“You’re on the radio, baby!”
“Holy shit.”
We’re quiet for a few seconds, listening to “Night on Fire” fill our rooms. I imagine all of the other rooms it’s playing in. All of the people hearing Ethan for the first time. All of his fans who’ve been waiting for this moment right along with us.
“This is it,” Ethan says with a shaky laugh.
“This is it,” I confirm.
“We have to celebrate. I’ll pick you up in ten.”
I dash to my computer to check Ethan’s fan page. Comments are popping up like crazy.
You are on Z100 right now, Ethan Cross! You sound amazing! Congrats!!
girl you got me wired 3am not even tired there will never be another night on fire
Welcome to the big time, baller. Don’t stop never stop.
By the time Ethan rings my bell, I’m so excited for him that I’m actually trembling. He’s smiling all big when I open the door.
“Hello, rock star,” I coo.
Ethan swoops in, picks me up, and twirls me around in one smooth motion. His arms are even more ripped than they were last week. He’s getting crazy strong now that he’s working out six days a week. He’s doing three days of cardio or hip-hop dance, two days of weight training, and one day of running or other outdoor activities. And he has pickup basketball games with friends in his limited free time.
“Working out much?” I say.
“Not enough.” Ethan gently puts me down. He kisses me.
Then he keeps kissing me.
“I thought we were going out to celebrate,” I remind him.
“This is celebrating.” Ethan slides his hands under my shirt.
“My mom’s going to be home any minute.”
“What? Why?”
“Um, she lives here?”
“How dare she.” Ethan kisses me one last time. “Are you in a Notch mood?”
The Notch is like the only place to hang out around here. It’s a mall with a bunch of standard stores, plus a movie theater and bowling alley. Lately we’ve been hanging out there at Shake Shack. It’s the closest we can get to a social scene without driving half an hour to New Haven.
“That’s the best you can come up with?” I tease. “You’re on the freaking radio. How long have you been waiting for this?”
“I know, but I can’t bail on training. There’s no time to drive to New Haven.”
“Then let’s hit Shake Shack.”
Ethan checks his watch. “Yeah, that’ll work. I need carbs.”
There are all these rules about what Ethan can eat when. He’s been doing five small meals a day. He has to have carbs an hour and a half before cardio for energy. He has to do a protein shake twenty minutes after lifting, to help build muscle mass. Sometimes I’ll make his breakfast, lunch, and snack the night before and give him a big bag with everything before school. Cooking for him makes me happy.
When we get to the Notch, I can feel a difference. Nothing is different specifically. It’s more like . . . the air is charged in a way it never has been before. Girls have always looked at Ethan. He gets noticed wherever we go. But now it seems like everyone is noticing him. Even, like, dads. You can feel people turn their heads to watch Ethan when we walk by. Maybe it’s that he’s more confident now with his first single out. Or maybe people are starting to know who he is outside of school.
We go to Shake Shack. I get my usual: portobello burger, cheese fries, and a large strawberry lemonade. Ethan gets the same, minus the cheese on his fries. Then he changes his mind about the strawberry lemonade. He orders a small Diet Coke and a water.
“You never get the portobello burger,” I say. We put our trays down at a corner booth.
“My trainer wants me off red meat.”
“And what’s with the Diet Coke? Since when do you drink diet anything?”
“Since my trainer threw down calorie restrictions. Remember that chart I showed you?”
I stab a cheese fry with the little wooden spear. Whenever Ethan talks about his trainer, it makes me feel bad about anything I eat in front of him that isn’t broccoli.
Ethan smiles at me. “How can such a tiny, cute girl eat like you and stay so tiny and cute?”
He’s kind of right about the tiny part. My doctor says I have a high metabolism. But the cute part? I’ve seen at least a hundred girls who are knockouts post photos of themselves on Ethan’s page. Will he still think I’m cute after seeing hundreds more?
“Yo, Ethan!” some football player from school yells from the other side of Shake Shack. “Heard you on the radio! Nice one, man!”
Ethan gives him an air pound. Air pounding is Ethan’s new thing.
“So Gram’s back from the hospital,” I say.
Ethan’s face lights up. “That’s awesome! How is she feeling?”
“Better. Sort of. It’s hard to tell with her. She never really says when she’s not feeling well. She’d rather hide it than bother someone. Not that it’s even bothering—”
“Can I get you anything else?” A waitress who looks a few years older than us is hovering by our table. Hovering by Ethan.
“No, we’re good.” He flashes her the stellar Ethan Cross smile that makes girls melt. This girl is no exception.
“Okay . . . well . . . just let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
I stab three cheese fries together.
“You were saying?” Ethan reminds me.
“What? Oh, just that I think Gram’s feeling better.” Could this waitress be any more obvious? First off, the only time they ever come out to the tables here normally is to clean up. You order at the counter. Which is also where you get your food when it’s ready. There was no reason for her to come over here. Other than to try to make Ethan notice her. Did she even notice me?
It’s hard to swallow my fries. They almost get stuck in my throat. I start coughing and grab at my lemonade.
“You okay?”
I take big gulps of lemonade. Get a grip, Sterling. This is only the beginning.
“Some VIP service, huh?” Ethan gestures to the waitress. She’s back behind the counter, but she keeps looking over here.
“Better get used to it.”
“I can’t stand that stuff. Like when celebs walk into some restaurant and if they don’t get the best table they’re all, ‘Do you know who I am?’ It’s like, ‘Yeah, you’re a pretentious bitch, sit the fuck down.’”
I laugh. Celebs can be so obnoxious. Even the ones who were nice before they were famous. Why do they get like that? Just because everyone knows who they are? How does that entitle them to treat people like dirt? No matter how famous Ethan gets, he would never be rude to anyone.
“So what’s going on with you?” I ask. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Between Ethan’s insane workout schedule, dance practice, and everything he’s doing to launch his career, I’m lucky if I get to see him more than twice a week outside of school.
“Sorry about that.” Ethan reaches across the table to cover my hand with his. “Zeke set up all these interviews and promo for the album. I can’t believe it drops in two weeks.”
“Then your dad will finally have to admit you’re not wasting your time.”
“Don’t bet on it. He was fighting with my mom again last night. He’s pissed that she keeps—and I quote—‘enabling those silly rock star fantasies.’ Like he can force her to stop helping me out. It’s her money, too.”
Ethan’s mom is incredibly supportive of his dreams. But sometimes it seems like all Ethan cares about is winning the approval of his dad. His dad never spends time with Ethan. He’s always working. When he is home, he’s the first one to tell Ethan that he should be spending more time on school and less time on music. It’s probably part of the reason Ethan craves the attention that comes with insane fame. He’s not getting it at home from the person he wants it from the most.
“How can he keep being so oblivious when
your single’s on the radio and your album’s about to drop? It’s like he wants to be in denial.” I’m quivering with sympathy for Ethan.
“He doesn’t care. You know what he said when I told him about all the interviews I’m doing? ‘It’s great that things are going well for you now. But what’s your plan for the future?’”
“He did not say that.”
“Totally said it.”
“He has no idea how huge you’re going to be. Watch when you get a million followers. He’ll be begging you to forgive him.”
“That’s not the only drama. Zeke wants to change the band’s name from The Invincibles to Ethan Cross and The Invincibles.”
“Why?”
“I think he’s trying to phase the guys out. Not phase them out, but eventually he just wants to call us ‘Ethan Cross.’ He said the band members are irrelevant. He said I’m the one people are coming to see. Which makes sense. Forever has my name on it, not the band’s.”
“Wow. Do the guys know?”
“Oh, yeah. Gage is furious. Drew and Stefan said it was okay, but I can tell they’re not happy, either.”
“I don’t blame them.”
“You don’t agree with Zeke?”
“No, I do, but . . . I mean, of course he’s right. But to put it out there like that is kind of harsh.”
“Reality is harsh sometimes. It’s not like the guys won’t be in the band anymore.”
I can’t believe Ethan’s being like this. It’s like he doesn’t even feel bad for those guys. We haven’t really disagreed on anything. But this feels like it could escalate into our first fight if we keep talking about it.
I stab another cheese fry.
Ethan looks at his watch. “We have to go soon.”
“Already? We just got here.”
“I know. But I can’t be late for training.”
My stomach fills with hollow shakiness. Today should have been epic. We’ve been waiting to hear Ethan’s first single on the radio for so long. But sitting here with him has just felt empty. The cute moments and inside jokes we always share were missing. Ethan seems preoccupied, like he’s carving out time to see me from his busy schedule. A schedule packed with priorities that are more important than me. I used to be the most important thing in Ethan’s life. I don’t feel that certainty anymore.
I must look as crushed as I feel because Ethan comes over to my side of the booth. He slides in and puts his arm around me. “Things will calm down after Forever drops. I have to tear this publicity stuff up like a beast to get enough buzz going. But we’ll get back to normal soon.” He gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I promise.”
9
[861,133 FOLLOWERS]
“We are gathered here today to say goodbye to a spirit that will be missed,” Georgia intones. We’re having a plant funeral in her backyard. Her beloved ponytail palm succumbed to aphids. It wasn’t pretty.
Georgia loves plants. Her room is filled with them. She gets most of them from the farmers market. Even though she has way more plants than she probably should, when a potential new plant calls out to her, she has to adopt it. Or “him,” as she would say. That’s how it was with the ponytail palm. She was considering a more mature ponytail palm. But this scraggly little guy called out, “Pick me!” She wanted to give him a chance. Just like Charlie Brown did with that runt of a Christmas tree. She had to take him home.
Being scraggly wasn’t his only challenge. He must have been suffering from an aphid attack that Georgia didn’t notice when she was first smitten with him. She saw the fuzzy white bugs on him a few days later. No one knows where they come from. They were probably on the plant when she bought him. Or they could have been in the soil Georgia used to repot him. They could have even been in the air. That’s how they travel from plant to plant.
Georgia flew into a panic. She was freaking out that all her plants were going down. She fretted over everyone, spraying them with plant bug killer. She waited. Then she sprayed some more. All of her spraying paid off. The ponytail palm was the only casualty of the infestation.
You have to be careful about who you bring home.
We look down at the trashed ponytail palm at the edge of the woods. He had such promise.
“Although he only cost three dollars, the joy this ponytail palm brought to my room was unquantifiable.” Georgia peers at me with faux somberness. “Care to add anything?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Then tell me what’s happening with Ethan’s website,” Georgia says, walking back toward her house. “I couldn’t get on last time I tried.”
“It crashed right after ‘Night on Fire’ was released. It was down for a few hours.”
“That’s awesome!”
“How is that awesome?” When “Night on Fire” aired two days ago, Ethan’s website was mobbed with a deluge of hits. Not being able to get on might have made a lot of people forget to try going back later.
“People are into the song.” Georgia holds her back door open for me. “It’s getting crazy. Did you see how many followers he has now?”
“Yeah.” Almost a million. Almost one million people know about Ethan. No. Way more people know about him than that. Almost one million people like him enough to follow him. Which means millions of people know who Ethan Cross is.
The first thing Georgia does when we get to her room is check her plants to confirm they’re aphid-free. I crash on the corduroy pouf. I love Georgia’s room. It has a rustic, arts and crafts feel. Big curtains with cross-stitched flowers. A tree trunk for a night table. An ancient credenza with a stubborn door that’s determined to remain crooked. My favorite thing in here is Georgia’s dark wooden desk. It’s super old and looks like it might collapse if you drop a book on it too hard. Her mom found it at a garage sale after they moved here. My room is more sparkly and polished. I like when everything is where it’s supposed to be. Georgia only cleans her room when her mom makes her.
“How do they look?” Georgia asks. She’ll never stop worrying about her plants.
“Free and clear. That was a close one.”
Georgia’s phone buzzes on her desk, rattling the compass sitting next to it. Georgia has been taking a compass with her on hikes ever since she saw 127 Hours.
She checks her phone. “Of course,” she grumbles.
“What?”
“A text from Kurt. He said he can’t go to the drive-in. He already has plans Saturday night.”
“Bummer.” A bunch of us are going to the drive-in. It’s this vintage outdoor movie theater that was renovated a few years ago. The plan is to do dinner first, then pile into a few cars for the drive-in. Georgia asked if Kurt wanted to go as a group thing. She’s been crushing on him since this summer when they both worked at Happy Mart. He usually had the shift after hers. She’d find excuses to stay late and talk to him. Georgia was getting the feeling that he liked her. I guess the group dynamic wasn’t casual enough for him. Or maybe he really does have plans.
Georgia flops on her bed, staring at her phone like she’s willing the letters of Kurt’s text to rearrange themselves into a happier message.
“We could go another night,” I suggest. “I’m sure everyone won’t mind rescheduling. What about Friday?”
“So I can ask Kurt to go out Friday and watch him reject me again? I’ll pass.”
“We don’t know if he rejected you. He probably has plans like he said.”
“Then why didn’t he offer another night to go out?”
“Because you asked him to come with us to the drive-in. If you asked him to hang out whenever, that would have been different.”
“I should have done that first. Then if he said he wanted to, I should have asked about the drive-in. I am such an idiot.”
“No, you’re not. It was better to ask him to do a group thing. That way you could feel him out.”
“I won’t be feeling any part of him now.” She glares at her phone. “Why did I break up with Andy again?”
/> “He’s too far away.”
“Yeah,” Georgia sighs wistfully. “Too far.”
Andy was Georgia’s boyfriend at her old school. She broke up with him before she moved. She said that a long-distance relationship between Connecticut and Oregon would never work. I have to agree with her. How can you have a relationship with someone you never see in person?
Not that I’m a relationship expert or anything. I used to only talk to boys online. I got a harsh wake-up call in tenth grade when I went to meet someone who said he was an older guy, but who turned out to be the freshman who played the triangle in band. Triangle Boy Incident was a reality check. Anonymous online connections can never lead to something real. Neither can being so distant from your boyfriend that he becomes just a voice on the phone.
I hate that Georgia is going through this. Except for Ethan, most people I know are having a bad week. There’s like this negative energy in the air. As if all the negative energy that was lurking around gathered together in a big bunch of badness. Only no one knows where it came from. Kind of like the aphids. All you can do is control what you can and hope the rest works itself out.
10
[1,154,081 FOLLOWERS]
Ethan runs up to me in the hall before lunch. He’s frantically waving his phone over his head. People stare and smile and part for him in the hall like he’s rock star royalty.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he says.
“What?”
“A major producer heard Forever. He wants to sign me for a second album. A big second album.”
“Oh my god! That’s amazing!”
“Zeke said he doesn’t even care who backs me. He’ll sign whoever I want to record with. He’s only interested in me.”
“Holy crap.”
“The producer just left a message. I’m freaking out.”
“Do not freak out. This is what you’ve been waiting for.”