I don't even remember how I survived that class with Lily sitting next to me. It was like my brain decided to split into two warring factions: one part desperately trying to play it cool, nodding along like everything was totally normal, while the other part was a panicked, screaming mess.
Just act normal, Chloe. Pretend you're fine, Chloe. Smile! Oh wait, not too much—now you look like a deranged clown. Great. Perfect.
And then there was the screaming. Constant, unrelenting screaming in my head. Like the soundtrack to a really bad horror movie. The sheer proximity of Lily made my brain short-circuit. I could smell her perfume—something light and floral that I couldn't quite place—and it made me weirdly hyper-aware of how I probably smelled like anxiety and cafeteria pizza.
Every time she shifted in her seat or leaned over slightly to check her notebook, I could feel my shoulders tense up like I was bracing for impact. And, of course, I made the mistake of glancing at her exactly once, only to be met with her soft smile and those bright, curious eyes.
My brain immediately went into DEFCON 1. Abort! Look away! Don't get caught staring! Oh God, she's looking at you—why is she looking at you?! Say something! No, wait, don't say anything! Just—exist!
I nodded along to whatever the teacher was saying, though I was 95% sure I didn't process a single word of it. Something about quadratic equations? History of the Industrial Revolution? Who knows. All I could focus on was not spontaneously combusting under the weight of Lily's casual presence.
A part of me wanted to just dive out the nearest window and make a break for it. Surely no one would question it, right? They'd just assume Chloe—sorry, I—had something urgent to attend to. Like, I don't know, running away to live in the woods and avoid all human interaction forever.
But no, I stayed glued to my seat, gripping my pen like it was a lifeline, and praying that the bell would ring before I completely fell apart. Spoiler alert: it didn't.
As the bell rang, Lily and I walked out of the classroom. "I'm surprised you didn't ask why I wanted to grab lunch," she said casually. "You know, like old times?"
I raised an eyebrow before I could stop myself. Was that something unusual for her all along? Wasn't it normal for girls to go eat with their friends all the time?
"Well," I began with a nervous grin on my face as our classmates walked past us in their own groups. "I didn't mind at all!" My voice cracked slightly at the end–ugh, this is awkward.
"Really?" Lily said. Her smile seemed different for a second, as if it faltered. She nodded to herself. "That's good." We arrived at the cafeteria before I could say another word.
We found a table near the windows, and I busied myself with unpacking my lunch, hoping to avoid her gaze. But as soon as we sat down, Lily leaned forward, her tone shifting.
"Hey... can I ask you something?" she said, her voice softer now.
I stiffened, glancing up at her. "Uh, sure?"
She hesitated, fiddling with the edge of her sandwich wrapper. "Is everything okay with you? You've been... different lately."
My stomach twisted into a knot. Different. I scrambled to come up with something to say, but my mind was blank. "Different how?" I asked, trying to sound casual, like I didn't already know exactly what she meant.
Lily tilted her head, studying me with those perceptive eyes of hers. "I don't know. Just... distant, I guess. Like you're not really here sometimes."
I let out a shaky laugh, hoping it would mask how close she was to the truth. "Nah, I'm fine. Just, you know, busy."
She didn't look convinced. "Are you sure? Because if something's going on, you can tell me."
For a split second, I thought about telling her. About spilling everything—the confusion, the fear, the constant sense of being out of place. But I couldn't. She wouldn't understand, and I couldn't risk her figuring out the truth.
"I'm fine," I said again, forcing a smile.
Lily didn't push, but her expression softened. "Okay. But you'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"
"Yeah. Totally." The lie tasted bitter, but I swallowed it down.
She smiled again, and for a moment, it felt like everything was normal. Like we were just two friends sharing lunch and not me, desperately trying not to combust. But then she said something that made my stomach drop like I'd swallowed a bowling ball.
"Do you remember that time in fifth grade when we tried to bake cookies in my mom's kitchen and almost burned the house down?"
Uh, nope. No, I did not. My brain froze, utterly blank. That wasn't my memory. That was her memory—Chloe's memory. And unless someone handed me the script to Chloe's life, I was flying blind.
"Oh, uh, yeah," I said, letting out a laugh that was so forced it practically had a chokehold on my vocal cords. "Good times."
Lily laughed, the kind of laugh that made you feel like sunshine was bottled up in her voice. Her eyes sparkled, and she leaned closer, completely unaware that I was over here panicking like I'd been caught cheating on a test.
"We were such disasters back then," she said, grinning. "My mom wouldn't let us near the kitchen for months! Remember how you kept saying, 'If it's too salty, just add more sugar'? You even tried to fix the burned cookies with frosting. Frosting! And then the smoke alarm—oh my gosh, the smoke alarm!"
I nodded like a bobblehead on overdrive, plastering a smile on my face. Inside, though? Full-blown fraud alert. All I could think was, What kind of maniac fixes burned cookies with frosting?!
As Lily giggled at the memory—her memory—I felt a weird mix of guilt and awkwardness gnawing at me. I didn't know how to respond because I hadn't been there. Chase hadn't been there. And now I was starting to realize just how much of Chloe's life I didn't know.
And then, like the universe thought, Hey, you know what would make this even more uncomfortable? I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
At a nearby table, a group of guys—guys that I hung out with all the time alongside Noah, shooting hoops and chilling at the skate park—were staring at me. Not in the casual hey, long time no see way, but in the you're hot, and we're gonna make it your problem way. One of them elbowed his buddy, smirking like he'd just won a game of Truth or Dare.
I blinked. Were they… flirting with me? These were guys I used to pull stupid pranks on. I once dared one of them to eat an entire can of baked beans in under five minutes! But now, they weren't looking at me like a buddy. They were looking at me like… like I was Chloe.
One of them leaned closer to the other and whispered something. They both laughed, and the first guy sent a wink my way. A wink. I nearly choked on my soda.
I tried to focus on Lily again, but my face was burning, and I could still feel their stares. It was like I was suddenly the lead actress in a movie I hadn't auditioned for. Did they not recognize me at all? Or were they just too distracted by the fact that I was now—ugh—a girl?
Lily noticed my distracted look and tilted her head. "Are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah, totally," I said, voice cracking just a little. "Just, uh, zoning out."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but she didn't push. Instead, she smiled again, softer this time. "I'm glad we're hanging out again. It's nice… like old times."
"Yeah," I muttered, trying to sound casual as I fought the urge to dive under the table. "Like old times."
But it wasn't like old times. Not for me. Because old times didn't involve my supposed friends checking me out like I was the newest flavor at the ice cream parlor. Or memories I couldn't remember. Or this suffocating sense that I was one wrong move away from everyone realizing I wasn't Chloe at all.
And as I sat there, feeling the weight of Lily's warmth and the strangers' stares, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever figure out how to make this new life feel like my own.
The rest of lunch passed in a blur of polite nods and half-hearted laughs, and by the time the bell rang, I couldn't get out of there fast enough. My stomach was still twisting with nerves, and my brain felt like it had been through a blender.
As I cut through the cafeteria to get to my next class, I spotted him—Noah—sitting at a table near the back. He was hunched over a textbook, his dark hair falling slightly into his eyes, his brow furrowed like he was working out some impossible equation.
I froze mid-step, my heart doing this weird skip thing. Before… well, before everything, Noah had been my best friend. We'd been partners in crime, always cracking jokes, always coming up with some dumb scheme to keep things interesting. But now? I didn't know what we were anymore.
Did he even want to talk to me? Would he still see me as me? Or was I just some girl wearing his best friend's face?
Still, I couldn't just stand there staring like a creep. I had to try. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to walk over, my sneakers scuffing against the linoleum floor as I approached his table.
"Hey, Noah," I said, my voice trying way too hard to sound casual.
He looked up, and for the briefest moment, his eyes softened, like he recognized me. But then something flickered across his face—apprehension, maybe? Or confusion? Whatever it was, it pulled his features tight, and suddenly, he wasn't looking at me the way he used to.
"Oh. Hey," he said, his tone guarded, like he wasn't sure if I was friend or foe.
I waited for him to say more, to crack a grin, maybe make some sarcastic comment about how I still owed him five bucks from a bet. But instead, he glanced back down at his book, like I wasn't even standing there.
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and tried again. "Studying?" I asked, sliding my hands into my pockets to stop myself from fidgeting.
"Yeah," he replied, curt and to the point, his eyes not leaving the page.
The silence that followed was louder than any cafeteria chatter. I scrambled to fill it, reaching for the first thing that came to mind. "Wow, look at you. Who would've thought Noah—the king of pranks—would trade silly string for textbooks?"
It was supposed to be funny. Lighthearted. Something to ease the tension. But he didn't laugh. He didn't even smile. Instead, he looked up, his dark eyes serious in a way I wasn't used to seeing.
"Not everything's a joke, Chloe," he said quietly.
The words hit like a sucker punch, and I blinked, stunned. He'd said my name, but the way he said it—sharp and almost… disappointed—made it clear that I wasn't who he expected me to be.
"Oh," I mumbled, the knot in my stomach tightening. "Right. Sorry."
I could feel the heat creeping up my neck, and suddenly, I couldn't bear to stand there anymore. I turned and walked away, each step feeling heavier than the last.
Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I caught him glancing back at me, like maybe he regretted being so abrupt. But by the time I looked over my shoulder, he was already back to his textbook, his brow furrowed in concentration again.
It was like I'd been erased from his life, replaced with someone he couldn't quite figure out. And honestly? I wasn't sure I blamed him.
As I walked home after class (hardly remembering anything my teachers said), I noticed that Mom had sent me a text earlier. The concern in her words felt jarring, out of place, like she was trying to check on someone she didn't fully know—or trust.
Mom: Are you okay?
That alone would've been enough to make me overthink for an hour, but the next message twisted the knot in my stomach even tighter:
Mom: Don't forget why you're here.
Why I'm here?
That evening, after staring at my phone and trying to make sense of Mom's cryptic text, I finally forced myself downstairs for dinner. The smell of roasted chicken and garlic wafted through the air, something that felt so normal it almost made me forget how upside-down everything was. Almost.
Mom was already sitting at the table, a glass of wine in hand, looking far more composed than I felt. The table was set perfectly—cloth napkins folded into triangles, a neat arrangement of side dishes, like we were on the set of a commercial for a family dinner.
It was the kind of scene that felt worlds away from the rushed, chaotic dinners I used to have as Chase, where we'd scarf down takeout in front of the TV.
"Hey, sweetie," Mom said, her voice warm in a way that still felt foreign to me. She gestured to the chair across from her. "Come sit. You must be starving."
I slid into the seat, the softness in her tone throwing me off. Sweetie? Since when did she call me sweetie?
As Chase, our conversations usually consisted of, "Why didn't you clean your room?" or, "Stop leaving your shoes in the hallway." But now? Now it was like I'd stepped into an alternate reality where she treated me like… well, like Chloe. Perfect, accomplished Chloe.
"How was your day?" Mom asked, pouring me a glass of water.
I hesitated, my brain scrambling to come up with something normal to say. "Uh, it was fine. Just, you know… classes and stuff."
She smiled, but it was the kind of smile that felt like it was searching for more. "Did you see Lily today? I remember you two always used to sit together at lunch. Oh, and remember that time the two of you got caught passing notes in class? Your teacher was so mad."
I froze, the fork halfway to my mouth. Another memory that wasn't mine. Another piece of Chloe's life that I was supposed to pretend I remembered.
"Oh, yeah," I said, trying to sound casual. "Totally. That was… so embarrassing." I forced a laugh, but it came out too high-pitched, too fake. My mom didn't seem to notice, though. She just chuckled softly, her eyes crinkling with genuine fondness.
For a second, I almost felt guilty for not being the Chloe she thought I was. Almost.
We ate in silence for a moment, the clinking of silverware filling the awkward void. I decided to take the plunge, my voice hesitant as I asked, "Mom, about that text you sent me earlier… what did you mean? 'Don't forget why you're here.' What does that mean?"
Her hand froze mid-cut, her knife hovering over the chicken on her plate. Her expression didn't change much, but I could see the way her shoulders tensed ever so slightly. "I just mean…" she started, but her voice trailed off, like she was searching for the right words. "I just want you to stay focused, that's all. You've worked so hard to get to this point, Chloe."
That didn't answer anything. If anything, it just made me more suspicious. "Focused on what?" I pressed, my voice quieter now.
Mom smiled again, but this time it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You know what I mean," she said, her tone gentle but firm. It was the kind of non-answer that made it clear she wasn't going to elaborate. "Anyway, you should get some rest tonight."
I nodded, her words still ringing in my mind. "Right. Yeah, sure."
She changed the subject after that, asking something about school assignments and extracurriculars, but I barely heard her.
My mind was spinning, stuck on the way she'd dodged my question. As Chase, my mom was direct—sometimes painfully so. She didn't tiptoe around things or sugarcoat her words. But this version of her? She was different. Softer, yes, but also more guarded, like she was hiding something.
As I finished my meal, I couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't just keeping things from me—she was keeping things from Chloe, too. And the worst part was, I didn't even know where to start unraveling the mystery.
I walked upstairs and sat on the bed. It felt like I was at a friend's house for the first time, unsure of where to sit or what to do. It all felt too alien for me, yet somehow, I had to accept that this was how it always was.
I glanced around, taking in the space that was both mine and not mine. Chloe's room. The walls were still a soft lavender, a shade I probably would've hated as Chase. A corkboard hung above the desk, dotted with neat little polaroids of smiling faces and glittery push pins that seemed carefully curated. A stack of notebooks sat on the desk, their spines perfectly aligned like something out of a back-to-school ad.
And then there were the trophies—lined up on a shelf like a shrine to Chloe's many accomplishments. Track meets, debate tournaments, academic excellence. Each one polished and gleaming, staring back at me like they knew I didn't belong here.
It felt like the room was watching me, waiting for me to mess up.
I needed to do something—anything—to distract myself. I dropped to my knees and pulled out the box I'd found earlier under the bed. It was one of those cheap plastic bins with a cracked lid, its edges scuffed from years of being dragged around.
Inside, I found an assortment of Chloe's old things—photos, journals, little trinkets that made no sense to me. There was a ticket stub to a theme park I'd never visited, a charm bracelet with a single dangling heart, a pressed flower taped onto a piece of paper with the word promises written in careful cursive underneath.
It all felt so foreign, like I was rifling through someone else's life. And, well, I guess I was.
I flipped open one of the journals, the pages yellowed at the edges. Most of it was what you'd expect: doodles in the margins, notes about crushes and homework and bad hair days. But then I found a page that made me pause.
It was about Lily.
March 3rd
I don't even know where to begin. I guess I'll start with the fact that I'm still so mad at Lily. I don't even want to be writing this right now, but I need to get it out or I'll explode.
It was supposed to be our project. A history thing, and we were gonna make it fun. But no. Lily took over, like she always does. She started out all confident, pulling out books and making lists, and at first, I thought it was fine. She's organized, she always gets the good ideas. But then, it just... kept going. Like, every time I tried to contribute, she would either ignore me or make it sound like my ideas weren't good enough. Every time we talked about it, she'd already have a plan for what we were gonna do next. I felt like I was just along for the ride, and it wasn't even a fun ride.
It got worse when I saw that she'd already done almost all of the work. Every single section of the project was written out, and I hadn't even been asked to do anything. It was like I was invisible. I don't know if she even noticed. She kept telling me to "just add some stuff to what I've done." It hurt so much. I kept thinking, "Why am I even here?" I tried to bring it up, but she just brushed me off like I was overreacting.
So, today, I lost it. After school, I just snapped. I told her she was being unfair, that I wasn't going to sit back and let her do everything. And she yelled back at me! She said I wasn't doing enough, that I was being lazy, and that it wasn't her fault I was "too distracted with other stuff." That one really stung, and I just couldn't hold it in anymore. I told her she never listens to me and that it was our project, not hers. She got all defensive, saying she was just trying to make sure we did well, and she didn't want to waste time. But I wasn't even trying to waste time. I just wanted a chance to actually do something.
We ended up not talking for the rest of the day. I didn't want to talk to her after that. It was like we weren't even friends anymore. I thought this was going to break us, but then... I got a text from her tonight. She was sorry. I could tell she felt bad, but I'm still not sure how I feel. She told me I was right and that she'd been a little too bossy, but I don't know. We cried, and then we made up, or at least, sort of. It's still icy with her. I still feel angry, like she doesn't care enough to let me in on the stuff we're supposed to do together.
I don't want to lose her as a friend. I really don't. But I also don't want to feel like I'm being used. This whole thing is confusing. I guess we'll talk tomorrow. I just wish it didn't have to be like this.
I'm still hurt, but... I guess I understand her a little more now. Maybe we'll figure it out. Maybe I need to be more vocal, or maybe I need to just... not let her walk all over me. I'm not sure what I learned from this yet, but I hope it's not the end of us.
Anyway, I'm exhausted. I'll figure it out tomorrow.
- Chloe
I blinked after reading "my" name. I looked up from the diary, staring into space.
So something did happen between Chloe and Lily. The same Chloe that was supposed to be just like Chase.
Except...I don't remember this ever happening. I hardly ever spoke to Lily back when I was Chase--or well, when I was the real me.
I stared at the words, my thumb brushing over the ink like I could somehow absorb the memory through my skin. The thought crept into my mind slowly, like a shadow stretching across the floor:
This wasn't my life.
This wasn't my body.
And yet, somehow, I was supposed to live it.
My chest tightened, and I snapped the journal shut, shoving the box back under the bed as if burying it could make everything feel less wrong.
I stood up and wandered to the mirror on the wall. Chloe stared back at me—or, I guess, I stared back at me. Her face was mine now, but it still didn't feel real. It was like wearing a mask that didn't quite fit, the edges rubbing uncomfortably against my skin.
I leaned closer, studying the freckles scattered across my nose, the curve of my lips, the softness in my eyes that hadn't been there when I was Chase. It was a pretty face—objectively—but it didn't feel like mine.
"Who are you supposed to be?" I whispered, my breath fogging up the glass.
The reflection didn't answer. It just stared back, silent and unyielding, like it was waiting for me to figure it out on my own.
I stepped back and let out a shaky breath, my eyes darting back to the desk, the shelf of trophies, the corkboard of memories that weren't mine. It all felt so perfect, so painfully Chloe, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was just a guest here. An intruder, pretending to be someone I could never live up to.
For the first time, I wished I could fall asleep and wake up as Chase again, with all the messy, imperfect chaos that came with it.
Because this? This felt like trying to breathe underwater.