“Cutting in line is beneath us,” Reyna says.

“Yeah,” Miles says. “We prefer to wait with the common folk.”

“I heard your chocolate peanut butter fudge brownies are ridonculous,” Reyna informs me.

“Want one?”

“More like ten,” Miles says. “But we’ll manage with one if that’s all you’ve got.”

“Actually . . .” I check the chocolate peanut butter fudge brownie pan. “There are exactly two left.”

“It’s fate,” Reyna says.

I pack them up.

“So I haven’t seen Ethan for a couple weeks,” Miles says. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s awesome.”

“Gearing up for the tour?”

“Totally.”

Miles shifts awkwardly, scuffing his shoe on the grass.

“I hardly see him anymore, either,” I reassure him.

“You’re not missing out on much. That dude’s the biggest dork I know.”

Reyna swats his arm with the brownie bag. “Be nice.”

“If you talk to Ethan, tell him we said hey.”

“Will do.”

The next two hours are nonstop busy. The whole town is acting like obsessed superfans. Even dads and grandmas who have obviously never heard Ethan’s music. Ethan being from here is enough for them to worship him. In a small town like Far Hills, having someone famous living here is probably the most exciting thing that will ever happen.

My cookies sell out in record time. Then I notice we’re out of everything else.

“Guess we’re done,” Georgia says. She springs up from her chair, almost tipping it over. She starts quickly packing up pans and spatulas.

“I can’t believe it. I’ve never sold out that fast.”

“You’re rock star royalty now. Ethan isn’t the only one people are obsessing over.”

“As if that makes sense. Who am I?”

“The girl who just sold out in record time. Doesn’t hurt to have a famous boyfriend, huh?”

Maybe it’s just me, but I’m picking up on some prickly energy from Georgia. She can’t get out of here fast enough.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Who, me? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. . . .”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Georgia. If something’s wrong—”

“Nothing’s wrong. Can you please drop it?”

“Not if something’s wrong. I want to know what it is. I want to help you.”

But Georgia doesn’t say anything. She just keeps stacking pans.

We pack up the rest of my stuff in silence.

19

[6,837,328 FOLLOWERS]


There’s nothing better than Cosmic Bowling when you’re in the mood for dorktastic fabulousness. Their lanes light up. They have glow-in-the-dark bowling balls. Their shoes have white stripes that gleam in the black light. I’m wearing the MY BOYFRIEND IS A ROCK STAR tee Ethan gave me. The white glitter around the star looks fierce.

My shirt doesn’t lie. Ethan’s tour already has five sold-out venues. Just as Zeke predicted. Including Madison Square Garden. Which holds about fifteen thousand people.

Ethan is blowing up faster than even he imagined.

He goes up to roll. The fog machine is on. I watch Ethan take his turn in the fog, picturing what he’ll look like in the fog onstage. I heard they’re doing fog in the middle of “Now and Forever.” He’s going to look amazing. The Forever Tour is going to be epic.

I’m in a daze thinking about the tour when Ethan sits back down next to me after his turn.

“Are you stoked?” he asks.

“For what?”

“The tour.”

“I was just thinking about that.” Ethan wants me to come on part of the tour with him. Before we left for bowling¸ my mom said I could miss a few days of school for it. She understands about taking opportunities that come around once in a lifetime. Of course I can’t wait to go.

I think I see Georgia coming toward our lane. But that happy burst of adrenaline fades when I realize it’s not her. I called Georgia before I left for bowling to invite her along. I asked her to call me back even if she didn’t want to come. She never called. Knowing something’s wrong that she doesn’t want to talk about has been making me nervous ever since the Harvest.

“Um.” A girl is lurking by our chairs. “Excuse me. Ethan?” She’s clutching a camera.

“Hey.” He smiles at her warmly.

“I’m a huge fan. You’re my favorite artist.”

“Thank you.”

“Could I get a picture with you?”

“Let’s do it.” Ethan stands up to pose next to her. The girl seems to be by herself.

“Could you . . . ?” She holds the camera out to me.

“Sure.” I take a picture of my boyfriend with his fan. One fan among millions. I wonder how many more pictures like this I will take.

“Thank you so much,” she gushes.

“You’re welcome.”

This would normally be where the girl leaves to squee over her picture and Ethan and I get back to bowling. Except she’s not leaving.

We look at her expectantly.

“So . . . you’re really bowling?” she asks.

“I love bowling,” Ethan says.

“Same! That’s why I’m here. Duh, obviously. My family’s over there.”

“Cool. Well . . . it was awesome meeting you. Take care.”

“You take care, too!” the girl warbles. Then she bolts.

“Awkward,” I say.

“She was sweet. At least one girl here is impressed with me.”

“When have I not been impressed with you?”

“I don’t see you asking for pictures.”

“Ethan Cross!” I fling my arms around him. “I love you! I’m your biggest fan! Could you pleeeeease take a picture with me?”

“Absolutely.” Ethan holds his phone out in front of us. We press our faces together, my cheek touching his.

We smile for the camera.

20

[7,106,235 FOLLOWERS]


Georgia’s trying my yoga class. She’s been saying she wants to try it. I’ve had this queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach about us ever since the Harvest last week. We haven’t really talked since then. It’s not like Georgia to ignore my calls. When she finally called me back, she just said she’s been busy. We’re obviously in need of some quality vinyasa time.

This part near the end of class, when we sit cross-legged with the backs of our hands resting on our knees, eyes closed, and breathing deeply in lotus, is my favorite part. Practicing silence is a lot harder than it sounds. I always say I’m going to take time to sit like this every day for five minutes. Just five minutes a day to focus on breathing. Five minutes to be completely calm. To be completely in the Now. But it never works out. I’m always too busy or too preoccupied. This is the only time I truly experience being one with myself.

The class apparently worked for Georgia. She’s acting like her old self on our way to the gym’s juice bar.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk at the Harvest,” I say.

“No, I’m sorry I acted like such a spaz. There was a lot going on. It’s not your fault everyone was bothering you about Ethan.”

“They weren’t bothering me. It’s incredible that everyone’s into him.”

“You handled it like a pro.”

I smile at Georgia. It’s a huge relief to get back to our normal energy.

A glaring typo on a sign at the juice bar wipes the smile off my face.

“Excuse me,” I say to the cashier. “Your sign has a typo.”

“Where?”

I point to the its in TRY OUR PINEAPPLE TANGERINE SMOOTHIE. ITS YUMMO! “That should actually be ‘it’s’ with an apostrophe. As in ‘it is.’”

The cashier gives me a blank look.

“You can use my marker to correct the sign if you want.”

More blank look. I don’t know if it’s because she doesn’t understand what I’m saying or because she doesn’t care. “We’re not allowed to write on the signs.”

“Even when they’re wrong?”

“My manager said not to write on them.”

“Maybe you could ask your manager to fix the sign?”

“I’ll leave him a message.”

“Thanks.” She probably won’t tell him anything. Very few people are sympathetic to my mission. People who work in stores where I’ve pointed out errors on signs think I’m filing a complaint against them or something. They just don’t get that I’m trying to help.

Georgia and I take our juices to the side bar. The bar runs against a glass wall that looks out on the cardio floor. There are always hot guys on the machines. We immediately start scoping out guys for her.

“What about him?” I ask.

“Who?”

“Red shirt on the treadmill.”

“He’s okay.”

“You don’t think he’s cute?”

“I could do better.” Georgia smiles into her Rejuvenate.

“Oh? Like with who?”

“Kurt.”

“Wait. Kurt? As in Kurt who sent you some lame texts and then went MIA?”

“Things change.”

“He asked you out?”

Georgia nods.

“That’s awesome! When?”

“Last night. It was amazing. I didn’t think he’d ever talk to me again.”

“Why did it take him so long?”

“I don’t know. It’s weird. This whole time I thought he was avoiding me because he didn’t like me. He even ignored me when I went up to him last week. I saw him at his locker and said hi and he hardly even looked at me. That’s what I was trying to tell you at the Harvest. But it’s all good now. He called me last night and we talked for over an hour.”

“But then why did he ignore you last week?”

“He said he was nervous. Seeing me in the hall suddenly caught him off guard or something.”

“When are you going out?”

“Next Saturday.”