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 barel