The First Follower

Stella was used to being followed, but tonight was different. 

For the last four years, millions of eyes, glowing from their devices’ blue light, have watched her paint her face on her "makeitup" social media account. During the pandemic, her platform’s following sky-rocketed to unimaginable heights. In fact, she liked to joke that her signature silver winged eyeliner allowed her to “fly” among the stars. Well, TV stars at least.

 Tonight was her party for reaching fifty million subscribers. The celebration was complete with a rooftop venue overlooking the city’s skyline, an A-list celebrity guest list (that included everyone she loved except her new ex-girlfriend), and tiny packets of designer drugs. She had her manager plan all of it, of course, but she still felt a sense of pride to see everyone laughing and dancing on the light-up floor.

Once the sun began to rise behind the skyscrapers, the party’s energy slowly died. Stella decided it was finally time to walk back to her penthouse two blocks away. There were a few women who caught her attention tonight that she thought about taking back home, but she longed to curl underneath the covers by herself for a change. 

With the adrenaline (and other stimulants) from the night quickly wearing off, she realized just how horribly her feet ached from her six inch heels. Still, she chose to walk down the empty city sidewalks so she could breathe the air that was not tainted with smoke and expensive perfume.

The street lights were bound to turn off at any second, retreating from the sun along with all the night-shifters. But for now, she walked underneath the artificial yellow light and watched her shadows fall in front of her. 

Wait.

She rubbed her eyes (no doubt smearing some of her makeup) and looked down at the pavement again. Why were there two shadows? Before she considered the potential consequences, she turned around to confront whoever was following her.

She was expecting a tall, two hundred pound man wearing a hoodie and predatory grin. She was not expecting a petite teenage girl in dirty converse, a “makeitup” sweatshirt, and jean shorts. She had freckled skin just like hers that was coated in a too-pale foundation and shimmery blush. She also wore silver eyeliner, Stella’s signature look. 

“Oh my god, it’s really you!” The girl exclaimed, displaying her braces in a toothy grin. 

Stella’s shoulders relaxed. It was just another harmless fan. She plastered on a smile and replied, “You caught me! Would you like to take a selfie?”

The teenager squealed and embraced her in a surprisingly strong hug. Stella internally groaned; this girl was the kind of fan who did not understand boundaries. Still, she returned the embrace by wrapping her arms around her neck. Over the girl’s shoulder, she checked her watch for the time: 5:57AM. What was a young girl like her doing in the city by herself at this hour?

“How’d you find me?” Stella asked playfully, but her stomach began to feel uneasy.

“I cross-searched the background of the picture you posted on your story with rooftop venues nearby and found this one as a match!”

Creepy. “Wow!” She said instead with a laugh. 

“I’m your biggest fan! I was actually your first follower!”

Yeah, right. It was not the first time a fan made such an outrageous claim. Stella actually planned on becoming her very first follower, but some fake account beat her to it. It was called something weird, like--

“Friedpeach777! That’s me!”

Stella’s stomach tightened. She had never told anyone about the account before. Could the girl actually be telling the truth?

“That’s so cool!” she replied. “I’d love to stay and chat more, but I’m actually really tired from such a long night.” Stella waved and began to walk away. 

“No way, I’m tired, too!” The girl ran after her like a blood-thirsty mosquito. “I’ve been waiting for you to leave your party for a few hours now.” She twisted her brown hair that was the same shade as Stella’s before she dyed it blonde.

Stella forced a warm smile on her face. “Nice to meet you.” She scanned her brain for a way to escape from the needy girl. She  may have been able to locate her party’s venue, but her penthouse was her best-kept secret. There was no way she could go back there, now. 

“I’m so glad you finally broke things off with Vanessa!”

Stella cringed at the reminder of her ex. The fresh wound still stung, and the girl’s comment felt like salt being directly rubbed into it.

“You deserve someone who really knows you, who truly understands who you are,” she continued to ramble. “Ya know?”

“Sure,” she replied, unable to prevent the dryness seeping into her tone. She slightly increased her walking pace and crossed the street. She ran through a list of people she knew that lived nearby, ignoring how Vanessa was the first person that came to mind.  

“Wait, where are you going?” The girl blocked her path so she could not walk any further. Stella looked up and realized she had walked past her building. “You should get some sleep,” gesturing towards the building’s entrance.

Stella tried her best to hide the fear from her face. How did she know where she lived?

“I’m going to a friend’s,” she slowly said, twisting a strand of her hair. She had not indulged in that nervous tick in years. 

“Ohhhh, that makes sense!” the girl replied and returned to her place next to her. “Are you still friends with Jessica Smith?” She must have sensed her confusion because she elaborated. “Ya know, the redhead you hung out with in school?”

The recollection dawned on her. Jessica Smith. They used to wear BFF necklaces and have sleepovers every weekend. Jessica was actually her first crush. Now, Stella was not even sure if she followed her on social media. Once again, she found herself wondering how the girl knew all of this. She had met hardcore fans before, but no one was as knowledgeable as this girl.

For the first time since their encounter, a look of disappointment flashed across the girl’s eyes. “Oh, I guess not.”

“Do…do you know her?” She found herself asking. 

“Yeah, something like that,” the girl responded. “Maybe you should reach out to her.” With that, she turned around and walked away. 

“Wait!” Stella found herself telling the girl she originally wanted to escape from.

She looked over her shoulder with an expectant look.

“You never told me your name,” she said softly. 

The girl just gave her a sad smile and told her, “you should probably update your password, too. I can’t believe you’re still using the one you created in fifth grade.”

Just as the young girl continued to walk away, the street lights finally flickered off. 

Stella watched her leave, a thousand questions flooding her mind. Nearly all of them became answered, though, when she noticed the large brown birthmark on the girl’s left calf. 

Stella looked down at her own legs and stared at the identical mark on her skin...

Stella had always been her biggest fan, afterall.