Red Bedroom is releasing the song for this video, “Night on Fire,” as Ethan’s first single off the album. The video is fierce. Instead of the standard overproduced video format, Ethan wanted to go with something more relatable to his fans. He filmed most of the video himself with a handheld camera. The filmmaker recorded the longer shots of Ethan and did the editing. “Night on Fire” is about one magical summer night when a boy and girl meet. They have this immediate connection. It’s love at first sight. In the video, they spend the whole night together in downtown Manhattan, playing mini golf on a pier in Tribeca, getting Italian ices at Rocco’s, and walking along the Hudson River. He kisses her on the rooftop of a building they sneak into, sparkles of city lights all around them. Watching the sunrise, they realize that no matter what happens, they will always have this one night to remember forever. The fire of their passion will never die.
Obviously, this video is speaking to a lot of girls. More melting the first time I saw it.
Ethan isn’t a typical teen rock star. His music has a quality and depth that boy bands typically lack. You can totally hear Ethan’s influences in his music. His sound is a combination of pop and hip-hop mostly inspired by The Beatles, Elvis, and Michael Jackson. Ethan believes they were the musicians who made music what it is today. He’s also into contemporary artists like Eminem, Usher, and Justin Timberlake. Ethan’s musical style is hard to describe. He has a unique sound no one else has ever created before. Even though his music is so original, its tone is familiar. His songs somehow relate to everyone. They just feel like home. His lyrics achieve the impossible by being both catchy and deep. His target demographic is girls ages twelve to twenty-four. But nine-year-old girls and grandmas also love him. Plus he has lots of guy fans. Basically, Ethan makes the kind of music generations have been waiting for. It’s obvious why he has such widespread appeal.
More comments pop up.
Brazil LOVES YOU!!! Te amo xxx
Where can I get a night on fire?
Ahhhhh how are you so perfect? <3
“That last comment was obviously meant for you,” Ethan tells me.
“You’re the one who’s perfect. I should know. I’m your biggest fan.”
“Hmm.” Ethan scans the comments. “I wonder why my biggest fan didn’t comment?”
“All of my comments are private.”
“But you like the video, right?”
“I love it. You’re so hot I can’t believe the screen didn’t ignite.”
Ethan kisses me. When Ethan kisses me, every part of me ignites.
“Ahem,” goes a voice in the doorway.
“Nice knock,” Ethan says.
“Um, your door was open?” Sydney says with tone. Sydney is Ethan’s little sister. She is thirteen and not at all impressed with Ethan. Which is ironic considering she’s in his target demographic. If Ethan becomes even half as famous as he’s hoping, Sydney’s friends will be dying that he’s her brother.
“What can I do for you?” Ethan asks.
“Mom wants to know where Sterling put the garlic press.”
“Then why don’t you ask her?”
Sydney’s detached gaze flicks over to me. I’m still sitting on Ethan’s lap. She’s clearly wondering why I’m even remotely interested in her brother.
“It’s in the second drawer by the refrigerator,” I tell her. “The one with the big utensils.”
“That’s not where it goes.”
“Oh, sorry. I thought it was.”
Sydney retreats, shaking her head at the floor over my audacity at presuming to shove a garlic press where it does not belong. She plods downstairs to rectify my outlandish behavior.
“How dare you,” Ethan says.
“I thought that’s where it went.”
“Garlic presses don’t like to be misplaced.”
“Oh, really?”
“Know what happens to people who put garlic presses in the wrong drawer?”
“What?”
“Tickling.”
“No tickling.”
Ethan presses his fingers against my sides.
“No tickling!” I spring up from his lap, laughing hysterically even though the tickling never started. Even the threat of tickling makes me hyper.
More pings from Ethan’s computer. More comments from girls all over the world raving about how cute and sexy and talented he is. Ethan scrolls down to read the new ones.
I want to stay in Ethan’s room forever. Every time I leave, it feels like I’m leaving part of myself behind. Tonight, with the summer breeze drifting in the windows and the smell of dinner cooking downstairs and senior year about to start, I’m overcome by warm contentment.
I guess I’m just feeling nostalgic tonight. But also excited about the possibility of Ethan becoming a huge rock star. He’s worked so hard for this. How much time has Ethan spent in his room, in the garage practicing with his band, in jam sessions, in studios, building the dream? Enough for this to be his time.
Something tells me that the way we are right now at the end of summer, on the edge of everything, is a way we will never be again.
Something tells me our whole world is about to change.
5
[189,472 FOLLOWERS]
I breeze by the nurses’ station with my brightly colored bunch of balloons, waving to one of the nurses I know. I make sure the tissue paper sticking out of the gift bag I’m carrying isn’t crushed. Then I go in.
“Hi, Gram!”
My grandma smiles when she sees me. She always smiles when she sees me.
“There’s my girl,” she says from her bed by the windows. She was originally assigned the other bed by the door. But when I was pushing her wheelchair here from the recovery room after her heart surgery and saw that both beds were empty, I asked one of the nurses if we could take the other bed. I am so relieved she let us. This part of the room is much better. Not only does it have sunlight and views, it’s large enough for a reclining chair. A reclining chair I’ve been camping out in every day since Gram’s surgery.
“What’s all this?” Gram gestures to the gifts.
“Your balloons needed refreshing.” The bunch of three “get well soon” balloons I tied to her bed rail the first day I visited is floating halfway down. I untie them and tie the new bunch where they were. Then I bring the gift bag over to Gram.
She gestures at the bed’s control panel. This means she wants me to raise the bed so she can sit up. When we get the bed the way she wants, she looks at the gift bag.
“You shouldn’t have spent your money on me,” she says. She says this about everything. Even if you try to give her a paper clip, she will insist she is unworthy.
“I didn’t. It’s Mom’s money.”
“Oh, well. That’s different,” Gram jokes. Her hands are shaky as she takes the bag. She lifts out the sparkly blue tissue paper and reaches inside.
“It’s just something little.”
Gram takes out a deck of cards. They have pictures of Elvis on the back.
“Elvis!” she raves. Gram is a huge Elvis fan. She’s convinced he’s still alive somewhere, enjoying his peanut butter and banana sandwiches in a remote hideaway.
“Do you want to play?”
“Absolutely.”
I wheel over her bed tray. Then I sit on the side of her bed and rip the plastic wrap off the cards.
“Rummy 500?” I ask.
“What else?”
Rummy 500 is our game. We’ve been playing it since I was little, way back when Gramp was still alive. I shuffle the cards in the fancy way he taught me: dividing the deck in two, shuffling them down, then back up in a bridge. Gram grabs the pad and pencil on her nightstand to keep score.
“How’s Ethan?” Gram asks.
“Awesome. His first single is being released next week.”
“That ‘Night on Fire’ one?”
I nod, placing the pile of cards on the table for Gram to cut the deck. Gram adores Ethan. She knows all his songs, all his videos. She’s a major fan.
“That boy is going to be famous,” she proclaims.
“I know.”
“No. I mean, really famous.”
The way Gram says it, you have to believe her.
“Did Mom visit yesterday?” I deal the cards.
“She didn’t get a chance. She’s always busy, that one. Running . . . doing . . .” Gram fans out her hand of cards, trying to space them evenly.
Mom should have visited Gram before she left on another business trip. She should be here right now. With both of us. But I don’t say anything.
“Your mother works very hard,” Gram says. “She works very hard to give you everything you need.”
“I know.”
“Just because she can’t always be here doesn’t mean she loves you any less.”
Gram is totally right. It’s not like I’m being neglected or anything. Plus I’m leaving for college soon. It really doesn’t matter anymore. I used to be super lonely. Even with having friends over all the time and my yoga and cooking classes and activities over the years, those nights when Mom was away on business trips felt so empty. Gram would come over to keep me company and spend the night. She lives down the street. But she hasn’t been feeling well, so she doesn’t come over as much anymore. Ethan is usually over if my friends aren’t. It’s not that I’m alone. It’s just that sometimes it’s lonely without Mom around.
But that’s okay. Who wants their parents around all the time? Having my friends and Ethan over whenever I want is awesome. And being strong and independent like Gram is badass. Gram has always been there for me. She’s the only one in my family whom I can count on. Which is why it’s so important for me to be here for her.
“I still can’t get over your hair,” Gram says.
The color was so dark when I dyed it black. I thought it needed something to break up the darkness. That’s why I had the jade streak put in a little while after. My natural color is light brown. It’s never really worked for me. Even when I tried a purple streak in it for a while last year. The first time I dyed my hair was the summer before tenth grade. I wanted it to come out a pretty blonde like my friend Marisa’s. But the blonde I ended up with wasn’t pretty. I dyed it back to brown that April.
Gram reaches for my jade streak. I lean forward so she can touch it. “It’s so soft,” she says. “I remember when my hair was soft like that.”
The part of Gram’s oxygen tube that goes into her nose is sticking out on one side. I reach over and gently press it back in.
“Thank you,” she says. She quickly looks back down at her cards. But not before I see her eyes fill with tears.
Gram hates being like this. She doesn’t like having to rely on anyone to take care of her. Taking care of people is her thing. She’s been a strong, independent woman her whole life. But for a few months leading up to her angioplasty and now in the hospital recovering, a lot of her freedom has been snatched away. Depending on other people to help her with the simplest things is killing her. I can’t think about what this is doing to her. If I think about it, I will start bawling and will never be able to stop.
So I stay strong. Or I try to. I visit Gram every day. I make sure she has everything she needs. I try to make her room look as cheerful as possible. Fresh balloons. The floral bedspread I brought from her house. A bouquet of roses that’s barely masking the smell of hospital disinfectant. At least they’re pretty to look at.
Appearances can make a huge difference. Making Gram’s hospital room more comfortable is the only thing about her situation I can control. I keep hoping that if everything looks happy on the outside, maybe the rest will be okay.
6
[206,887 FOLLOWERS]
The Invincibles have a show tonight at The Space, this all-ages venue near New Haven. They’ve played a bunch of local venues over the past three years. This is the biggest one. The Space printed huge posters with THE INVINCIBLES all big as the headliner. The posters are everywhere—out in front of The Space, on parking meters, in café windows. It’s so freaking exciting.
We got here this afternoon for sound check. Then Ethan and I spent a few hours walking around New Haven. We’ve both been here a bunch of times. New Haven is our closest city. I like seeing all the familiar places again. The yoga shop where I got my yoga mat. The Italian district with the best pizza. The toy store where Ethan kissed me next to the finger paint. The boy is so hot he can even make me melt in a toy store.
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