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第15部分（第1页）

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。

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