“Of course I’m not! I’m just—” He exhaled slowly and loudly into the phone. “Listen. A war is coming, Natalie.A major war.And it won’t bemewho has to live through the consequences of it.”
“So I’ve been told.” Civil war was all the rage in the forums, these days. Caleb had talked about it nonstop for a while, waxing on each evening about the inevitability of a national schism, the imminent need for local militias and homemade weapons, until finally I turned to him and said, “Well, at least now you’ll get to be a soldieranda blacksmith, just like you always wanted!” That shut him up quick.
“Listen, Doug,” I said. “I’m pulling into the Whole Foods parking lot. Let’s discuss this later.”
He went on, speaking more quickly now, like a game show candidate chasing the clock. “Civil war, Natalie, do you hear me? Whether you acknowledge it or not, it’s coming. Lines will be drawn. Itwill not be pretty.We have to get our act together as a nation, andquickly,unless you want a, a, acivil warfor your children, and your children’s children—”
“Mhmm, I know. Civil war. Very scary. Listen, I’m at the grocery store. Can we pick this up at another time?” I hung up before he could respond, then checked my notifications quickly.
My brain is breaking like how does she do all of this
Hey everyone, local farmer here, just want to say their farming practices are totally unethical
dude mark my words this woman is miserable
The first week after I went viral, comments like these had destabilized me to the point that I could barely walk in a straight line. Now I could practically write them myself.
And then I scrolled past a name I recognized. I paused, then clicked on the message request.
Hey Natalie! It’s Reena Magliotti from college. Random, but I’m an intern at America News now and I didn’t know if you would ever do a Q&A with me? I know you haven’t done any interviews yet, but it could be a fun reunion! LMK.
I let out a little huff of amusement. Poor thing. She must have really swallowed her pride to write that message. And to be an intern at twenty-seven—yikes!
Inside the grocery store, I moved quickly, grabbing two balls of twine and then adding a few more necessities to the cart. Brussels sprouts, green juice, active yeast. As I was checking out, the woman behind me tapped my shoulder. “Excuse me, I’m so sorry, but: Are you Natalie Heller Mills?”
I paused.
I hadn’t thought it would happen today. Which was silly. It could happen any time I left the ranch, but still—
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to three.
This, right here, is the strangest part about becoming famous online: you can have millions of followers and still not have a single in-person interaction with a fan for months.
“Hi!” I said. “Yes, I am. Do we know each other?”
This is the response I had decided to have. Friendly, yet relatable.Stars: they’re just like us!
“Oh my gosh, I am a huge fan of your account!” She seemed delighted at how on-brand the ingredients in my cart were. So organic. Such vibes.Go ahead and take a picture,I nearly said. “I’m sorry,” she said, and laughed. “I can’t believe how pretty you are in real life.”
“You’re so pretty too!” I said immediately. This was going well, actually. What had I been so afraid of? This was fun!
“No, no, no.” She was blushing now. “I just ran out the door this morning to get some eggs. I’m sure my hair is whackadoo.”
“Well,” I said lovingly, “I’m sure you’ll do it better next time.”
The woman frowned.Bad, Natalie. Awkward.I swallowed a sudden rush of fury at myself, a fury which only doubled in power when the woman glanced back at me, her expression now colored with uncertainty.
“So you—you live in the area?”
“Not really. I mean, technically yes, but not in town or anything.”
There was a stirring in the air between us. My response had been all wrong, not just in content but in the style of my delivery: heavy when it should have been light, condescending when it should have been grateful. Had I mistakenly implied that living in town was low-status? I couldn’t tell. Now a familiar discomfort filled my chest, a bodily awareness of the uncanny horror filling this woman’s mind: I was not the same Natalie she loved so much. At best, I was close. Nearly there. A clone, or a robot. The twin sister no one knew about. Natalie-adjacent. Sharper in tone. Not as tall as she’d imagined.
In short: I was still me. Which meant I was nothing likeher:the Natalie who lived online.
This was, truthfully, why I hadn’t accepted a single interview request yet, even though I’d received dozens: I simply wasn’t ready.
“Well,” the woman said. “It was so nice meeting you.”
