S IS UNIMPRESSED A nice-sized trust fund from his great-grandfather, who was involved in the invention of Velcro, and the money from the Raves' best selling album, 'Jimmy and Jane'. Had bought twenty-three year old Damian Polk a cute four story white town house with red shutters on quaint Bedford Street was only three blocks long, dotted with intimate restaurants, cozy cafés, historic houses, a famous speakeasy, and gorgeous gay men walking their toy dogs. Outside, the house looked like an antique dollhouse, but inside it was a showplace for modern, minimalist white furniture. Rumor had it that although Damian wore all sorts of colors onstage, he never wore anything but white inside his house, and never allowed his guests to wear anything but white either, not even blue jeans. Too bad he forgot to tell certain people that particular rule. The front door was standing open, and Serena climbed the white and marble steps to the second floor, wearing her favorite pair of Blue Cult flares, a cropped hot pink T-shirt, and a crazy pair of Hollywood hot pink platform flip flops that were a challenge to walk in. She could hear some sort of psychedelic jazz music playing, the clink of glasses, and the murmur of voices. Jenny Humphrey was sitting cross-legged on the white lacquered counter top of the island in Damian's white open kitchen, drinking a glass of milk. Her hair was in pigtails and she was wearing a white cotton undershirt and white cotton boxer shorts. "Hey!" she cried, bouncing off the counter to greet Serena. "Damian said you were coming. He's in the shower." She tip-toed over in her bare feet and tilted her lily white chin up to kiss Serena's cheek. "I'm so glad you're here." Well, hello, little hostess to the mostest! What a change from the Jenny who only last week was completely gaga at the opportunity to be invited into Serena's home. And wasn't she like banned from hanging out wit the Raves ever again? As if that made a difference. "I snuck out," Jenny whispered. "Dad was watching some totally boring Allen Ginsberg documentary. He thinks I'm in my room, like, painting or something." Ah, painting. It used to be her only pastime, back when she was young and innocent. Serena smiled down at her petite, curly-haired protégé, feeling oddly out of place. The other party-goers lounged on the white suede sectional sofa in the vaulted white living room adjoining the kitchen, dressed head-t-toe in white, drinking giant gin martinis with hard-boiled eggs floating in them. One wall of the living room was decorated with white paper snow flake cut-outs like the kind you made in kindergarten, and another wall was painted to look like bookshelves filled with white books. Because real books are too colorful? A tall skinny guy was sitting on a wooly white polar bear rug wearing only a white terrycloth bathrobe. A huge brown-and-black dog lay beside him, its enormous brown-and-black head buried in his lap- the only bit of color in an entirely white room. "Ooh la la!" Jenny chirped giddily as Damian appeared, still damp from the shower and wearing nothing but a pair of white cashmere sweatpants. His reddish blond hair was still damp, and drops of water had collected in the indentations of his collarbone. His arms and chest were covered with tiny freckles and big muscles, and yes, he was even more good-looking in person than on his albums covers. "Hello," Serena greeted him, feeling uncharacteristically star struck. And how come no one told her about the all-white dress code? Was she just supposed to know? "Now I know why everyone said I had to meet you." He said automatically when he saw Serena. Serena blushed at the compliment, but she couldn't think of anything to say. A rare occasion for her- the van der Woodsens were bred to say the right thing at the right time at all times. Jenny took Serena's hand and then Damian's, standing between them like a buxom flower girl at an arranged marriage. "You have to show Serena your bedroom," she told Damian. She turned to Serena. "His bedroom is so cool." Yeah? How would she know? Damian shrugged and starting walking into the living room, pulling Jenny and Serena along with him. "Come, sit down. Kelly and Ping should be here any minute." "Cool," Serena responded, although she had no idea who he was talking about. Kelly and Ping- were they another band? A clown act? DJs? "Yum. They have the best pad Thai ever," Jenny said, like she'd been eating from the SoHo Asian eatery all her life. "Yum," Serena agreed. What was wrong with her? She wasn't even hungry. Jenny broke away from then and perched on some guy's knee. He had dark hair and dimpled cheeks and was wearing white painters overalls, looking every bit like the Raves' drummer, Lloyd Collins. Cuz that's exactly who he was. "Hi Serena," Lloyd greeted her in that taunting, cocky way of his. "I feel like we're sisters already," he added, flapping his wrists and pretending to be Damian's long-lost gay twin. "Damian just made a recording of me singing 'Happy Birthday to Me'. He's going to sample it on the band's next track," Jenny announced gaily to anyone who was listening. "I can't wait for Dan to hear it." "Isn't he here?" Serena asked, looking around for the cloud of Camel smoke that usually engulfed Dan Humphrey's head. "Not yet," Damian replied, and Serena thought she detected a note of malice in his voice. Dan and Serena had gotten together that fall, but it had been short-lived- just like all of her relationships- and they hadn't exactly stayed in touch. But there were no hard feelings, and it might be nice to hang out and be friends now that they were both graduating. She wondered where eh was going to college next year, or if he was going to take some time off to tour wit the band. "Cigar?" Damian asked, holding a box out to her. "They came in from Cuba last night." "Breadstick?" Lloyd asked, flipping a breadstick up in the air like one of his drum sticks and catching it in his teeth. "They're Italian and super crisp." "No thanks," Serena responded quietly to both offers. Here she was, a notorious party girl at what was bound to become a notorious party, yet she felt completely uninspired. Maybe the fact that everyone thought she and Damian were already together was ruining it for her. Or maybe seeing Jenny, the image of herself two or three years ago, was making her realize that she was ready to try something new. Or maybe it was because these were the very last weeks of her senior year, before the summer, and before Yale. She didn't care so much about meeting rock stars; she just wanted to hang out with her friends. Blair was at Vanessa's apartment in Williamsburg right now- probably wallpaperin............