“Keep the change,” Serena van der Woodsen called as she stepped out of a cab on the corner of Lexington Avenue and Eighty-fourth Street, there blocks from the Archibald’s townhouse. The trip uptown from Grand Central had gone too quickly. She needed some fresh of Nate’s house. Not today. Of course, anyone who mattered was already at Eleanor Waldorf’s autumn soiree. Besides, no one would believe their eyes if they saw Serena van der Woodson here, on the Upper East Side, when she was supposed to be away at boarding school.