I Kissed Shara Wheeler

by Casey McQuiston

“That’s not how I see Shara.”

“His name literally has the word ‘dicks’ in it,” Chloe says, “and that’s the best he could come up with?”

Shara fucking Wheeler.”

“Life sucks sometimes.”

It’s not with the records, but it’s definitely one of Shara’s cards.

She can have this one to herself for a second. Just her and Shara.

She remembers the way Rory wordlessly handed her Shara’s card in his room instead of reading the password to her, and the different inks in his songbook, like

it took him days of fits and starts with different pens to get it all down. The directions in the ducts, the tape recorder— “Ohhhhh,” she says, realizing at once. “You’re dyslexic.”

And I know the card at Dixon’s house should have been exactly where I put it, because before I left, I texted him that if it was moved, I would tell Emma Grace and Mackenzie that he’s been feeling up both of them behind the other’s back. And, well, I really do hope you’ve already found that one, because on Friday morning Emma Grace and Mackenzie are getting an anonymous Instagram message anyway. That’s one thing about me nobody knows: I don’t actually care about keeping my promises.

“I’m, uh, honestly more worried about how she predicted the exact day we’d be here,”

“We’ve all got our own ways to have fun in False Beach, right?”

“You get horny for books—”

and I get away with shit,”

“So get up in that ceiling and get away with this.”

“This is the second time you and I have thrown ourselves out a second-story window for Shara Wheeler.”

“Think of Me” was her big solo in Phantom;

Up close, with the light in your eyes, all you can see is what’s right in front of you.

The front row of the auditorium. Where Shara sat to watch Chloe in Phantom.

You didn’ t know that I already knew he could sing, that he told me his mom raised him on Stephen Sondheim soundtracks. You didn’ t know that’s the reason Summer doesn’ t talk to me anymore—because she caught us.

“She was helping me practice for spring musical auditions, okay?”

“Why didn’t you just tell her what y’all were doing?” “Because Shara said if I ever told anyone she helped me with the music, she’d report me to her dad for smoking weed.”

I’m only in Shara’s life as much as she wants me to be.”

She was going to let them go at it—seems overdue, anyway—

Rory, that note literally says she wanted to make you jealous, because she knew you liked her and she liked the attention.

Stop pretending she’s a saint! Read the notes! She’s playing both of you, and you’re letting her.”

“My beef with you,” Rory says finally, to Smith, “is that you ditched me for the football guys, who you knew were total assholes to me.”

So Chloe is gaining momentum, and Smith and Rory are losing it.

Morale is at a record low in the “I Kissed Shara Wheeler” group chat.

“What’s this?” he asks. “I got you food.”

“What did you get me?”

“I don’t know,” Rory mumbles, “whatever you usually get.”...

It’s not as simple for Georgia as it is for Chloe, being queer. Georgia isn’t sure how her parents will take it, much less her entire extended Southern Baptist family.

Georgia quietly mentioned she’d never seen a married lesbian couple in real life, and Chloe figured out what was going on.

Knowing that I couldn’ t have you if I wanted to—that stings almost the same

This letter is finally, finally proof that Shara has always seen her the same way.

The clues for Smith and Rory usually reference a specific memory, but the clues for Chloe reference art. Not just any art—books found at Belltower, Shakespeare, Phantom. She specifically picked Chloe’s favorite things, wrote riddles in Chloe’s own language, and hid them in Chloe’s favorite places. Like Chloe is special.

What if this is why Shara wants Chloe to know who she is? What if that kiss on the elevator was more than the first phase of a plan? What if Shara’s more than an evil shitbird? What if Shara is an evil shitbird who’s in love with her?

But—wait. There shouldn’t be anywhere for Shara’s cursor to rest if there’s nothing below Chloe’s words.

What’s the last note you found? It was a letter, actually, Chloe types. The one you left me at Belltower and asked me not to show anyone. A second passes, and another, and then Shara’s cursor disappears.

Shara is in love with her. How embarrassing for Shara.

“We’re close, Smith,” Chloe reminds him. “You deserve answers. We all do.” Smith chews on his thumbnail. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

Hi, Chloe, you have a fire in your eyes tonight and I hope it’s for theater.” “It’s definitely for something,” she says. “Great, no further questions.”

“Okay, don’t tell anyone I told you this, but it turns out Ace Torres is like … actually really into musical theater.” “What are you talking about?” Benjy snaps. “He was messing up his lines all the way up to tech week. I don’t know if he ever even read the script or just memorized the movie.” “I know,” Chloe says. Even she can’t believe she’s saying this. “But I think that was because he was nervous. He practiced for weeks before tryouts.”

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.

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

“I’m really sorry if this is a stupid question,” Smith says to Ash, “and you don’t have to answer it, but … the thing you said about gender. Can you explain the whole nonbinary thing to me?” That finally pulls Chloe back to the present.

A faint memory returns to Chloe: Smith, shoving hair ties and concealer toward the back of his locker.

“When you first started at Willowgrove, back in middle school, you had to tell all your teachers to call you Smith, right?” Ash asks. Their brush starts moving again. “Because it’s not your first name?”

Ash ignores her. “And when did you start going by Smith?” “When I was a little kid.” “Why don’t you go by William?” Smith shrugs. “I don’t know. It just doesn’t feel right. Like, Smith feels like my name, but William doesn’t.” “How do you know you’re not a William?” “I don’t know. I just … do.” “Okay, so,” Ash says. “That’s how I felt about being a girl.

When I was a kid, I thought I didn’t like girly things, but then I got older and realized that I liked some girly things, but I hated that liking them made people think I was a girl, because on some level I always knew I wasn’t one. So then I thought maybe I was actually a boy, because I wanted to be feminine the way boys can be feminine, but then I’d look at other boys and I wasn’t one of them either. I knew I wasn’t a girl, and I wasn’t a boy.