| ESTRATTO - All I want is everything
Serena has been seen out with Flow, a pop star, and now everyone assumes they are an item.
Two floors below Blair, in the Constance Billard School auditorium, Serena was toiling over her American history exam.
Not. Serena wasn’t exactly the toiling type.
She had already counted the number of split ends in the end of her ponytail— nine —and she’d answered the question about the English involvement in World War II with a very short essay about how during wartime there were shortages of everything and English women had to give up wearing stockings because there was no nylon available. Instead, those fearless, industrious, fashion-conscious women had painted lines down the backs of their legs to make it look like they were wearing them.
Serena sighed. In those days a girl could probably spend a night out with a guy and not have her picture plastered all over the gossip pages the next day. Pictures of Serena and Flow at Gorgon had appeared in the Post, Entertainment Weekly, People, Women’s Wear Daily, and countless Web sites, all naming them “the new ‘it’ couple.”
It was so ridiculous. She’d kissed Flow good-bye in the wee hours outside the Tribeca Star Hotel bar on Sunday morning, and he’d gone off to catch a private plane down to Baja, where he was reshooting some scenes for the video for 45’s new song, “Life of Krime,” before he went away for Christmas. He’d been incredibly sweet and they’d had an awesome time that night, but they very definitely were not a couple. A couple meant you saw each other every day. It meant you were in love. And though she and Flow might have been a little in lust, they were definitely not in love, despite the fact that he had already sent her flowers.
Three dozen very-hard-to-find black tulips, to be exact.
Serena was used to getting gifts from guys, so the flowers didn’t faze her, as long as Flow didn’t start sending her things every day. Sometimes a guy could go a little overboard. Take Dan Humphrey for example. He’d followed Serena around like a puppy dog when she’d returned from boarding school in the fall, and he’d even written her poems that were so lovesick and serious, they were kind of scary. Serena really liked Dan, but he was a little too intense. Lucky for her, he’d hooked up with Vanessa, who was equally as intense, and they made a great couple. But Serena wasn’t interested in being matched up with anyone. She treasured her independence, her ability to follow her whimsy and do what she pleased. She was a spur-of-the-moment kind of girl—couplehood would only cramp her style.
Serena stared at the next question. When did the American armed forces enter World War II, and why?
A more pertinent question was When was she ever going to use this knowledge?? The answer was pretty obvious: never! Who cared about what had happened in the past when the future lay ahead of her with fabulous surprises and untold craziness hiding behind every curve and bend?
Someone tapped her on the shoulder and Serena looked up. It was Mr. Hanson, her Latin teacher and the proctor for the history exam. He was tall and thin and had a mustache that was always so exactly the same length, and the girls and Constance were all convinced it must be a falsie.
“What?” Serena said, startled. She knew she’d been spacing out, but she couldn’t get into trouble for that during a written exam, could she? “Did I do something wrong?”
Then she noticed that Mr. Hanson was smiling under his mustache.
He shoved a copy of the Post into her hands. It was turned to Page Six, the celebrity gossip page, where there was a huge picture of Serena and Flow getting into a cab after leaving Gorgon on Saturday night. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I noticed you were finishing your exam, and I was just wondering if it would be possible for you to ask Flow to sign this,” he whispered. “I’m such a huge fan. And it would be great if you would sign it, too.”
Serena blinked. First of all, she’d had no idea Mr. Hanson was cool enough to even know who Flow was. Second of all, she had no intention of asking Flow for anything. And third of all—Hel-lo? She was nowhere near finished with her exam!
“Flow’s in Baja,” she whispered back. “Is it okay if I just sign it?” She glanced around the room self-consciously. Most of the other girls had stopped writing and were either staring at her and Mr. Hanson or chatting amongst themselves.
“I heard Flow and Serena are engaged,” Nicki Button told her friend Alicia Edwards. “They’re getting married on New Year’s Eve, in Vegas. At the Bellagio.”
“The Post said they met at the Black-and White on Saturday,” Isabel Coates told Kati Farkas. “But that’s so not true.”
“They met in rehab last year, right?” said Kati. “Flow’s been in rehab, like, twelve times. But so has she.”
Serena signed her name and handed the paper back to Mr. Hanson, hoping he wouldn’t give her a bad grade in Latin now that she hadn’t gotten him Flow’s autograph.
“Thanks,” he whispered, examining her signature. He smiled excitedly. “I’m sure this is going to be worth a fortune one day!”
“No problem,” Serena said, humoring him. The buzz in the room was getting louder and louder.
“All right, girls. Back to work,” Mr. Hanson called sternly as he went back to his desk at the front of the room.
Serena looked down at her exam paper again. When did the American armed forces enter World War II, and why?
But before she could even begin to answer the question, she was swarmed by a dozen of her classmates, all clutching copies of the Post for her to sign. Mr. Hanson couldn’t very well tell them to stop when he was the one who’d started it in the first place.
“All right,” he said, ignoring Serena’s pleading look. “I’ll give everyone five extra minutes on your exam. Five minutes, and then I want you back in your seats.”
“Me first!” cried Rain Hoffstetter, shoving her copy of the Post at Serena.
“No, me!” Laura Salmon shouted, pushing Rain out of the way.
Serena giggled to herself in amazement. When she’d returned from boarding school two months ago, she’d been considered a leper. And now everyone wanted her autograph?
She hesitated, pen poised above the photograph in Laura’s copy of the paper. Then she wrote in her trademark loopy scrawl, You know you love me, Serena.
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