Shock hits me like lightning. I would never make fun of Ethan’s fans. That someone would even believe this about me makes me sick. As if the comment wasn’t heinous enough, it doesn’t have any typos. The person who wrote it seems relatively intelligent.

This sucks. I can’t defend myself at all. If I comment back saying I never made fun of anyone, it would look like I’m trying to cover something up. The comment can’t be deleted yet, either. I could leave a message asking Ethan to have his online guy delete it. But it would take a while for Ethan to pass along the request. He’s rehearsing for his show tonight. Even if I get the comment deleted, the girl who wrote it could retaliate harder with something much worse.

Why would someone write that about me? Where does an evil comment like that even come from? I think back to the last time Ethan and I were at Cosmic Bowling. I remember the girl who came up to Ethan. I remember taking their picture. I didn’t even say anything to her. Why would some “source” say I made fun of her? How could anyone think I’m so mean?

Then I remember what happened after the girl left. When I was pretending to be an obsessed fangirl. When I was goofing off, begging Ethan for a picture. Someone could have seen me and thought I was making fun of that girl. They obviously missed the part where Ethan took a picture of us.

The same picture I have taped to my mirror. The one where I was deluding myself that we could still do normal things, like go bowling.

I examine the picture on my mirror. We look happy in it. That was a really fun night. But now the memory of that night is ruined forever.

I take the picture down. I bury it in my underwear drawer.

35

[16,311,747 FOLLOWERS]


That horrible comment about how I make fun of Ethan’s fans has sparked outrage. It’s like every girl who has a problem with me has busted out of hiding in the past two weeks to spew her venom on the world.

“Did you see this one?” I ask Ethan from where I’m stationed on his bed. Reading comments on his fan page. Which I really need to stop doing.

Ethan doesn’t look up from his computer. He’s been glued to his desk chair all afternoon. He’s home for a couple days before his Philly and New York shows. I’m going to both of them.

“Which one?” he asks.

“‘My cousin lives in Far Hills. He tried those stupid cookies Sterling sells. They made him retch.’”

Ethan doesn’t say anything.

“Or how about this one: ‘If Sterling new’—N-E-W—‘what was good for her, shed’—not ‘she’d’—let Ethan go. Does she really think hez’—H-E-Z—‘going to keep a GF who disses his fans?’”

“Not everyone is the typo police,” Ethan mumbles.

“What?”

He twists around in his chair to look at me. “So a few comments aren’t perfect. Who cares?”

“When half the comments are attacking me? I care.”

“There aren’t that many about you.”

“Have you seen these? Your fans think I’m talking trash about them. Which has devolved into a pile of other lies about me sending them threatening hate texts. I can’t believe anyone is stupid enough to believe that. How does that even make sense?”

“They’re just rumors,” Ethan says. “It will all blow over.”

“Unless it doesn’t.”

“Why are you so bent out of shape? It’s not like you to care what other people think. Especially when what they think isn’t even true.”

“I hate that people think I’d do or say anything mean. Listen to this one. ‘I heard S takes pictures of fans at E’s shows and talks smack about them after.’ Where are they getting this stuff?”

“It’s not like you’re telling them they’re wrong.”

“You know I can’t do that. But you could.”

“Zeke says it’s better to stay out of it.”

“Do you seriously think it’s better to let your fans harass me? All I can do is sit back and watch these skanky fangirls crucify me and it’s supposed to be okay?”

Ethan bristles. “Without my fans, I’d be nothing. Why do you always have to attack them? Why can’t you be more supportive?”

“After the way they’ve been treating me?”

“They who? Three people?”

“It’s more than three people!”

“No, it just seems that way because you’re obsessed with the negative comments. If I cared about all the negative comments I got, I’d hide under a rock and never come out. You have to brush the haters off.”

“It’s hard to brush the haters off when they’re basically forming a club to break us up.”

“They would never do that. They respect that we’re together.”

“You don’t think these girls would love to hear we broke up?”

“No.”

“Ethan. Every single one of them wants to get with you. If I were out of the picture, they’d feel like they had a chance.”

“You make them sound so superficial. Did it ever occur to you that some of them are actually into my music?”

“A lot of people are into your music. You’re the only hot artist whose fans range from third graders to grandmas. But a lot of these teen girls are in love with you.”

“Which is a bad thing because . . . ?”

“They’re irrational. They don’t want you to have a girlfriend. They want the possibility of you being their boyfriend. These girls would do anything to be with you. Even if it means tormenting me to get us to break up.”

Ethan comes over and leans against the pillows next to me. “That will never happen,” he assures me.

“How do you know?”

“Because I love you. I want to be with you. You want to be with me, right?”

“Of course. But it’s not that simple.”

“Yeah it is. You were there for me from the start. You loved me before anyone knew who I was. That’s how I know you love me for me. That proves how loyal you are to me. How much more simple could it be?”

Ethan puts his arm around me, pulling me close. I press my cheek against his chest. His shirt is soft. I breathe in the summertime scent of the fabric softener his mom uses.

“We can be together forever,” he says.

I want to believe him. I want to believe that what we have will never change. Now and forever.

36

[16,529,802 FOLLOWERS]


“Ethan! I love you, Ethaaaan!” Girl yelling.

“Take it off!” Someone’s mom yelling.

“Go one-on-one with me, Ethan!” Boy yelling.

The yelling is directed at tall gates separating a throng of fans from a private parking lot. The parking lot gives performers and staff access to the venue where Ethan has his Philly show tonight. There are a few cracks in the gate where fans are trying to peek in and yell things at Ethan, who is playing basketball with the band. The basketball hoop Ethan travels with has been set up outside his tour bus.

When the guys first started playing, I was watching them from their side of the gate. Then the gate slowly swung open to let a truck leave. Ethan and the band shooting hoops were revealed. Some fans who were walking from one of the parking lots saw Ethan. They started screaming. Security stopped them from running in. The truck left and the gate swung closed again. Naturally the fans who saw Ethan stayed to freak out. More people coming in from the parking lot caught on to what was happening. Now there’s a huge crowd. I went out through a back gate to the public parking lots and came around to the crowd’s side. No one’s noticing me in my huge sunglasses beyond the edge of the crowd.

“Ethan! I love you, Ethaaaan!”

One of the fans nearest to the gate catches a glimpse of Ethan bouncing his basketball close to her. She freaks out. “Oh my god he’s right there! He’s right there!”

A scary security guard is keeping fans a few feet from the gate. There’s a green line painted on the pavement. She keeps reminding everyone to stay behind the green line.

A girl in the back of the crowd digs her way to the front. She scrutinizes the scary security guard. When the security guard is looking the other way, the girl takes a tentative step over the green line. Scary Security Guard is on the girl in a flash.

“Do not test me today!” SSG booms. “If you do not step back, you will be dealing with an angrier version of me. You do not want to be dealing with an angrier version of me.”

A few girls in front of me have become instant friends. It’s awesome how intense experiences like this can bond you for life. They’re bragging about how early they got to the Today show to stand outside and get a chance to see Ethan before he went in.

“I got there three hours early,” says a girl with a pink streak in her hair.

“I got there four hours early,” tops a girl with a Strand bag.

“How close were you?”

“This close.” She pulls out her phone and shows off a picture with Ethan.

“Did Ethan take that?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god he touched your phone?”

Strand Bag smiles smugly.

A girl wearing two mati necklaces whips out a CD.

“What is that?” Pink Streak asks.

“A bootleg. Some acoustic stuff Ethan recorded like two years ago.”

Scenarios like this are common at Ethan’s shows. Some superfan throws down authority when anyone else dares to suggest they have a stronger connection to Ethan. Showing off swag is their way of arguing over who’s the number one fan.

“Where did you get it?” Strand Bag demands.

“A used CD place on South Street.”

“I’m going to have Ethan sign this again.” Pink Streak shows a signed 8-by-10 glossy of Ethan.