Read Online Would I Lie To You by Cecily von Ziegesar - Free Book Online Page B

the Great Geek Matchup? Well, just because I won’t be there doesn’t mean I can’t help you out. That’s just how generous I am. So here you are, by popular request. . . .
    proper etiquette at a literary salon: dos and don’ts
    DO . . . pronounce it properly: it’s saaaah-lon, not the place on the corner where all the women have long red nails and you get your hair cut.
    DO . . . bring something potent and interesting to drink; that means Pernod, Chartreuse, or ouzo. Leave the Bud at home, thanks.
    DO . . . nod along to what everyone says, even if you’re too busy checking out the hot poetry nerd across the room to actually listen.
    DON’T . . . be totally silent. It’s not school—there are no wrong answers—so just make something up to impress people. Or say some-thing in another language. That never fails.
    DON’T . . . be inflexible. If fellow members ask you to try something new, remember: truly artistic types are always willing to experiment.
    DON’T . . . be surprised if things get heated. Emotions can run high between stanzas.
    Okay, kids, have a good time with your books—and let me know how it all turns out. You know I’m curious, and you know what they say about geeks? They’re freaks—in bed. Toodles!
    You know you love me.
    gossip girl

Gossip Girl 10 - Would I Lie To You
    guess v’s not in kansas anymore
    “Hurry, hurry! Vanessa, hurry up!”
    The boisterous four-year-old twins bounced ahead of her, a blur of elbows and curly hair and Brooks Brothers swim trunks with tiny sailboats dotted all over them—Nils in red and Edgar in blue. They ran along the wooded path to the beach, sending a spray of sand into the air.
    “Slow down!” Vanessa readjusted the massive pink-and-kelly-green monogrammed canvas tote bag filled with fins and masks, rolled-up Pratesi beach towels, five kinds of sun-block, Bob the Builder activity books, juice boxes, snacks, plastic buckets and shovels, a Frisbee, a soccer ball, and two video iPods loaded with Little Einsteins shows. In her other hand, she was holding a massive navy-and-cream striped Smith & Hawken umbrella that Ms. Morgan had insisted she bring along.
    “I said, slow down!” Vanessa cried again, as the bobbing duo disappeared behind the dune ahead. She was on the verge of screaming her sweaty head off when she decided she really didn’t care. Whatever. Go ahead. Drown. Get kidnapped. Fuck if I care. It would be a blessing. The truth was, the twins probably knew the beach as well as they knew their local Central Park playground. It was she who was lost.
    She finally reached the crest of the hill and surveyed the scene: Nils and Edgar had vanished into the thicket of bodies crowding the beach, which didn’t seem to have one bit of sand available. Tripping in her black All Stars—she’d pulled the laces out and wrongly assumed they’d be every bit as comfortable as flip-flops—Vanessa wove through the maze of blankets, folding chairs, and blond, bronzed twentysome-things with the pale kids they were obviously babysitting. She had exhausted her last reserve of muscle power when she happened upon a four-foot-square patch of beach. Thank God. She dropped the overstuffed bag and heavy canvas umbrella onto the burning hot sand, then plopped down.
    “Just a lovely day at the beach,” she muttered to herself, perfectly mimicking Ms. Morgan’s dulcet accent as she dug around in the basket for a blanket, which she half-heartedly spread out in front of her without even standing up. The tote had fallen onto its side but Vanessa didn’t bother trying to stuff all the contents back into it. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she scolded herself as she realized she’d neglected to bring anything for herself to do. What she’d give to be back in Manhattan, sitting in the cool dark of the Film Forum, watching the latest Todd Solondz movie. Instead she was sitting in the sand, the hot sun beating down on her, with nothing to do but pick the stubborn dried snot globs out