Susane Colasanti - Now and Forever

Gram adds more sprinkles to her star-shaped cookies.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Like a new woman. Being back in the swing of things is invigorating. I even won at bingo!”

“Yay! How much?”

“Thirty-nine dollars. Not a bad haul.”

“Not bad at all.”

I watch Gram putting the final decorations on the cookies. I take deep breaths, inhaling the warm sugary scent of my childhood. We spent so many afternoons together like this when I came over after school. Mom didn’t want me home alone before I was in high school. I would get off the bus and come over to Gram’s. She always had a special snack waiting for me, usually something baked fresh. Gram always wanted to know what was going on with me. She wasn’t asking in that typical polite way. She really wanted us to share our lives. This kitchen tells our history. So many memories I cherish the most were made between these walls.

After the cookies are decorated, Gram gets a magazine from the breakfast table. “Look what I found.” The magazine she’s holding up isn’t just any magazine. It’s a major celeb gossip magazine. With a picture of me and Ethan from the paparazzi swarm last week.

“How did you know about this?” I ask.

“I told you, I’m back in the swing of things, my dear. I know everything.”

Gram heard about the paparazzi along with everyone else in town. But I didn’t tell her which magazine the picture showed up in. Of course I was stoked when I saw it. I just don’t like the way I look. A few other pictures showed up online from the same day. What I’m wearing is cute, but it lacks that cool/comfortable/collected ensemble look every other girl on the couples pages is rocking. They seem to pull off that look effortlessly. As if everything in their closet perfectly fits together. Meanwhile, I tried on fifteen different outfits before Ethan’s last show and still ended up hating what I was wearing. Those other girls in the magazine are all celebs. They can afford the most expensive clothes and accessories. I’ll have to find my own way to step it up.

Gram flips the magazine open to where it’s marked with a Post-it. “Nice picture of you and Ethan.” She traces her finger over the picture.

“I don’t really like it. That’s why I didn’t show it to you.”

“Why don’t you like it? You two look adorable!”

I look at the pages for the millionth time. It’s not like me to obsess over styles or hair or whatever. But those other girls are so beautiful. They’re so glamorous while I’m . . . sticking out like I don’t belong.

“The other girls are so much prettier than me,” I say.

“You hush with that nonsense. No one is prettier than you.”

“Are we looking at the same pictures?”

“You are a beautiful, intelligent, radiant girl. That’s who I’m looking at.”

Part of me desperately wants to tell Gram about my other insecurities. About the fear of losing Ethan when he achieves insane fame. It came crashing in after those paparazzi followed us to the Notch and has been growing ever since. But I don’t want to worry Gram with the anxiety part of being Ethan’s girlfriend. She loves that he’s becoming more successful every day. She loves that I’m part of all the excitement.

I’m beyond happy for Ethan. I should focus on the amazing parts of this ride instead of worrying about what I can’t control. Because when else will something this spectacular happen?

[4,925,770 FOLLOWERS]

Today is one of those rare days when Ethan is actually at school. I never realized how much I used to take the simple things for granted. Like Ethan driving me to school or sitting with me at lunch or kissing me in the hall. Having Ethan next to me here at our lunch table, his arm around me while he laughs at a story Miles is telling, I can’t imagine ever taking those things for granted again.

Miles and Ethan have been friends since they were little. They built a fort in the woods together in fifth grade. Ethan brought me there when we started going out. The fort was really worn down. It had a lot of missing boards and a big piece of the ceiling was gone. But the history of their friendship was almost tangible, built into the fort’s construction.

Now that Miles and Ethan are seniors, the attention they gave the fort has been replaced by a strong focus on girls. Miles and his girlfriend, Reyna, sit with us at lunch. We double-dated with them a lot, back before Ethan started blowing up. And we hung out with our other friends a few times a week. Ethan doesn’t see his friends that much anymore. The only time I see Miles and Reyna these days is at lunch. They’re more his friends than mine.

Everyone at the table is freaking out over Ethan’s first tour. It was announced this morning. Ethan said keeping the tour a secret until it was officially announced was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. He told me about the tour, but I had to lock it in the vault.

“So when does your tour start?” Reyna asks.

“January. It’s a three-month run.”

“How many shows is it?” Miles asks.

“Forty-six.”

“Damn, son! All famous and shit.”

“I wish.”

“Seriously?” Reyna says. “Forty-six shows is amazing.”

“Congrats, man.” Miles and Ethan pound fists.

“Everything’s happening so fast,” I say. “It’s unreal.” I remember hearing “Night on Fire” on the radio for the first time. That was last month. Now Ethan has three singles out. They’re all getting major radio play. You can’t have Z100 on for more than an hour without hearing one of his songs.

“That shirt is fierce,” Reyna tells Ethan. “Where did you get it?”

“It was a gift from the designer. She sent it to Zeke for me.” Ethan’s wearing a Pacey Witter–type bowling shirt made of distressed silk. It’s black with two white stripes down the front. He looks really good in it.

“Sweet.”

“Ethan gets major swag,” I say. “Everyone’s sending him their designs.”

“Because they’re fans, or . . . ?” Reyna asks.

“They’re hoping pictures or videos of me wearing their stuff will show up. Apparently they do this a lot with celebs. Not sure why they’re bothering with me. But I’m not complaining.”

“I love those chains,” a girl I don’t know at the end of the table says. “Are they platinum?”

Ethan nods.

“Can a best friend get a hookup?” Miles wants to know.

“Borrow whatever you want. The only stuff I have to send back is what’s out on loan for appearances.”

“Your life is amazing.” Reyna sighs. “I want to be you when I grow up.”

Ethan laughs. “You want to train six days a week and rehearse four hours a day? Be my guest.”

“Ugh, no, that’s too hard.”

“My trainer doesn’t even let me eat what Sterling makes anymore.”

“He does if it’s on the list,” I say.

“What list?” Miles asks.

“My trainer gave me a list of what I’m allowed to eat. If it’s not on the list, I can’t eat it.”

I love cooking for Ethan. But he’s so determined to stick to the list that he hardly lets me anymore. Even when I make something that’s on the list, he only eats half the amount he used to. And we can’t have our fun dinners and snacks at Shake Shack after school anymore because his schedule is so crazy.

“That sucks.” Miles takes a huge bite of chocolate cake. “I bet cake’s not on the list, huh?”

“Not so much. My trainer would kill me.”

I know Ethan’s training is super important. He has a grueling tour coming up. Zeke decided Ethan should take things to the next level with this big tour. There will be choreography for some songs. There will even be backup dancers. Ethan is nervous, even though he’s an amazing dancer. He wants to make sure the choreo is perfect. Staying in maximum shape is crucial. But if I hear him say “my trainer” one more time, I’m going to lose it.

“You guys looked so cute on GMA,” Reyna says.

It was a total surprise when Good Morning America flashed a picture of me and Ethan. They asked him about his girlfriend and he told them my name and there we were. Filling up the TV screens of millions of people.

Ethan leans up against me to whisper in my ear. “You looked beautiful. Just like today and every other day I’ve known you.”

Melting. Into. My chair.

The girl at the end of the table keeps sneaking glances at me. I recognize the look in her eyes. I’ve been seeing it more and more. The longing. The jealousy. Wishing she could switch places with me. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being on this side of that look.

But I’m happy to be here.

[5,619,320 FOLLOWERS]

The first week of November means one thing in my town. It’s Harvest time.

The Harvest Festival is an annual event on the river. We just call it the Harvest. It’s kind of a festival with booths selling treats and clothes and knickknacks, mostly made by people who live here. There are games and contests. Everyone comes out for it.

I’ve been baking for the Harvest since seventh grade. Gram ran our booth back then. Now I run it. Gram says I’ve outdone myself this year. That’s because I suddenly have all this free time. The time I’d normally be spending with Ethan is like this gaping void in my life. I’ve been filling the void by baking enough cookies, cupcakes, brownies, and pies to feed a small country. According to Gram, my baking is legendary. She insists that my heart cookies are famous. She likes to exaggerate. But my favorite coffeehouse does stock them when I have enough time to make a few large batches.

My heart cookies are abundant today. They’re wrapped in opalescent cellophane and tied with different colored ribbons. It’s kind of my signature style. I used to hang the cookies from skinny tree branches I assembled over the table. This year I wanted to do something different with their presentation. The cookies are gathered in cute heart baskets I bought from another local entrepreneur.

Georgia is working the booth with me. After we arrange all the treats in groups, we sit on rickety folding chairs to await customers seeking sugar. We don’t have to wait long before a group of girls from school comes over.

“Hey, Sterling!” Kelsey goes. As if we’re friends.

“Hey.”

“You know Markita and Ravyne, right?”

I give them a weak smile. These girls have a seriously twisted view of the world. They think that just because they’re on cheer squad that gives them the right to torment anyone who dares to be unpopular. I once saw Kelsey put a Godiva truffle on Lynn Sweitzer’s chair in class before she sat down. That poor girl sat right on the chocolate. Kelsey and Markita snickered all through class. Lynn had no idea what was happening. I had to pass her a note to break the news. I couldn’t stand the thought of Lynn getting up when class was over and walking out with a rude chocolate smear on her butt. So yeah. These girls are not my friends.

Not that it’s stopping them from acting like they are.

“Are you so excited for Ethan’s tour?” Kelsey gushes.

“Of course,” I say.

“Why isn’t he doing a show in Connecticut?” Markita asks.

“Yeah,” Ravyne chimes in. “I thought he’d be hitting Hartford. Since he’s from here and all.”

“Ethan doesn’t decide where he goes,” I explain. “The production company and his manager arrange the schedules.”

“Oh.” Kelsey sniffs. “Well, I guess I’ll go see him at Madison Square Garden. It’s so hot he’s playing there.”

“So hot,” Ravyne confirms.

“Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could get comped tickets?” Kelsey fishes. “Let’s see . . . who do we know who knows Ethan?”

These girls have never talked to me before. Now they’re asking for free tickets to a show that will probably be sold out?

“Sorry, I can’t get you in,” I say. “I have no control over that.”

“Really? You can’t pull some strings?”

“Why should she?” Georgia, who has been watching in silent disgust this whole time, can’t stay quiet anymore. “You’re not even friends.”

“Whatever, freak. Don’t you mow my lawn or something?”

Markita and Ravyne laugh nastily. Georgia has an internship with Marisa’s Aunt Katie, who has her own landscaping company. She’s not interested in mowing lawns. She’s learning how to transform any yard into a beautiful landscape. Which is a lot more than these beeyotches will ever do.

“Did you want to buy something?” I ask. “There’s a line.”