J, B AND S ARE TOTALLY GETTING EXPELLED "I heard that freshman slut had, like, group sex with every member of the band- even the new lead singer, who's like, her brother," Kati Farkas whispered to her best friend and Constance Billard School Senior Spa Weekend co-planner, Isabel Coates. Kati reparted her long, strawberry blond hair with a pink tortoiseshell comb, smoothing it down with her hands. "Did you see those pictures of her in the Post online? She didn't even bother to get dressed before she left the hotel!" The two girls were peering out the third-floor windows of the Constance Billard School library, pretending to memorize their lines for the girls-in-bikinis-and-mud-masks skit they were supposed to put on in their senior lounge tomorrow to promote Senior Spa Weekend. Not that it needed promoting. Everyone would take home gift bags full of fabulous new Origins products, and their skin would absolutely glow until graduation. It was going to be the coolest Senior Cut Day ever. Isabel grabbed the comb out of Kati's hands and combed her sleek dark hair back into a ponytail. "I heard Nate and his friends almost died in a shipwreck, but Blair was too busy hooking up with Serena again to even notice. Can you imagine finding out your girlfriend was cheating on you with, like, another girl?" Kati made aface and shuddered in agreement. "Gross." Isabel pressed her pug nose up against the window. "Look!" Blair and Serena were walking hastily down Ninety-third Street, their arms linked, grinning slyly like they'd just shared the most entertaining secret. Instead of the usual socially acceptable mid-thigh length, Blair's uniform hung all the way down to her knees. It was totally obvious she'd borrowed the uniform from Serena. Nudge, nudge. Just as the girls were turning into the great blue doors of the Constance Billard School, a yellow taxi pulled up, and Jenny Humphrey stepped out, munching on a breadstick. She'd managed to change out of her Plaza Hotel bathrobe and into a pink t-shirt and her blue-and-white-seersucker Constance Billard spring uniform. She was also wearing a pair of rather fetching hot pink Jimmy Choo platform sandals that were totally out of uniform, and an enormous pair of pink tortoiseshell Jackie O. sunglasses. Uh-oh, don't look now, but someone thinks she's hot stuff. "Where did she get those shoes?" Kati breathed in disbelief. "The waiting list is like a mile long." "They're probably fakes; you just can't tell from here," Isabel replied. Neither girl wanted to admit what they were really thinking- that Damian or Lloyd from the Raves had probably given Jenny the shoes and the glasses- because to be jealous of a freshman was so completely uncool. Serena, Blair and Jenny had only just stepped inside the doors when they were accosted by Mrs. M, Constance Billard's formidable headmistress. "Girls, Mrs. M commanded. "I'd like to talk to all three of you in my office, please. Your parents are on their way." Huh? All three girls wondered in unison. This should be fun. Mrs. M's face was doughy and soft, and her hair was dyed Raggedy Ann auburn and permed into little ringlets, giving her a sweet, grandmotherly appearance. But appearances lie: she was anything but sweet. In fact, she was a big, mean old dyke who purportedly kept a tractor-driving girlfriend in her house upstate and had a tattoo on her thigh that said, "Ride me, Vonda." "Sit down, girls," she ordered, arranging her wide navy blue Talbots pantsuit- clad ass on the period chair behind her giant mahogany desk. Mrs. M's office was decorated entirely in red, white, and blue and the Constance girls weren't quite sure what she actually thought she was the president or if she was extremely patriotic. In a daze of obedience, Serena, Blair and Jenny planted themselves on the stiff blue loveseat opposite of Mrs. M's desk. The loveseat was a little crowded with all three of them on it, but the nearness was comforting. "Two of you are meant to be graduating next month, after which you are no longer my responsibility," Mrs. M began. "One of you, however, has only just begun her high school career, and you've already headed in a very bad direction, no thanks to the two of you seniors." She propped a pair of half-glasses on her nose and sorted through a bunch of files on her desk. "All three of you are in very precarious position." Blair opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again when her mother appeared in the doorway of Mrs. M's office, dressed in tennis white and carrying a fussing and whimpering Yale in a Burberry baby sling. The sling hadn't been adjusted properly and it banged against her hip like a cumbersome tote bag. "I'm trying this new thing called 'attachment parenting'," Eleanor explained breathlessly. "It's supposed to make your child bond with you and increase their confidence." She giggles and hitched the sling up on her shoulder awkwardly. "I think you're supposed to walk around like this all day long, but who has the time? I've got the tennis at the Y, lunch at Daniel and a facial at Arden, and Cyrus and I are going out to Bridgehampton later this week. Half and hour on Mondays and Wednesdays is all the bonding time I have!" Still, she gets points for trying. "Oh, and Blair, dear, there's a Dior sample sale I thought you might be interested in going to. It's at noon. You could meet me there." Mrs. M raised an un-plucked brown eyebrow. Shopping during school hours- heaven forbid! Although if it had been a Talbots sample sale, even she might have been tempted. "Mrs. Rose." Mrs. M pointed efficiently to the wing backed chair next to the loveseat upon which the girls were perched. "I realize you're busy, but I wanted to express my concern about the fact that your daughter is apparently living in a hotel. With her acceptance at Yale University hanging in the balance, I hardly think it's appropriate for a young woman to be living in such..." She paused searching for the appropriate words. "An undisciplined environment." Eleanor beamed cluelessly back at the headmistress. She had noticed that Blair had gone away for the weekend, but she wasn't exactly sure where, and she hadn't really notice that Blair hadn't come home last night, because she and Cyrus had gone to a cocktail party to celebrate the opening of one of his new buildings and hadn't come home until nearly two themselves. She sat down in an armchair to the left of Mrs. M's desk and crossed her legs, tucking Yale up under her arm like the latest Hermès Birkin bag. Yale whined in protest, but Eleanor kept on smiling, as if she wasn't sure what else to do. Blair squirmed uncomfortably in her place on the loveseat. With a mother like that, couldn't Mrs. M understand why she had to live in a hotel? "Blair stayed at my house last night," Serena fibbed. For someone who looked like Upper East Side Barbie, Serena was extremely good at thinking on her feet, or her Manolos, or whatever shoe-of-the-moment she happened to be wearing. "Look, she even borrowed one of my uniforms." "Then why have I been fielding calls all morning from parents and prospective parents worried about their daughters sleeping in hotel rooms with drunken rock stars?" Mrs. M demanded. "I even had a publishing house call to inform me that next year Constance Billard will have the honor of being listed as one of the best five schools to send your daughter to if you want her to be a celebrity or just date one." "Cool," jenny blurted out, and then immediately wished she hadn't. Mrs. M shot her a don't-even-start-you-little-chickenshit glare. The headmistress seemed to be at loss for giving Eleanor advice on how to raise her daughter, which most have been frequent problem, considering the fact that most of the parents of Constance Billard did not raise their daughters themselves. They had help,a nd lots of it. "I'm sure if the girls were together they couldn't have done much harm," Eleanor commented with more savvy than Blair had thought she was capable of. "We didn't even leave the room," Blair added, and then clamped her mouth shut again. What was her problem anyway? Serena had just said they'd stayed at her house last night. Then Serena's mother, Lillian van der Woodsen and Jenny's father, Rufus Humphrey, suddenly appeared in the doorway of Mrs. M's office. Rufus was unaccustomed to leaving the house or even waking up before eleven o'clock and looked even more disheveled and outrageous than usual. His long, wiry salt-and pepper hair was pulled into a bun updo and fastened with the huge glittery purple plastic hairclip Jenny had bought in fourth grade, and he was wearing grey sweatpants that had been cut off to a sort of midcalf calm-digger length and a red flannel shirt withone sleeve rolled up and a pack of unfiltered Camels sticking out of the breast pocket. His shoes were okay-vintage brown penny loafers- only not so good with the sweatpants and seriously awful without socks. Mrs. van der Woodsen was her usual immaculately dressed and poised self, seeming to emanate an odor of fresh-cut lilies and French-milled soap. She hugged her long, tanned arms against her chest, risking wrinkling her mint green linen Chanel dress so that none of her body parts would get too clo............