ll player who I know for a fact always defaces our womyn’s center posters。 Should I stage an intervention？
—stilllove
a： Dear Still Love；
I’m sorry to hear about your romantic woes； but if your ex is just a bug to you； then maybe she wasn’t worth it to begin with。 Instead of postering for the womyn’s center； post a personal ad。 Who knows what will happen！
—GG
q： Dear Gossip Girl；
There’s a guy in my poetry class who’s that tortured； soulful type—the kind of guy who’s too busy being an artist to even think about things like food。 I’ve only seen him ingest instant coffee and cigarettes； which I think is cute； but my suitemates find creepy。 What do you think？
—hotforsoulful
a： Dear HFS；
Sounds like this particular soul may be in mourning for a muse。 My advice： Tortured artists rarely make stable partners。 Instead； find a happy…go…lucky munications major and read poetry to each other。
—GG
ready； set； go… again
One of the best things about being in school is the opportunity to have two fresh starts a year。 There’s September； with the new housing assignments； new books； and new professors； it’s the start of the academic year。 But January 1 is a golden do…over opportunity。 And some of us just might need a do…over。 Here’s to second chances。
You know you love me；
gossip girl
you never can say goodbye
“You okay； son？” Captain Archibald placed a firm hand on Nate’s shoulder outside All Souls Church on Lexington Avenue。 Around them； patrons were spilling out of the church onto the cold stone steps。 White lilies were set up around the entrance of the church as if for a celebration； not a funeral。
“I’m fine；” Nate muttered； though he was anything but fine。 His Brooks Brothers blazer was too tight across his shoulders； and his sky…blue Hermès tie felt like it was choking him。 It didn’t feel right to be dressed like this； it didn’t feel right to be back in New York； and it definitely didn’t feel right to be at Chips’s funeral。 He couldn’t believe Chips was dead。 He’d had cancer and hadn’t even bothered to tell Nate he’d been sick。 He’d been slowly dying for months now in Lenox Hill Hospital and hadn’t bothered to call； or e…mail； or even send a letter。
Nate hadn’t planned to e back to New York for the holidays。 He’d been at Deep Springs College for the past eight months； trying to sort his mind out。 He’d thought he’d done that with Chips on the Belinda。 That he had a handle on who he was and what he wanted from life。 That Serena and Blair wouldn’t confuse him as much as they had before。
But nothing could have been further than the truth。 After he saw them fighting； it was all too apparent that he could never be around them anymore。 There were too many feelings； too much history； too many swirling emotions。 It practically killed him that he was the one who’d caused all the problems in their friendship。
He’d immediately run to his parents’ vacation home on Mt。 Desert Island； Maine； and it was there； sitting on the beach and watching the waves roll in； that he thought of Chuck and his transformation from a monkey…toting metrosexual to a decent…seeming dude。 Immediately； he’d called Deep Springs and interviewed for a spot for spring semester。 Because all the students of Deep Springs sat on the admissions mittee； and all had a tremendous amount of respect for Chuck—and because Nate was consistently lucky—he’d gotten in。
Since then； he’d done a total one…eighty。 Deep Springs was intense and unlike anything he’d ever experienced。 Thirty guys living in one house； studying and working the farm together。 No girls。 No pot。 No drinking。 No drama。
Sounds； um； fun！
Maybe it was because the schedule sort of reminded him of his life aboard the Belinda with Chips； but he liked waking up at 5 a。m。 to milk the cows； then heading to the old…fashioned one…room schoolhouse to discuss Plato。 He’d always half…assed it in high school； so this was the first time he’d ever really tried to study and learn。 It was surprisingly satisfying。 It was sort of like what Chips had taught him： that you have to own the work before you can own yourself。 Chips had given him a ton of good advice。 And now he was gone。
Nate sighed in frustration。 It turned out he’d known he had cancer the whole time they were aboard the Belinda。 Nate thought of the days they spent exploring the world； docking on islands that seemed almost untouched by man。 Days spent at sea so far out you couldn’t see land； methodically fishing。 Of their quiet dinners on board； where they ate their daily catch and contemplated the multicolored sunset。 He’d had all the time； all the opportunities in the world—why hadn’t Chips said anything？ His father squeezed his shoulder in a gesture of solidarity。 Chips had been the Captain’s mentor as well。
“Thanks for ing；” Captain Archibald said； shaking hands with Chuck； who had been standing at a respectful distance。 Nate and Chuck had bee close this year； and when he heard the news about Chips； Chuck had insisted that he e with Nate； for moral support。
“Well…” The Captain trailed off unfortably； shifting from one tan leather Gucci loafer to another。 “I’ll be off now。 You’ll be all right？” he asked； as if unsure whether it was okay to leave。
“I’ll be fine；” Nate said stiffly。 He looked down and realized his knuckles were white from gripping the iron railing。 He loosened his grip and held out his hand。 The Archibald men weren’t huggers。 His dad took his hand； but instead of shaking it； gave it a gentle squeeze before turning crisply on his heel； heading down the stairs and up the avenue。 There was hardly any traffic today； as if out of respect for the dead。
“You okay； man？” Chuck asked； clasping Nate’s shoulder。 Nate nodded； glad that Chuck had insisted on ing with him。 In a crisp charcoal Turnbull and Asser suit with a white handkerchief in his breast pocket； Chuck looked like he had back in high school； but he still acted like the guy Nate had e to think of as his best friend at Deep Springs。
Nate squeezed his green eyes shut； hoping when he opened them he’d discover he’d been dreaming during one of his daily naps in the cow barn。 But when he opened his eyes； he saw the dark； overcast sky； hovering above the Upper East Side rooftops。 The clouds looked ominous； ready to unleash a torrent of hail that would destroy the white lilies outside the church。
A tear begin to trickle down the side of Nate’s nose。 He squinted to try to stop the flow； but it was no use。
“Fuck it。” He roughly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand。
“Dude； you okay？” Chuck pulled his gold Gucci aviators out of his pocket and handed them to Nate。 “You’re crying；” he remarked； unnecessarily but not unkindly。
“Thanks； man。 It’s just a lot…。” Nate’s voice cracked。 Chuck had been surprisingly thoughtful this trip； but he hadn’t known Chips； and Nate felt like this was something he needed to handle on his own。
“Are you Nathaniel？” A tiny； elderly woman wearing a pink tweed St。 John’s suit wobbled from the church entrance toward him on a pair of black Prada pumps。
Nate nodded。 Did he know this lady？
“Well； aren’t you handsome；” she mused； smiling broadly as if they’d met at a charity event and not outside a funeral。
“Thanks；” Nate grunted。 He was used to women of all ages menting on his looks。 It was just a fact of his life； like the fact he liked to sail and was naturally good at lacrosse。
Hey； it’s not bragging if it’s true。
“You know； Charles never had a son。 I see why he took a shine to you。 I’m his sister； Nan。 He and I had our differences； but I won’t speak ill of the dead；” she clucked as she reached into her ivory…colored Chanel purse。 “This is for you；” she said； thrusting a thick； ivory…colored envelope in his hand。 “And； of course； you’re invited to the small luncheon I’m having for friends。 It’s at my apartment。 Shall I give you the address？” she asked expectantly。
“I’m afraid—I can’t attend；” Nate said haltingly； hoping he wasn’t being rude。 All he wanted to do was go home； curl up in his bed； and shut the world out。 He wondered if he had any pot knotted in a black dress sock stuffed in the back of his top drawer。 He hadn’t wanted to smoke in ages； but right now he wanted to enter a deep pot…induced haze and never e out。
Nan gazed at Nate quizzically。 Deep crinkles appeared around the edges of her blue eyes； eyes that if he looked at from a certain angle； reminded him of Chips’s。 “Of course。 Good luck； son；” she added as she tottered away on her high heels。
“Thanks。” Nate regarded the wrinkled cream…colored envelope quizzically。 A wet snowflake landed on the envelope； smearing the N in his name。 Now it looked more like Fate。
“Ready to get out of here？” he asked Chuck as he marched down the wide stone steps。 He wondered if he could get a flight back to California tonight。 “I think I’m going back to the airport。 See if I can get back to Deep Springs；” Nate explained as they waited for the light to cross Lexington。
Chuck looked at him skeptically。 There was a glimmer of how he used to look back in high school； whenever someone suggested leaving a party。 “Are you sure about that？”
Nate stiffened； balling his hands in his jacket pockets。 “Yes；” he said firmly。 There was no one in New York he wanted to see。 New York was bad for him—full of past mistakes and regrets。
In little black dresses。
The light changed and they crossed the street。 “It’s New Year’s Eve。 No way will you be able to get out of here。 Just stay a couple days。” Chuck pointed out； trailing behind him across Eightieth Street。 Snow was beginning to stick to the street； blanketing the city in a thin layer of white。 “Besides； I’m having a party。”
Nate stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned to Chuck。 Didn’t he get it？ He’d just been at the funeral of someone who’d meant a lot to him； and all Chuck could talk about was a party？ “I don’t party anymore；” Nate said flatly。
“Too busy feeling sorry for yourself？” Chuck asked； briefly losing his patience。
Nate narrowed his green eyes。 Chuck sounded like Chips。 Nate could almost conjure the salt…sea air； standing on the deck of the Belinda； Chips angrily waving his tumbler of scotch out to an uncaring ocean。 “e on！” Chuck said； slapping Nate on the back as if to force him to buck up。
Chuck put hailed a cab。 “You’re ing with me；” he manded； pushing Nate into the backseat。
Aye； aye； Captain！
bohemian like them
“Is that it？ Or was that just your winter…into…spring wardrobe？ At least summer into fall might be slightly lighter。” Hollis wiped his brow theatrically and plopped down on the red hemp…fiber sewn couch。 He sighed in exhaustion； as if he’d nearly broken his back。 Really； all he’d done was help Vanessa carry her two suitcases of worldly possessions into the new Williamsburg apartment。
The new apartment； on the right side of the sugar factory this time。 In a brand…new luxury building with a concierge。 “Shut up！” Vanessa teased； perching on the overstuffed taupe ottoman across from him。
After Dan had kicked her out of the Humphreys’ last year； Vanessa had felt lost and heartbroken。 Not to ment