She carried down Eighty-Second Street toward Fifth Avenue, checking her cell phone for a message from Nate at every corner. Obviously he'd call any se3cond now. Like all possessive, aggressive, obsessive girls, she liked to think Nate didn't have a life without her. Then again, if he didn't, she'd go completely nuts. LITTLE DIVA GIVES BIG DIVA SOME SOUND DEVICE "They gave us five spreads," Serena van der Woodsen explained as she flipped through the hot-off-the-press June issue of W magazine. "That's ten whole pages!" The world-famous fashion designer Les Best had just messengered the fashion magazine over to her apartment with a note that read, "As ever, you are fabulous, darling. And so's that dark-haired little hottie friend of yours!" The same dark-haired little hottie, fourteen-year-old Jenny Humphrey, was desperately trying not to pee her pants. Serena, the coolest senior girl at Constance Billard, and totally famous and beautiful model/ Upper East Side girl-about-town, had actually asked her to hang out after school today. She was now sitting in Serena's huge, awesomely old-fashioned bedroom- her private sanctuary- on her bed, flipping through the latest issue of the coolest fashion magazine in the world, looking for pages featuring the two of them modeling the type of amazing designer clothes Jenny had always gazed at longingly in stores but never once dreamed she'd actually wear. It was so unreal she could hardly breathe. "Here, look!" Serena squealed, stabbing at the page with a long, slender finger. "Don't we look like badasses?!" Jenny leaned in closer to see, happily inhaling the sweet scent of Serena's custom-blended patchouli oil perfume. Across Serena's lap lay a spread of the two girls dressed head to toe in Les Best couture, motoring down the beach in a dune buggy, the Ferris wheel at Coney Island rising up behind them, all lit up. The style of the picture was typical Jonathan Joyce - the uber-famous fashion photographer who had shot the spread- totally natural and unposed, like he'd just happened upon these two girls riding their dune buggy on the beach at sunset and having the time of their lives. Indeed they did look like badasses in leather vests over white bikini tops, and white leather knee-high go-go boots with teeny-tiny heels. Their hair was winged back, their nails were painted white, their lips were painted cotton candy pink, and peacock feathers dangled from their ears. It was all very retro eighties/futuristic/cutting edge, and absurdly cool. Jenny couldn't pull her eyes away. There she was, in a magazine, and for the first time ever her enormous chest wasn't the focal point of the picture. In fact the two girls looked so fresh and pure the picture was almost wholesome. It was beyond what Jenny could have hoped for. It was heavenly. "I love the look on your face," Serena observed. "It's like you've just been kissed or something." Jenny giggled, feeling very much like she had just been kissed. "You look pretty too." Oops, look who has a major crush on Serena - just like everyone else in the universe! But Jenny's crush was deeper than most: she actually wanted to be Serena. And the thing Serena had that she still lacked was a questionable past- that alluring air of mystery. "Bet it seems like forever ago that you were kicked out of boarding school," Jenny ventured boldly, her eyes fixed on the magazine. "I was worried I'd never get into a single college because of all that," Serena sighed. "If I'd known I'd get into all of them, I'd never have applied to so many schools." Poor thing. If only we all had that problem. "Did you like boarding School?" Jenny persisted, turning to gaze up at Serena with her big brown eyes. "I mean, more than going to school in the City?" Serena lay back on the four-poster bed and stared up at the white eyelet canopy overhead. She'd been eight years old when she'd first gotten the bed, and she'd felt like a princess every night when she'd gone to sleep. As a matter of fact, she still felt like a princess, only bigger. "I loved feeling like I had my own life, apart from my parents and the friends I'd known practically since I was born. I like going to school with boys, and eating with them in the dining hall. It was like having a whole class of brothers. But I missed my room and the city, the weekends hanging out." She pulled off her white cotton socks and threw them across the room. "And I know it sounds totally spoiled, but I missed having a maid." Jenny nodded. She liked the sound of eating in a dining hall with a whole bunch of boys. She liked it a lot. And she'd never had a maid, so it wasn't as if she'd miss that. "I guess it was a good preparation for college," Serena mused. "I mean, if I actually decide to go to college." Jenny closed the magazine and held it against her chest. "I thought you were going to Brown." Serena pulled a down-feather pillow over her face and then pulled it off again. Was it really necessary to answer so many questions? All of a sudden she kind of wished she hadn't invited Jenny over. "I don't know where I'm going. I might not even go. I don't know," she mumbled, tossing the pillow on the floor next to her socks. Her flaxen hair fanned out around her perfectly chiseled face as she gazed skyward with her enormous blue eyes. She looked so lovely, Jenny half expected a flock of white doves to flap out from underneath the bed. Serena grabbed the stereo remote from off her bedside table and clicked on the old Raves CD that she'd been listening to a lot lately. The CD had come out last summer and reminded her of a time when she was completely carefree. She hadn't been kicked out of boarding school yet. She hadn't thought about applying to college. She hadn't even started modeling yet. "What's so great about Brown?" she questioned aloud, although her brother Erik went there and would be totally pissed off if she decided not to go. Plus, she'd met a hunky Latin painter at Brown who was still totally in lobe with her. But what about Harvard, and that sensitive nearsighted tour guide who'd also fallen in love with her? Or Yale and the Whiffenpoofs, who'd written a song for her? And there was always Princeton, which she hadn't even visited. After all, it was the closest to the city. "Maybe I should just defer for a year or two, get my own apartment. Model some, and maybe try acting." "Or you could do both. Like Claire Danes," Jenny suggested. "I mean, once you stop going to school, it's probably really hard to go back." As if you'd know, Little Miss Helpful. Serena rolled off the bed and stood in front of the full length mirror that hung on the back of her closet door. She'd rumpled her turquoise Marni peasant blouse, and her blue-and-white-seersucker Constance Billard uniform was hanging lopsidedly on her hips. That morning she'd been late as usual and had tripped running to school, losing her orange Miu Miu cork-heeled clogs and landing facedown on the sidewalk. Now the iridescent pink polish on the big toe of her left foot was chipped, and a purple-and-yellow bruise stood out on her right knee. "What a mess." She complained. Jenny wasn't sure how Serena could even stand to look at herself in a mirror every day without passing out in amazement at her own perfection. That anyone as perfect as Serena could have issues was totally unfathomable. "I'm sure you'll figure it out," she told the older girl, becoming suddenly distracted by a photo of Erik van der Woodsen, Serena's hot older brother, propped up on Serena's bedside table in a silver Tiffany frame. Tall and lanky, with the same pale blond hair, cut in a long shag framing his face, Erik was a male version of Serena. Same huge dark blue eyes, same full mouth that turned up at the corners, same straight white teeth and aristocratic chin. In the picture he was standing on a rocky beach, tan and shirtless. Jenny squeezed her bare knees together. Those chest muscles, that stomach, those arms- oh! If boarding school was filled with boys who were even half as gorgeous as Erik van der Woodsen, they could sign her up! Easy there, cow girl. Serena's pink iMac beeped, indicating that she'd just received an e-mail. "Probably one of our fans." Serena joked, although Jenny thought she was serious. Serena went over to her antique letter-writing desk, jiggled her mouse, and clicked on the latest e-mail message. To: SvW@vanderWoodsen.com From: Sheri@PrincetonTriDs.org Dear Serena, Our sorority totally worships Les Best and some of us were at his show this spring, so you can imagine how completely thrilled we were when we heard you were considering attending Princeton this fall. And if you do go to Princeton, you have to become a Tri Delt. We already have all these amazing fundraising ideas for this year, including a Les Best fashion show to benefit the Wild Horses of Chincoteague, featuring us, the Tri Delts, as models! The best part is you won't even have to pledge. Congratulations, Serena, you're already a sister! All you have to do now is get your behind up to Princeton a few days early this August so you can get a good room in our house. We totally can't wait. Big kisses. Your sis, Sheri Serena read the message again and then logged off, staring at the blank screen in shock. Pushy sorority sisters were just about the last people she wanted to hear from, and anyway, wasn't Princeton supposed to be sort of intellectual? She picked up the phone to call Blair and then slammed it down again, realizing she'd completely forgotten that Jenny was even there. Jenny was sweet and adorable and everything- but she didn't have, like, homework or a movie to go to or something? See, even perfect goddesses have a bitchy side.