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every bit of light。 A special red darkroom lamp glowed overhead； but it was still hard to see。
Goosebumps appeared on Serena？s bare arms and legs。 The darkroom always gave her the chills。
Mr。 Beckham was the only cool young male teacher at Constance。 Except he thought he was
cooler； younger； and better looking than he actually was。 Fancying himself an artist； he wore
chunky black rectangular glasses and tight black long…sleeved Club Monaco T…shirts that showed
off his gym…toned chest。 He spiked his dark blond hair with gel and inserted the odd French word
whenever he could。
？Ah； Serena；？ he exclaimed； pushing away the poppy…seed bagel with cream cheese he？d been
snacking on。 He spread his arms out wide。 ？Quelle pleasure！？
Serena fiddled with the button on the waistband of her light…blue…and…white seersucker spring
uniform skirt and shifted from foot to foot。 Why was talking to a teacher outside of class always
slightly embarrassing？
Especially when you suspected the teacher had a teensy…weensy crush on you。
？Um； I just wanted to thank you for nominating me for senior speaker；？ Serena told him。 She
stuck her thumb in her mouth and began gnawing on its already chewed…on pearly pink nail。
Note to all： Only ridiculously beautiful people can get away with this sort of behavior without
grossing everyone else out。
？Anyway；？ she continued； ？I just wanted you to know that I crossed myself off the list of
nominees。？ She moved on to her ring finger； which hadn？t been chewed on since breakfast。 ？I？ve
never been that good at making speeches。？
Plus； Blair is the only other person nominated； and she really wants to do it； and I？m afraid if I
get it she might murder me in my sleep。
Mr。 Beckham took off his glasses and began to clean them with the bottom of his black T…shirt；
revealing a bare patch of surprisingly buff stomach。 Serena tried not to stare and wondered
fleetingly if he was gay。 His bare skin seemed totally indecent； like he was flashing her or
something。
？You know why I nominated you；n？est…ce pas ？？ he asked； looking searchingly at her in the red
darkness as he continued to clean his glasses。
Mais oui。 Because you have le hots pour elle？
？Well ？？ Serena began； searching for an excuse to turn and flee。 There was suddenly something
creepy and unsanitary about the fact that Mr。 Beckham had been eating a bagel while developing
film。 She wondered if he was addicted to the chemicals or something。
Mr。 Beckham put his glasses back on and sat back on his metal swivel stool。 ？Serena； I？ve been
watching you since I came here； back when you were only in seventh grade。 And I know it sounds
corny； but you really lit up my darkroom。？ He stopped to clear his throat； clearly too nervous to
think of any words in French。 ？If I weren？t your teacher； I？d ？？
He？d ？ pour fixer all over her and lick it off？ Some advice：Run； girl； run！！！！
Serena was pretty sure she didn？t want to hear anything more。 ？Um； Mr。 Beckham？ Sorry； but I
really have to go。 I just wanted to say thanks for being so supportive。？ She held up her hand and
waved stiffly； even though he was sitting right in front of her。 ？I guess I？ll see you at graduation；？
she added with faux cheerfulness。 Then she turned to push her way through the heavy curtains
again。
？Wait。？
Her stomach filled with dread and she shivered again in her thin white baby tee。 She could hear
voices outside in the hallway。 Someone would hear her if she yelled loudly enough。 She turned
around。 ？I really do have to go。？
Mr。 Beckham slipped off his stool and walked toward her。 ？May I ？？ He swallowed； his Adam？s
apple bobbing nervously。 ？Would you mind if I just ？ gave you a petit； petit kiss？？ he asked
quietly； pinching together his thumb and forefinger to demonstrate just how small the kiss would
be。
Serena hesitated； reluctant to turn this into a huge deal but eager to get rid of him。 She could just
say no and leave。 Or she could freak out and run up to Mrs。 M？s office and turn him in。 Or she
could let him give her a little tiny kiss to remember her by and then just forget about it forever。
She shrugged her bony shoulders and turned to offer up her smooth； delicately sun…freckled
cheek； making it quite clear that Mr。 Beckham wasn？t about to get any lip action。
He took a step forward and placed a careful kiss in the middle of her cheek； like a stamp。 ？Tant
pis；？ he breathed wistfully and then flung open the darkroom curtains； as if to let her know that he
had no intention of molesting her any further。
Guess he didn？t care much about exposing his film。
？Adieu； Serena。？
In the hall just outside the darkroom； Mrs。 M stood dressed in her favorite red； white； and blue
Talbots linen pantsuit with Ms。 D？Agostino； the mousy freshman Spanish teacher； who was
holding a gold metal tin full of chocolate truffles。 ？Ooh； you little she…devil！？ Mrs。 M cooed
delightedly as she popped a truffle into her mouth。 Then she noticed Serena and her brown eyes
grew wide； like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar。
Serena fought back a fit of giggles； suddenly feeling like a balloon with too much air in it。 How
bizarre life was。 She grinned at Mrs。 M and snatched a truffle from the tin as she hurried toward
the school exit。
Oh； the things we seniors get away with。 Now； run； baby；run！！
N？s new drug of choice
The final lacrosse team party of the year was in the St。 Jude？s gym； which was kind of lame；
since it was like eighty degrees outside； and a party in the park would have been much better。 But
the boys were all underage； and so a few six…packs in the gym and some pizza was all Coach
Michaels would allow。 Besides； the boys had all gotten high at Jeremy Scott Tompkinson？s house
beforehand and would all go on to get trashed someplace else afterwards； so what did it matter？
Nate picked at his pizza and squeezed his eyelids shut。 The last lax party of the year。 The last lax
partyever 。 Damn。 The tears were already beginning to fall。
The gym was up on the roof of the six…story East End Avenue redbrick school building； with
giant plate glass windows overlooking the shimmering East River and Queens。 One afternoon near
the end of tenth grade； Nate； Jeremy； Anthony Avuldsen； and Charlie Dern had volunteered to put
away the gear after lax practice。 They？d hung out for a while shooting hoops and then hidden from
Rick； the janitor； behind the giant metal rack where the balls were stored。 When Rick was done
and the lights went out； they？d lined up in front of the windows？right where Nate was standing
now？watched the sun set； smoked some weed； and eaten Starbursts until nine。 An alarm had gone
off when they finally left the building； but they？d sprinted to Carl Schurz Park a few blocks away
and had never gotten caught。 That had been a good time。 Now the good times were about to be
over。 Maybe they already were。
Nate？s eyes scanned the horizon above the silvery water and low industrial buildings。
Somewhere southwest of Queens was Williamsburg； Brooklyn； where Blair lived now。 He
wondered what she was doing。 Standing on her roof； maybe； smoking a Merit Ultra Light and
sticking thumbtacks into the little voodoo dolls she？d probably made of him and Serena。
Don？t flatter yourself； honey。
Nate flicked the tears away from his gorgeous green eyes with his thumb and dropped his barely
touched slice of pepperoni pizza into the garbage。 Anthony came over； slung his thick…muscled
arm around Nate？s shoulders； and kissed him on the cheek with mock tenderness。 ？What？s the
matter； sweetheart？？
？Fuck off；？ Nate replied； jabbing Anthony in the ribs。
His friend refused to be shaken off so easily。 ？Will you just drink a beer with us and stop moping
already？？ An overgrown hank of white…blond hair swung over Anthony？s freckled face and he
brushed it away。 ？Dude； it？s party time！？
Nate laughed and allowed himself to be shepherded over to where the other guys were standing；
drinking beer and listening to the coach talk。 Jeremy hitched up his way…too…big dark blue Levi？s
and tossed Nate a bottle of Heineken。 ？Hey； did you hear this？ Every Wednesday after practice
Coach has been popping Viagra and meeting his wife at the Pierre Hotel。？ He cracked open
another bottle for himself and took a long swig。 ？Who would have thunk。？
Coach Michaels stuck his hands into the pockets of his ever…present red Lands？ End windbreaker；
looking pleased with himself。 ？Who says we can？t enjoy ourselves？？
Nate raised his bottle in silent answer to the coach？s question and chugged half its contents。
Coach Michaels had all the gruff； fatherly qualities a guy could wish for in a coach； but Nate had
never had much affection for him。 The coach had made him captain halfway into the season only
because the junior who was supposed to be captain went mysteriously AWOL from school。 And
the coach had yet to congratulate Nate on getting into Yale； Brown；and Harvard。 It didn？t surprise
Nate that the coach needed Viagra to get it on。 He was sort of a cold fish。
Not that Nate was one to judge。 After the trunk