Hey PPLS! You know the procedure, read and REVIEW. OR ELSE….This is rated like T, no cursing, but a mature word (it begins with a "c").

Chapter 1

"Humphrey, that's not a gift to give to your girlfriend!" Blair complained into her enV. She sighed; Dan buying presents was like a blind man reading, hopeless.

"But it's romantic" Dan protested.

"It's illegal!" Blair had every intention of vetoing Dan's plan to buy Serena a gift card to Bloomingdales.

"Upper East Siders don't get giftcards" Blair spat. With her free hand, she rubbed her temples. Poor Serena.

"You have to get her jewelry!" Blair insisted. She thought of Serena's face as Dan handed her a blue TIFFANY'S bag, as opposed to her expression if he handed her a Bloomingdale's card, shuddering at the thought of it.

"I can't afford Tiffany's Blair! You know that." Dan complained.

"Fine, I'll give you a loan," Blair sighed. She was such a giving person.

"What about those?" Dan pointed at a pair of diamond earrings underneath the glass, making the clear glass smudged with his grubby finger. Blair slapped his hand away. She had given in and met him at Tiffany's; determined to save Serena's birthday.

"No! It has to be something special," Blair explained, walking over to the necklaces. She gasped as she stared through the display case at a diamond necklace, with an "S" pendant in loopy script.

"Dan! Buy her this!" Dan came over, his face twisting at the sight of all those diamonds in that "S".

"Wow, that looks expen-"

"PERFECT. Yes, it does," Blair interjected.

"Why do I have to buy it now?" Dan whined, "Her birthday's in a week."

Blair was horrified. "Yea, so's Christmas! Do you know how long it will take Tiffany's to go out of stock? Days. If you wait, everything will be gone, even Bloomingdales gift cards," Blair said, taking out her wallet. She pulled out multiple hundreds and handed them to Dan.

"You did good Dan, she'll love it, and it will only take a few eternities to pay me back," Blair teased. She dropped Dan off at Central Park; he could take a taxi back to Brooklyn. Like she be seen anywhere near Brooklyn.

"Miss Blair, uh, Mr. Chuck is upstairs," Dorota said, holding a feather duster. Blair rolled her eyes.

"Crap" Chuck was going to hold this friggin' thing over her head until she killed him. She pounded the stairs with her feet, and kicked the door to her room open. It bounced against the wall.

"What the hell do you want?" Blair hissed. Chuck turned to her, a distraught look on his face, he held up a condom, a broken condom.

"I realized it after you ran out," Chuck whispered.

"S*t," Blair moaned, grabbing the back of her desk chair for support. Chuck walked around the bed to Blair, wrapping his arm around her waist. Blair turned sharply to face Chuck and beat his chest with her tiny fists, hot, angry tears streaming down her porcelain face. In between the blows, Chuck reached up quick and held her face in his hands, bringing his face low to her level and kissing her passionately she was lost in the kiss until she felt the condom rubbing up against her right cheek. She brought her left arm low, then, balling her hand in a tight fist, she sent her fist right into his abdomen.

"Who-" Chuck felt his breath whoosh out of his nose and mouth. Blair watched him stagger back, clutching his stomach, the broken condom on the floor by her foot. She kicked it across the room; it didn't go very far, landing just between Chuck and the door.

"Go, now, and take that with you! I don't ever wanna see your face again," she crossed her arms over her chest.

Chuck straightened up and roared, "YOU THINK I WANTED YOU FOR THE MOTHER OF MY CHILD?" He bellowed. Blair picked up the fake flowers that were in a vase on her desk and threw them at Chuck, "YOU IDIOT," She whisper-screamed, "Do you want the entire Upper East Side to know about this? Hmm??" Chuck picked up the condom calmly and walked out of the room. She waited 'till she heard the elevator doors "ding!" open, and then listened for the sound of them rolling closed. Only then did she walk over to her bed, bring the covers down, and slowly climb inside. She never really went on a big crying jag, but this seemed like a good time to start. She sobbed about the choice she had made, about the fact that she would have no support –she certainly couldn't tell anyone- and she cried most about Chuck's words, which were playing on a loop inside her head. You think I want you for the mother of my child?. Those words were a knife, digging into Blair's body, carving a hole, leaving the edges knife would keep cutting, until she was all riddled through, like Swiss cheese.

Blair sat up and reached for a tissue. Her phone had gone off exactly 27 times. Probably Serena. She was supposed to go meet her in Central Park, to discuss the plans of the party. Screw the party, that was a month away. By then, she wouldn't be able to fit into her clothes; her mother would have to make her shift dresses, and she would be waddling instead of walking. Of course, she was only hallucinating, but she was so delusional, she believed it, and that set off a whole-nother round of sobs and tears. Her cell phone rang for the 28th time, and then the private phone in her room rang. The answering machine picked up, and Blair listened to her own happy, bubbly voice. She'd recorded that ages ago, back when she wasn't a fat, soon-to-be Mom. Then, Serena's voice came over the speaker. Blair listened to that too.

"Blair, where the hell are you? We were supposed to visit hotels to hold my party! If my party sucks, I'm blaming you!" She listened to her friends tinkling laugh, her bubbly, happy voice. Serena wasn't a Mom. Blair wasn't even eighteen yet, and she was (a mom).

About ten minutes later, Serena's voice floated up the stairs.

"Dorota, where's Blair?" Serena asked politely.

"Hello, Miss Serena, Miss Blair is in her room," Dorota replied. She listened to her friend's Uggs climb the carpeted stairs.

"Let her come," Blair thought, looking at her door, making sure it was locked. She heard the doorknob turn, then stop halfway.

"Blair, let me in now. I swear to God, I'll take this table through the door," Serena called, referring to the mahogany table atop the landing, which held a hand-blown glass vase. Blair rolled over, so she was facing the wall, and pulled the covers over her head. She listened to Serena knock and threaten her some more, but she paid no attention, until she heard something that made her body go rigid. A key, turning in a lock. Crap! She'd forgotten that she'd given Serena a key to her bedroom, back in the fourth grade. She thought Serena had lost it! The thought of her friend seeing her like this made Blair go limp. Her hair was a mess, no doubt, and she was probably soaked. She didn't quite know why, but she was sweating. She felt so hot, so hot, and tired.

"Maybe I'll just sleep for awhile," Blair thought.

"What the hell is she doing in there?" Serena thought, extremely pissed off at her best friend. She was kneeling in front of Blair's door, jabbing a bobby pin into the lock. She couldn't find the key, she had tried a few that she'd found in her purse, but none of them were it. She'd had to sneak into Eleanor's room and steal a bobby pin. It was a good forty minutes until the lock clicked open.

"B?" Serena asked quietly, opening the door. She saw a bump under Blair's big, goose down comforter. What the hell? Blair never slept in the middle of the day. Serena was at Blair's bed in four strides. She gently pulled back the covers, and gasped at the sight of her friend. Blair's skin was a fierce red, especially her face. Her hair was wet and matted, clinging to her cheeks and forehead. Her clothes were wet from sweat. Serena furrowed her eyebrows. It wasn't hot in there at all, and Serena still had her jacket on. On instinct, she peeled the strands of hair off Blair's face, and pressed the back of her hand to Blair's forehead, yanking back at the burning touch. Serena's eyes widened. She ran across the room and flung open the bathroom door. She yanked the full length mirror open to reveal a five shelf medicine closet. Serena reached for the thermometer on the second shelf and rushed back to Blair. She sat on the edge of the bed and pressed the end of the high tech thermometer into Blair's ear. She waited for it to beep, and looked at the small digital numbers scrolling across the screen. Blair's temperature was 105.8

"DOROTA! CALL AN AMBULANCE! NOW!" Serena shouted. She knew Dorota would come up to see what's wrong before she called, so Serena whipped her red FlipShot from the pocket of her jeans, and dialed 911 with shaking fingers.

"HELLO? I NEED AN AMBULANCE TO THE MORNING TOWERS, TOP FLOOR, PENTHOUSE! THERE'S A GIRL HERE WITH A REALLY HIGH FEVER AND , AND, JUST PLEASE HURRY UP!" She flung the phone closed, then rushed to open all the windows in Blair's huge room. The icy air swirled in the windows, making Serena shiver. Blair remained unconscious, even when Serena pressed ice cold rags to her forehead. This was insane. No one's temperature could shoot up that high. Blair was fine this morning when Serena had talked to her about catering for the party. Blair couldn't miss the party, she couldn't die!