Chapter 35
35
I dump the journals on my apartment floor. All Moleskines.
Chloe had written the month and year on each journal’s title page, the earliest being from 2010, when she wrote exclusively in pink gel pen and bubbly cursive. We would have been eleven—the start of middle school.
I dive in, excited to unearth the lore of her life. Details on her history will help my impersonation—which is especially important for this upcoming trip, when I’ll be surrounded by Chloe’s peers. It’s the last place I’d want my secret to be uncovered.
The first page of her 2010 journal: WARNING! This is the private journal of Chloe Van Huusen. If you are not Chloe, stop—
I flip to the next page.
September 3, 2010
I feel stupid writing this. But Mom and Dad gave this to me so I have to use it or I’ll feel bad. What am I even supposed to write here? It’ll just be pages and pages of me waking up, going to school, eating dinner.
What follows are pages and pages of her waking up, going to school, eating dinner. Pretty boring. Sometimes she fawns over her crushes, James, Michael, Callum, scribbling their names in big bubble letters and swirly hearts, playing M.A.S.H. in the margins. Somehow, she always ends up with a limo and a mansion. Even silly games favor her fortune.
The kernels of drama come from her entries about the Van Huusens. Chloe writes of how she pushes herself to be a perfect child, not to disappoint them, and how she doesn’t like going to family functions since her extended family never hides the fact that she’s not a real Van Huusen. Though the Van Huusens provide a comfortable life, she confesses, I wish I loved them more. I wish they’d love me more.
It’s a bit sad, really.
July 6, 2011
Mom and Dad are taking me to the Hamptons again. I know I shouldn’t be complaining about a vacation, but every time I go, I’m bored out of my mind. None of my cousins seem to like me that much. It’s so embarrassing when one of the aunts forces them to play with me. I’d rather they leave me alone.
Lately, I’ve been thinking more about my birth family. My twin. I wonder if she thinks about me. I wish we were adopted together so I don’t have to be here by myself.
This was the only mention of me in the journal. It’s not until 2014, a few journals later, that I’m mentioned again.
October 12, 2014
I found out more about my twin, Julie. I had to beg Mom and Dad.
She’s living with our aunt. I wonder what her life is like. I want to meet her and talk to her. I want to be her friend.
Chloe wanted to be my friend. A genuine friend. Not just a prop for some YouTube video. When did that change?
October 15, 2014
I keep thinking of my twin. I can’t stop. I’m jealous that she gets to live with real family. I wonder if she has photos of our birth parents in our aunt’s home. I can’t even remember what they look like. I wish I could meet Julie, but Mom and Dad say it’s difficult since they don’t know where she lives. That’s bullshit. I’m sure they can hire a private investigator. They’ve done it before when Aunt Caroline’s husband was cheating on her. Why can’t they do it for me?
I wonder how Chloe would have fared if she was raised by my aunt. She’d always been the darling child. Maybe Auntie would have loved her. Or maybe her self-esteem would have been dismantled like mine, maybe she would have been hounded until she felt useless, stripped of all self-worth.
Soon, I’m enraptured by the journals. I read everything: cringe depression poems, to-do lists, manifestation entries, food tracking (a lot of black coffee and salad, very little of anything else), privileged-kid rants. With every new entry, I’m peeling back a layer of Chloe, creeping closer to who she truly was. By 2015, she was sixteen and had started a YouTube channel because she was bored and predictably lonely. She documents how she felt when she got her first hundred subscribers: I THINK I’M LITERALLY ABOUT TO DIE FROM EXCITEMENT.
When she gets to 10K, I’m mentioned.
April 5, 2017
I can’t believe it. 10,000 followers!! What!?!?!?!?!?!?! I’m about to pass out. And in a few months, I’ll be at college. I’ve already thought of a thousand video ideas. Tips on how to decorate your dorm, study guides, etc., etc.
I wonder if Julie is following me. I’d imagine it’d be weird if she stumbled onto a video of a girl that looks just like her. Or maybe we don’t look alike anymore. Twins can grow up to look different. Something about epigenetics and our environment. We might look like complete strangers.
There are more entries about her YouTube and social media journey. From her first AdSense check to her first major sponsorship to being recognized in the street. The Van Huusens make sparse appearances, only being mentioned after they had a tense family dinner together.
My parents think being an influencer is not a real job and that I should focus on getting into law school. They never say it out loud, but I can tell they’re embarrassed by me. They think I’m making a fool of myself for everyone to see. They’ll never understand the lucrative potential of this career or how serious I am about my future. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. They’re so old they still use the fax machine. They don’t understand the internet like I do.
It’s in January when Chloe meets Bella Marie.
January 6, 2018
I’ve been invited to my first brand event ever!! The event is hosted by Bella Marie!!! OMG. She has over 15mil followers. I can’t believe I’ll get to meet her. I hope she likes me. I’m freaking out. I don’t know what to do!!! I’ve asked my roommate to style me since she’s in fashion school. She put together this super chic outfit with a blazer and turtleneck. I feel so profesh.
Update from after the event: I spoke to Bella Marie. Actually. That’s a lie. I sat beside her awkwardly, scared to talk to her, but then she turned her head and spoke to me. ME! I honestly can’t remember what I said. Probably something embarrassing since I was freaking out. She asked me so many questions. I think I told her about Julie and our birth parents??? Why did I do that? What is wrong with me? I can’t believe I said that stuff to Bella Marie. I wish I had a time machine.
January 7, 2018
BELLA MARIE FOLLOWED ME BACK ON INSTAGRAM. OH MY GOD!!!!
This is followed by her scribbling Bella Marie will be my friend a hundred times as a manifestation exercise.
After that day, they began exchanging DMs. Bella Marie invited her to several dinners and brunches. She got acquainted with the other Belladonnas, who at that time were only Emmeline, Kelly, Lily, and Ana. Then, one spring day:
March 20, 2018
I think Bella Marie just invited me on a trip with her? I had my roommate read the invitation to make sure I’m not hallucinating. OH MY GOD.
During May, she’s preoccupied with preparing for the trip. Getting waxes, a manicure, planning outfits days ahead. I’m struck by how similar we are. I did the exact same thing.
But then, June arrives.
June 8, 2018
Someone sent me the grossest email today. It linked to an old article back in 2003 about Mom and Dad saying racist shit during a conference. The anonymous sender said they only adopted me because they were trying to cover their asses. I blocked them immediately. Why the hell would anyone send that to me? Mom and Dad would never.
The next day:
I think I want to die.
I asked them about the article.
It’s true.
Well, they didn’t say it outright, but I could just tell. They’re so obvious. They asked: “Where did you hear about this?” instead of just denying it.
My life has been a farce. A fucking charade. No wonder they never felt like family. I was only ever a bargaining chip. A Chinese child to attract Chinese investors.
I feel like such a fool. I want to fucking jump off a building. Push them off too.
I don’t think I can ever forgive them. I wish they’d never adopted me. I wish they didn’t exist.
I’m so glad I have this trip—it’s the thing I need. To be away from all of this. Bella Marie is picking me up tonight. I need to focus on this.
I’m gagged. So that random conspiracy theory I read was true? Only white people would think of adopting a whole-ass kid to pretend they aren’t racist. This is so crazy. I almost feel bad for Chloe.
I flip to the next page, eager to know more about the trip, the part I’ve been wanting to read about the whole time.
It’s blank.
“The fuck?”
I leaf back and forth as if I missed a secret section, or a page got glued together. I check the seams—maybe something got ripped out—but no, the rest of the journal is untouched. Brand-new.
That was the last entry.
“You have to be kidding me!” I chuck the journal hard against my windows. The pages flutter onto the ground. I sprint to the elevators, back down to storage, and search through every box. There must be more. There must be more. There must be more!
Nothing.
The journal entries end right before she gets picked up. Nothing about the trip. Nothing about what happened with Chloe and her parents. Nothing about the car crash. Nothing about meeting me.
She stopped journaling completely. A daily habit for seven years. Ceased.
I’m out of breath from my manic search. Filled with rage, I tilt my head to the ground and give the floor a big middle finger.
“Fuck you, Chloe. Rot in hell, bitch!”
She couldn’t even give me this one thing.