Ethan wrote this song for me. I couldn’t believe he wrote it in two days. He said he was inspired by his muse (i.e. me). “Now and Forever” is all about appreciating the moment you’re in, anytime, anywhere. It’s about quieting the noisy part of your brain that’s anxious about the future and soothing it by finding happiness in whatever you’re doing right now. Ethan said that I make him happier than he’s ever been. He wanted to write a song that would capture how happy he felt with me.

Yeah. My life is pretty good.

I put my feet up on the edge of the couch cushion, hugging my knees to my chest. Ethan snagged this couch for the garage when his parents redecorated the den. It’s perfect for watching band practice.

“That was awesome,” Ethan tells the guys when the song ends.

“Did you see ‘Aluminum Rain’?” Gage asks Ethan. “I sent it to you last night.”

Ethan nods.

“Can we try it?”

Things always get awkward when Gage wants The Invincibles to play a song he wrote. Everything the band plays was written by Ethan. There’s an unspoken understanding that Ethan’s music is phenomenal. That’s why Ethan is destined to be a rock star.

But Gage thinks he’s also destined to be a rock star, despite his music lacking the depth and soul of Ethan’s. That’s why he keeps pushing Ethan to add his songs to the set list. They’ve already done some shows at local venues. So far, Ethan’s songs are the only ones they’ve played.

“We don’t really have time,” Ethan tells Gage.

“Then can we at least add it to the next set list?”

“I don’t think that would be the best approach,” Ethan says.

“Seriously? Are we ever going to play my songs?”

Ethan glances at the other guys. Drew picks at his bass uncomfortably. Stefan itches to pound the drums.

Gage faces Drew. “You liked ‘Aluminum Rain.’ You said it spoke to you.”

“It’s a good song,” Drew agrees.

“But not as good as Ethan’s songs. Right?”

Drew throws Stefan a look. Stefan looks at his drums.

“Come on, man,” Drew says. “Take it easy.”

“No, I want to know. That’s what you guys really think, right? That Ethan’s songs are better than mine. Why don’t you just admit it so we can move on?”

“Your songs are good,” Stefan says. “Maybe just not as . . . strong.”

“We all want to be successful,” Drew says. “That’s only going to happen if we rock our strongest sound. You know how hard it is to get people’s attention. How long have we been practicing in this garage? Two years? And we only started playing gigs . . . what, three months ago? Things are finally happening for us. We have to stick with what’s working.”

“You’re right.” Gage yanks the cover over his keyboard. He grabs his bag.

“Where are you going?” Ethan says. “We still have twenty minutes.”

“I’m done.”

“You mean . . . for today, or . . . ?”

“I’m not sure this is working for me anymore.”

“Dude,” Stefan says. “Don’t be such a drama queen.”

Gage turns to Stefan like he’s going to say something. Then he stalks out of the garage to his car. He slams his door and peels out.

“Was it something I said?” Stefan wonders.

Watching band practice is usually fun. These four guys all started out at the same level, practicing in Ethan’s garage three days a week after school. The thing is, they’re not going to be at the same level for much longer. Especially now that Zeke is in the picture.

Zeke Goldstein is a beast.

Ethan met him at a show they played in New Haven. Zeke wasn’t even there scoping out talent. He was on a blind date his friend set up. As soon as Ethan sang his first note, Zeke knew he was destined for greatness. He was determined to sign Ethan right away. Zeke is on the grind 24/7. He just started working on building Ethan’s career and Ethan already has thousands of followers. He says Ethan is about to go places beyond his wildest dreams. And that boy’s dreams are pretty wild.

Zeke will be the first one to tell you that he discovered Ethan and that he deserves to take credit for Ethan’s future success. Which comes off as arrogant to me. The way Zeke sees it, he’s confident in his ability to build an artist’s career. And he believes in Ethan more than anyone he’s ever represented. He even dropped a few clients to make more room for Ethan on his list. Zeke insists Ethan’s career is about to blow up.

“I guess we’re done here,” Ethan says.

Drew packs his bass. Stefan riffs on the drums.

Ethan comes over and scrunches against me on the couch. “Sorry about the drama,” he says.

“Honey badger don’t care.”

“It just takes what it wants.”

“And of course what does the honey badger have to eat for the next two weeks?”

“Cobra!” we both yell.

We were on the floor the first time we saw that video. I don’t know what’s so hysterical about it. But we were dying. We were also dying over that video of the race car. The race car isn’t even moving. It’s just a picture of a race car. Some guy is making race-car sound effects over it like, “Rinnnng neee neee nee nee neeeee!” Again, way more hysterical than it should be.

Ethan scrunches even closer to me. He holds me tight.

“I have to get up,” he says. “But I don’t want to get up.”

“I don’t want you to stop hugging me.”

“They need to invent a tool to pry us apart.”

He’s right. It’s like we have to touch each other all the time or we’ll die or something. “They should call it the peeler-offer.”

“OXO should make one.”

“I was just going to say that!” OXO is one of my favorite brands of kitchen tools. They’re into form plus function. Which is the best combo for cooking supplies.

Drew and Stefan shuffle over to talk to Ethan before they leave. I go inside. The last thing I want to be is the lead singer’s clingy girlfriend.

3

[18,736 FOLLOWERS]


Being a culinary geek means that no shiny new kitchen appliance fails to catch my eye. Or shiny new utensil. Or shiny new tableware. Which is why Crate & Barrel is my mecca.

I’m meeting my best friend, Georgia, for brunch in twenty minutes. The brunch place is across the street. There’s no way I could resist coming here first. Not to get anything. There’s just something about walking around the kitchen section, admiring how the dazzling light glints off every single glass surface and which spatula colors are the hot trend this season and seeing what new cupcake sprinkles they have, that is incredibly soothing. It makes me happy. And it makes me excited for my future self, who will own most of this stuff.

“May I help you find something?” an employee asks. She has bright red lipstick, a sky-high, gold-streaked ponytail; and enough perky energy to power the entire store.

“No, thanks. I’m just looking.”

“For anything in particular?”

“Not really.” It’s hard to explain what I’m doing here. It’s actually kind of embarrassing to try explaining my obsession out loud.

“Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right over there.” She points to an island of registers.

“Okay. Thanks.” Something sparkly catches my eye behind the registers. I dart over to find out what is so sparkly. Snow-cone cups with neon stripes are stacked in glittering containers. A super profesh snow-cone machine sits next to them along with an array of syrups. The summery display makes me smile. School just ended. I have the whole summer to chill. Cooking and reading are definitely on the agenda. I’ve recently gotten back into yoga, working on being present in the moment. I want to be more focused, less preoccupied. There will be lots of time to hang out with Georgia and Miles and our other friends. And there will be lots of late nights with Ethan. . . .

A typed sign hanging behind one of the registers says:


DO NOT CLOSE THIS DRAWER. HINGE IS LOSE.

See, that’s just depressing. A typo anywhere is insulting. But a typo at Crate & Barrel is personally offensive. I rely on Crate & Barrel to dispense information in their signature smooth, bold font that is both accurate and charmingly lyrical. True, this sign was done by an employee, not corporate. But that’s no excuse for ignorance. To bother going to the trouble of typing the sign? And then hanging it where everyone can see?

Ms. Perky swings around behind a register. “Ready to check out?” she asks.

“No, sorry. I was just . . .” There’s really no way to explain myself. First with the Crate & Barrel obsession. Now with the typo obsession. I know I’m not normal. But I can’t help who I am.

It all started with a vegetable.

My cooking class went to New Haven last year for Restaurant Week. There was a tasting menu at a restaurant where our teacher knew the executive chef. We got to see how they prepped for the dinner rush. When we were walking around earlier that day, we went into a deli for drinks. The deli had an awning that looked brand-new. The awning was green. The awning was huge. And this is what the awning said right across the front:


DELI, GROCERIES, BEER, SNACKS, VEGETABLE

Dude. They only had one vegetable.

I pointed out the typo to a girl from my class. She was like, “We better run in quick and snatch that vegetable up before someone else gets it!”

After the vegetable debacle, I started noticing typos everywhere. On handwritten signs in store windows. At school. Even on billboards that people had paid a lot of money for. One time when my mom and I were at the grocery store, I saw a handwritten sign on an employees only door that said OPEN “SLOWLY.” Those stupid quotation marks annoyed me the whole time I was pushing our cart around. I almost ran over an old lady, I was so annoyed. While Mom was checking out, I went up to the customer service desk.