Dean checks out to have a life that doesn't involve the sex life of one single child in the entire student body of Columbia, and shit gets for real: "Juliet, I don't like tattletales much more than I like young women who use their sexuality to further their academic careers." Every time they refer to Serena's "academic career" with a straight face: Cup your left breast, which should already be hanging out if you've been playing along, and take a drink.
Colin yells at Juliet for spycamming him and she yells at him for dating the girl that took their relative down and put him in jail. Colin says this is really just about her burning him and cuts her off so now he has no cousins. Gone, with those burning tire tracks of a DeLorean. But the problems of Juliet are just getting started. The NJBC flows around her like mean water and the camera circles, circles, they are sharks and swans, trading lines like we're in Spoon River. And awesomely, neither Vanessa nor Dan are here, because this is the real shit. They speak in one voice, one terrible thrumming voice, power grown quadruplicate, fire in their eyes, wind whipping their hair around, little dust devils playing at their skirts, ghost of George Balanchine joined by demons as they dervish:
"Now it's our turn. Your obsession with Serena has grown tiresome. Just because you have no money, and delusions of grandeur, does not make it okay for you to be a single white trash female. Why would I ever believe anything you say again? You can believe the part where she does her own hair. You tried to destroy my friendship with Blair, my reputation, my academic career. You failed every time, and now it's time for you to go. He's talking about Columbia. You don't belong there anyway. If we catch you hanging around again, there will be consequences. And we're really good at payback."
Blair reaches out one witching finger and touches Juliet's forehead, leaving a silvery mark that fades with the shadows as the sun returns. It marks her, for purposes better left unknown. Nate spits on the ground before Juliet's feet, and so she will ever leave a trail of slugs and offal where she goes. Serena reaches out and runs a hand down her perfect cheek, leaving a scar, and when she walks it is now with a limp, grown lame by the power of the NJBC. Chuck whispers softly in her ear. I don't know what he said, but the sky went black and her hair turned white. Let us hope we never hear that voice, or the awful truth it speaks. And then she is gone, whisked away to Harlem to retrieve her things -- her shampoo, her summer beach read -- and be gone forevermore.