Chloe takes another step. “You know, if this was really about valedictorian, there were easier ways. You could’ve had your dad kick me out, even. But that wouldn’t have gotten you what you really wanted, would it?”
Shara tries to pull off an eye roll, but behind her back, she’s fumbling for the railing with one hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Something hot curls around Chloe’s heart, but the words feel featherlight, cool, a soft breeze on sweat.
“You wanted to know I was looking at you,” she says. She’s almost close enough to touch her. “You liked it, didn’t you? You liked knowing I was thinking about you all the time.”
“I told you. I thought it was funny.”
“Maybe that’s what you told yourself,” Chloe says. “But deep down, somewhere under all this bullshit, you kissed me because you wanted to.”
“That’s not true,” Shara insists. “It didn’t mean anything.”
When Chloe leans in, she sees it: Shara’s gaze flickering to her lips.
“Then why do you want me to kiss you right now?”
“I don’t.”
“Okay,” Chloe says. “Then I won’t.”
She begins to turn away, but there’s that familiar feeling: Shara’s hand closing around her arm, pulling her in. Shara’s eyes are wide and green and furious, and a helpless, strangled sound crashes into the back of her bared teeth.
When she kisses Chloe this time, Chloe’s ready.
She knows exactly what she’s doing when she twists her fingers into the loose wisps of hair at the nape of Shara’s neck and kisses her back, hard. Her other hand grips the tulle where it fans out from Shara’s waist and holds Shara’s body up against hers like see, we’re a match, and it works—Shara sighs and lets go of the rail to slide her palm over Chloe’s cheek. The skin is cool from the metal; Chloe suppresses a shiver.
She doesn’t give herself time to think about the way Shara’s thumb brushes over her cheekbone or the way Shara’s lips feel against hers. Instead, she breaks off, abrupt enough that Shara’s left blinking and dazed, and God, finally Chloe isn’t the one doing the embarrassing leaning. She’s getting embarrassingly leaned at. Amazing. Top five Chloe moment.
“Told you,” Chloe says.
And with one solid shove, she pushes Shara—prom dress and all—over the railing and into Lake Martin.
FROM THE BURN PILE
Scrapped first draft of a journaling assignment, eventually replaced with one that had more precise wording Hidden in the pocket of one of Shara’s five-subject notebooks
I don’t really believe in journaling. Having my private thoughts written down somewhere seems like a liability.
If I have to, though, the main thing on my mind today is the way they made us memorize the parts of the tabernacle in seventh grade. It all seemed a little showy for me, but I could still draw you a picture: the Altar of Burnt Offerings, the Golden Lampstand, the Altar of Incense. I think a lot about the phrase “Most Holy Place.” There’s something I love about the idea of somewhere only one person is ever allowed to go.
Maybe they had the right idea, as far as secrecy goes. The loudest Christians I’ve ever met were the worst ones. I don’t believe doing something in front of everybody makes it more meaningful, anyway. If anything, it makes it stop belonging to you.
Sometimes, when I walk into a church, I’m not sure I’m supposed to be there, even though it feels like home. Home hasn’t always been a good place for me to be.
17
DAYS UNTIL GRADUATION: 15
Chloe wakes up late the next morning to a text from Smith that says, hey, do you like MarioKart? Which, （a） why and （b） now she feels guilty for yelling at him the other day and （c） yikes, she has to tell Smith she kissed his girlfriend again. Double guilty.
She should be happy. She won. After all this time rearranging her life around Shara’s game like a Saw knockoff, she finally has the power. She has Shara’s secrets and Shara’s heart. She can expose Shara’s big fat Harvard lie to the whole school if she wants to. Shara’s probably mildewing on her boat right now, looking soggily, tragically beautiful and wondering if she’ll ever have a chance to kiss Chloe again, and Chloe should be satisfied knowing the answer is no.
Needs time to sink in. That’s all.
The house is empty and smells like butter and syrup, which means her moms have had an early morning and are outside doing their little weekend projects. She slips on her mama’s Birkenstocks and heads out to the garage.