conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Grace, Fever, UpA with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Grace and the Fever'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the first three paragraphs for this book.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Grace and the Fever
  Like why go wait and stand around? So I can have my own blurry cell pic of Jes's hair instead of just looking at everyone else's on Tumblr?
  I know it won't make any difference really but I feel like you'll be able to tell if something is ~*off*~ with them
  Katy never sleeps, as far as Grace can tell. She lives on the other side of the country, three hours ahead, and in theory she's studying graphic design at NYU, but somehow she's still always logged in to chat, posting on Tumblr or Twitter, and texting Grace some new, small piece of gossip about Fever Dream. She's always ten minutes ahead of everyone else in their funny, obsessive network, because Katy's always around, and people are always telling her things.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Lianne goes on, "And two. You're just— Sometimes it seems like you want it to be hard to be friends with you."
  Grace doesn't know what to say to that. She doesn't know if it's the thimbleful of vodka she's had, or the sugar in the lemonade, or just the sun making her head hurt. Either way, she doesn't really want to talk to Lianne about this when Lianne is drunk.
  Grace buries her head between her arms, her nose mushing against the fine wire mesh of the lounger. Her head feels too full of uncomfortable thoughts, shifting, half-formed ideas about her and her friends, and how she's been behaving, and how much she's been lying. She's always thought that she was hiding fandom from her friends because they didn't want to see it, because, probably, they didn't really want to see her. The idea that they've been frustrated by her withholding—that they've noticed her withholding at all—surprises and then shames her. It feels like all of her choices lately have been wrong ones.
  Grace takes a picture of Paige, now riding on Hank's shoulders in the pool. They're blurry with motion, two anonymous bodies against the blue of the water and the green of the lawn behind them. Look at the normal suburban life you missed out on, she says. Aren't you jealous? Is Land getting those Nikes all over an actual Eames?
  Oh. So they're at Rick's house. One of his houses. Rick is their manager; he's the guy who saw the boys singing on YouTube and signed them up. He started off his career—all of their careers—as a crusader, the only guy in the room who believed in Fever Dream, but recently he's started to seem more like a vigilante. More often than not when the band is performing or being interviewed he's there hovering. He's become fandom's bogeyman, their stand-in for everything keeping the boys from being who they want to be.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Provide the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: It also wouldn't exist without Dinosaur Coffee and their lemon ginger tonics and the Wi-Fi I stole from the McDonald's next door, one 8 a.m.–10 a.m. morning at a time.
  Thank you to the rest of my personal boy-band think tank, whose emails about Niall's memoirs, Harry's grosgrain neck ribbons, Louis's selfies, and their weird, weird One Direction dreams are probably the best things I've ever read, if I'm honest: Catie, Kelsey, Miranda, and Nozlee.
  Thank you to the One Direction internet, even though you didn't know I was lurking. Thank you to the Hanson internet, even though you didn't know I was lurking either.
  Thank you to Annie and Jen for writing fan fiction with me in elementary school. Silver, Andy, Lexy & Romy forever. (Special shout-out to Jen for the copyedit.)