Chapter IV
It's Pronounced Absinthe not Absent
Naughty, naughty look who's caughty. Chuck Bass attending a parent teacher conference, with the Big Bad Bart present for once. We guess even a bad boy has his off days. Upper East Side parents may expect trouble from their offspring, but even they have their limits. By the look on Bart's face I'd say he was very close to boiling point. And I have a feeling C is going to have trouble talking his way out of this one. xoxo GG.
Chuck exited the limo as fast as he could, wishing to be anywhere else. His head was slightly sore, despite taking a hangover cure. Nothing he couldn't handle though. The problem was Bart, who had ridden with him all the way to school, and was now going to follow him through the halls to the principal's office.
Chuck had honestly thought his father would bail. He'd never bothered to attend a meeting before. Sometimes he'd send the secretary, most times he'd just make a call and sort it out within five minutes. It seemed today, however, Bart was in one of his parenting moods, where he felt he had to teach Chuck a lesson the hard way. And it was hard.
Chuck had been woken in the morning by a maid, who had been sent by his father to ensure he got up, dressed and was downstairs in time. Unfortunately it was one of the old, plumpy women who Chuck couldn't bring himself to seduce. He'd manage to arrive twenty minutes later (a personal record) downstairs. Bart, of course, was already standing by the limo. To Chuck's surprise Eric was standing beside him, Bart smiling at something Eric said.
When he spotted Chuck his smile immediately turned into a look of disapproval. Chuck settled his monogrammed scarf, which he knew Bart hated with a passion.
"Hello Father," he drawled, like he wasn't nervous about the impending meeting which was likely to spell his doom. "Eric."
"You're late," Bart responded, annoyed. He opened the limo door and settled into a seat.
"Where's Serena?" Chuck asked, pretending to tie his shoe lace he glanced up at Eric. He was feeling slightly nervous, he could almost mistake it for guilt as he looked at the younger boy. He'd never felt responsible for anyone before, but Eric, with his quiet unassuming ways, and cynical yet still innocent air, inspired what Chuck imagined to be brotherly concern.
"Uh...I think she decided to walk," Eric said evasively. "Anyway, how are you feeling? I woke up this morning and it was like a train had hit me,"
"About that..." Chuck began, straightening up. Eric held up his hands, and Chuck noticed he was grinning.
"It's cool," he said. "I'm not angry, Serena just over reacted like older siblings do. I needed cheering up, and you were just trying to help. No harm, no foul."
Chuck wanted to point out that he was Eric's older sibling too, but he let it slide and merely gave the younger boy one of his rare smiles. Eric returned the favour.
"Are you coming boys?" Bart barked from the car, he had been occupied with a phone call, but now he was ready to depart.
Chuck sighed, and Eric grinned as they slipped beside each other into the limo.
The ride over had been awkward to say the least. Eric had tried at some polite conversation, which Bart had responded to stiffly. Whenever Chuck spoke he was quick to admonish him for some imagined slight. Eventually Chuck shut his mouth and stared out the window, Eric ran out of topics and began fiddling with his phone, and Bart checked his watch every five minutes.
Chuck had never been more relieved to see the old building which housed Constance Billiard and St Judes. As soon as the limo paused he scooted out, and was tempted to slam the door behind him and order Arthur to drive. Unfortunately Eric also had to exit, and Bart was close behind. Chuck quickly turned so as not to look like he was associated with Bart. He caught site of a familiar strawberry blonde walking towards the steps and smirked, forgetting his troubles for a blissful minute.
"Who's she?" Eric asked, adjusting his satchel and watching the girl with curious eyes.
"Last weekend, it was a good one," Chuck drawled.
"But isn't she the French sub?" Eric squeaked, looking shocked at Chuck.
Before Chuck could reply, with a self satisfied smirk, Bart came to stand beside them. Eric moved slightly to give him way.
"What are you talking about?" he asked curiously, glancing at Eric's still shocked face.
"Just how amazing French is," Chuck replied, he was still watching the pencil skirts contents as it made its way up the stairs.
Bart followed his line of sight. Chuck couldn't help glancing up as he felt his father's blue eyes boring a hole into him. He resisted the urge to swallow as Bart's look. He wondered if perhaps he had gone too far this time, been too obvious with his quip.
"Take that off, you look ridiculous," was all Bart said gruffly, tugging the scarf off Chuck and shoving it into Chuck's hands. He then proceeded to walk towards the stairs himself.
Chuck looked after him, then down at his trademark. He considered returning it to its rightful place around his neck, but then he sighed and shoved it into his satchel, scowling.
"Do you want me to put that in your locker?" Eric enquired, looking at the satchel.
"Sure," Chuck muttered, handing it over. He trusted few people, but he knew the younger boy had too much integrity to mess with his things. "I should get going."
"Well...uh good luck," Eric said lamely.
Chuck let out a breath in a large gust, giving him time to compose himself. He then plastered a confident smirk on his face.
"I don't need luck, I'm Chuck Bass." He drawled, clapping the younger boy on the back he then strolled after his father. Eric watched him go bemused. Chuck was still a mystery to him.
Chuck sauntered into the school, trying to appear confident. Of course that was tempered by the fact that his father was walking behind him, looking as severe as ever. He'd managed to catch up to Bart, and surpass him. He could not stand for walking behind his father like a trained dog, not in school at least where he had a reputation to consider.
Bart, clueless as usual, had organized the meeting to begin just before the bell rang. This meant that Chuck had a considerable audience to witness his walk of shame. Knowing his father though, perhaps it hadn't been entirely by accident he was now walking the gauntlet in the halls of St Judes and Constance Billiard.
People watched and whispered, some confident enough to laugh, other passing comments behind their hands. Bart was looking at the kids disdainfully, like they were some abnormal species he'd never encountered before. Chuck wanted to slink away, feeling like a naughty child being marched along to time out. Instead he grinned and strutted ahead, hoping to win over the crowd by bravado.
He spotted Serena and Blair standing in the hall near the office doors. Serena cast one glance at him, then flicked her blonde hair and turned her back disdainfully. Chuck hadn't seen her since last night, his head gave an unpleasant throb as he memories tried to rear their head. Blair merely looked right through him, like he was transparent glass.
Chuck contemplated pausing beside her, demanding her attention. Perhaps the confrontation would lead to another interesting make up session. A small smile tugged at Chuck's lips as he thought of yesterday morning. He didn't have a chance to realise his theory, as Chuck's steps unconsciously slowed Bart quickened his to match.
"The headmistress office is through there," Bart commented, herding Chuck towards the office door and past Blair and Serena. Chuck was tempted to surrender to a disappointed pout, instead he managed to hesitate behind Bart, just long enough to blow a mock kiss to Blair. He smirked as her eyes widened in horror, he guessed he wasn't so transparent to her after all. "Come on," Bart growled, annoyed he tugged Chuck by the arm into the reception area.
"Mr Bass," the receptionist exclaimed, with widened eyes at the sight of the ever elusive infamous parent. She then spotted Chuck as he straightened his blazer, and her lips pursed into a prudish line. Chuck had never bothered to work his charm her. She was around her forties, and trying way too hard in his opinion, with her tight pin skirt showing thighs that should be put away by now, and overly bright lipstick. Certainly not his type, nor was there any incentive to make her his type.
Everyone knew if you wanted anything done in St Judes or Constance Billiard you befriended (or in his case wore down) the headmistress. Chuck believed he'd had the former headmistress, Mrs Wright, effectively trained to be resigned to his ways. Unfortunately, besides the pool incident, he had not yet had a chance to teach Ms Queller the same lesson. With his drama with Blair, Nate and the merging of the Van der Woodsens and Bass household, Chuck had barely bothered trying to get into trouble with a spectacular prank lately. He made a mental note to rectify that as soon as possible, you could never be too old to cherry bomb the toilets after all.
"We have an appointment with Ms Queller," Bart intoned crisply, talking to her as he would his own receptionist.
"Of course," the woman blustered, searching her papers. "Um...she'll be out in a few minutes if you'd just like to take a seat."
Chuck went to sit in one of the maroon chairs by the wall. No question where all the money was going in this place, he thought as he settled down into the plush, designer seat. Bart had not moved however. Chuck watched his father, expressionless, as he checked his watch then looked up at the receptionist.
"I was made to believe the meeting was at 8:25 exactly," Bart said, his tone implying that punctuality certainly was next to godliness in his philosophy. "I was hoping to get this over as soon as possible, I have a meeting at 8:50."
Chuck snorted loudly, causing Bart to turn his head and give him a disapproving look. Twenty five mutes, that was all the time Bart was willing to put aside to try and address Chuck's 'issues'. Typical really, he couldn't even spare a whole half hour for his only son. Chuck had always understood that Bart was an important man, and business always came first. But on occasions when he was in one of his moods (where his philosophy started sounding hollow to his ears, and his lifestyle began to bore him) the fact Bart ran a company which made billions did not seem the most important factor anymore.
"I'm sure she'll be out in..." the receptionist began, nervously brushing her manicured fingernails over the keyboards of her computer at Bart's hawk like look. Before she could finish the Headmistress' door swung open. Ms Queller stood there, her hair in a tight bun, her face giving away only polite interest.
"Um...thanks Ms Queller," Chuck heard an unfamiliar male voice. He watched curiously as a boy walked out of the office. His uniform was as pressed and pristine as any new student. His black hair was slicked back and he had a small swagger, one Chuck was familiar with. It was one of a boy who had just wrapped the headmistress around his little finger (or in Chuck's case driven her to distraction).
"I hope you'll enjoy your stay at St Judes Damien," Ms Queller said, smiling at the young man and shaking his hand.
"Oh, I'm sure I will," Damien gave her a small half smile, like he was laughing at a private joke. Chuck watched him with mild interest now, as Damien turned and walked towards the door.
"Mr Bass, Charles," Ms Queller said, drawing Chuck's attention towards her. Chuck rose languidly as his father quickly stepped forward and enveloped her hand in a very firm handshake. Despite himself his fingers fidgeted with his maroon blazer jacket, and his striped tie.
"Charles," Ms Queller called, Chuck looked up to realise his father had already entered the principal's office.
"Chuck," he corrected her, resisting the urge to clear his throat.
"Pardon?" Ms Queller raised her eyebrows slightly.
"I prefer to be called Chuck. I find it has a certain ring to it, Miss," he drawled, smirking suggestively as he walked towards the door she was holding open. He smirked as she looked at him, unsure what to make of this historically troublesome student which had now been thrust into her lap.
Bart had already taken the plum seat in the office. The dark decor of black, brown and red was supposed to promote a sense of calm and also display the high standards of the school, with a shiny awards cabinet in the corner. Chuck took the wooden seat next to the leather couch, slumping. Bart's blue eyes scanned his languid stance critically, and Chuck straightened up slightly, the points of confidence he had won with Mistress Queller slipping away.
He cast his eyes quickly away from Bart's sharp blue, watching as Queller sat behind the heavy oak desk. She opened her drawer, bringing out a familiar fat manilla file. Bart shifted in his seat, obviously surprised by the size of the file, which had his son's name in large black print in the top right hand corner. Chuck glanced at his father from the corner of his eye, resisting a smirk. He could guess Bart was probably wondering how the file had reached such proportions, when he had made sure to pay off most of Chuck's large misdemeanours. Of course it was the small things that added up.
"Before we begin is there anything you'd like to say Mr Bass?" Ms Queller enquired, training her gaze on Bart, who was sitting with perfect posture, immaculate as always.
"Actually, I have a business meeting at 8:50," Bart said, "I was hoping we could deal with this...issue within that time." His tone implied there was no room for negotiation.
"Well, with all respect, I'm not sure if that will be possible Mr Bass," Ms Queller said, glancing down at the large folder. "I've been looking over Charles folder this morning and in the years he's been at St Judes he certainly has been busy. His attendance has been erratic at best. Long unexplained absences, forged notes. Sneaking off school grounds without permission. Not to mention the various other serious misdemeanours he has committed." Ms Queller stated this all matter of factly, speaking in measured tones as she linked her fingers and rested them on the desk. Her body language clearly showed she was a woman here to wage a war, not just tackle a small battle.
"I was under the impression we were here to speak of Charles absences only," Bart said, glaring at Chuck. Obviously he knew who to blame for having to be late to his meeting. Chuck felt like his collar had shrunk significantly, he quickly tugged at it, surreptitiously undoing the top button hidden underneath his tie.
"Oh yes, though his absences are of upmost concern, I think it must be put into the context of his overall behaviour."
"Of course, and I would like to discuss Chuck's behaviour when I have the luxury of more time, but perhaps we could limit our discussion to the terms of Chuck's discipline for now." Bart said more firmly this time. Chuck concentrated on picking at a small piece of thread on the inside of his blazer, pretending to be unconcerned with their discussion. He knew all too well how this went, the school would let him off with a slap on the wrist, and Bart would donate a nice sum of money. Whenever Chuck was in his sight for the next week, he'd bring it up and completely savage his whole character, and every action. But there was nothing new about that.
"All right then..." 'if that's how you'd like to play it', Ms Queller's raised eyebrow suggested. "Suspension would be the usual punishment, in this case perhaps expulsion."
Chuck's head jerked up at the word, glancing at his father with some trepidation. Of course he could always buy Chuck's way into another school, but it would take a lot more money. There was also Chuck's reputation to consider, which had taken him many years to cultivate. Of course Chuck's reputation could be transferred to any school in the Upper East Side. But he had a feeling Bart wasn't going to be considering elite private schools in the region of New York, or perhaps even in America.
"Excuse me?" Bart had gone perfectly still, his lips barely moving. He stared at Ms Queller in shock. He was used to the routine of this (even though it was usually done over the phone, or through his secretaries.) He had been expecting to merely have to donate some money to keep the punitive measures for Chuck's indiscretions at the bare minimum, and be out of the school in five minutes. He had certainly not been expecting to hear the words expulsion, or even suspension.
"Under the school policy, with Chuck's very colourful record and countless chances, expulsion is the recommended option here." Ms Queller repeated, completely unruffled despite Bart's cold star and incredulity.
Bart composed himself, quickly losing his rigidity he entered business mode. "Perhaps we can negotia-" he began.
"Mr Bass I personally do not believe suspension or expulsion is the appropriate solution here," Ms Queller cut him off before he could start to haggle. "So I'm not going to implement either, at least not without giving Charles a chance to redeem himself."
Chuck's shoulders relaxed, he hadn't realised how tense or anxious he had felt at the prospect of being expelled, not until he felt the relief. It was like gaining a last minute reprieve at his execution. His thoughts drifted to Nate, Eric, hell even Serena. He carefully kept himself from thinking about a certain brunette, and how she was his main motivation for wanting to stay at St Judes. He didn't need to deal with those emotions now, if he had his way he would never deal with them.
"And how do you propose he do so?" Bart asked carefully, Chuck was pretty sure that his father thought there was no way he could ever redeem himself from being an epic disappointment.
"Well, a good start would be to attend school," Ms Queller said primly. Chuck refrained from rolling his eyes. "Secondly, perhaps Charles could get involved in school activities."
"Like community service?" Bart queried, and he sounded actually approving of the idea.
"Yes, getting involved in the community may give Charles the chance to realise what he can positively achieve if he puts his mind to it." In other words, it will keep me out of trouble, Chuck thought wryly. He didn't voice his thoughts however, biting his tongue to keep from blurting out a sarcastic reply. Bart's shoulders had released some of their tension and Chuck didn't want to push his luck.
"What do you suggest?" Bart asked, perhaps he was hoping Chuck would be press ganged into repairing the subway, or some other manual labor which would keep him out of Bart's, for lack of a better expression, hair.
"Well at the assembly yesterday, which Charles missed," with this she gave Chuck one of her practiced stern looks. Chuck merely grinned, he had been raised by Bart Bass,no one had a more frightful look. "We remembered one of our students who had recently passed. A young man who was just graduated a year before. He died of alcohol poisoning. "
Chuck frowned, he remembered reading a post to that effect on gossip girl last week, but he hardly saw what that had to with him.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Bart applied the relevant lip service. Chuck noticed his fingers were in his pocket, probably fiddling with his phone. He was obviously eager to get back to the office.
"Yes it was a tragedy," Queller intoned gravely, "We've decided, in his honour, to have a group of volunteer senior students organize an alcohol and drug awareness week. I think this would be a perf-"
He couldn't help himself; he actually chuckled aloud at the irony of the situation. Chuck, the poster boy for scotch and all sorts of narcotics, representing alcohol and drug awareness. Chuck representing righteousness when he was all about depravity. He was sure his peers would get a kick out of it, even if the headmistress couldn't appreciate the joke.
"I'm sorry Charles, do you find something funny in the situation?" Queller raised her eyebrows, looking at him. She was like a hound dog that had caught an unpleasant scent.
Chuck may have made some smoothly polite excuse for his outburst, it was on the tip of his tongue. But then he noticed Bart glaring at him, looking pointedly at his $200 watch to indicate that he did not have time for his acting out.
"Actually I d-," Chuck began, grinning wickedly at his father.
"Chuck," Bart snapped, his voice cutting, a vein popping on his forehead. "I would think very carefully if I were you, before I answered that question."
Chuck did think about it for a second, mouth still open, lips ready to form a reply. He contemplated whether he dared, at Bart's threatening look he decided he did not. He shut his mouth with a snap, and merely sat back, keeping a smirk on his face like he found the whole situation amusing.
"You were saying Ms Queller?" Bart prompted, turning his full attention back to the headmistress. She had watched their change curiously, but she did not comment.
"I think this committee would be perfect for Charles to join." She continued smoothly, pushing back a strand of hair which had dared to escape from her bun. "It's made up of his peers, allowing him to network, and provides him with an opportunity to do something positive in school, and make a difference. There's also his college application to consider, which I'm sorry to say seems quite bare."
Chuck's smirk grew wider with each sentence, but he kept his tongue firmly planted in his mouth. Who needed extracurricular activities for college, when your father could buy your way in? Not that he was planning to go to college, no Chuck's goals were set much higher.
"And do you require anything else from Charles?" Bart enquired, making moves to rise and leave.
"Well there is the issue of his grades Mr. Bass," she stated, Bart fell back into his seat, resigned.
"I thought he is passing all the required classes?" Bart enquired, tehnsing again.
"He's doing slightly more than passing," Ms Queller gave Chuck a stern look, he wondered if she knew his little secret. "But there is an inconsistency I have noticed between his in class assignments and his exam results. A significant marginal difference. It's not of large consequence, yet. But, if it continues, it has the potential to affect Chuck's future...prospects."
Chuck's heart sunk slightly. Who knew Queller was such an efficient bitch?
There was a moment of silence as Bart possessed this veiled threat, trying to understand the significance. Chuck could almost see his father's quick mind putting two and two together, and inevitably coming to four.
"What are you suggesting?" Bart asked carefully, probing how serious or imminent Queller's threat was. He glanced at Chuck, his eyes like a hawks, probing. Chuck felt like sinking into his seat. Bart certainly had no clue about Chuck's tendency to pay others to sit his major exams. Chuck had been careful to hide it from him. He got enough flac for his behaviour, clothing style and every breath; he did not need more about his reports.
"Oh I'm suggesting nothing Mr. Bass," Ms Queller said, all innocent eyes. Chuck knew then she had no concrete proof to pin him to plagiarism, that's why she was merely bringing it up as a topic of interest. Of course it didn't help that she had now made Bart aware. "Just that perhaps Charles could do with some assistance with his studies, in order to ensure his grades are consistent. We wouldn't want his future academic career to be jeopardized due to sloppy grades."
Bart clenched his jaw, the muscles popping out. Chuck wondered if his father could turn any redder. He blew out air through his nostrils slowly, and then attempted a polite smile, it came out more like a grimace.
"I'll see to it," he said firmly.
"Well I think that is all then," Queller smiled back. "If Charles endeavours to be punctual and attend all his classes, as well as the committee meetings, then hopefully no further disciplinary action will need to be taken."
"Good," Bart said shortly, rising now he checked his watch.
"It was nice meeting you Mr. Bass," Queller said, also rising and putting out her hand.
"Likewise," Bart said, with little emotion. Chuck rose after his father, feeling slightly nervous. He knew Bart prided himself on hard work, and only respected those who strived to do their best in every possible way. Hence why he and Chuck never could see eye to eye. The one thing that Bart seemed to begrudgingly regard about Chuck was that, if nothing else, at least he managed to keep his grades at a decent level. Now that illusion had been shattered Chuck was sure it was going to be a bloodbath.
"Charles?" Bart looked expectantly at his son.
"Thank you," he murmured to Queller, resisting the urge to grit his teeth.
"Think nothing of it," she stated, smiling blandly. Chuck made a personal note to deal with her somewhere down the track.
"Goodbye," Bart said as Queller moved to open the door for him, she repeated the sentiment, but Bart was already out the door and into the office. Chuck hurried to catch up to his father, but not before Queller could get the final word.
"Oh and Charles," she called out as he stepped into the office and quickly headed for the exit out in the hall, "The first ADA committee meeting is today after school."
Chuck gritted his teeth as he glanced around and saw there was a sophomore girl in the reception area, as well as a junior boy, both staring at him. He contemplated whether he should flip the old bag off, but decided against it. Instead he merely ignored her and kept on walking.
As he expected Bart was in the corridor. He was just closing his phone, obviously sending a text to his associates. He looked up as Chuck's polished black shoes made a noise on the floorboards.
Chuck glanced at his own watch, his father was certainly going to be late to his meeting, It didn't help Chuck's case. He looked up at Bart.
"Father I…" he began, his throat feeling very dry suddenly, his voice hoarse.
"Don't.," Bart snapped. "I have never, in your entire life, been more disappointed in you as I was in there. Although heaven knows why I keep on expecting better. I should know what you're like by now."
With these bitter words Chuck flinched slightly as if he had been hit. He opened his mouth to say something at his father's enraged words. The difficult thing was that Bart wasn't yelling he was merely cold and matter of fact, disgust seeping off him. Chuck couldn't muster any rage in response to his clinical observations. He just felt like slinking away to 1812 and drinking himself into oblivion. But there was no chance of that as Bart continued to glare a hole into him with those icy blue eyes.
"I just hope you take full advantage of this opportunity you've been given Chuck," he finally growled at Chuck's helpless silence. "Because either you start showing improvements in your schooling, in your general attitude, or your next and only option is going to be military school. Do I make myself clear?"
Chuck felt himself wilt with each word, he didn't even bother to look and see if anyone could hear. He felt like he always did around Bart, a worthless screw up who never could do anything right.
"Do you?" Bart repeated, annoyed. He always expected an answer.
"Crystal," Chuck replied quietly. All quips, all smart ass comments, seemed to have left him.
"Good," Bart said dismissively, Chuck's obedience was no less than he expected. With that he turned to leave, not even bothering to say goodbye. Chuck watched him walk down the hall, suit pristine, not one crease. He wondered if once he left the building he'd shake off the miniscule dust from his pant legs, like he shook off his nuisance son.
Suddenly he heard a door slam shut and quickly turned. Jenny Humphrey stood there, school books in hand, quickly pushing the blonde fronds of her razor cut fringe, from her eyes. She was gripping an art portfolio, and had obviously just exited the empty studio room, which was open for art students to study in when they had a free period. She was standing stock still, like a deer caught in head lights, her wide blue eyes trained on Chuck. He wondered how long she had been there.
"Chuck I'm sorry," she said, her voice quiet and hoarse. Obviously she had been there long enough to hear the verbal lashing his father had given him.
On any other occasion, if he had a bit of time to compose himself, he probably would have asked her innocently 'For what? I'm not the one living in Brooklyn'. Or maybe 'I'm Chuck Bass, what's there to be sorry about?' But he wasn't in the mood for witty quips, and she was a Humphrey, the last person he wanted to see at his weakest.
"Eff. Off," he snarled viciously instead, and kicking the locker near him he stormed away. He was quite sure the last time he'd deigned to attend a full day of school; he'd stashed a bottle in his locker. Now was as good a time as any to start and finish it.
A/N: Okay I lied. The embarrassing confrontation between Chuck and Blair in a classroom will happen in the next chapter. (The Damien mentioned is the same character from the show, just making an earlier appearance and causing some trouble with Chuck, Serena and Blair).
Thank you to all those who reviewed, you motivate me to keep on writing, and updating regularly. Please if you read this review and don't just add to story alerts! Thank you. = )
ellibells: I agree, Blair really needs to sort out Chuck lol. So Blair-Chuck squabble coming up next chapter = D. I love Chuck and Eric as brothers, really miss that bond = (. And yeah, light hearted Serena is my favourite = ). I'm glad you liked it, thank you for the review = ).
ChairLoveK: I'm glad you love it. Blair=Chuck scene coming soon = P. Thank you for the review = ).
Ami: I love Chuck as a bad boy. And I think they didn't give us enough before he became reformed (though he's still kind of bad, but in a way too old for his age way now). Thank you for the review = ).
Jwoo2525: I so agree, Ken doll lol! I miss it so much it aches = (. Season 1 hair and awesome unique fashion sense, they make him look like an old man now = (. Thank you for the review = ).
Tvrox12: Eric is feeling a little daring, so he might be taking a few more risks = ). Even good boys are bad sometimes. Some Chair scenes soon. Thank you for the review = ).
Mlharper: I'm glad you like it, and at least one person is looking at them lol = ). Thank you for the review = ).
Picture of the week: Google: "gossip girl season 1 photo 15" (It's on the first page, bottom row. A picture of Eric, Bart and Chuck in front of the school. This chapter was actually shorter, but after seeing that picture I added Eric into it = ) ). Sorry as I added the beginning part I did not have time to edit properly, so excuse any grave grammatical errors.