波波小说

第35部分（第2页）

attend？　We？re　the　ones　you　love　to　look　at？not　to　mention　talk　about？and　we？re　at　our　summer

best。

But　summer？s　almost　over；　and　change　is　in　the　air。　The　Hamptons　are　emptying　out；　the

jet…setters　are　jetting　back　from　Europe　（by　private　jet；　of　course）；　and　our　families？　decorators　are

already　out　there　collecting　samples　for　us　to　choose　from　for　our　dorm　room　d？cor。　Yup；　the

countdown　has　officially　begun：　in　just　ten　days　the　most　recent　graduates　of　Manhattan？s　most

exclusive　private　schools　are　headed　to　college。　Pretty　soon　you？ll　find　us　settling　into　our　dorm

rooms　on　Ivy　League　campuses　across　New　England；　the　first　fallen　leaves　crunching　beneath　our

new；　camel…colored　Coach　riding　boots　as　we　stride　purposefully　to　classes　with　names　like

Explorations　in　the　Romantics　and　Chaos　Theory。　No　more　back…to…school　coffees　on　the　steps　of

the　Met；　no　more　sneaking　out　of　AP　French　class　for　a　cigarette；　and　no　more　itchy　poly…blend

uniforms　。　。　。　unless　you？re　planning　on　driving　all　the　frat　boys　wild　by　dressing　up　as　a　pigtailed

schoolgirl　for　Halloween。

College　is　the　time　to　reinvent　yourself　（read：　your　chance　to　pretend　you　weren？t　a　colossal

loser　in　high　school）；　so　with　only　a　little　over　a　week　left　before　we　leave　for　those　institutions　of

higher　learning；　it？s　time　to　figure　out　who　you？re　going　to　be　next。　What　color　is　your　parachute；

my　dears？　The　options　are　endless；　but　let　me　help　you　eliminate　one：　the　role　of　observant；

fabulously　chic　Web…logging　gossip　is　already　taken。

And　while　we？re　all　busy　reinventing　ourselves；　there　will　be　a　whole　new　set　of　gorgeous　girls

in　our　school　uniforms　and　TSE　cashmere　cardigans　trying　on　oversize　tortoiseshell　sunglasses　at

Barneys　after　school。　It？s　hard　to　believe；　but　we？ll　soon　be？sigh？replaced　by　the　guys　and　girls

who　have　been　carefully　studying　us　from　afar。　So　consider　this　our　last　hurrah：　it？s　our　chance　to

take　the　silver　Range　Rover　LR3s　we　got　for　graduation　for　a　ride　at　daybreak　around

Manhattan？s　silent　streets。　Our　last　chance　to　wake　up　the　investment　banker　next　door　with

rooftop　parties　at　our　Fifth　Avenue　townhouses。　To　spend　a　fortune　on　Chlo？　bags　and　Marchesa

gowns　at　Bergdorf？s　on　daddy？s　black　AmEx　card。　Ah；　heaven。　Speaking　of　which　。　。　。

trouble　in　paradise　。　。　。

Everyone　who？s　anyone　saw　or　has　heard　about　the　spectacle　ofB　andN　atS　？s　birthday　party　up

at　her　country　house　in　Ridgefield；　Connecticut；　last　month。　But　was　I　the　only　one　who　sawS

standing　out　by　her　pool　that　night；　dipping　her　toes　in　the　water　and　wiping　her　face　with　the　back

of　her　hand　afterB　andN　disappeared　upstairs？　Were　those　real　tears？　Seems　mighty　close　to　a

certain　perfume　ad　if　you　ask　me。　。　。　。　And　what　did　she　think　of　their　early　a。m。　departure　on　her

birthday　morning？B　andN　may　have　sailed　off　into　the　sunset？literally：　their　sailboat　was　last　seen

due　south　of　Hyannis？but　how　long　can　they　really　stay　at　sea？　Something　tells　me　there？s　more

drama　on　the　sun…splashed　horizon。

。　。　。　and　trouble　on　the　home　front

No　one？s　ever　accusedD　of　being　happy；　but　I？ll　be　the　first　one　to　call　him　out　on　being　pretty

darn　。　。　。　gay。　And　not　just　the　metrosexual；　let？s…go…shopping　at　Thomas　Pink　kind？although　his

wardrobe　could　do　with　a　little　spruce…up？but　the　kissing…other…boys…kind。　Is　he　ready　to　e　out？

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