to volunteer for anything. Vanessa opened her mouth to speak............