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
Subj