| ESTRATTO - You know you love me
Blair has to prepare for her Yale interview with her teacher Ms Glos.
“What sorts of questions have you prepared?” Ms. Glos asked Blair. It was Wednesday afternoon, and Ms. Glos was prepping Blair for her Yale interview on Saturday. “You’ll need to show them that you’re interested in things that are particular to Yale, that you’re not just applying there because it’s a good school and you’re a legacy child.”
Blair nodded impatiently. What did Ms. Glos think she was, a moron?
Ms. Glos uncrossed her legs and picked at a piece of lint stuck to her tan pantyhose. Her upper body was thick and square like a man’s, but Blair noticed she had remarkably good legs for a fifty-year old college advisor.
“I’m going to ask them about opportunities to travel in France junior year. I’m going to ask about their sports facilities and about housing. I’m going to ask about opportunities to participate in student government. Oh, and I’m going to ask about job recruitment,” Blair said. She opened her PalmPilot and made a note to herself.
“Good girl. That will show that you’re not just an academic. You’re well-rounded, you’re interested in participating.” Ms. Glos closed Blair’s file and slipped it back in her desk. “You’ll do fine,” she told Blair. You’re more than ready.
Blair stood up. She already knew she was ready. She’d been prepping for this her whole life.
“Thanks, Ms. Glos,” she said and reached for the doorknob. “If it goes well, I can apply early and forget about looking at other schools, right?”
“Well, it can’t hurt to look at a few other places — you might find somewhere else you like better,” Ms Glos said, dabbing at her nose with a Kleenex. “ But I don’t see why Yale wouldn’t take you.”
Blair smiled. “Good.” Then she opened the door and closed it behind her, satisfied.
After all that preparation, Blair should breeze through her interview... shouldn't she? Sometimes things don't go according to plan though...
the interview: how to make an impression
“Thank you for waiting,” Blair’s interviewer said, sweeping into the cold blue waiting room of the Yale admissions office, where Blair had been sitting stiffly on the edge of a wing-back chair for over fifteen minutes. Aaron had almost hit several people getting her there on time, and then she’d had to wait. Now she was a nervous wreck.
“Hi!” Blair squeaked, jumping to her feet. She thrust out her hand. “I’m Blair Waldorf.”
The interviewer, a tall, tanned man with grey hair at this temples and sparkling green eyes, took her hand and shook it. “So glad to meet you. I’m Jason.” He turned and led Blair into his office. His pants were a little tight in the ass, Blair noticed. “Have a seat,” he said, crossing his legs and pointing to the blue velvet armchair across from him.
He reminded her of her father.
Blair sat down and crossed her legs. She had to pee. There were cat hairs on her skirt that she hadn’t noticed before.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Jason said smiling at her with his nice green eyes. Green like Nate’s.
“Um,” Blair said. She couldn’t remember if this was one of the questions she’d prepared for or not. It seemed so vague. Tell me about yourself. Tell him what?
She twirled her ruby ring around and around on her finger. She really, really had to pee.
Blair took a deep breath and began talking. “I’m from New York City. I have a younger brother. My parents are divorced. I live with my mom, who’s getting remarried soon, and my dad lives in France. He’s gay. He loves to shop. I have a cat, and my new stepbrother Aaron has a dog. My cat hates the dog, so I don’t know how it’s going to work out.” She stopped for breath and looked up. She realized that the entire time she’d been speaking she’d been staring at Jason’s black lace-up shoes. This was a no-no. She was supposed to make eye contact. She was supposed to make an impression.
“I see,” Jason said, pleasantly. He jotted a few things down on his pad.
“What are you writing?” Blair asked, leaning forward to look.
“Just a few notes,” Jason said, hiding what he’d written with his hand. “So tell me why you’re interested in Yale.”
This one she’d prepared for.
“I want the best. I am the best. And I deserve the best.” Blair said confidently. She frowned.
That didn’t sound right. What was wrong with her? “My dad went to Yale, you know,” she added hastily. “He wasn’t gay then.”
Jason frowned and scribbled away. “Yes he did, didn’t he?”
Blair yawned discreetly into her fist. She was extremely tired, and her shoes hurt like hell. She uncrossed her legs, rested her elbows on her knees, and slipped her heels out of her shoes. That was better.
Except that now she looked like she was sitting on the toilet.
As he wrote, Jason’s gold monogrammed cufflinks gleamed in the cold November light coming through the window. Blair’s father had worn cufflinks like that the night he took her out for her birthday. The night all hell broke loose.
“Can you tell me about a favourite book you’re read recently?”
Blair stared at him, scanning her brain for the title of a book — any book- but she couldn’t think of a single one.
Winnie the Pooh? The Bible? The dictionary for God’s sake — it’s really not that hard.
Then something clicked in Blair’s brain. Or rather, her brain switched off completely and something else took over. This is not recommended during an important college interview.
“I haven’t been able to read that much in the last few months,” Blair confessed her lip trembling. She closed her eyes, as if in pain. “Everything is a mess.”
She was back — the leading lady in the tragic film that was her life. She imagined herself staring out to sea on a deserted beach wearing a trendy, short black trench coat. Rain and salt water pelted her face, mingling with her tears.
“I stole a pair of pajamas,” Blair continued dramatically. “For my boyfriend. I don’t know what made me do it, but I think it’s a sign don’t you?” She glanced at Jason. “Nate didn’t even thank me.”
Jason shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Nate?”
Blair snatched a Kleenex from the box on his desk and blew her nose noisily. “I’ve thought about ending it all,” she declared. “I’m serious, I have. But I’m trying to be brave and hold on.”
Jason had stopped writing. A boy sprinted by the window, wearing a Yale sweatshirt. “And what about sports? Are you interested in sports?”
Blair shrugged. “I play tennis. But the only thing I’m really interested in right now is starting over. Beginning a new life,” she said. She slipped her right shoe off entirely, placed her right foot on her left knee, and began massaging her toes. “It’s been so hard,” she added tiredly.
Jason put the cap on his pen and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “Er… do you have any questions for me?”
Blair stopped rubbing her toes and put her foot back on the floor. She scooted her chair forward and reached out to touch Jason’s knee. “If you can promise me to let me in early, I promise to be the best student Yale University has ever had,” she said earnestly. “Can you promise me that, Jason?”
Oh. My. God. Goodbye Yale University, hello community college!
Jason groped in his pocket, retrieved his pen, and scribbled something else on his pad, underlining it twice.
Let’s guess what he wrote. FREAKSHOW?
“I’ll see what I can do,” Jason said. He stood up and held out his hand once more. “Thanks so much for coming in.” He shook Blair’s hand. “Good luck.”
Blair wriggled her feet back into her shoes and smiled winningly at him. “See you next fall,” she said.
And then she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.
As if she hadn’t already made enough of an impression.
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