I stand up straighter. I remember to engage my core like we do in yoga. My face hurts from smiling.

The paparazzi stay outside the Notch when we go in. A bunch of people who were watching them take pictures come in with us. You can tell they know who Ethan is. They’re staring at us as we head to Shake Shack. It’s weird how we can feel their cloud of nervous excitement pressing into us, but we kind of have to pretend we don’t notice them.

Ethan is stoked by the attention. He’s doing his best not to show it, though. He doesn’t want to come off as obnoxious.

We go into Shake Shack. A few people who were following behind us almost trip over one another. Almost everyone in Shake Shack looks up. There’s that electric vibe again. The one that sparks whenever Ethan walks into a room.

This is only the beginning. Ethan is just starting to break out. If things are this crazy now, what will it be like when he’s insanely famous?

16

[4,155,903 FOLLOWERS]


A nurse stayed with Gram for a week after she came back from the hospital. Gram wasn’t doing too well at first. But she’s feeling way better now. She’s into her usual activities of bingo, baking, and cards with her girls. She even went back to her aqua aerobics class last week. Gram’s doctor says she’s kicking some serious angioplasty butt.

I go around to the back of Gram’s house. She’s probably in the kitchen baking cookies from Betty Crocker’s Cookie Book. She knows I love the Ultimate Spritz cookies.

Gram sees me through her kitchen window above the sink. She waves me in.

“Ya-hum!” I kiss her hello on the cheek. “It smells so good in here!”

“There’s nothing like the smell of fresh-baked cookies,” Gram agrees.

“Unless it’s fresh-baked brownies.”

“Oooh, I just found a new recipe for triple chocolate peanut butter brownies with fudge frosting. I’ll have to try those next.”

“Or I could just move in and you could bake them for me every day.”

“I think you do a pretty good job of that yourself.”

“The baking master taught me everything I know.”

“Well. I don’t know about that.”

“Have you seen these cookies? They look even better than the photo.” The art of the spritz cookie is a delicate dance. You have to know your way around a cookie press. You have to be precise when shaping the cookies. When you decorate spritz cookies after they bake, you have to use a drop of corn syrup to attach the sprinkles. If you’re not precise, the cookies could easily be ruined. It’s an extensive process that requires hours of dedication.

Gram adds more sprinkles to her star-shaped cookies.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Like a new woman. Being back in the swing of things is invigorating. I even won at bingo!”

“Yay! How much?”

“Thirty-nine dollars. Not a bad haul.”

“Not bad at all.”

I watch Gram putting the final decorations on the cookies. I take deep breaths, inhaling the warm sugary scent of my childhood. We spent so many afternoons together like this when I came over after school. Mom didn’t want me home alone before I was in high school. I would get off the bus and come over to Gram’s. She always had a special snack waiting for me, usually something baked fresh. Gram always wanted to know what was going on with me. She wasn’t asking in that typical polite way. She really wanted us to share our lives. This kitchen tells our history. So many memories I cherish the most were made between these walls.

After the cookies are decorated, Gram gets a magazine from the breakfast table. “Look what I found.” The magazine she’s holding up isn’t just any magazine. It’s a major celeb gossip magazine. With a picture of me and Ethan from the paparazzi swarm last week.

“How did you know about this?” I ask.

“I told you, I’m back in the swing of things, my dear. I know everything.”

Gram heard about the paparazzi along with everyone else in town. But I didn’t tell her which magazine the picture showed up in. Of course I was stoked when I saw it. I just don’t like the way I look. A few other pictures showed up online from the same day. What I’m wearing is cute, but it lacks that cool/comfortable/collected ensemble look every other girl on the couples pages is rocking. They seem to pull off that look effortlessly. As if everything in their closet perfectly fits together. Meanwhile, I tried on fifteen different outfits before Ethan’s last show and still ended up hating what I was wearing. Those other girls in the magazine are all celebs. They can afford the most expensive clothes and accessories. I’ll have to find my own way to step it up.

Gram flips the magazine open to where it’s marked with a Post-it. “Nice picture of you and Ethan.” She traces her finger over the picture.

“I don’t really like it. That’s why I didn’t show it to you.”

“Why don’t you like it? You two look adorable!”

I look at the pages for the millionth time. It’s not like me to obsess over styles or hair or whatever. But those other girls are so beautiful. They’re so glamorous while I’m . . . sticking out like I don’t belong.

“The other girls are so much prettier than me,” I say.

“You hush with that nonsense. No one is prettier than you.”

“Are we looking at the same pictures?”

“You are a beautiful, intelligent, radiant girl. That’s who I’m looking at.”

Part of me desperately wants to tell Gram about my other insecurities. About the fear of losing Ethan when he achieves insane fame. It came crashing in after those paparazzi followed us to the Notch and has been growing ever since. But I don’t want to worry Gram with the anxiety part of being Ethan’s girlfriend. She loves that he’s becoming more successful every day. She loves that I’m part of all the excitement.

I’m beyond happy for Ethan. I should focus on the amazing parts of this ride instead of worrying about what I can’t control. Because when else will something this spectacular happen?

17

[4,925,770 FOLLOWERS]


Today is one of those rare days when Ethan is actually at school. I never realized how much I used to take the simple things for granted. Like Ethan driving me to school or sitting with me at lunch or kissing me in the hall. Having Ethan next to me here at our lunch table, his arm around me while he laughs at a story Miles is telling, I can’t imagine ever taking those things for granted again.

Miles and Ethan have been friends since they were little. They built a fort in the woods together in fifth grade. Ethan brought me there when we started going out. The fort was really worn down. It had a lot of missing boards and a big piece of the ceiling was gone. But the history of their friendship was almost tangible, built into the fort’s construction.

Now that Miles and Ethan are seniors, the attention they gave the fort has been replaced by a strong focus on girls. Miles and his girlfriend, Reyna, sit with us at lunch. We double-dated with them a lot, back before Ethan started blowing up. And we hung out with our other friends a few times a week. Ethan doesn’t see his friends that much anymore. The only time I see Miles and Reyna these days is at lunch. They’re more his friends than mine.

Everyone at the table is freaking out over Ethan’s first tour. It was announced this morning. Ethan said keeping the tour a secret until it was officially announced was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He told me about the tour, but I had to lock it in the vault.

“So when does your tour start?” Reyna asks.

“January. It’s a three-month run.”

“How many shows is it?” Miles asks.

“Forty-six.”

“Damn, son! All famous and shit.”

“I wish.”

“Seriously?” Reyna says. “Forty-six shows is amazing.”

“Congrats, man.” Miles and Ethan pound fists.

“Everything’s happening so fast,” I say. “It’s unreal.” I remember hearing “Night on Fire” on the radio for the first time. That was last month. Now Ethan has three singles out. They’re all getting major radio play. You can’t have Z100 on for more than an hour without hearing one of his songs.

“That shirt is fierce,” Reyna tells Ethan. “Where did you get it?”

“It was a gift from the designer. She sent it to Zeke for me.” Ethan’s wearing a Pacey Witter–type bowling shirt made of distressed silk. It’s black with two white stripes down the front. He looks really good in it.

“Sweet.”

“Ethan gets major swag,” I say. “Everyone’s sending him their designs.”

“Because they’re fans, or . . . ?” Reyna asks.

“They’re hoping pictures or videos of me wearing their stuff will show up. Apparently they do this a lot with celebs. Not sure why they’re bothering with me. But I’m not complaining.”

“I love those chains,” a girl I don’t know at the end of the table says. “Are they platinum?”

Ethan nods.

“Can a best friend get a hookup?” Miles wants to know.

“Borrow whatever you want. The only stuff I have to send back is what’s out on loan for appearances.”

“Your life is amazing.” Reyna sighs. “I want to be you when I grow up.”

Ethan laughs. “You want to train six days a week and rehearse four hours a day? Be my guest.”

“Ugh, no, that’s too hard.”

“My trainer doesn’t even let me eat what Sterling makes anymore.”

“He does if it’s on the list,” I say.

“What list?” Miles asks.

“My trainer gave me a list of what I’m allowed to eat. If it’s not on the list, I can’t eat it.”