AN: I'm so sorry for the unexpected FF hiatus. My daily life got unexpectedly so busy that I had no time to write or even log on. I missed this site and all of you all the while but I felt so bad for leaving fics unfinished and it took me a while to finally motivate myself to log back on. Thanks to the amazing ASadAir who beta'd this chapter way back and by doing so, allowed me to return with a fic update! I really thought I would be returning to this site with no work to make-up for the hiatus but ASadAir saved the day :) :) Thank you all for your patience and if you're still reading, it truly means everything :) I'm still pretty busy day-to-day and can't promise weekly updates but I am really going to strive for bi-weekly chapters.
Despite her first day qualms, Yale proves to be better than it had been in all of Blair's vivid imaginations. The campus air feels like it's infused with a heavy dose of opium and she practically glides to and from her classes. By the end of the week, her shoulder aches from overstuffed totes, filled with texts and notebooks. Yet, she's never felt lighter.
The only thing still missing in her collegiate dreamworld is the reliable circle of friends and the tight-knit roomie relationship. But there's still plenty of time to fix that and there's no time like the present.
"I was thinking," Blair says on Saturday. "We should have a sushi soiree in our dorm. So we can meet everyone else in our building."
Georgina's eyes flick up from where they had been idly glancing through a magazine. "A sushi party?"
Blair feels an instant wave of regret at her suggestion upon surveying Georgina's wrinkled nose. She forces her voice to be breezy, just like she'd been practicing since the age of three- the way they talk in Sex In The City, so she'd sound a little more Uptown than Upstate. "Yes. We could make the rolls together using a video tutorial and then serve it up on vintage platters. Maybe just invite our floor, so there's enough for everyone."
This explanation only seems to bemuse Georgina further. "I hate fish."
"We'll make veggie rolls, in that case. Avocado, cucumber, carrot, maybe even sweet potato." Blair presses on, not letting Georgina deter her. "I think it would be a great way to branch out."
Georgina shakes her head. "I don't think so, I'm going to go meet up with a few friends now actually. So I'll see you later."
Blair sinks back onto the bed bemoaning the fact that even in college, even at Yale, she still can't quite seem to fit in.
11th grade.
Albany, NY.
"Zoe," Jessica's perfectly symmetrical face rests on her hands, poised like a schoolgirl. "Tell us what happened with Brent."
Snap.
Blair breaks her carrot stick in half and then in half again until it's bite-sized. She drops it, letting it fall onto the ground of the cafeteria.
"So I obviously had to push him off of me. Like ew, a freshman, 'I date seniors only, thank you.'" Zoe waves her ring-clad hand dismissively.
Blair is trying so hard not to listen but it's impossible not to hear the chatter and let it drag the blade through her chest a little deeper. Another Monday, another story of the party she wasn't invited to. By her so-called friends.
"Honestly, Zo," Juliet begins, sagely, her cerulean eyes full of self-important wisdom. "It would have been social suicide to hook-up with him. I probably wouldn't have let you sit with us today."
Jessica titters, as though Juliet's just said the funniest thing and Blair has the urge to be sick. She stands up, starts to make an excuse, but then realizes if they didn't care enough to invite her to the rager at Damien's Saturday night then they probably won't even notice she's gone.
Another wave of nausea hits at the thought and she makes it into the bathroom stall just in time.
Afterward, she pops a mint in her mouth and tells her reflection she won't do that again. At least not once she finds herself some new friends.
Dan is in line at the bookstore trying to decide if he should just order his textbooks online in used condition like everyone else. But Lily wouldn't hear of it, he was certain. Georgina would probably rat out his frugal college lifestyle and then he'd have to hear about how Daniel, a used textbook doesn't show how serious you are about academia.
More like, a stepson who buys used textbooks might damage her already treacherous Upper East Side reputation. Marrying a former rockstar had its cons, at least in the eyes of the WASPs.
Sometimes, he wondered what his life would have been like if his father hadn't married Lily van der Woodsen when he was five. They certainly wouldn't have lived in the sprawling townhouse overlooking Central Park. Maybe they would have been in his father's old loft in Williamsburg. The place Lily compared to a mechanic's workshop. As though she had ever maintained or even driven a vehicle before.
Every now and then, a memory from toddlerhood pops into his brain and the fuzzy reverie always slips away before he can properly analyze it. He doesn't know why but he could swear these brief flashes seem happier than any of the memories he's ever made in the sterile place he called 'home' for the past thirteen years of his life.
One time, he asked Jenny if she ever missed Brooklyn and she just furrowed her brow. She didn't even remember living there. In her eyes, the stork had dropped her off on Fifth Avenue in a silk swaddle and Lily had pushed her home in a pram.
Jenny's whole perspective of her life seemed to be a reverse Cinderella story, in fact. Lily was a fairy godmother who bippity boppity boo'ed her into happiness and her own biological mother served as the evil stepmother. Anytime they went to visit Alison in Hudson Jenny would call it 'banishment.' She acted like Hudson was someplace to be ashamed of stepping foot in.
Thinking of it now and feeling another fresh wave of irritation, Dan opens up Amazon and presses order on a used copy of "Film Studies: An Introduction" with a few ink stains on the cover. Just to spite Lily.
He regrets it instantly, she is the one paying for the Ivy League education and decides to stay in line like the good stepson he is. But he doesn't press cancel on the used copy order, he has a feeling he might want it after all.
When he gets back to his dorm, his roommate is out and Dan has the sparse room all to himself. He glances around at the bare walls wondering if he should hang some art. Maybe next time he's in Hudson he'll see if he can salvage a painting of his mother's that's not horribly inappropriate. He still cringes at the memory of stumbling upon a ten-foot-high painting of Alison's sheet-draped boyfriend, Alexander, last winter break.
For now, he hangs up a few records above his bed and he decides it makes the room look a tiny bit less soulless. He feels accomplished realizing that he's spruced up his dorm and avoided Georgina Sparks for an entire week.
He'd call that a pretty good start to college.
Blair is late to her Intro to Film class on Monday and has to sit next to another fidgety guy, or perhaps that same one she keeps running into. He's clad with two copies of the Film 150 required textbook. Showoff, she thinks in irritation, she couldn't even afford one. The last used copy had sold before she could hit checkout her shopping cart on Amazon yesterday.
"Open to page 32 of your books," Professor Donovan instructs before beginning his lecture. Luckily, it should cover most of whatever would be written in the book. So, Blair just flips to a blank page in her notebook filling in the date in the upper right corner and begins dutifully scrawling everything he says.
Just as her hand is beginning to cramp only a quarter of the way through the lecture, something bulky is slid across the armrest dividing and her seatmate. She glances down and looks up to find the showoff offering his extra book.
In a flash, his brown-eyed gaze is flicked back to the front of the lecture hall as the book teeters between them. He doesn't pay it any more attention like he really couldn't care if she takes it or not.
She's pretty sure this is the strangest interaction she's had on campus yet. She subtly glances over to see what page his book is opened to. Flipping the pages of the borrowed copy, Blair notices hers is brand new while his own is blotted with ink. Strange he wouldn't just let her use the worn-down version and keep the new one for himself. Though that would have been tacky, so she supposes she should give him credit for chivalry. And for saving her hand from imminent carpal tunnel.
After the lecture has concluded, Blair passes the book back to him without meeting his eye.
"I forgot mine, so thank you." The lie spills out easily in a smooth, crisp tone.
If she's lucky, by tomorrow there'll be a new listing for a used copy online she can order and have arrive by Wednesday's class. He'll never know that at the start of class she had willed her brain to go photographic and memorize each and every page of the book she couldn't afford.
"No problem." He replies, getting to his feet. His eyes flick up to her headband and she fights back the urge to touch the silky-satin band. She feels his gaze drop and they make eye contact for just a fraction of a section before something weird appears in his gaze. Disappointment, perhaps.
Or more likely, judgment.
Then, he's gone and she's left with the awareness that once again she didn't meet the expectations of yet another fellow student. Just like with Georgina.
He could probably smell the scholarship on her. Her nearly-empty book bag with its fraying handles probably gave away her middle-class status.
Guys with enough money to duplicate all their textbooks weren't interested in girls who couldn't even afford one. She didn't need the memories of Jessica or Zoe or even Juliet's wild weekend antics compared with her own bookish Saturdays to remind her of just how undesirable she was.
That single dismissive look from him had done that for her.
As she walks out of class, she tries to be thankful that at least he hadn't called her out on her lie.
9th grade.
Albany, NY
Their laughter is deafening, echoing off the empty hallways. Blair wants to jam the ends of her headbands into her ears so she doesn't have to hear it anymore.
"Blair," Jessica heaves. "You didn't actually think Damien Dalgaard would ask you out, did you?"
Juliet chimes in. "Oh B, this is why we adore you. You're just priceless."
"Guys," Zoe tries to come to her defense. "I mean Blair wouldn't know any better would she? To those who have never been kissed, 'Bring your notebook' might very well be the signal."
Blair cuts in, defensively. "I've been kissed."
Her cheeks flare, giving away her lie.
"By who?" Juliet challenges.
"Nate." The lie is easy and automatic. It's hardly a lie if it'll be true soon, anyway, Blair rationalizes.
"Oh yeah, 'Nate.'" Juliet uses air quotes as though Nate is her imaginary friend, which she probably thinks he is.
"We're actually going to the football game together on Friday night," Blair says in sudden inspiration, instantly regretting it. She hates football and she doesn't even know if Nate is free then. But she'll make him be free, whatever it takes. She'll cry if she has to, that'll work.
Juliet arches a well-groomed eyebrow. "Really? Jess and I were just talking about going to watch Zo cheer. Let's all sit together then. I can't wait to meet Nate." She uses that incredulous tone again.
"Perfect." Blair shoves her quivering hands under the table, praying they don't give her anxiety away.
On her way to fourth period, she rapid-fire texts Nate on her flip phone.
Please, please come to the football game at my school Friday night. Please.
Nate replies:
Football? Don't you hate sports?
Blair hovers by the classroom door, typing:
I do, but this is important. So you'll come?
Yeah, fine.
Thanks! You're the best. Xoxoxo
She deletes the last 'xo' and presses send before going into class with a beaming smile.
Dan sits in the fourth row of the lecture hall watching as the girl with the headband studiously avoids him by taking a seat on the opposite side of the aisle. In the privacy of his mind, he's unimaginatively nicknamed her 'Headbands.' Not knowing much about her, he couldn't think of anything less trite.
On Monday, he thought he was doing her a favor by lending her his book, in fact, he had been about to tell her to keep it. It's not like he needed it. But then he finally looked away from that distracting headband she wore to properly observe her face and his words slipped out from under him. Looking in her eyes was like deja vu. He knew he had never met her yet for some reason, he recognized her. Or at least, he had recognized those somber brown eyes which though guarded, had stirred some long-forgotten memory in his brain.
It spooked him so instead of offering back the book, he fled. He didn't want to think about what those eyes meant or what that vague emotion reminded him of.
Today, when he arrived to class he had resolved to attempt to offer the book once more. He washed his brain of all inky traces of that feeling that had blotted his mind during their last interaction and now, he was ready to conduct himself in the generous manner Lily would love to brag about. Compassion was his most redeeming quality in her eyes.
But Headbands was making that impossible. It was mildly infuriating considering he was planning to give her the brand new book too, not the splotchy one. But now, with her sitting all the way across the room he can hardly bestow it upon her.
Whatever, he thinks. At least this way, he can keep the book and sell it back online. Not that he needs the money but still, it's less of a hassle than trying to be generous to someone who clearly didn't want any help.
It's then that he thinks of Vanessa, picturing her at NYU, camcorder in hand. Another person who didn't "need his handouts." He tries desperately to remember the last good day they had together, before the break-up. It's not until the lecture has concluded and the room has emptied out that he remembers.
It was the day they rented rowboats in the park. As they flailed the oars about in their poor attempts at steering, they had discussed the many ways their relationship wouldn't change once they were at college with the naivety expected of a pair of eighteen-year-olds.
As Dan stalks off to his next class, he attempts to put the past behind him. Forget Vanessa, forget Headbands and all other girls who remind him of simpler times, of lofts in Brooklyn and trust fund-free futures. Out-of-focus memories that'll never become sharp even with fierce determination.
They all fade successfully into the recesses of his mind. Until the blonde girl in Friday's class asks if the seat next to him is taken and he says yes, without even thinking. Like his brain auto-piloted to saving the seat for Headbands.
So much for putting the past behind him.
A few minutes later Headbands walks up the carpeted steps, glances around the filled lecture hall and heaves an audible sigh as she realizes the only empty seat is the one next to him. She drops into the seat he's accidentally saved for her with her gaze averted, pointedly away from him. Somewhere across the room, the blonde is glaring at him, Dan can feel it.
But he ignores the daggers as he pushes the extra book over the threshold again. He watches Headbands, in case she looks up, but she doesn't. This time, she takes the offering without hesitation nor a single glance his way. It seems she's resigned to the fact that this is their new arrangement and she'll be accepting his extra book every week whether she wants to or not.
He tries not to smile as he sinks back into his seat.