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I Kissed Shara Wheeler(66)

Author:Casey McQuiston

I went to a party with a bunch of people I didn’t know, and someone put stars around my eyes, and I noticed stuff about my face I never noticed before. I saw myself in the rearview mirror of a person I’ve loved since I was thirteen, and I felt endless. Like, Holy Spirit endless. Maybe that’s what it means to feel like myself.

15

DAYS WITHOUT SHARA: 24

This must be what a hangover feels like.

Chloe presses her aching forehead to her locker door, wondering if this is the work of gas station corn dogs or a Shara-related migraine. She wasn’t even out that late—Rory dropped her off at her car before ten, and she was in bed by ten thirty—but she spent half the night reciting Shara’s notes to her bedroom ceiling like Arya Stark with bangs.

She’s throwing back the last can from her emergency espresso stash when she hears the heralding clangs of Georgia’s water bottle against the nearby lockers.

“There you are,” Georgia says, slightly out of breath. “You weren’t in the parking lot. I was afraid I wouldn’t find you before first hour to put everything together.”

Chloe’s stomach does a horrible swoop as Georgia unzips her bag and holds out her hand.

The last three pages of the French essay. Twenty percent of their final grade. Due today.

“Georgia, I—”

“I know, you specifically said no fun colors,” Georgia says, holding up the file folder, which is magenta. “But it’s the last file folder of my high school career, okay?”

“No, Geo.” Chloe feels like she’s going to throw up or cry or cry so much she throws up. “I forgot.”

Georgia freezes. “What do you mean you forgot?”

“I mean I don’t have it,” Chloe says. “I didn’t do it.” She’s never not done an assignment in her life. She was going to stay up late and do it after the theater party. She had it in her planner and everything—but then Shara— “Please tell me you’re joking,” Georgia says.

“I’ll—I’ll skip first hour and go to the library and write it right now,” Chloe says, already switching into efficiency mode, half of her panicked thoughts diverting into French. Je suis absolutely screwed. “I’ll have it by fifth hour—”

“Forget it,” Georgia snaps, and she gathers her folder and water bottle and jangles angrily off.

“Geo!” Chloe jogs to catch up, shouldering an onlooking freshman out of her path. Up close, Georgia’s face is flushed, her thick eyebrows making an annoyed V. “Don’t be mad at me! I’m gonna fix it!”

“It doesn’t matter, Chloe.”

“Of course it matters,” Chloe says. “I’m not gonna mess up my GPA, or yours.”

Georgia groans and sidesteps her, pulling off into an empty classroom. Chloe follows.

“I don’t care about my stupid GPA, and nobody’s going to care about yours after we graduate,” Georgia points out. “You know that, right?”

“It’s important to me,” Chloe says.

“Well, it’d be nice if I was important to you,” Georgia spits out.

“What?” Chloe stares at her. “Of course you’re important to me! What are you talking about?”

“I’ve been begging you to help me with this project, and every time you blow me off for Smith and Rory and the rest of your new friends.”

Seriously? That’s what this is about?

“That’s been happening for like, four weeks.”

“Yeah, the four most important weeks of our life so far!” Georgia says hotly. “You think I don’t know you were at a party with Smith when you were supposed to be at our last movie night of senior year? You think I can’t figure out where you are when you skip lunch with us? We spent four years talking about our senior cast party, and you left before it was even over! We were supposed to do this together.”

A hundred things jump up Chloe’s throat. Arguments, defenses, the image of Georgia in a powder-blue tux. A memory of two fourteen-year-old girls on a living room rug reading Tolkien out loud with all the accents. She swallows all of them.

“You’re gonna leave for New York and forget about me,” Georgia says, quieter now.

“You’re gonna be right there next to me the whole time,” Chloe insists.

“No, I’m not.”

“Of course you are.”

“No,” Georgia says again. “I’m not.”

Above their heads, the bell rings. A terrible little voice in the back of Chloe’s mind says she should wrap this up soon if she wants to finish the essay.

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