ooked　tarnished　and　worn　and　felt　reassuringly　heavy。　Chips　only　trusted　his　pass；　believing　puter　navigational　systems　made　people　lazy　and　made　them　forget　what　it　was　like　to　trust　their　own　minds。　Nate　had　been　freaked　out　at　first　to　head　out　onto　the　ocean　with　no　puter　system；　but　soon　realized　that　Chips　was　right：　When　you　had　nothing　else　to　trust；　you　had　to　trust　yourself。

He　pulled　out　the　ivory　card　stock　that　acpanied　the　pass；　written　in　Chips’s　spiky…scrawly　handwriting。

Nathaniel—

Thanks　for　ing　on　the　journey；　and　I’m　glad　you　learned　something　from　this　old　man。　Remember：　Read　the　pass；　and　stay　the　course。

Nate　sighed；　disappointed。　All　of　Chips’s　lessons　were　summed　up　in　two　sentences。　He　wasn’t　sure　what　he’d　been　expecting。

A　self…help　manual？

He　knew　what　Chips　meant：　that　the　pass　only　gave　you　directions—it　was　up　to　you　to　interpret　the　directions。　He　wished　charting　his　life　was　as　easy　as　following　a　map。　He　glanced　down　at　the　pass；　which　had　led　Chips　in　the　right　direction　for　years。　Maybe　it　did　have　some　sort　of　power。　Maybe　he　could　use　it　to　help　him　figure　things　out。

He　held　the　pass　in　his　hand　and　squeezed　his　eyes　shut。　If　it　pointed　to　W；　it　would　mean　Waldorf。　If　it　pointed　toward　S；　it　would　mean　Serena。

And　if　it　points　to　N；　would　that　mean　Not　a　Good　Idea？

The　thin　red　needle　swung　back　and　forth；　first　wavering　on　N；　then　slowly　falling　down。　It　wavered　uncertainly　before　settling　right　on　the　letter　W。

Nate　smiled。　Everything　seemed　absurdly　simple　for　the　first　time　in　a　while。　He　needed　to　find　Blair。

Let’s　hope　he　finds　the　shower　first。

you’ve　got　mail

From：　svw@vanderWoodsen。

To：　dhumphrey3@columbia。edu

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