I Kissed Shara Wheeler(51)

Under the last thing she wrote, new words finally appear.

Well, what did you think of the letter?

She slaps her phone against her chest and stares up at the water-stained ceiling, screams and laughter and music and gossip fading out under the deafening volume of Shara’s nerve.

I think you made your point pretty clearly, she types, thumbs jabbing at the keyboard. Shara’s cursor is waiting for her response. Though I’m surprised you actually showed your hand.

Shara types back immediately.

You figured it out, then. I knew I wasn’t overestimating you.

Chloe rolls her eyes. Of course Shara wants to play it cool, like she didn’t write a whole letter about how she’s in love with Chloe and then disappear when Chloe read it. Shara Wheeler, always running away and pretending it was all part of her plan.

What I can’t figure out is why you had to do it like this, Chloe types. Seems like a lot of work for something you could have done from your desk in Mrs. Farley’s class. I’ve been right here the whole time.

This time, Shara takes longer to start typing. Chloe stares at her cursor and imagines her on the other side of it, tucking her long hair behind her ear and frowning down at the keyboard.

That’s the problem, Shara types. I was too close to realize that you’re special. Took a while to figure out how to get you where I want you.

“Chloe!”

Chloe startles so hard, her foot almost goes straight into the toilet.

“Yeah!” she shouts back, jumping down. Her voice comes out strangled, so she clears her throat before she opens the door. “What’s up?”

Georgia’s waiting for her on the other side of the door with a fistful of lipsticks and a quizzical brow. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, of course,” she says.

“I need to—”

“Bring those to Ash?” Chloe says, pulling the lipsticks out of her hand. “Got it.”

“Wait—”

“I know,” Chloe calls over her shoulder, already at the door. “No direct application! I’ll tell them to use a brush.”



* * *



In the choir room, Ash has set up an approximation of the makeup station they had for Phantom. They’re a bit of a legend within the theater program for being a wizard with a Morphe brush. They transformed Ace’s face into a complete horror show for Phantom with nothing but liquid latex, wet Kleenex, and a YouTube tutorial in unsubtitled Russian.

“Georgia wanted me to bring these to you,” Chloe says, dropping the lipsticks in Ash’s lap.

“Oh, really?” Ash says. “That’s nice of her.”

Most of the guys are still changing, but Ace is sitting cross-legged on a riser with a full contour and green eyeshadow. Nearby, Smith is watching raptly.

“You look cool, Ace,” Chloe says.

“Thanks,” he preens. “You do too. The cape is dope.”

“You’re a good sport,” she says, half-distracted, already pulling out her phone.

“I let Mackenzie put lipstick on me when we borrowed cheerleader uniforms for the homecoming pep rally, but this is like, so much cooler,” Ace says.

“Hold still, I’m almost done,” Ash says.

“Oops.” Ace freezes, and when he speaks again, it’s through his teeth and a locked jaw. “Sorry.”

In the doc on Chloe’s phone, Shara hasn’t typed anything else. Chloe lets the last four words settle in her stomach. Where I want you.

She types back carefully, Where is that? And then hides her phone before Smith can catch on.

When she looks up at Smith, though, he’s not paying attention to her at all. He’s still watching Ash put the final flourish on Ace’s eye makeup.

“Okay,” Ash says, putting down their brush. “You can go change now.”

“Thanks, Ash, you’re so cool,” Ace says, and he gets up and lumbers out, leaving Ash blinking owlishly after him.

“Do you think, um,” Smith says, “do you think you could put some on me?”

Ash turns, and now Smith is the one getting blinked at.

“But you weren’t in the spring musical.”

“I know,” he says. He touches his hair, then the side of his face. “But it looks fun.”

Ash considers it and shrugs. “Okay.”

Smith scoots into Ace’s spot, and Ash examines his face from a few angles before picking out a handful of pigments from their kit.

“Are you gonna do a costume?” Chloe asks Ash. “I think all that’s left on the rack is probably way too big for you. You’ll have no shape.”

“That works for me,” Ash says. “My ideal body is no body at all.”

Chloe snorts. “Just a head floating above a sexy void.”

“That’s so gender of me,” Ash says, beginning to chisel out Smith’s cheekbones. Another buzz from her phone. Another edit to the doc.

Exactly where you are, Shara has written. There’s a pause, and on a new line, she adds, If you know what this is about, why are you still talking to me?

It takes her nearly a full minute to decide what to say. Smith and Ash are talking quietly, but she’s not taking any of it in. It’s like Shara is sitting right here on the chair next to her, reflected beside her in the big mirror on the back wall, watching Chloe’s mouth for the next thing she’ll say.