chapter TWENTYTHREE.

Blair opened the front door to the Waldorf penthouse and peeked inside, hoping that her mom was asleep or busy having sex with Cyrus or something so that they wouldn't have to engage in the aforementioned 'talk' about her 'condition'.

Little Jenny Humphrey had completely added to the wreckage of her hair when they'd fought in the courtyard; now not only was it dripping wet from the pouring rain, but it was sticking out at certain angles as well. She'd had to run all the way home with her hand on her head, both to block out some of the rain and to hide her hair from the rest of the Upper East Side.

She still couldn't believe the look on Jenny's face when the young blonde had approached her in the courtyard - it was priceless, a look she'd never forget. It was that rare, satisfying look that she got whenever someone truly and fully despised her with every fiber in their being. And while Blair was certainly short on friends these days, Jenny was the one person with whom she could honestly make an exception; she didn't need the little fourteen year old girl and her phony attitude at the moment, nor would she ever.

Blair kicked off the damp, jet black pair of ballet flats she'd been wearing and tossed her red headband aside aimlessly. "B? Is that you?" Aaron walked into the room barefooted, smoking an herbal cigarette with his shirt off - what, did he just not like wearing clothes or something?

The brunette placed her hands on her hips and stared at the dreadlocked boy in annoyance. "What is it with everyone all of a sudden thinking they can call me B?" She clenched her teeth. "As I've already told the last unwelcomed person that called me that - the person who just so happens to be cringing in pain down at the courtyard as we speak - only my friends call me B."

Aaron smiled sincerely (and right now, sincere equalled annoying in Blair's eyes.) "Right, but I happen to know for a fact that you're short on friends. So what's the harm in me calling you that?"

Blair chuckled bitterly. "Where do you get off judging me? I only met you this morning, you hippie freak."

"Right, and you just kissed me this afternoon. I get the feeling relationships move quickly when you're involved in them, Blair Waldorf." He laughed at his own attempt to be charming and took another drag on his cigarette. He was actually pretty sexy when his shirt was shed, but he was most certainly not Blair's type. And with the rate that Eleanor and Cyrus' relationship was moving, the two teens would probably be siblings-in-law in no time.

"Ugh, whatever. Can you at least throw on a fucking shirt while you're here? This is still my house, you know? Just because our parents are dating doesn't mean we're, like, friends now."

"Aw, that's too bad. I was so looking forward to being BFFs with you, B," Aaron said, making his voice more high pitched and putting ten times more emphasis on his S'es. Blair just rolled her eyes, turning to hang her coat on the antique coatrack her mother had purchased at an auction nearly a year ago.

And speak of the devil: Eleanor strode into the room just then, still wearing the same silk lavender robe Blair had seen her clad in last. Neither her hair or her teeth had been brushed, which meant only one thing: she'd been having sex with Cyrus throughout the duration of the day. Just the thought made Blair want to thrust her index finger down her throat and hurl into a toilet.

"Oh hello, mother," Blair greeted the woman with a faux smile, crossing her arms protectively.

Aaron left the room this time, sensible enough to know when he wasn't needed at least part of the time. "You're late, darling," said Eleanor, her tone making it quite obvious that she didn't feel like calling anyone 'darling' at the moment. She smoothed out the wrinkles in the cashmere sweater Blair was wearing and sighed with disappointment, shaking her head.

"Don't forget to change outfits before the benefit party tonight," Eleanor instructed her daughter, her voice business-like.

Blair shook her head in disbelief, about to roll her eyes. She decided to restrain herself, though, just in case her mother would blow up in her face like she sometimes did at random, when her daughter made a minor gesture that she couldn't stand. "Sorry I was late," Blair lied, tucking a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. "Maybe I wouldn't have been in Aaron wasn't suddenly attending St. Jude's right next door, and I didn't have to give him a damn grand tour of the school."

"Watch your mouth, young lady," Eleanor scolded. Then she reached over to the marble mail table that stood beside them and picked up several thin brochures. She handed each one to her daughter. "I'd like you to look these over and decide which one you feel you'd be best suited for. As soon as you finish off your junior year in the city I want you to transfer over to Ridgefield. They have some of the best rehabilitational facilities there. I think they could really help you."

Blair's eyebrows furrowed, looking down at the brouchures in her hand. Hope. Breakway. The Care Center for Troubled Teens. She scoffed, tears already forming in her eyes. "So what, you're just gonna send me away now, because you feel like it?!"

Eleanor swallowed and shook her head, her eyebrows arched at her daughter's unexpected reaction. "Blair, how could you possibly think that? I am your mother. I'm doing this for your own good."

Blair laughed bitterly, turning on her heels and starting to walk away, her damp hair bouncing as she did so. She couldn't believe how horrible her life had gotten in the past three days. She wanted to scream into her pillow until her tears ran out and her mother dropped dead. "Wow mom, that was really original!" She began stomping up the marble steps, up to her room.

Eleanor followed her daughter and stood at the bottom of the staircase, watching the younger brunette leave. "Please try to understand the position I am in, here, darling."

Blair whirled around, the tears now streaking the rest of her face. "The 'position' you're in? What, you mean having to choose between your reputation and your daughter? Gee, now that I think about it I really should be feeling sorry for you, mom!" She collapsed onto the step she'd been standing on right then and there, covering her eyes with her hands as she sobbed loudly. Eleanor walked up the steps to where her daughter sat and joined her there, sitting on the marble and cradling Blair against her chest. She brought one hand up to stroke the girl's hair as well.

"Mom, please don't make me go away!" Blair's voice was laced with defeat and sadness, making her mother's heart melt entirely. She was grabbing onto Eleanor's robe for all she was worth, salty tears soaking through the material. "I promise you, taking me away from my friends and my family won't help at all! If anything it would only make things worse!" The breaths Blair was taking in sounded short and desperate, almost like she was hyperventillating. "Please mom, just give me another chance. I promise I'll get better. . . I just need you to believe in me."

Eleanor sighed heavily, thinking it over for a moment. And then she kissed Blair on the head and patted her back tenderly. "I'll give you one more chance, Blair," she told her daughter, her voice firm but sympathetic. "I'll believe in you."


Well well, looks like B's mom, E, has a heart after all. Who would've thought? But thank God she's agreed to let B stay in the city. She and rehab just don't mix. And besides, I get the feeling she and the rest of us Upper East Siders aren't finished with eachother just yet. . .

you know you love me.
xoxo; gossip girl