Dan is on top of the freaking world when he leaves his Spanish class (the counselor called in a slip, something about scheduling). Senorita Lorres gave him an A on his last quiz, Jenny had made French Toast that morning (his freaking favorite), and, OH YEAH, last night he went on a date with the golden-haired girl of his dreams: one Serena van der Woodsen.

He kind of feels like getting some fresh air(his counselor checked off the "when convenient" box on the slip, and who is he to question orders?)

One of the benefits of Constance-Billard is that there are no nosy security guards out front (apparently it's the unsaid belief that the wealth and prestige alone will protect the students from the riffraff of NYC).

Dan walks along to the ivy-covered wall to his all time favorite- bench…

Only to see that it's taken.

The girl sitting there is tiny, both in height and body type. Her thin legs are sheathed in white tights, crossed at the ankles. A headband pushes her auburn hair off her face, and on it are some designer initials (though he couldn't tell you what). A cell phone is clutched in one of her hands.

Just another typical Upper East Side Girl. Dan knows the breed well.

When Dan comes closer, he realizes that she's staring blankly off into the distance, tears streaming down her cheeks.

He also can't help by notice that this isn't any Upper East Side girl- this is the one, the one who everyone knows but who definitely doesn't know everyone. She's their Queen, and Jenny worships the ground she walks on.

She's also kind of a bitch.

But Dan's a good guy. He prides himself on being a good guy. So even though she's-

"What are you looking at?" Blair Waldorf demands angrily, wiping her cheeks with her hands.

He's not positive, but he's pretty sure this is the first time she's ever spoken to him directly.

"Are you-"

"No," she answers, "unless 'ok' means having to deal with the fact that your boyfriend cheated on you and lied about it."

"Oh."

"Yeah," she says in a deprecating tone.

"I'm…sorry."

She smiles, and then tucks her cell in the pocket of her button-up jacket, pulling a compact mirror out of the other one in a seemingly seamless fashion.

"Apologizing for your entire gender," Blair says , dabbing the red splotches on her face with makeup, "how very noble of you."

"I suppose," he says with equal dryness.

Blair pulls her hair up in a high ponytail, then stands up and gets way in his personal space.

"You never saw this," she whispers in this super-scary voice, "and it never happened. Comprenez-vous?"

"I take Spanish."

"¿Comprende, idiota?"

"Hey, now, I'm not-"

"I'm so sure!" she calls out over her shoulder.

The bell rings out through the courtyard, and Dan remembers that he needs to go to the counselor.

Somehow, he's pretty sure he's going to have trouble focusing.