honestly didnt know what
to believe anymore. Plus, Serena still hadnt actually told anyone what she was doing back,
so why should Blair say anything in her defense? Maybe some of it was true. Maybe some of
this stuff had really happened.
Besides, passing notes is so much more fun than taking them. So Im going to be writing,
directing, and filming this. And Ive already cast my friend, Daniel Humphrey, from
Riverside Prep, as Prince Andrei, Vanessa explained. Her cheeks heated up when she uttered
Dans name. But I still need a Natasha for the scene. Im casting her tomorrow after school,
in Madison Square Park at dusk. Anyone interested? she asked.
The question was a private little joke with herself. Vanessa knew no one in the room was
even listening to her; they were too busy passing notes. Blairs arm shot up. Ill be the
director! she announced. Obviously she hadnt heard the question, but Blair was so
desperate to impress the admissions office at Yale, she was always the first to volunteer
for anything.
Vanessa opened her mouth to speak. Direct this, she wanted to say, giving Blair the
finger. Put your hand down, Blair, Mr. Beckham sighed tiredly. Vanessa just got through
telling us she is directing and writing and filming. Unless youd like to try out for the
part of Natasha, I suggest you focus on your own project.
Blair glared sourly at him. She hated teachers like Mr. Beckham. He had such a chip on his
shoulder because he was from Nebraska and had finally attained his sad dream of living in
New York City only to find himself teaching a useless class instead of directing cutting
edge films and becoming famous.
Whatever, Blair said, tucking her dark hair behind her ears. I guess I really dont have
time. And she didnt. Blair was chair of the Social Services Board and ran the French Club;
she tutored third graders in reading; she worked in a soup kitchen one night a week, had
SAT prep on Tuesdays, and on Thursday afternoons she took a fashion design course with
Oscar de la Renta. On weekends she played tennis so she could keep up her national
ranking. Besides all that, she was on the planning committee of every social function
anyone would be bothered to go to, and the fall/winter calendar was busy, busy, busy. Her
PalmPilot was always running out of memory.
Vanessa flicked on the lights and walked back to her seat at the front of the room. Its
okay, Blair, I wanted a blond girl for Natasha anyway, she said. Vanessa smoothed her
uniform around her thighs and sat down daintily, in an almost perfect imitation of Blair.
Blair smirked at Vanessas prickly shaved head and glanced at Mr. Beckham, who cleared his
throat and stood up. He was hungry, and the bell was going to ring in five minutes. Well,
thats it, girls. You can leave a little early today. Vanessa, why dont you put up a
sign-up sheet in the hall for your casting tomorrow?
The girls began to pack up their bags and file out of the room. Vanessa ripped a blank
sheet of paper out of her notebook and wrote the necessary details at the top of it. War
and Peace. Short film. Try out for Natasha. Wednesday P.M., sunset. Madison Square Park.
Park bench, Northeast corner. She resisted writing an exact description of the girl she
was looking for, because she didnt want to scare anyone away. But she had a clear picture
in her mind, and it wasnt going to be easy to find the right girl.
Her perfect Natasha would be pale and blond, a natural dirty blond. She wouldnt be too
obviously pretty, but shed have the kind of face that made you want to look at it. She
would be the kind of girl to make Dan glowfull of movement and laughterexactly the
opposite of Dans quiet energy, which burned deep inside him and made his hands shake
sometimes.
Vanessa hugged herself. Just thinking about Dan made her feel like she had to pee. Under
that shaved head and that impossible black
to believe anymore. Plus, Serena still hadnt actually told anyone what she was doing back,
so why should Blair say anything in her defense? Maybe some of it was true. Maybe some of
this stuff had really happened.
Besides, passing notes is so much more fun than taking them. So Im going to be writing,
directing, and filming this. And Ive already cast my friend, Daniel Humphrey, from
Riverside Prep, as Prince Andrei, Vanessa explained. Her cheeks heated up when she uttered
Dans name. But I still need a Natasha for the scene. Im casting her tomorrow after school,
in Madison Square Park at dusk. Anyone interested? she asked.
The question was a private little joke with herself. Vanessa knew no one in the room was
even listening to her; they were too busy passing notes. Blairs arm shot up. Ill be the
director! she announced. Obviously she hadnt heard the question, but Blair was so
desperate to impress the admissions office at Yale, she was always the first to volunteer
for anything.
Vanessa opened her mouth to speak. Direct this, she wanted to say, giving Blair the
finger. Put your hand down, Blair, Mr. Beckham sighed tiredly. Vanessa just got through
telling us she is directing and writing and filming. Unless youd like to try out for the
part of Natasha, I suggest you focus on your own project.
Blair glared sourly at him. She hated teachers like Mr. Beckham. He had such a chip on his
shoulder because he was from Nebraska and had finally attained his sad dream of living in
New York City only to find himself teaching a useless class instead of directing cutting
edge films and becoming famous.
Whatever, Blair said, tucking her dark hair behind her ears. I guess I really dont have
time. And she didnt. Blair was chair of the Social Services Board and ran the French Club;
she tutored third graders in reading; she worked in a soup kitchen one night a week, had
SAT prep on Tuesdays, and on Thursday afternoons she took a fashion design course with
Oscar de la Renta. On weekends she played tennis so she could keep up her national
ranking. Besides all that, she was on the planning committee of every social function
anyone would be bothered to go to, and the fall/winter calendar was busy, busy, busy. Her
PalmPilot was always running out of memory.
Vanessa flicked on the lights and walked back to her seat at the front of the room. Its
okay, Blair, I wanted a blond girl for Natasha anyway, she said. Vanessa smoothed her
uniform around her thighs and sat down daintily, in an almost perfect imitation of Blair.
Blair smirked at Vanessas prickly shaved head and glanced at Mr. Beckham, who cleared his
throat and stood up. He was hungry, and the bell was going to ring in five minutes. Well,
thats it, girls. You can leave a little early today. Vanessa, why dont you put up a
sign-up sheet in the hall for your casting tomorrow?
The girls began to pack up their bags and file out of the room. Vanessa ripped a blank
sheet of paper out of her notebook and wrote the necessary details at the top of it. War
and Peace. Short film. Try out for Natasha. Wednesday P.M., sunset. Madison Square Park.
Park bench, Northeast corner. She resisted writing an exact description of the girl she
was looking for, because she didnt want to scare anyone away. But she had a clear picture
in her mind, and it wasnt going to be easy to find the right girl.
Her perfect Natasha would be pale and blond, a natural dirty blond. She wouldnt be too
obviously pretty, but shed have the kind of face that made you want to look at it. She
would be the kind of girl to make Dan glowfull of movement and laughterexactly the
opposite of Dans quiet energy, which burned deep inside him and made his hands shake
sometimes.
Vanessa hugged herself. Just thinking about Dan made her feel like she had to pee. Under
that shaved head and that impossible black
Similar Books
