AIN'T NOBODY HERE BUT US CHICKENS "I take more APs than anyone else in my class, and I have an A average," Blair complained. "Then you should have applied early admission," Stan 5 advised. "But you don't understand. I kissed my interviewer," Blair whispered loudly, sounding like a broken record. "My college advisor said there was no way she'd take me early." Stan 5 shrugged. "Smaller pool of applicants. Better chance to shine." Blair gritted her teeth to hold back a volley of expletives. She'd planned on applying to Yale early admission since she was thirteen years old. Why had she listened to clueless, bloody-nosed, wig-wearing Ms. Glos and not trusted her instincts? And why hadn't she met Stan 5 like, a year ago, when he could have been really useful? They were lying on their stomachs on the double bed in the room Stan 5's grandfather kept for him, and had already thumbed through every Yale catalog since 1947, laughing at the clothes people wore and the corny phrases underneath the photos. Things like, "Here's looking at you kid!" and "Ain't nobody here but us chickens!" The room was decorated with Yale paraphernalia: Yale swim team pennants, Stan III's B.A. in English and dramatic arts, a New Haven newspaper article featuring Stan III as one of Yale's most gifted young actors, and a yellow card from the Yale University registrar listing every semester old Stan had made the dean's list. "It looks like your grandfather's whole life," Blair observed. Her shoes where half on, half off, and she bounced them up and down on the ends of her toes. Stan 5 rolled over and looked at the ceiling. "Yeah," he answered hollowly. Blair wasn't sure why he sounded so bummed. After all, Yale was her whole life too, but she was the one still stuck on the wait list. Stan 5 reached out and twirled a strand of Blair's dark hair around his finger. "We should stop talking about this," he told her letting the twirl go, "Or you're going to get serisouly depressed." "But-" Blair started to say. Exactly when were they going to devise a plan to get her into Yale? Stan 5 rolled over and grabbed her arms, pulling her toward him. "We should stop talking period," he said, his eyes hungrily searching her face. "Like I said, my grandfather and I are really close. So don't worry about getting in, okay?" This was the part in the movie where the music was supposed to slow down, heads were supposed to meet, and boy and girl were supposed to kiss so passionately that their clothes would wind up in a pile on the floor while the windows steamed up. Stan 5 was going to get her into Yale! But for some reason- maybe it was the quantity of Yale paraphernalia on the walls and all over the floor, or maybe it was because she'd drunk four glasses of champagne at a party she hadn't been invited to, or maybe it was because kissing any other boy other than Nate felt truly naughty- Blair couldn't manage to close her eyes and kiss Stanford Parris V. All she could do was snort and giggle like a twelve-year-old. She pushed him away, snorting and giggling so hard she chocked. "What?" Stan 5 asked, pushing himself up on his elbows. His blond hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it away. Blair snorted again. She felt giddy and confused and very much in need of a little girl talk with Serena. "I don't know." She got up and jammed her feet into her shoes. "Um, I have to go find someone. Maybe I'll see you later?" Stan 5 seemed to enjoy how hot and bothered she was. He grinned cockily at her and raised his blond eyebrows. "Maybe." As she left the room, Blair tried to pull herself together. Not maybe. Definitely. THE WOMEN ARE SMARTER "I never really thought of Hamlet as a tragedy per se," Serena found herself telling Stanford Parris III. She'd only skimmed Hamlet when they had to write an essay on it for English class, but she'd always been an excellent bullshit artist. Even without reading every word she'd noticed that Hamlet reminded her of Dan Humphrey, who she'd hooked up with earlier in the fall. So woeful and neurotic. "I mean, all he needed was a little Zoloft or something and he's probably have conquered all of Scandinavia and had, like, a wife in every country." Well, hello, Miss I Know All There Is To Know About Shakespeare. Mr. Parris nodded. "Wellbutrin. That's what I take." Like she really needed to know that. "I like reading," Serena went on, completely bemused by what was coming out of her mouth. "As long as I have nothing else to do," she corrected herself. Which was almost never. "I guess that's the trouble I'm going to have, you know, with picking a major? I won't be able to decide between English and drama." She smiled and pulled her short skirt demurely over her knees. Since when is the cities biggest party girl worried about her major? "Elementary, my dear. That's why they invented the double major!" Mr. Parris snapped his suspenders, obviously delighted with the opportunity to divulge his vast wisdom to a young girl of such extraordinary beauty and intelligence. All of a sudden Blair burst into the room, dressed a little too sexily for an academic gathering and wearing the Yale pendant her mother had ordered from Cartier for baby Yale. Serena had never seen her best friend look so bizarre. "Thank God I found you!" Blair babbled breathlessly. She glanced at Mr. Parris. "Sorry for interrupting, sir, but this is an emergency!" Serena could always tell when Blair was up to something or was just plain freaking out, because her nostrils flared like a wild animal and she forgot to blink. Right now she looked like a squirrel with rabies. Serena stood up and shook Mr. Paris's hand. "It was truly a pleasure talking to you, Mr. Paris." Mr. Parris bent down and kissed her hand. "The pleasure is entirely mine." Blair coughed. Of course Serena had completely enchanted the old man, which was totally unfair because Blair was the one who actually needed to enchant him, "This really is an emergency," she blurted impatiently. Not exactly enchanting. "Okay, I'm coming," Serena murmured. She looped her arm through Blair's and Blair dragged her t o the front hall and pushed the button for the elevator. "............