I click the link and put my hand over my mouth to stifle the groan that escapes. Seriously, Alanna? You are not making this easy. There are too many messages in my group chat with my friends to scroll through, and if I start responding I won’t be able to step away, so I’ll catch up later. First the EW article, now this? Now you’re going to target your own movie? Do I not have to sign a boycott, since she seems to be boycotting it herself? And would that now make it somehow okay to see the movie? I’m not sure.
All I know is my mentions are worse than ever.
Breathe.
“I didn’t peg you as a Fireflies and You fan, Upstate.”
I drop my phone facedown on my lap, flipping the switch from vibrate to silent. Nash hands me my ginger ale and laughs, taking a seat next to me. There isn’t even a cushion of space between us.
I need to be way more careful with my phone in public. Thank God it was another EW article and not the OTP Twitter feed.
“Fan is a strong word right now,” I say, taking a sip of my soda.
“I know,” he says. “It’s hard to admit fandom when the creator turns out to be trash. Miriam would be so pissed.”
I blink. “You knew my grandmother?”
It’s shocking, hearing her name come out of Nash’s mouth so casually. Kels’s Nash is—was—on a first-name basis with Grams? I swallow the lump in my throat and fight the pressure that builds behind my eyes. How is it possible that she never told me this? Did the last name throw her off too or did she know the whole time? I’ll never get to ask her.
Nash nods. “Yeah. She saw me reading during an oneg one time. I think I was, like, nine. The next week, she gave me an advance copy of the sequel. It was the best day ever.”
Grams knew Nash. “What book?” I ask.
“Ridley Myers Had a Bad Day.”
I nod. “Grams loved working on those. Good choice.”
I’m so desperate to have a normal conversation about Grams, to talk about her, I ignore the fact that talking about books with Nash is not a good idea. Still, I’m grateful when we’re cut off by Molly announcing that karaoke is finally set up. Le Crew surrounds us with plates of food and laughter and Autumn says scooch and plops down between Nash and me. I’m grateful there’s a person separating us and the subject is changing, but then my phone lights up against my thigh.
Nash Stevens
Omg the Alanna drama? Shit is going DOWN.
8:17 PM
I peek out of the corner of my eye to confirm he’s not paying attention before I answer.
yeah. it’s SO bad
8:18 PM
i don’t know what to do
8:18 PM
You don’t have to do anything?
8:19 PM
everyone is waiting for me to say something. Like I’m just supposed to not love F&Y anymore. alanna is SO wrong and her takes are so bad that I want to stick up for my people, but i still think i want to see the movie. does that make me terrible?
8:20 PM
I don’t think you owe anyone an explanation. Plus, the people who are making the movie probably aren’t big fans of Alanna right now either.…
8:22 PM
It’s not their fault or yours that she’s isolating her audience in the name of some backwards idea of Literary Merit, or whatever.
8:23 PM
I frown at my phone, confused because this is so different from Nash’s reaction IRL. To Halle, Alanna is trash and it’s hard to admit fandom. To Kels, he says it’s okay to still love the book. Is it me, Halle, who gets the truth? Is he just telling Kels what he thinks she wants to hear?
do you think so?
8:24 PM
huh, i actually kind of feel better about it all. thanks.
8:25 PM
I’ll see the movie with you.
8:26 PM
Well, not, like, WITH you. Obviously. But we could go opening night and debrief after?
8:27 PM
let’s do it
8:28 PM
We sit like this on Molly’s couch, together as Nash and Halle, but talking as Nash and Kels. And I can’t help but think it’s funny, the way you can be literally so close to someone, but somehow closer with words and social media accounts and pixels in between.
Nash to Kels, at the party
Also quick Halle update: There has been Progress! We had a conversation that didn’t end in awkward silence!
8:45 PM
And honestly, it’s all thanks to the F&Y mess?
8:46 PM
[typing]
8:47 PM
[bubbles disappear]
8:48 PM
NINE
Karaoke is terrible.
By terrible, I mean amazing. One dude, Adam, stages a dramatic reading of “Achy Breaky Heart.” Two girls named Louisa and Rebecca belt an off-key rendition of “Don’t Stop Believin’.” Turns out, being surrounded by so many strangers isn’t as anxiety-provoking once everyone starts singing off-key.
I’m hanging by the air hockey table with Autumn and Nash, away from the main karaoke action. Molly appears in the space between us, her previously perfect curls loosened to soft waves in the humidity of the crowded basement.
“It’s so great you’re here,” she says to me.
“She knows about the bet,” Autumn says.
“Autumn.” Molly’s eyebrows pinch with concern when she turns to face me. “I really thought you wouldn’t come. But that doesn’t mean I’m not glad you’re here.”
“It’s fine,” I say, looking down.
“No, but seriously,” Molly says. “You know we want you around, right? Sometimes I think you don’t know that.”
When it comes to my anxious brain, it’s less about knowing and more about believing.
“I’m not Le Crew,” I say.
“You’re not,” Autumn says. “You could be, though.”
It’s surprising, the words coming from Autumn. There have never been any one-on-one opportunities to get to know her—I don’t work with her and she’s not Jewish, so I pretty much only see her at school. She has no reason to assure me I could be a part of their friend group.
So for the first time, I consider believing it.
Before I can answer, I see Autumn has a contemplative look on her face and pulls out her memo pad. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch her write down our exchange in dialogue.
“Seriously?” Molly asks, looking at Autumn.
“What? This is as organic as it gets,” Autumn says before taking a long sip of her soda and turning to me. “I need to write a scene. I’m not a writer—I’m a DP. I’m applying to film school, but most creative portfolios need a writing sample in addition to a short film. In other words, I’m screwed.”
“DP?” Sawyer asks, appearing behind Molly and wrapping his arms around her.
“Director of photography,” Autumn and I say at the same time.
Autumn’s head snaps up, her eyes meeting mine. “Wait, you’re into film too?”
That’s when I get my first real smile from Autumn Williams.
I shake my head. Swallow. “My parents. They’re a directing team—”
Autumn cuts me off. “Levitt—oh my God. Madeline and Ari Levitt? They’re your parents?”
“Yeah, that’s them,” I say, kind of shocked she knows them by name.