Nobody Does It Better (16 page)

Tuesday morning, as Jenny was lining her eyelids with Chanel's black liquid liner for a smokey, up-all-night-effect that went perfectly with her new enormous pink Gucci sunglasses that would be the envy of Constance Billard's entire ninth grade, her dad knocked on her door and announced, “You're not going to school today, babe.”

Jenny put down her eyeliner and opened the door. “What do you mean? Why not?”

Rufus was wearing a child-sized Mets baseball that he'd bought for Dan when he was eight. It sat like a beanie atop a nest of wild and wooly gray hair. He was also wearing blue-and-white-striped elastic-waist cotton pants that looked exactly like pajama bottoms.

“Mrs. M and I had a little talk last night,” Rufus told her.

Uh-oh.

Jenny tugged on her super-short seersucker school uniform. “How come?” she asked innocently, even though she knew perfectly well how come.

Rufus ignored her Miss I-Didn't-Do-Anything act. “She basically laid it on the line. Either you repeat ninth grade, or next year you're going to school elsewhere.”

Jenny resisted hurling herself at her father and smothering him in a bear hug. She was going to boarding school! It was really happening!

Not so fast, missy.

“I'm not going here,” Jenny insisted before the cab even stopped.

“That's what you think,” her father grumbled. He paid the cabbie and opened the door. “Come, Your Tartiness. Let's take a look.”

They'd pulled up in front of the Sloan Centre for Bright Minds, a hippie experimental school on a flat, wide strip of boring-looking three-story buildings in Flushing, Queens. It was miles away from Manhattan
and nothing like the ivy-trimmed brick buildings of the boarding school of her dreams. On the way over Rufus had shoved a Sloan Centre brochure at her, and she'd thumbed through it. There was no real dress code, the lunchroom was organic and vegetarian, the students all had greasy hair and acne, and none of the teachers wore Chanel suits. In other words, jenny hated it already.

A giant birchbark peace sign greeted them as they passed through the biodynamically grown natural oak school doors. The peace sign was hanging from the ceiling of the entryway, spinning round and round in the breeze created by the student-built watermill standing at the base of the stairs. Pure spring water cascaded down a bamboo gutter at the centre of the stairs, feeding the mill.

“Our upper-schoolers built the water mill last winter,” explained Calliope Trask, the school's director, at the start of their tour. "Every January we have what's called Winter Work. There are no academics, and the students focus on building something functional with their hands. The year before we had a chicken coop with twenty laying hens, right here in out gym. We had so many eggs we had an egg scale and raised money to buy new hemp mats for our pre-schoolers to nap on!

Woo-hoo!

Calliope Trask's hair hung in a gray braid down to her bottom and she was wearing a mustard-yellow-linen Eileen Fisher tank dress that did wonders for her frizzy black underarm hair. Her legs were unshaven too, and coarse black leg hairs stuck out between the straps of her tied-at-the-ankle beige canvas Earth shoes.

“Those are wonderful sunglasses.” She pointed at the gigantic pair of pink Gucci shades masking Jenny's smoldering brown eyes. “But at Bright Minds we don't allow designer labels or emblems on clothing or accessories of any sort.”

Before Jenny could even say, “What the fuck?” Rufus had whipped the glasses off her face and stuck them in his gray sweatpants-material jacket pocket.

“That's better. Now we can see your beautiful face,” Calliope trilled, as Jenny scowled hideously at her.

She followed Calliope and her father up the stairs, tempted to tell them both to take the Sloan Centre for Bright Minds' hemp mats and smoke them while she ran away to the Czech Republic to live wither crazy, selfish, and neglectful mother. The Raves could do a tour of Eastern Europe and she could buy all the Gucci she wanted for half-price on the black market.

They reached the second floor and Calliope opened the door to of the classrooms. “Our classes are mixed-age and broken up into 'bundles' names for the endangered species of the Galapagos. Jennifer, you'd be in one of the thirteen-to-fifteen-year-old bundles. I'll walk you to the area where the Giant Tortoise bundle is gathered for this mornings work and then let your student guide take over.”

The floor of the classroom was covered in sand, the walls were lined with stalks of bamboo, and the ceiling was plastered with palm fronds. NO SMOKING, read a huge hand-painted sign overhead.

Jenny had never really been much of a smoker, but she was dying for a cigarette. She pulled off her white Miss Sixty cardigan to reveal the cute little Lacoste alligator marching across the left boob of her new pink shirt, given to her by Lloyd Collins of the Raves. Anything to avoid becoming a Giant Tortoise.

“Hakuna matata, Miss. Calliope,” a pudgy girl wearing what looked like a goatskin bikini greeted them.

“Hakuna matata, Cherisse,” Calliope replied with a smile. “The Giant Tortoise bundle is exploring the country of Namibia in Africa this week,” she told Jenny and Rufus, as if that explained everything. Jenny stared as the rest of the Giant Tortoises- five greasy-haired, pudgy, crooked-tooth girls and three skinny, glasses-wearing, acne-ridden boys- all wearing some form of goatskin clothing that might have been stylish is it had been designed by Stella McCartney instead of Hippies R Us. They stood in a circle, their hands joined as they sang a Namibian rain chant.

Even Rufus looked a little startled. “Do you have any data on where your graduates go to college?” he asked, sounding a lot like the parents of Jenny's Constance Billard classmates. Although he'd never admit it, Rufus was deadly serious about the whole college admission thing and had nearly opened all of Dan's acceptance letters before he even got home from school. He may have been an anarchist, but he was a strong believer in formal education.

Calliope frowned. “We try to keep our school as non-competitive as possible. Our students are encouraged to take some time off and explore the world. Live off the grid. Once they decided what their calling is, they may or may not seek further training.”

Whatever the hell that meant.

“I hear you're an artist.” Cherisse smiled at Jenny with crooked yellow teeth. “Come, I'll show you our mural. It's done entirely in buck's dung.”

Rufus held Jenny's hand protectively as Cherisse led them over to a bizarre mural of elephants and zebras cavorting in the grass. Cherisse dipped her hands into a clay bowl on the floor and smeared something brown on the back of one of the elephants. Rufus shook his head tiredly and pulled Jenny over to a table in the corner of the room, where he sat down. He loved the idea of an alternative school, but deep down he wanted his daughter to graduate from Berkeley or Columbia, not wander around the world painting murals with deer shit.

Jenny sat down across from him and pulled a vial of Chanel Vamp nail polish out of her pink DKNY hobo bag. “So why are we here again?” she demanded. She unscrewed the vial and began painting her nails.

Rufus readjusted his baseball cap and rubbed his bleary eyes, looking like he needed about six more hours of sleep and three more cups of coffee. “Look, Jen,” he told her earnestly. “You can't just shack up with rock stars in hotels and lie to your father all the time. But I want you to be happy. What do you want to do?”

Jenny screwed the top back on her nail polish and put it back in her purse. She knew her dad wasn't going to like what she had to say, because he secretly adored having a house full of crazy kids to embarrass and infuriate. But the only way she was going to give up her career as a Raves groupie was if she got to go away to school, where the opportunities for adventure were limitless. Hey, he'd said it himself: He wanted her to be happy.

Across the room Calliope Trask was helping the Giant Tortoise fling buck's dung at the mural, Jackson Pollock-style.

Jenny looked up at her dear father with hopeful doe-brown eyes, her red mouth forming the shape of a heart as she murmured eight melodic words:

“Dad, may I please go to boarding school?”

Dear Constance Billard Seniors,

As if you needed reminding, Senior Spa Weekend starts tomorrow! We just wanted to tell you how excited we are! And to ensure that you're that you're appropriately dressed for the boat ride, we've had these fantastic Senior Spa Weekend long-sleeved baby tees made just for you by Three Dots. Now remember, we're the Archibalds' guests. Let's try to behave like ladies. But as soon as we get to the Coateses' estate- anything goes!

Can't wait- see you tomorrow!!!

Love,

Your classmates, Isabel and Kati

It was a perfect afternoon for sailing. The sun was hot and the breeze was cool. The sky was deep blue and the water was calm. Small round tables with silk tablecloths in the Charlotte's colors- gold and blue- littered the deck, a heavy marble vase full of floating candles at the centre of each one. In the bow of the yacht a man wearing a white tux played the double bass while a fat woman in red muumuu crooned Nina Simone songs flawlessly. The tenants of all the finest Upper East Side addresses clutched their cocktails and chatted to one another, wearing the latest couture resort wear bought in Cannes and St. Barts. Behind them the skyline grew smaller and smaller as they coursed towards Long Island Sound and Sag Harbor.

“How is your son?” Misty Bass asked Mrs. Archibald, her razor-thin black eyebrows knitted in concern. A diamond cluster necklace swung heavily on her Cap d'Antibes-tanned neck as the Charlotte bobbed in the waves, white sails billowing. “I hear he's in trouble again. It isn't... drugs, is it?” she ventured, eager for the latest gossip.

“Nate is fine.” Nate's mother bristled, the corners of her red-painted lips turned defiantly down. “He's home, studying,” she lied, refusing to admit that Nate had been grounded for stealing the family boat. “Is Chuck excited about military college?”

Misty Bass poured the rest of her bourbon down her throat. Chuck had his own apartment and she'd been traveling a lot lately, so the truth was she hadn't seen him in a while. “Oh, yes,” she replied vaguely. She glanced around for a cocktail server. “I do wish these glasses weren't quite so small.”

“Oh, Misty!” Eleanor Waldorf cried, throwing her arms around her old friend, “You just have to see the villa in Tuscany I bought for Cyrus. It has a website and everything!”

On the leeward side of the boat, the guests' elder daughters were clustered in tightly packed groups, wearing their long-sleeved pink Senior Spa Weekend T-shirts, hiding from their parents, and pretending their Cokes weren't spiked with rum.

“I can't believe Nate Archibald didn't even come to his own party,” Isabel Coates complained.

“That's because we said no boy allowed, stupid,” Kati Farkas replied, thinking that for once she sounder smarter than her best friend.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Isabel scoffed. “Boys are allowed on the boat, just not at my house for Spa Weekend.”

Duh.

“Oh.” Kati responded, like she'd only just gotten it.

“So vhere iizz hee?”

The two girls stared at Lexie. She went to L'École, not Constance Billard, which meant she was completely not invited to Senior Spa Weekend. Plus, everyone knew that her mother and Nate's mother had gone to a Catholic boarding school in France together and totally hated each other. So what was Lexie doing aboard the Charlotte wearing the Masonic tunic with the plunging neckline that both of them coveted but could never find, even online, her long black hair in braids like some sort of French hippie Heidi.

“Nate is grounded,” Blair informed them, even though she hadn't spoken to Nate herself since their encounter at the Plaza. “He's not here.” Mr. Archibald was such a hardass-of course Nate was grounded. She swayed in her three-inch beige Prada boat sandals and sucked the cherry out of her empty Coke glass, feeling extremely proud of herself for not scratching Lexie's eyes out, because the fact was she could talk about Nate without missing him at all.

Yeah, right.

Serena handed Blair another spruced-up Coke. “I'm not so sure.” She was of the opinion that Nate would never miss his parents' Hamptons cruise even if he was grounded, and that he was hiding somewhere on the boat.

“Nate's not that creative,” Blair countered, reading Serena's mind. “If he was here, we'd know.”

“Nate is purrfect,” Lexie drawled, toking on a joint. None of the adults onboard seemed to notice that she was getting high right on deck, perhaps because she was French and wearing Missoni.

Blair rolled her eyes and turned her back on the stupid French retch. He might have been the only boy she would ever love, but anyone who thought Nate Archibald was perfect was a complete idiot. She watched her stepbrother Aaron scurry below deck to fetch Vanessa another rum and Diet Coke, his head newly shaved to match Vanessa's. Aaron barely knew Nate and had very definitely not been invited, but these days wherever Vanessa went, he went. If they both weren't so un-cute, they'd almost have been the cutest couple ever.

All of a sudden Serena felt someone tugging on the hem of her pink Spa Weekend T-shirt.

“Hey,” Jenny said, standing on tiptoe to kiss her cheek. Elise was at her side, and they were both wearing pink Senior Spa Weekend t-shirts and matching oversized pink Gucci sunglasses. “You won't tell on us, will you?”

Serena had to admire Jenny's audacity. She seemed to specialize in being naughty. She put her fingers to her lips. “I won't tell,” she promised, although there were only forty girls in the entire senior class, so it wasn't like no one would notice the two uninvited freshmen.

Jenny grinned and then dragged Elise below decks to score a bottle of champagne and Lord knows what else. No doubt the two girls were going to get a lot naughtier as the night progressed.

“Honestly, I've given up,” Dan sighed as he watched his sister and her friend disappear in a flurry of bubblegum pink. He hadn't been invited either but had tagged along with Jenny to make sure she didn't do anything too illegal. He leaned against the railing a lit a Camel, waiting patiently for Vanessa to notice him.

The familiar scent of Camel smoke wafted past her nostrils and Vanessa spun around to find Dan grinning shyly at her, his scruffy hair and loose, rust-colored corduroys billowing in the breeze, it was so unlikely that either of them would be sailing on a yacht to the Hamptons, or that she'd actually be wearing a pink T-shirt that she burst out laughing.

“What's so funny?” Dan demanded. Vanessa looked so happy right now it made him a little sad to know that it had nothing to do with him.

Aaron came back with her drink and a beer for himself. When he saw Dan and Vanessa talking he immediately handed the beer to Dan. “I'll get another one,” he told them accommodatingly.

Dan couldn't believe it- even their heads matched.

Vanessa just stood there with a goofy smile on her face, waiting for Aaron to come back. Her happiness was infuriating, even to her. “Sorry,” she apologized to Dan. “I don't know what's the matter with me.”

Dan took a sip of his beer and pointed at her mouth. “Is that lip gloss?” he demanded with stunned amusement.

Vanessa giggled. “Nars Sticky Toffee Pudding, to be exact. I borrowed it from Blair.”

They stared at one another, each waiting for the other to throw out a critical witticism about what a disgusting display of wealth and uselessness the party was. But the truth was they were both there for the same reason. Despite the fact that they had spent years trying to set themselves apart, these people were their peers, and despite all the dissing and dismissing, they actually enjoyed being included in the fun.

The Sunkist-orange ball that was the sun slid behind a horizontal wisp of cloud. The water was shiny green and flat as glass. Aaron returned with his beer and nonchalantly kissed Vanessa on the cheek. “You look pretty,” he told her quietly.

Dan wondered if he had ever told Vanessa she looked pretty, but it was a little late for regrets.

“Nice job getting ditched by the band,” jeered an annoyingly familiar voice. Chuck Bass was listing toward Dan from the bow of the boat, looking drunk and slightly seasick in a baby blue linen sailor suit with the cuffs rolled up to the knees, his white monkey clinging to his shoulders, obviously terrified of falling into the water.

Chuck was so obnoxious there was no point in getting pissed off. Besides, Dan was overjoyed to be a normal kid again instead of a huge rock star. He offered his hand to his monkey-toting classmate and smiled matter-of-factly. “Thanks, man.”

“The Raves are so over anyway, dude.” Aaron remarked. “I give them one more album and then they're gone.”

“Right on.” Chuck shook Dan's hand, like they'd been friends forever. “So where are you headed next year anyway, son?”

Son?

The Raves were a New York band and Dan had heard that Chuck was going to military school somewhere in northern New Jersey. It would be good to get as far away from both of them as physically possible.

“Evergreen,” he announced, as if he'd always known it. “It's way out in Washington State.”

“Nice.” Chuck yawned, already bored with the conversation. “Has any seen Serena? I heard she was dating an eighty-five-year-old Yale trustee. What a whore.”

Vanessa snorted in disgust and left the boys to their own devices while she went off to find Blair and Serena. She needed a little girl time to go wit her pink T-shirt.

The rest of her classmates were clustered near the bow, half-listening to the music while they clutched the rail and tried to keep from puking into the frothy waves of Long Island Sound. The sun was less intense now and the breeze had picked up. a few girls covered their arms with pashminas or royal-blue-and-gold charlotte sweatshirts borrowed from the crew, but most of the passengers were too tipsy to feel the chill. Behind them the Manhattan skyline bobbed and shimmered like a miniature silver paradise inside a crystal Tiffany paperweight globe.

Serena and Blair were huddled together on a blue-and-gold-pinstriped cushion at the base of one of the masts, sharing a bottle of Heineken. “I can't believe we're about to graduate.” Serena sighed and let her head fall on Blair's shoulder.

“Thank God,” Blair replied unsentimentally. “I just wish I knew where the fuck I was going next year.”

Serena sat up, wondering if she should take this opportunity to tell Blair that she'd decided to go to Yale. But seeing as how they were on a boat, she didn't want to get thrown overboard.

Vanessa came over and lay down with her head in Blair's lap. “Stop talking about people, bitches,” she told them, lazily closing her eyes.

“You need more lip gloss,” Blair observed. She pulled a Lancôme Juicy Tube from her Earl Jeans skirt pocket and carefully painted it all over Vanessa's lips.

“Thanks, Mom,” Vanessa muttered, keeping her eyes closed.

Serena laughed and let her head fall back against the mast. Funny how this close to graduation all the jaggedly cut puzzle pieces that never looked like they'd fit suddenly fit together so well. Maybe she and Blair would both wind up going to Yale and rooming with each other. They'd be bridesmaids at Vanessa and Aaron's wedding; they'd meet a set of brothers and marry them, live on the same Fifth Avenue block, send their kids to the same school- friends forever.

But there was someone missing. Someone who'd always been a major piece of the puzzle in his own lovably fucked up, cheating way.

“I wish Nate were here,” Serena mused.

Blair screwed the top back on the lip gloss and began absentmindedly massaging Vanessa's pale forehead. “Sometimes I wonder if we're better off without him,” she confessed. After all, wasn't Nate the cause of almost every fight the two girls had ever had?

Serena squinted her eyes and scanned the deck once more. She'd looked all over for him.

But she'd never thought to look up.

Way, way up, above their heads, at the very top of the mast, Nate crouched in the crow's nest, watching them. It was lonely and a little cold up there, but he'd brought along a six-pack and a few joints for company, and as soon as they docked in Sag Harbor and his parents and their friends had disbanded to their Hamptons manses, he'd climb down like Spider-Man and surprise everyone.

From up there the girls in pink T-shirts looked almost interchangeable. Even that bald chick might have been hot with a little hair. He lit a fresh joint, suddenly overcome by how much he missed them, because he loved them- he loved them all.