It also means that about half the part-time staff is composed of Willowgrove students whose parents forced them to get a job. The drive-thru cashier on Tuesday nights is a Willowgrove junior named Tyler Miller with a tragic haircut and a trombone on lease from the school. Taco Bell has been Chloe’s Tuesday night tradition with Georgia ever since last summer, when her mom fixed the engine on her old car and handed over the keys, so she’s spoken to Tyler more times through a crackly speaker than she has on campus.
When she pulls up to the window, he nearly fumbles her change.
“Um, hang on,” he says after passing over her order. “There’s something else.”
The window shuts.
She shoots a confused look at Georgia, who checks the bag, then shakes her head and shrugs.
The window reopens, and Tyler clumsily hands something over.
“I’m, um, supposed to give this to you.”
It’s a sealed envelope. A pink one.
Sirens wailing in her head, she snatches the card and flips it over. Her name is written on the front. She stares down at it: the gentle arcs of the H, the perfect loop of the O.
She whips back to Tyler. “You couldn’t have given it to me at school?”
“I—she—she brought it here last week and told me specifically to give it to you the next time you came through the drive-thru,” he says.
“Who did?” Chloe demands.
His voice comes out shaky when he says it, like it’s the name of an angel, “Shara Wheeler.”
“And you just did it?”
“That’s the first time Shara Wheeler has ever spoken to me in my life,” he tells her dreamily. “I didn’t even think she knew I existed.”
“Oh my God,” Chloe says, and she slams on the gas.
Chloe,
Your mom graduated Willowgrove with my parents. You know that, right? I remember them talking about it at the dinner table the summer after eighth grade.
“I heard Valerie Green is moving back. Remember, she got suspended for coming to school with blue hair? She’s married to a woman now. They want to send their daughter to Willowgrove.”
Before your first day, I took the file out of my dad’s office. Saw your entrance exam. You did pretty well, huh?
I’ve been curious about you since before I met you, but the way things work at Willowgrove, I never could get close enough to figure you out.
High school’s almost over. Now or never, right?
XOXO
Shara Wheeler
P.S. [email protected]
Rory finally picks up on the fourth try.
“For what possible reason are you calling me?”
“Where are you?” Chloe demands, throwing a taco wrapper into the bag. She called him as soon as she dropped Georgia off at Belltower with a flimsy excuse, right after she heard back from Smith.
“I’m … at my friend’s house?”
“Which friend?”
“Jake.”
“Who’s Jake?”
“Uh, Jake Stone?”
“Stone the Stoner?” She knows him—well, knows of him. Benjy almost got suspended once for happening to be in the boys’ bathroom when Jake was caught vaping in there. Stringy blond hair, unpopular lo-fi SoundCloud music, future owner of a neck tattoo. “Okay, good, then you’re not far from your house.”
“How do you know where Jake lives?”
“Benjy lives on his street,” Chloe says impatiently. “False Beach really isn’t that big. Anyway, I’m on my way to your house, and so is Smith.”
She can practically hear Rory’s eyes go wide over the phone. “Why?”
“Because I’m absolutely dying to play a few holes of golf,” she says. “I got my Shara note, obviously.”
“Where?”
“Don’t worry about it,” she snaps. She cuts a sharp left, waving off a guy in a truck who honks at her.
“Why do we have to meet at my house?”
“Because it’s equidistant from Belltower and Smith’s house,” Chloe says. “She gave me an email address. I think that thing from your note is the password. Now can you please call the front gate for me? My car is a piece of crap and the mall cops are gonna be suspicious.”
“Okay, okay, Jesus, I’ll meet you there.”
She hangs up and chucks her phone into the empty passenger seat.
She can’t believe Shara didn’t give her a puzzle of her own to solve. Smith got a secret code, and Rory got a hint about the open window, but Chloe didn’t even get a chance to prove she’s smarter than whatever stupid riddle Shara could come up with for her. Her note was literally handed to her. It’s insulting.