Page 3 of Someone Just Followed You

Because this middle-aged guy with a sweaty head doesn’t look grateful. He looks hungry.

Chapter 4

Maple

I click the seatbelt and lean back against the headrest. It’s a ninety-minute flight to Salt Lake City, and I want to use the time to forget about that guy’s disgusting expression. At least he lives in a different state from me. Unlike that creepy guy who tried to give me chocolates outside school a few weeks ago. I don’t actually know where he lives, but I figure he’s local, and every day I go to school, I lowkey freak out that he’ll be back with more unwanted gifts.

Or maybe a gun, like Taylor, my best friend, suggested when I told her about him. I remember wishing she was joking but knowing she wasn’t. Too many famous people have been shot at lately for people to make those kind of jokes anymore. The only good thing to come out of it is that Dad drives me all the way to school now. And I’m trying to believe that Mom’s right when she says weird guys like him are almost always harmless.

The other thing I need to do on the flight is prep more social media posts about my day, ready to upload as soon as the plane lands. I managed to get a TikTok and a reel up before the shoot started – with lots of cool content from that epic car ride, and me getting my best ever glow-up from Destiny – and Mom nudged me to make another video on the car ride back to the airport. But she has airdropped loads more photos and video clips from the day, and I want to share them all.

I lift my phone and start swiping through. Mom is great at filming content, which isn’t exactly a surprise when she’s been doing it for forever. Maybe I should post something on my Instagram story before we fly, crediting her, of course. I usually spend more time on TikTok, but Instagram is where all the models post their content, and I guess I’m a model now. The airplane’s PA system has told us to turn our phones to flight mode, but Mom is still scrolling through hers so I should have time.

I click into the app but then freeze. Because my numbers are slaying it. I blink, but they don’t change. I have got twenty-two thousand, four hundred and sixteen likes on my reel, and double that number of views. And more than that, most of them are from accounts who don’t follow me. Don’t follow me yet, I think. Because that’s what Mom would say.

A grin spreads across my face, so wide it makes my cheeks ache. I turn to tell Mom my good news, but she’s put her phone down now and is lying back against the headrest, a mask pulled tight over her eyes. ‘Do not disturb’ etched into her cheekbones. I bite my lip. I should turn my phone off too, I guess. Maybe try and nap like Mom’s doing. But I’m too excited to sleep; I need to tell someone my good news.

Taylor. My best friend. At least, most of the time. Sometimes she gets jealous of my numbers, or how kids talk to me in school but ignore her, but then I just tag her in a few posts and we make up pretty quick. I click into Snapchat, go to her contact, but then pause, my thumbs hovering. Because there’s a snap from her that I haven’t seen until now – you’re not gonna like this – with video content attached.

My stomach contracts.

‘Miss?’

I flick my head up, look at the air steward. ‘Yes?’

She glances at Mom, clocks that she’s sleeping. ‘You need to put your phone on flight mode now,’ she says in a quiet – but firm – voice.

I turn back to my screen, the unwelcome message. I feel frozen. Like ice-cold dread has immobilized my bones.

‘We’ll be taking off in minutes,’ the air steward continues, her tone becoming sterner, like she’s done with teenagers and their phone addictions. ‘You don’t want to interfere with the frequency, do you?’

I look up at her and jerk back to the moment. ‘Sorry, no.’ I swipe my screen and tap on the airplane symbol.

And spend the next hour and a half in the air, wondering what it is that I’m not gonna like.

Chapter 5

Kirsten

Block. Sigh. Block. Block.

I tap my forefinger on the mousepad of my laptop. Luckily there are only three creeps to deal with this morning. Three unwelcome subscribers who think it’s okay to talk about panties, or body parts, on a child’s YouTube page. It’s disgusting for sure, but it doesn’t even raise my heart rate anymore. These anonymous men think they can get a reaction with their gross language, upset Maple or enrage me, but they forget who has all the power. The power to oust them with one click of my dainty finger.

Task complete, I slide my laptop away – the smooth metal on new quartz making a satisfying swish – and reach for my coffee. Yes, it’s caffeinated, but some rules of our church are just not for me. I take a long sip and eye the calendar hanging on the wall. It’s the public-facing one for fun activities like Aspen’s gymnastics classes and Ash’s bug club, rather than the work diary, which frankly wouldn’t fit in those little boxes.

And for Maple, I suspect the work side of life is going to get even busier after yesterday. That lesbian creative director, Lois, waxed lyrical about Maple’s potential, and the skinny Italian woman from Azione who, in my opinion, looked laughably off brand with her Fendi handbag and Gucci heels, was super complimentary too. I left a few messages for Maddie at the PR agency yesterday, telling her all the good news, so I imagine she’ll call me back soon, hopefully with some positive feedback of her own.

Tomorrow’s scribble on the calendar makes me smile. Friday June 5th, the day school breaks up for summer. Which means in a couple of days I will have my three beautiful babies all to myself for two whole months. I love family time. And not having to fit Maple’s filming around the school day will be a welcome relief too. Especially when school does nothing but interfere with the education that’s actually going to make a difference in Maple’s life.

But we won’t have to worry about that ever again, thank goodness. I haven’t told Maple yet, but I’m moving her to homeschooling. Yes, Maple is the most popular girl in her school – 1.9 million YouTube subscribers, 400,000 TikTok followers and a growing Instagram profile can do that, I suppose – so I get that she may be reluctant to leave. But she turns fifteen in October, and if she wants to be a successful influencer, capitalize on the impressive start she’s made, she is going to have to make some sacrifices.

I eye my phone and notice the time. Shit. Garrett normally does the school run – he’s been at a loose end since he lost his job last year – but he’s gone fishing on the Provo River this morning; for a man who loves animals so much, he seems strangely keen on killing them. He left before sunrise, promising to be back by lunchtime with a bucketful of rainbow trout. My first instinct was to tell him he couldn’t go, that he was needed here – I’ve got so much to do after yesterday’s shoot – but then I considered how cute a video of the twins helping him gut the fish might look, and waved him off with a reluctant smile.

But it does mean the school run is down to me today. And with Maple still insisting on being driven all the way to the gates, just because of that one sad man and his cheap box of chocolates, I need to get things moving.

I slip off the kitchen stool and enjoy the feel of the smooth cherry wood flooring beneath my feet. We only moved into this house last December, just in time for Christmas, and I still thank the Lord for it every day. It’s modern, airy, sparklingly new, and three times the size of our old place. The big windows and swathes of light make it perfect for filming. And the swimming pool has brought us – and our subscribers – hours of fun already. Sure, it was expensive, and it took some sustained effort to convince Garrett to buy it, especially with him not working, but I talked him round eventually. And the bank practically bit my hand off when I applied for the loan. They know income potential when they see it.

At the bottom of the stairs, I rest my hand on the square oak newel post. ‘Hey, guys!’ I call upwards. ‘We need to leave for school in twenty minutes, so come get some breakfast!’