Nothing Can Keep Us Together [antikvár]

gossipgirl.net topics 4 previous next>^ post a «!uestion reply Disclaimer: All the real names of places, people, and events have been altered or abbreviated to protect the innocent Namely, me. hey people! June is right around the corner and New York City is like a burning Diptyque candle: hot and smelly, beautiful and bright. It's getting dark so late now, we can't tell the difference between night and day. Not that we care. At this time of year our turf—also known as the Upper East Side—is virtually parent-free. They're far too busy with polo matches and garden parties, tennis matches and golf games up at our country houses in Ridgefield, Connecticut; Bridgehampton, Long Island; Newport, Rhode Island; or Mt. Desert Isle, Maine, leaving us to rule the town. Not that we ever stopped ruling the town. Our names have been at the top of the guest list at every exclusive restaurant, club, and hotel in Manhattan since the day we were born. We move in clusters, dominating the scene uptown and downtown, east and west. The entire island is and always has been ours, but with June comes graduation, and for us seniors that means saying good-bye. But let's not get all sappy and dreary. Now's the time to really make our mark. If we get what we want for graduation, pretty soon we'll all have cars. It's our turn to be louder and more obnoxious and more beautiful than ever—honk, honk!! And with no one around to disapprove (as if we care), it's time to seriously misbehave. Five reasons to party harder than we ever have In our lives: 1) Studying for finals is deathly boring. 2) It's almost summer! where the girls all go "Are you going to try that on?" a weirdly underdeveloped senior named Alison Baker asked Blair Waldorf timidly. Blair pushed the silver hanger down the rail toward Alison. A white, cardboard-stiff linen tunic by some random Scandinavian designer? Noj thanks. "Take it," she responded generously. Alison had thin, waist-length brown hair, a gap between her front teeth, and was bone thin. She wore a white button-down oxford shirt every day and the type of navy blue lace-up shoes that Constance Billard required in kindergarten but which were phased out of the uniform in first grade. Once, in fourth grade, Alison had peed in her pants in the library because she wouldn't go to the bathroom before finishing Anne of Green Gables^ and she'd had to spend the rest of the day wearing a pair of too-small mustard yellow cable-knit Hanna Andersson wool tights from the lost and found with no underwear. Scratchj scratch. In sixth grade, Alison had unsuccessfiilly invited Blair to her country house in Osterville on Cape Cod two weekends in a row before finally giving up. She'd then proceeded to spread a nasty rumor that Blair's father wouldn't let her go away on weekends because he and Blair were having an