THE JOURNAL OF JANIE VIVIAN
Once upon a time, there was a princess, and she had a plan. She was going to a ball. She planned for weeks and weeks—she made a dress and borrowed a carriage and found a back door that no one looked after. Sometimes things went wrong, but there were always miracles, trees that gave her golden dresses and fairy godmothers who gave her glass shoes.
On the night of the ball, the princess sneaked out of the house and went to the castle, where there were beautiful ladies and stacks of cakes and lots and lots of vodka. There was also a prince made of angel parts and perfect, perfect teeth.
The prince took her hand and they danced the night away. Everyone cheered for them.
There was only one part of her plan that could not be fixed by fairy godmothers or magic trees. She had to leave by midnight, or things would start going wrong. She watched the clock all night and counted the minutes, but when the clock struck twelve, the prince spun her in a circle and kissed her hard.
She let him. She ignored whatever timeline she had in mind because he was a prince made of angel parts, and things couldn’t go too wrong around him.
Right?
before
OCTOBER 8
Ander and I are a whirlwind. Of glitter and puppies and everything that’s good and right in the world. We are perfect and beautiful and I’ve already gone through two tubes of Chapstick. It’s like every day I date him is the best day of my life.
Today is off to a great start too. Over breakfast, my parents told me that Dad got called to an emergency meeting in Utah and Mom’s going with him because their marriage counselor says that their Janie-less time is a vital pillar of their marriage. They’re going away again in a few weeks because it’s really, really vital. Gag. They’re very, truly, horribly, terribly endlessly sorry to leave me alone on my eighteenth birthday, but they’ll bring me back wonderful presents and lots of them, so I assured them that I’d be okay. I came to school and Piper brought me coffee and I invited her and Ander and a bunch of his friends over to help me celebrate my adulthood.
Ander kissed me when I told him, or maybe I kissed him. Who cares? Literally everyone because they were all watching because the two of us are too damn perfect.
It’s like I can really get to know him now, really see him. I look at him and I see freshman year, when he had just gained a foot in a summer and it seemed like it was still giving him vertigo. I look and I can just see his second-grade class picture—the crooked teeth and the haircut he did himself the night before, and the eyes the color of maple syrup.
And I see me too, Freshman Me with her new backpack and schedule clutched in sweaty fingers, looking around corners to find classes and—“Ohmygod here comes Ander Cameron.” I wasn’t even friends with Piper then, was I? No, so it would have been someone else’s shoulder that I turned and buried my face in. Who was it? It doesn’t matter. I used to look at Ander and imagine waking up with him. Stretch, yawn, see him beside me, smile. I wanted to talk to him and be friends with him and try out a different kind of living with him—the kind that happened with your lips.
Sometimes, back then, I’d see him and he’d see me, and he would blush and I would blush and our mutual blushing was like—like how Disney told me that love at first sight would feel.
And sure, he became more of a douche.
And sure, I became—
I don’t even know. I became me, less so and more so.
And now that we are Officially Going Out, it’s everything I thought it would be. It’s so damn easy. Zero percent commitment, a hundred percent fun. He’s started wearing his thick Ralph Lauren sweaters again—you know the ones, the big chunky-knit things made of boyfriend material—even though it’s not quite sweater weather yet, and every time I see him, I bury my face in his chest and thank God that fall is a season.
And best of all, he pretends with me. He pretends that we’re crazy in love, pretends that the air is our love and we’re swimming in it, and it’s just easy. There’s so much kissing.
Kissing him is so. Much. Fun.
This is it. This is true freaking love.
Until the moment passes.
I get a now. I deserve a now, don’t I? I do.
And here’s what’s happening now: AP Bio lab, which doesn’t ruin the best day of my life because it involves fire. I don’t read the lab closely enough to figure out why, and Piper is being an amazing friend by doing the experiment while I sit on the counter and swing my legs and light matches and blow them out in Ander’s direction like kisses. He’s across the room and laughing and winking his angel eyes.
(Micah’s in this class too, but we’re very good about not looking at each other.)