a tiny tattoo of a butterfly； its green wings spread across the burnished leather of her lower
back。 ？But I just can？t seem to reach it；？ she continued。 ？My tattoo artist； Matty？ He said I have to
rub this ointment on it every couple of hours。？
Nate studied the tattoo； trying desperately to clear his head。 What was he supposed to do in this
situation？ Babs was okay； but up close her skin looked kind of like a beat…up old baseball glove；
and her perfume smelled like the soap in a gas station bathroom。
No wonder Coach Michaels needed that Viagra。
Speaking of him： he？d kick Nate？s ass； and not just figuratively； if he knew that his wife had
taken her top off in Nate？s presence。 On the other hand； if he didn？t rub Babs with ointment she？d
tell Coach Michaels he？d been smoking pot on the job。 The coach probably wouldn？t give Nate
his diploma at the end of the summer； which would mean no more Yale； and basically his whole
entire life would be fucked up。
His choices were slightly limited。
？Where？s the ointment？？ he asked Babs； closing his eyes as he dabbed it on。 He searched his
stoned brain for something nonsexual to talk about。 ？Um； after this I gotta get that mower out of
the sun； otherwise she might blow。 I don？t want to start any fires。？
Too late； honey。Too late。
==================================
ABC Amber LIT Converter v2。02
==================================
Disclaimer： All the real names of places； people； and events have been altered or abbreviated to
protect the innocent。 Namely； me。
hey people！
Isn？t fate funny？ You think you？ve got some control over things； you think you？re in charge of
life； but really； e on？we？re all just at the mercy of the universe。 I mean； we all read our
horoscopes； don？t we？ And we all know there are some people who are just 。 。 。 connected。 It
doesn？t always make sense； but it？s not worth fighting。 So I？m happy to report an early…bird
sighting：B slipping out of the van der Woodsens？ master bedroom to grab a fresh bottle of water；
wearingN ？s olive green polo （and nothing else）。 It？s just fate； people。 Get used to it。
The postparty e…mails are starting to trickle in； and it seems the big blowout was every bit as
eventful as a Costume Institute gala。 Minus the gowns？or any clothes whatsoever。 But the thing
everyone？s talking about is the birthday girl and the boy who must？ve been her present。 。 。 。 So；
my faithful readers； I？ve got a poll for you：
You bump into an old flame。 What do you do？
a） Adopt a vaguely Russian accent and go straight for the vodka。
b） Make out with the nearest quasicutie？nothing like a new flame to make him jealous。
c） Reminisce about old times 。 。 。 and then show him all your new tricks。
d） CallS and ask for advice？she？s been there； done all of the above！
That？s right： It seems that not only didN andB do some reuniting； butS got reacquainted with an
old friend；H 。 Or more than a friend？ He was seen carrying her into her bedroom just before
daybreak。 A。 How sweet！ Now give me the dirt。 Who is he and what？s the story？ I？m dying
for answers； and I know you are too！
your e…mail
Q：？
Dear GG；
？
Just a response to your APB： I totally just spotted a vintage roadster while I was out for my
morning run。 It was parked in a long white gravel driveway and it looked like there were people
sleeping in it together！ Ew！
？
？5K
A：？
Dear 5K；
？
Congrats on sticking to your morning regimen； and thanks for the hot tip。 But as usual； I？m way
ahead of the game。 The errant threesome has been located and I？m all boned up on what？s going
on。 Let？s just hope your sleeping beauties wake up before they return！
？
？GG
a little friendly advice
As city dwellers； we？re used to waking up in our own beds。 You can party anywhere； all night
long； and a taxi is just waiting to whisk you back to your penthouse or town house。 But it？s
different in the country。 Everyone just 。 。 。sleeps over。 I know； I know。 It sounds a little grody？
waking up in some unfamiliar house； very likely with some unfamiliar hookup drooling on your
skirt。 And yes； it can be awkward seeing everyone in the unforgiving light； without the benefit of
booze…goggles。 But I？m in the giving mood； （hello； when am I not？）； and I？ve got some
advice。 。 。 。
five morning…after pointers
1） Country houses have the nicest bathrooms。 Take a nice steam and feel free to bring a friend。
The shower？s big enough for two； and sharing is caring！
2） Yes； you look like a mess。 So feel free to go ahead and borrow something from the host。 But if
you take some undies； just keep ？em。 It？ll be our secret。
3） Head hurts？ Gather up the leftover champagne for mimosas； and slip a little Kahl？a into the
French…press。 It might just get the party restarted。
4） Help yourself to the lady of the house？s beauty products。 Mommies always have the very best
eye cream。
5） Still not feeling any better？ There may still be some prescription…strength Motrin leftover from
Granny？s fall。 Hey； hangovershurt ！
Okay； kids； time for me to take my own advice and follow it up with a little dip in the pool。
Which pool？ Oh； wouldn？t you like to know？
You know you love me。
gossip girl
birthday blues
？Happy birthday to me。？ Serena whispered； her voice hoarse and scratchy。 She slipped out of her
rumpled canopy bed and yawned miserably。 She？d been miserably half…asleep and half…awake all
night； unable to doze off soundly with Henry cuddled up next to her。 Nate？s words kept repeating
in her head：I love you； I love you； I love you。
Sliding her feet into her hot pink rubber flip…flops； she thwacked out of the bedroom。There was
no need to tiptoe？ Henry was snoring heavily enough that she could probably do an aerobics
routine on the bed without disturbing him。
The hallway was quiet； and pale early morning sun peeked in through the massive windows。 She
lingered by the glass momentarily； taking in the view： the green expanse of the wide lawn； the
calm glimmer of the swimming pool； the clear blue sky without even a suggestion of a cloud
overhead。 It was going to be another gorgeous day； but somehow the beautiful weather just made
her feel more miserable。
Who knew she had a secret dramatic streak？
Hugging her bare arms； Serena descended the grand main staircase down to the marble…tiled
foyer； surveying the party damage： glass tumblers with the sticky remnants of mostly finished
cocktails lining the entryway console table； stubbed…out cigarette butts strewn on the floor；
abandoned paper plates filled with half…eaten hamburgers strewn absent…mindedly on the coffee
table。 Heading into the living room； she glanced around at the sleeping partygoers lolling
list…lessly on the tufted leather sofas； empty liquor bottles lying defeated at their sides。
Hope the maid？s ing in today！
She studied the faces of the sleeping revelers？dozing and peaceful； not yet mindful of the horrid
hangovers that were their immediate future。 Everyone looked so sweet and innocent。 Only a few
hours before； they？d all joined in a rousing drunken chorus of ？Happy Birthday。？ She？d
pre…tended not to notice how they mumbled when they got to the ？dear Serena？ part。 Besides Erik
and Henry； the only other people at the party who knew her name were too busy upstairs to sing。
She found a clean tumbler in the kitchen and filled it with cold water； sipping it greedily to wash
the taste of morning breath from her tongue。
Yum。
Hopping up on the counter； she perched for a while； feeling like the last person alive after a
nuclear bomb or some other disaster。 But the quiet helped her clear her mind。 Today was her
eighteenth birthday； but she wasn？t thinking about what was ahead。 For the first time in a long；
long time； she couldn？t stop thinking about the past。
Everyone always assumed that she was as happy…go…lucky as she acted； but the truth was； shewas
acting。 At least； some of the time。 After all； even she looked liked crap when she？d been crying。
And during those early days at Hanover she？d cried alot。
She hopped off the counter and padded back into the library； sliding open the many small
drawers of her father？s heavy wooden desk until she unearthed some stationery。 Then； instead of
taking a seat in his giant leather office chair； she tucked herself under the desk。 It had been one of
her favorite hiding places when she was little。 Dark and cozy and safe； with the dank scent of
antique wood。 She tucked the swivel chair in so she was pletely hidden and started to write。
By the time she？d said what she needed to； she？d filled three pages of the ivory…colored Crane？s
writing paper。
Climbing out of her hiding place； Serena stuffed the pages into an envelope and sealed it with
two quick licks。 She scrawled a name across the front of it； and then； moving quickly so she
wouldn？t lose momentum or second…guess herself； she hurried out of the house and into the
driveway。 Dozens of cars were parked half on and half off the lawn； but it was easy to spot the
vintage hunter green Aston Martin； top still down； dewy and shining in t