Blair sighed and picked a piece of lint off her jeans, lazily flicking into the air and staring at it drop onto the bedspread. She knew that she was supposed to be happy and thrilled that Yale had finally accepted her; now she could go off with Nate, her on-again off-again boyfriend, and Serena to Yale together, and they could do all the things they did in high school that made them famous, like steal each other's boyfriends, cut class to go to Chloe sample sales, and party on school nights like they meant it.

Or maybe not.

For the first time in her life, Blair was seriously feeling depressed. She had heard countless stories about what had gone on in college, and despite the fact that it was supposedly a fun, exciting place, it also meant you had to prepare for whatever the hell you wanted to do in life later on, and Blair still had not the slightest idea what she wanted to do.

Maybe she and Serena could even screw college and go off onto their own. Blair lay back on Aaron's bed, thinking of what they could do together. But besides living on the streets as drunk homeless people, Blair couldn't think of anything else. Before she could get off the bed and go to the lame celebration party that her family had arranged, Blair's phone rang again.

She pulled it out of her bag, which she had dropped on the floor upon entering the bedroom, and answered it. It was Serena.

"Hey, Blair!" she said excitedly. "What's up?"

"Nothing," said Blair. "Oh, and I got into Yale."

"Oh, my God!" said Serena. "Seriously? Blair, that is so fuckin' awesome!"

"Yeah," said Blair. "I know. Seriously, though, Serena, something is, like, wrong with me. I know I should feel all excited and everything, but I just feel depressed, you know?"

"Depressed?" said Serena, who probably didn't even know what the word meant because of her always-happy attitude. "Blair, come on! You got into the school you've been plotting to get into since you were, like, two!"

"So?" said Blair, getting down from the bed. "You know what? Screw college. I'm not going."

Serena could tell that Blair was just in one of her bitchy moods. "Hmmm," said Serena, pretending to think carefully. "I think you need something fun to do to cheer you up?"

"Oh, you mean like celebrate with my idiotic family?" said Blair, who felt like throwing up again.

"No way!" said Serena. "I heard that there's a party at some hotel around here, and a lot of people are going. I think you should go, too."

"I'm not going to any damn party," said Blair, looking at herself in the mirror hanging on the wall. She saw a sullen, pout-faced teenager who looked like the stereotypical teen that was always complaining about how horrible her life was.

"Oh, come on, Blair, stop being such a bitch!" said Serena jokingly. "You know you want to go."

Blair sighed. She wasn't in the mood to party, but the prospect of hanging with her family for the rest of the night wasn't what she wanted to do, either. Besides, at the party, Blair could get drunk as a cow and forget about her screwed-up life.

"Fine," said Blair. "I'll go!"

"Woo-hoo!" said Serena. "I'll come to your building in about 15 minutes, kay?"

"Sure, whatever," said Blair, feeling a little better. She hung up and tossed the phone onto the bed and walked to the closet to see what to wear. The closet seemed to be giving out on the effort of holding two people's wardrobes, especially Blair's huge one. After about five minutes of searching through the mass of clothes piled on the floor and hung lazily on the rod, she chose a black strapless top and darker jeans, which seemed to be her uniform for times when she didn't want to dress up for party. A pair of strappy, silver 4-inch Manalos completed her boring outfit.

Blair drew a thin line of eyeliner on her bottom lids, swiped some eyeshadow on her upper lids, and put on a coat of M.A.C. Lipglass. As she was combing her fingers through her hair, Serena entered her room, looking gorgeously amazing and dazzling, as usual.

"Ready to enjoy your life, bitch?" said Serena, giggling.

Blair sighed. "Ready," she said, staring at herself in the mirror.