gossip girl 7 英文-第15章

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like　her？　That　he　didn't　want　to　live　with　her？　This　wasn't　what　she'd　imagined。　They　were　
supposed　to　sit　together　in　an　intimate　corner；　accidentally　knocking　knees　and　touching　elbows　
and　getting　more　and　more　into　each　other；　all　the　while　pretending　to　listen　to　Dan　sing。　


But　maybe　that　was　part　of　the　problem。　Dan　wasn't　singing　at　all；　only　the　audience　was。　


'Do　you　miss　me？　Do　I　miss　you？　
I　know；　I　know　
That's　not　the　fucking　point。　
We　were　kinda　like　mowing　the　grass…　
Looked　good；　smelled　good　



But　such　a　pain　in　the　ass！'　

Dan　clutched　his　stomach；　gasping　into　the　mike；　which　he　held　in　white…knuckled　fists；　his　eyes　
red…rimmed　and　his　sorry　mouth　gapping　like　a　dying　fish's。　A　fish　dressed　like　the　king　of　MTV　
Raps；　in　weird　baggy　pants　and　ugly　sneakers；　his　hair　all　sweaty　and　gross　and　his　neck　shaved　
unevenly。　

See　what　happens　to　you　when　we　break　up？　Vanessa　thought　for　a　fleeting；　gloating　moment。　
Then　again　Dan　looked　so　pathetic　it　was　almost　embarrassing　to　admit　she　even　knew　him。　She　
glanced　at　Beverly。　He　was　biting　his　cuticles　and　wiggling　his　foot　like　someone　waiting　for　a　
bus。　

All　of　a　sudden　the　distinctive　sound　of　vomit　rising　to　the　surface　blared　over　the　speakers　and　
Dan　staggered　offstage；　taking　the　microphone　with　him。　The　band　continued　to　play　even　louder　
still；　with　Dan　retching　miserably　in　the　background。　

Way　gross。　

Vanessa　touched　Beverly's　elbow。　〃Maybe　we　should　go；〃　she　offered　apologetically。　It　felt　sort　of　
wrong　to　leave　Dan　retching　backstage　when　they'd　once　been　so　close；　but　then　again；　he　was　the　
one　who　wanted　to　be　a　rock　star。　Besides；　there　was　probably　a　gang　of　hot　blond　Raves　groupies　
moping　Dan's　head　with　a　cool；　damp　towel　and　spoon…feeding　him　mineral　water　at　that　very　
moment。　He　didn't　need　her　anymore。　

Beverly　nodded　and　slipped　of　the　table。　〃There's　this　party　my　Pratt　friends　are　putting　on　that's　
been　going　on　since　March。　Let's　check　it　out。〃　

He　held　out　his　hand；　and　Vanessa　noticed　for　the　first　time　that　he　was　missing　the　last　joint　on　
the　middle　finger　of　his　left　hand。　

Ew！？！　

She　tried　not　to　stare　and　allowed　him　to　pull　her　to　her　feet。　If　only　Dan　would　e　back　
onstage　long　enough　to　see　her　leaving　with　another　guy。　But　the　club　was　way　too　crowded　for　
ex…girlfriend　sightings；　and　besides；　Dan　was　otherwise　occupied。　

Again　the　sound　of　retching　came　over　the　speakers；　nearly　drowning　out　the　music。　

A　little　advice；　dude：　We　all　know　how　attached　you　are　to　that　mike；　but　next　time　you're　gonna　
hurl；　please　leave　it　behind？！　


BETTER　IN　TRANSLATION　

Luckily　for　Dan；　Damian　and　the　other　members　of　the　band　had　enough　confidence　and　humor　
not　to　get　all　uptight　about　the　fact　that　their　new　lead　singer　was　puking　his　guts　out　a　few　feet　
offstage。　They'd　played　right　through　Dan's　little　episode；　subtly　cut　the　sound　to　his　mike；　and　
then　segued　into　an　old　Raves　song　that　Dan　had　never　heard　before：　

'Babycakes；　you　make　my　eyes　scream　
Lick　the　drips；　then　toss　the　e　a…waaayee'　


No　wonder　why　they　were　looking　for　a　songwriter。　

The　crowd　went　wild；　singing　the　words　with　more　passion　than　ever。　Dan　remained　offstage　with　
his　head　between　his　knees；　trying　to　remember　how　he'd　gotten　himself　into　this　situation　in　the　
first　place。　How　on　earth　had　he　gone　from　reclusive　high…school　poet　to　the　baggy…pants…wearing　
front　man　of　a　famous　band　when　he　so　obviously　lacked　the　mettle　for　it？　

Before　the　gig　started；　he'd　done　what　Damian　had　suggested　and　drank　some　vodka。　Okay…　he'd　
drunk　close　to　half　the　bottle；　but　instead　of　relaxing　him　or　giving　him　the　courage　to　perform；　it　
had　made　him　feel　totally　toxic；　especially　when　bined　with　an　entire　pack　of　cigarettes。　

Well；　duh！　

The　light　was　dim　backstage；　and　the　wooden　floor　was　sticky　with　spilt　beer　and　cigarette　ash。　
Dan　gritted　his　teeth　as　another　wave　of　nausea　gripped　him；　but　he　squeezed　his　eyes　shut　and　
fought　it　off。　Suddenly　someone　tapped　him　on　the　shoulder。　〃Eet's　all　right；　mon　cher。　'Ave　a　seep　
of　tonique　et　voila…　you　are　better；　yeah？〃　

Dan　looked　up　to　find　a　gorgeous　girl　in　her　early　twenties　standing　over　him　with　a　little　bottle　of　
Schweppes　tonic　water　and　a　glass　of　ice　in　her　hands。　She　poured　the　tonic　over　the　ice　and　
squatted　down　beside　him。　

〃Here。　No　lime；　yeah？〃　

Dan　didn't　know　what　to　say。　He'd　never　drunk　tonic　without　vodka；　but　at　this　point　he'd　try　
anything。　The　girl　had　long　honey…colored　hair　and　was　deeply　tanned。　She　was　wearing　a　tight　


white　tank　top　and　a　swishy　green　skirt　that　barely　covered　the　tops　of　her　long；　tan　thighs。　Her　
eyes　were　olive　green　and　she　kind　of　smelled　like　pine　nuts。　He　took　the　glass　and　put　it　to　his　
lips；　taking　a　tiny　tentative　sip。　It　would　be　just　his　luck　for　the　sip　to　backfire　on　him；　spewing　all　
over　the　girl's　beautiful　hair。　Miraculously；　though；　it　didn't。　He　took　another　sip；　and　then　another；　
and　with　each　sip；　his　head　cleared　ever　so　slightly。　

〃Zat's　enough；〃　the　girl　told　him　firmly　and　took　the　glass　away。　She　put　it　and　the　empty　bottle　on　
top　of　an　unused　amp　and　turned　back　to　Dan。　〃When　zee　boyz　are　fineeshed；　they　vill　make　a　
party；〃　she　continued；　her　olive　green　eyes　sleepy　and　confident。　〃And　zen　we　vill　talk。〃　

Dan　nodded　obediently；　as　if　she　was　making　plete　sense；　he　was　pretty　sure　the　girl　was　
French；　and　when　she　said　〃And　zen　we　vill　talk；〃　it　almost　sounded　like　she　had　more　than　a　little　
polite　chit…chat　in　mind。　But　how　could　she　possibly　find　him　attractive　in　his　current　state？　
Maybe　his　performance　translated　better　in　another　language。　

The　girl　stood　in　the　wings；　watching　the　ban　finish　up　their　song。　〃Zey　will　play　two　more　songs　
et　puis　finis；　yeah？〃　she　declared。　

Dan　nodded　again。　That　sounded　about　right。　A　tattoo　encircled　the　girl's　tanned　ankle。　At　first　
glance　Dan　thought　the　tattoo　was　of　a　snake；　then　he　realized　it　was　a　fox　curled　around　her　leg　
asleep。　

Oh；　the　poems　he　could　write　about　that　fox　if　only　he　had　a　pen；　a　notebook；　and　a　large　container　
of　extra…strength　Advil！　

He　cleared　his　cigarette…abused　throat。　〃I'm　Dan；〃　he　croaked；　extending　his　hand　but　not　daring　to　
stand　up。　

The　girl　smiled；　a　sexy　little　gap　appearing　between　her　front　teeth。　Then　she　walked　over；　grasped　
his　clammy　hand　and　bent　down　to　kiss　his　clammy　cheek。　〃I　know　who　you　are；〃　she　murmured　
breathily　into　his　ear。　〃Et　je　m'appelle　Monique。〃　

Hmmm；　Dan　mused　drunkenly。　Was　there　even　a　word　for　foxy　in　French？　

YALE　LOVES　NEW　YORK　



Stanford　Paris　III　lived　in　the　penthouse　at　1000　Park　Avenue　in　Carnegie　Hill；　one　of　the　oldest　
and　most　elegant　doorman　buildings　on　the　Upper　East　Side。　But　Mr。　Parris's　Chippendale　
furniture；　medieval　tapestries；　and　eighteenth　century　British　sculpture　collection　went　unnoticed　
by　most　of　the　guests；　including　the　van　der　Woodsens。　They　were　used　to　such　elegance；　and　it　
only　made　them　feel　more　at　home。　

〃My　grandson　wanted　me　to　have　the　party　at　the　hotel；〃　Stanford　Paris　II　confided　to　Mr。　van　der　
Woodsen　as　he　shook　his　hand。　〃Or　at　the　Yacht　Club。〃　He　winked　at　Serena's　mother。　〃But　I　
wasn't　about　to　pass　up　an　opportunity　to　host　so　many　beautiful　women　in　my　own　home！〃　

Serena's　mother　smiled　her　gracious　
you…can…say…anything…to…me…you…old…lech…and…I'll…never…lose…my…poise　smile；　and　Serena　giggles。　
Maybe　old　Stan　Parris　wasn't　so　bad　after　all。　She　shook　the　ancient　New　England　aristocrat's　hand　
and　then　stood　on　tiptoe　and　planted　a　flirtatious　kiss　on　his　withered　old　cheek　just　to　piss　her　
parents　off。　

〃I　say；〃　Mr。　Paris　exclaimed。　〃Yale　certainly　knows　what　it's　doing！〃　

〃Easy；　Granddad；〃　warned　a　tall　blond　boy　with　an　adorable　dimple　in　his　chin　and　amazing　
cheekbones。　〃Remember　you　have　a　bad　heart；〃　the　boy　scolded　his　grandfather。　

〃It's　not　my　heart　I'm　worried　about；〃　Mr。　Parris　grumbled。　He　clasped　the　boy　on　the　shoulder　
with　a　wrinkled　hand。　〃Miss　Serena　van　der　Woodsen；　this　is　my　grandson　Stanford　Parris　the　
Fifth。〃　

Like　anyone　actually　cares　how　many　Stanford　Parrises　there　are？　

Serena　waited　for　the　boy　to　blush　with　embarrassment　and　mutter　about　how　plain　old　〃Stan〃　
would　be　just　fine；　but　he　didn't。　Obviously　he　thought　his　title　was　the　best　thing　ever。　What　did　
they　call　him　at　school？　she　wondered。　Number　five？　Stan　5？　

〃Here's　your　name　tag；　dear。〃　Serena'　smother　pasted　a　bumper…sticker…sized　white　nametag　with　
'Serena　van　der　Woodsen；　Ining　Fall'　written　on　it　in　blue　marker　over　Serena's　breast；　like　
some　sort　of　hideous；　adhesive…backed　tube　top。　

Serena　pretended　not　to　mind。　〃Thanks；　Mom；〃　she　said；　cupping　her　hands　over　her　hest　to　
smooth　out　the　nametag。　Every　male　in　her　presence　let　out　a　little　gasp；　all　getting　excited　for　
Yale's　coed　dorms　next　year。　

They　were　early　and　the　party　was　thin。　Boys　in　Hugo　Boss　suits　and　ties　and　girls　in　long　Tocca　
skirts　and　buttoned…up　blouse　lurked　by　their　parents　sides；　smiling　awkwardly　and　guzzling　


champagne。　The　whole　scene　made　Serena　feel　like　she　was　a