The Queen flipped her card up into the air. The gilded edges winked in the mellow light of the October afternoon, the butterflies on her painted crown seemed to flutter their wings while her sword flashed.
Stu and Brent reached out for it at the same time but it was Blair Waldorf who caught it.
Scarlett said nothing. Instead she let her eyes bore into the little freshman's. Hypnotic, Ashley had once called her green eyes and told her that they were her signature weapons of mass destruction. She put a hand out and one of her new minions was quick to plant a frogurt from Pinkberry in it.
"Two servings of green tea, fifty calories paired with coconut, kiwi and mochi just like you ordered," the girl rattled.
Scarlett said nothing. She waited for the little freshman with the plaid hairband - oh how cute - to pipe up and she did not disappoint. "Total fat 0g, saturated fat 0g, sodium 35mg, total carbohydrate 6g, sugars 5g."
And this time Scarlett smiled. "Well done, Baby B," she said softly. She took a dainty bite from the Zen-white cup. Mammy would have approved. And then she spat it out on the shoes of the girl who'd brought it. Penelope Shafai stared at the soggy green slush on her shiny black pumps. The twins sniggered and then the herd of freshmen followed, twittering like a flock of nervous birds.
"Sweetpea," Scarlett said, wiping at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "This tastes like shit."
"But you asked for-"
Scarlett stared her down. Unlike Baby B, this one flinched and looked away. "I know what I asked for," she said, her voice dangerously soft. "Your job is not to do what I say but what I want, even if I don't say it." She surveyed the freshmen, arranged in a neat line on the steps of the MET. Baby B in a headband, incompetent Sweetpea, the Dressalike Twins Kati Farkas and Isabel Coates who were definitely Grade B Minion Material, inconsequential Hazel Williams... and S. The Serena van der Woodsen.
"S," she said, dumping the cup without further ceremony on Penelope's skirt. "What do you think I would want?"
"Peanut butter. With strawberry jam and toasted breadcrumbs," Miss Beachbunny said without hesitation. She flicked a strand of her sun-streaked golden hair away from her sculpted face and smiled wryly. Drop-dead gorgeous - Scarlett might almost have envied her. But no, there was a difference between a Beauty Queen and a Queen Bee - as Baby B might one day teach S. "You look like you're having a rough day."
Scarlett smiled. "Sweetpea," she said. "You've been given a chance to redeem yourself. See to it."
"My skirt-" she began to whine but stopped when she saw the look the others gave herr. "Of course, Scarlett."
"Stu, Brent, scoot over for Serena," she told the twins. "S, I think you've found your place. Just below me. The rest of you-" she gestured languidly to the steps still lower. The look on Blair Waldorf's face was just the price of the quilted Marc Jacob's handbag that Scarlett had been waitlisted for. Almost priceless.
Scarlett crossed her legs, delicately at the ankles like a lady. "Baby B, hand over my card to Serena please. S, can you tell me anything about it?"
She wouldn't be able to, Scarlett knew, but it was fun to tease the girls, stoke up that heady rivalry. Especially since they'd been best friends since they were like five or something. Baby B had the makings of a prima donna bitch in her, it was just so easy to stir her up. Serena was cooler, rather like fat-free FroYo but she had her moments too.
S squinted at the card. "It's a tarot card," she said slowly. "Of a queen... with a sword. And she has a crown of butterflies." There was a frown etched on her perfect forehead.
Blair couldn't stop herself. "They show the freedom of her thought and her active intellect," she said quickly. "She is extending her hand, perhaps to reach for another, but she also holds her sword firmly before her, perhaps as a warning or a test for another. She is familiar with sorrow, so it may be understood in this way." She smiled prettily. "She reminds me of someone."
Scarlett raised an eyebrow.
"Me," Blair said very sweetly. "Though I'm not a queen. Not yet."
This time Scarlett laughed. It was a rule of thumb with her not to laugh too often at anything other women said. It was a sign of weakness. And freshmen weren't well, exactly women yet - they were a necessary evil, like the sewage system you needed to carry out your dirtier plans. It was the first time she had laughed with and not at her minions. Kati, Isabel and Hazel made bug eyes at Blair who had made this miracle possible. So who was the favourite now? S or B? Well, Scarlett intended to keep everyone guessing. That was what Queen Elizabeth the First did with her courtiers - she always kept them on their toes and now she was known as Gloriana.
Scarlett plucked Blair's headband off her hair. "You have the most atrocious taste in accessories," she said, twisting it in her hands. "But the best in boyfriends, as far as I can tell. William van der Bilt's grandson, isn't he? Well done. I used to date Nathaniel's cousin, Tripp, myself. I'm sure you two look adorable together - blondes and brunettes usually do." Ashley had platinum blond hair, as far as you could get from Scarlett's inky black hair. "And you've got your life planned out for you and him, haven't you? You'll go to Yale, he'll go to-"
"-Dartmouth," Blair said automatically. "The Captain expects him to."
"And then he'll rise through the ranks, a senator like his grandfather I expect, and you'll be his lady and set yourself up in high society." With restless fingers, Scarlett snapped the hairband in two. Then she reached down to stroke Blair's cheek. "How sweet, Baby B."
She could see her entourage floating out of St. Jude's and Constance. Cade Calvert was teasing Joe Fontaine and Sally Munroe, his pretty girlfriend. Behind them Alex and Tony Fontaine were whispering in the ears of Dimity Munroe and Hetty Tarleton and sending them into gales of giggles. Scarlett noticed her sister and her dweeby friends scurrying past them - she had tried to take Suellen in last year when she was a freshman but well, Sue was Sue. Utterly hopeless. She looked around for Ashley but he wasn't there - probably doing time with his dorky Literary Society friends. India Wilkes nodded politely to Stuart who blushed and looked away, embarrassed. And boycrazy Honey clung to the arm of an unfamiliar boy in a purple scarf.
"Who's the little runt, Baby B?" Scarlett murmured, looking pointedly at Honey.
Blair's lips curled in disdain. "That's Chuck Bass," she said. "He's a freshman and she's a junior. God, how desperate can you get?"
Penelope had come racing up the steps, almost breathless. She held Scarlett's FroYo up triumphantly. Her skirt was still streaked with the green slime and for once, Scarlett decided to be merciful. Besides, dealing with freshmen - even in training them - was unbearable for long periods of time. "Little minions," she said, "you're dismissed early today. Sweetpea, do something about your skirt - it looks terrible. Blair, Serena - you may stay."
Serena looked like she was on the verge of making a face but Blair's big brown eyes danced with glee. "Thank you, Scarlett," she said and Serena mumbled in assent.
Scarlett's strongest ally, Cathleen, dropped herself, giggling, on Brent's lap. Her latest armcandy, Carter Baizen, didn't seem to mind. Scarlett knew that they had all hooked up in a threesome, at one of Boyd Tarleton's penthouse parties. So far the arrangement seemed to suit all three capitally.
"Missing India?" Scarlett whispered in Stuart's ear.
"Leave it, Scarlett," Stuart muttered just as Cade, who her father was always pushing at her because of the great Calvert name, rested his head against her knee. He glared at Stuart with smouldering eyes - oh how sweet.
Stu, the great jock, had invited one of his more promising proteges to lunch on the steps today - none other than Blair's boyfriend. Nathaniel Archibald squeezed himself next to her and they exchanged a chaste peck on the lips. Maybelle Merryweather and Fanny Elsing, the Kati-and-Isabel of the junior class, nibbled their salads and eyed him like dessert. Scarlett shuddered and dug into her peanut butter FroYo.
"So, Nathaniel-"
"Nate." He grimaced. "No one calls me Nathaniel unless I'm in trouble."
"Do you get into trouble often?"
He flashed her an impish smile. For a moment it almost reminded her of Ashley - after all the Wilkes and van der Bilts were related. "Too often."
"And you've known Blair since how long?"
Blair piped up for him. "Kindergarten," she said, smiling. "Serena and Nate and I were best friends. Until Nate and I became... something else." She squeezed his shoulder affectionately.
"Knowing them for so long you must have the expert's opinion. So give me an unbiased opinion, Nate - who do you think is prettier? Serena or Blair?"
The split second's hesitation was long enough for Blair's eyes to narrow and shoot a quick glance over at Serena. Serena, oblivious to the drama, was chatting away with Cathleen on Victoria's Secret's latest collection of bikinis and briefs.
"Blair of course," Nate said easily. "After all, she is my girlfriend."
"And of course you're supposed to support your girlfriend at all times." Scarlett nodded. "That makes sense."
"No, I honestly think-"
"Jocks think?" Scarlett smiled. "I'm just teasing, Nate. Really. But I think you'd be one of the few who would prefer that," she jerked her head towards Serena, "to this." She patted the top of Blair's head like she would a puppy's. "Cheer up, Baby B. You might grow into your looks. If you stay far away from headbands." She tossed the broken halves of the girl's plaid headband into her lap. "Will you be at the Wilkes' soiree tonight, Nate?"
"My mother will, definitely," Nate said. Scarlett nodded - it was only to be expected that the van der Bilts would turn out in full force. The Wilkes were throwing a soiree for their Hamilton cousins, to welcome them to the big bad city. "I'm not so sure-"
"You should definitely be there," Scarlett said. "I assume your girlfriend doesn't have an invite - friends and family only, right? Bring her along with you, she could do with a few pointers. And Serena won't even be there to cramp your style, Blair."
"Serena's my best friend," Blair said, a little stiffly. "She's never cramped my style."
Scarlett let her eyebrows speak for her.
Her Miu Miu snakeskin sheath, in a rich magenta, fit like a glove. As Mammy zipped it up at the back, Scarlett looked herself over in her mirror-panelled dressing room. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the fairest one of them all?" she whispered under her breath, as she had always done ever since she'd heard the story of Snow White. The answer was as clear to her now, at sixteen, as it had been when she was six.
"Me of course," she said out loud and kissed her glass lips.
Mammy grunted in approval and stepped back. "Ain't nobody got a waist like my lamb," she said. She disappeared into the depths of the closet and came back with a pair of two-toned Manolo Blahnik pumps. Scarlett put on her French grandmother's delicate diamond bracelet and sat down to put on her makeup.
"I hope Sue's not going," she said, lining her pouting lips in a deep, velvety red. "She always manages to make such a fool out of herself - I really can't be seen in public with her." Her long, dark hair she had set in a loose bun, held in place by emerald-tipped pins. Tres chic.
"Miss Suellen doesn't feel up to going," Mammy said. "But Miss Carreen wants to."
Scarlett sighed. Carreen was thirteen and madly in love with Brent. But she was tolerable - just barely. "Sisters," she muttered. "Mammy, do you miss your sisters?"
Mammy shook her head. "I've been with Miss Solange and then Miss Ellen and then you girls for so long that you're like my family now," she averred.
"Good for you." Scarlett brushed a light coat of mascara, a trace of eyeliner and gold shimmer over her eyelids and decided she was done. She looked, as usual, stunning.
"Wish me luck," she said, fluffing up the back of her hair.
"For what, Miss Scarlett?"
Melanie Hamilton, Scarlett thought but said nothing. Instead she gave a bright, hard smile. "None of your business. Just wish me luck."
Mammy, who had been embroiled in enough of Scarlett's schemes over the years, nodded sagely. "Good luck, Miss Scarlett," she said.
Scarlett's mother was waiting in the foyer. If her oldest daughter was stunning, Ellen Robillard O'Hara was enchanting. When Scarlett was a child, she had confused her mother with the Virgin Mary, and now that she was older she saw no reason to change her opinion. She wore a knee-length black sheath, Vintage Chanel, and a strand of heirloom pearls. Carreen was in... something. Lacy and lavender and utterly inconsequential. Just a little girl with a crazy crush - sometimes Scarlett wondered how she was related to her sisters.
I had a crush when I was thirteen too, she thought viciously. But I did something about it.
Ellen kissed Scarlett's forehead. "Beautiful, my darling," she said tenderly. Suellen, her face covered in some sort of mauve anti-acne lotion (she needed as much of it as she could get), slouched in from the den.
"Snakeskin," she said sweetly. "How appropriate, Scarlett. Are you going to play python or king cobra with Melanie Hamilton tonight?"
"Suellen," Ellen said, a gentle reprimand in her voice though she did not change her tone.
"Sorry," Sue muttered, not sounding at all sorry.
"Why should I care to play anything with Melanie Hamilton?" Scarlett, in her poshest British accent, demanded. "She's a sweet little thing."
"And you're well, not," Suellen lashed out. "Everyone knows you're sweet on-"
Carreen piped up before she could finish. "You're just jealous ever since Frank Kennedy started making eyes at Scarlett at the Wilkes' barbecue this summer!"
Frank Kennedy was Suellen's 'beau' as Grandmother Robillard called him. A sorry catch, she had told Scarlett dismissively once. But it's the best she can do so I suppose I might as well be happy for her. He looked like an undercooked chicken but it suited Scarlett to play with him just because he liked her sister.
Suellen glowered at her. "Siding with Scarlett now, are we?" she asked nastily. "You think she'll-"
"Daughters, stop this infernal racket!" a voice bellowed.
"Pa," Scarlett said, sashaying over to him. They hadn't seen him in a week - he'd been away on a business trip and now he would be back with presents for them all. The presents almost made you forget his utter unsuitability as a Robillard's husband. Sometimes Scarlett wondered how they had managed to stay married for this long - seventeen years, a millennium on the Upper East Side really. That her father was madly in love with her mother she had no doubt but what was in it for Ellen? The Robillards were just as rich as the O'Haras and had a better name.
"Gerald," Ellen said and let him kiss her hand. He was fully half a foot shorter than her.
Definitely not sexual attraction, Scarlett decided. Unless her mother had some very bizarre fetishes.
There was a new boxed collection of Mills and Boon for romantic Carreen who lapped them all up, a coral necklace for Suellen who was too ugly to need such a pretty thing, flowered green Jill Sander flats for Scarlett and a little big something towards Ellen's favourite charity.
"You are too good to us, Gerald," Ellen said. "Thank you, my dear."
Gerald glowed. "Will your mother be there at the Wilkes?" he said, grimacing a little as he always did when Solange Robillard's name came up.
"Yes," Ellen said. "And Philippe," she said, mentioning her older brother.
Uncle Philippe was Scarlett's favourite uncle. She detested her father's loud Irish brothers - Uncle James and Uncle Andrew. Aunt Pauline and Aunt Eulalie were Grandmother Robillard's daughters from earlier marriages but Philippe, as handsome as Ellen was beautiful and just as kind, was Pierre Robillard's son.
Was it just her imagination or did her father's face darken at the mention of Uncle Philippe? It was just her imagination, she decided, when Pa held out his arm gallantly for Mother. "Shall we, Mrs O'Hara?" he said.
She smiled that same sweet smile that she bestowed on everybody. "Of course, Mr O'Hara." And like ducklings, her daughters trailed after her.
In Twelve Oaks' elegant foyer stood John Wilkes, silver-haired, erect, radiating the quiet charm and hospitality that was as warm and never failing as the summer sun. Beside him Honey fidgeted and giggled as she called greetings to the arriving guests.
"Ellen," he murmured, kissing her cheek. "Radiant as usual. I see your daughters are following in your footsteps," he said, smiling at Carreen and Scarlett.
"I love your dress, Carreen," Honey gushed. Scarlett wanted to vomit on the lacy number. "You know my boyfriend's going to be here soon? Chuck Bass?"
"How... cosmopolitan," Scarlett drawled. "Dating a freshman."
Honey's eyes narrowed. They were the colour of puddle-water, dull and drippy. "He's mature beyond his years," she said stiffly.
"He wears a purple scarf," Scarlett said simply. And then she smiled and drifted away to join the party. She found her little protege in a cluster of van der Bilts. Blair wore a creamy lace frock that showed off her gamine figure to perfection. Unfortunately, she had paired it with a sparkling headband. Some people never learned. Or they were just to stubborn to know when other people were only looking out for their own good.
"Maureen," Scarlett said pleasantly, offering her hand to Tripp's new girlfriend. She had auburn hair and a sweet face that masked a manipulative nature. "And Tripp, you heartbreaker. Where are our guests of honor?"
"I left Charlie with Aunt Anne," Tripp said. "And I think I saw Melly with Ashley."
"Deeply involved in a debate," Blair said archly, smiling. "Something about Dickens versus Thackeray? Not your line is it, Scarlett?"
No, literature was not exactly her line. "Is it yours, Blair?" she asked coolly.
"I make it my business to know a little about everything. You never know when it'll come in handy."
Scarlett smiled as genially as she could under the situation. "Excuse me," she said. Before she left, she muttered in Blair's ear, "And take that stupid thing off your head."
It was all very discreet and charming. There was the gentle clink of flutes of champagne, the muted murmur of a dozen soft conversations. And still, it made Scarlett's head ache. She felt like ripping those calla lilies off the studiedly graceful floral arrangements, of ripping them into shreds. She snatched a drink off one of the waiters circulating with trays and drifted outside, through the French windows.
The patio was blissfully empty, thanks to the October evening's chill. All the same, it had been strung with fairy lights that looked as though there were fireflies flickering in the topiary. She took a sip from her drink and sat down on the broad lip of the black marble fountain. With her free hand, she rubbed her arms, wishing that she had thought to bring a shawl.
"Here."
She almost jumped before she realized it was Ashley's voice. She felt the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck and shivered. Then he put his jacket around her.
"Ash," she said lightly. "What are you-"
"Scarlett, is that you?" Hot damn, if it wasn't little Miss Goody Two-Shoes.
"Melanie, is that you?" she said, mimicking the Hamilton brat's sickly-sweet voice. Stu said she had a cough syrup voice - so sweet that it made you feel sleepy but good at the same time.
Melanie Hamilton was in a billowing cherry-print frock, very retro and lovely but it did nothing for her childishly undeveloped figure. Scarlett sat up straighter and crossed her legs, cheered up by the thought that she was far prettier than the other girl. As though that matters, she thought bitterly, a second later. Ashley's not shallow like all the others, he doesn't care about a girl for just her looks.
Melanie's curly dark hair was pulled back into a severe ponytail, it made her wide leaf-brown eyes seem all the bigger. She did have beautiful eyes and everyone said she was sweet - though they often couldn't remember her name. Just the Hamilton girl, or Colonel Hamilton's daughter. That never happened to Scarlett - everyone knew her name, she wasn't just Ellen Robillard's daughter. She made sure of that.
"What are you two up to here?" Scarlett asked sweetly.
Melanie and Ashley shared a smile that made her feel lonelier than ever. "Dickens," she said lightly.
"Thackeray," he said, more firmly. And then the two of them giggled like childen.
"I'm sorry, Scarlett," Melanie said. "It would only bore you."
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "Oh. You think I'm too shallow to understand?"
"Oh no," Melanie said quickly. "Ashley tells me you're just brilliant, that you're part of the mathletes at Constance? I'm just terrible with numbers." She wasn't. She was a National Merit Scholar. But Scarlett accepted the compliment all the same. She was the Captain of the Dance Team and a stellar mathlete - how many people could say that? Not one-dimensional, cookie-cutter Melanie Hamilton who was your stereotypical girl-next-door. She even baked cookies for God's sake.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she said, though she really didn't care if she was.
"Of course not," Melanie insisted. "Three's just more company." She sat down next to Scarlett and beamed at her. "I'm so glad to get to know you, before school starts. You see, I'm terribly shy, I don't know how I'll fit in at Constance. At Atlanta we'd known everyone for years but here at New York-" she sighed. "But I am excited. New York seems such a beautiful place."
Scarlett just stopped herself from snorting.
Ashley was looking down at her oddly. "Scarlett will help you fit in," he said, putting his arm around her shoulder. "She'll be your best friend - she'll be as nice to you as she is to me, won't she?"
"I'm not nice," Scarlett said lightly. "Not as a rule."
Melanie giggled. "Oh silly, I know you are," she insisted. "You're just too beautiful and brilliant to be anything else. And Ashley's told me such amazing things about you - really I'll feel braver knowing you're my friend."
You. Are. Not. My. Friend. "I have a very hectic schedule," Scarlett said stiffly. "I can't exactly-"
But Ashley was rubbing her shoulder now and she stopped abruptly. "Hmm?" she said, relaxing in his hold. "Keeping me warm?"
"You promise to be her friend, don't you?" Ashley said softly. If she had hypnotic eyes, Ashley had a hypnotic voice. Really, he could do anything with her when he was like this. It was unfair. "Scarlett, please? For my sake?"
Melanie was looking up at her with doe eyes. She had fallen under their spell, utterly and completely. "Fine," she said, a trifle ungraciously. "I'll be your friend and we'll play together like good little girls at school, ok?"
Melanie squealed and threw her arms around Scarlett. "Oh thank you!" she said brightly. "I knew you'd be nice, I just knew it! No matter what anyone else says about-" She stopped abruptly. "Oh I'm sorry, Scarlett-"
Scarlett disentangled herself from the tinier girl. "Don't be," she said with a short laugh. "I stopped paying attention to the things people said about me when I was uh... nine."
"Wow," Melanie said softly. "I hate it when anyone says anything mean about me, I start to cry and..."
No one would bother saying anything mean about you. You're just not interesting enough. Scarlett stood up, deciding that it wasn't worth freezing her ass off in the patio. Melanie didn't seem to be in the mood to unhook her claws from Ashley any time soon and Scarlett had never liked sharing him. "Well," she said, handing Ashley his jacket, "I suppose I'll see you in school, Melanie. As my friend."
Melanie smiled. "I look forward to it."
"So do I," Scarlett said, just as sweetly as the little brat. "So do I."