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CHAPTER THIRTY

ELLIOT

One hour earlier...

My squirrel face mask is made out of a clingy fabric, and I keep having to itch and wiggle my nose. It’s uncomfortable, but at least it gives me a full disguise. Dressed in an old sundress, I’ve got my sign stuck under one arm, Squirrels Just Want to Have Fun!—ding for Green Futures!

Behind the amphitheater with Taylor, the growing rally cheers on another performer. There’s a great turnout and lots of positive coverage coming out in real time, building the momentum.

I’m excited, but the rally is giving me full bodily overload. It feels like I’m on the raft again, thrown around by waves like a rag doll. I’ve been working my ass off to get here, and my brain is ready to have fun, but my capacity is breaking down.

“You okay?” Taylor asks over the music. She’s got a laptop balanced in one hand as she taps keys with the other, but she quickly closes it and tucks it under her arm. “Do you need water?”

I pull my water bottle out of my backpack. “Got it, thanks!” I take a big drink and try to refocus. “Marko is about to go on as Frida Dolphins! I’m going to go up close to catch the show!”

This is the big moment. I’ll be present for ten more minutes, and then it’s over. I’m going home after Marko’s performance and calling the day a success.

Taylor gives me a thumbs up, and I make my way into the crowd. A drag king is talking to a few media outlets, dressed in a colorful suit and speaking elegantly. I scratch my nose and squeeze my way closer to the front, arriving just in time.

Frida Dolphins throws her arms in the air and walks triumphantly out as the crowd goes wild.

Her song is a cheesy nineties pop song by Elton John, featured on the Fern Gully soundtrack, and I’ve heard it enough times as she rehearsed that I’m ready to sing along, my spirits lifting.

She’s wearing a poofy blue dress that’s covered in tie-dyed lace flowers, a bizarre fairy godmother, and her facial expressions are like an opera’s melodrama as she lip syncs, singing about fields of green and someone bringing you love.

It’s an amazing performance, but I’m overheating with so many people around me. I manage to cheer somehow, clapping for my friend as I’m jostled.

Frida Dolphins sings out, and the song turns confrontational. She earns a gasp from the audience as she performs a backflip, dress flopping, and lands in the splits with a defiant chorus.

The noise and heat push me over the edge. I feel like I’m going to be sick. I stumble my way out of the rally, moving toward the open street. I rub at my itchy nose harder, and somehow end up twisting the squirrel mask. It gets caught over my mouth, and I drop my sign and flail my palms at my nose.

Somehow, I pull the mask off and gasp air. I’m on the street across from the convention center, I realize, and a TV news camera turns directly to face me.

Oh fuck . I’m being recorded without my mask on.

Panicking, I turn and run in the other direction. There’s someone running after me, so when I see a small fence to the lot next door, I use all my energy to launch over it.

I land alongside some dumpsters. Gasping for breath, I pull the squirrel mask back on and jog out to the opposing street.

When I see that I’m alone, I veer away from the rally. I curse and kick the sidewalk, furious with myself.

I cave and use a small amount of my dwindling funds to call an emergency Lyft. It’s time to get back to the safety of home. Immediately.

In the car, I send a quick text to update my friends that I’m okay.

I’m sick with worry, though. If I was spotted, it could cause so many problems, a distraction from the rally and new headache for Hank.

I don’t ever want my mistakes to blow back on the people I care about, but what if that’s just how I am? No matter how hard I try?

I get a text from Hank checking in on me, and it’s such a relief to hear from him, but it also tells me that the story has broken.

I get confirmation immediately after when my dad’s assistant demands a phone call.

The car arrives to my house, and I scurry inside and collapse on the couch before I answer, texting Hank first.

Elliot: i’m okay. i’m home. and i am so sorry to have brought myself back in the news

I hold my phone close, waiting anxiously for Hank’s reply.

Hank: I’m glad you’re safe.

Elliot: my father is pissed at me. i’ll do my best to extinguish the fire

My phone rings in my hand, and I see that it’s Dad calling directly. I answer, and he talks before I greet him.

“Do you know what I’m doing this afternoon, Elliot?”

I sigh. “No, what?”

“I am using my carefully allocated time to squash a media story about my son and drag queens and climate change. Why is that happening, Elliot?”

I swallow, scolding myself to play this right.

I’m trying to open up a new chapter with my family, and I’ve avoided crawling back to them for financial help since my rescue.

It’s pointless to struggle only to immediately ruin my relationship by shooting my mouth off, but I need to stand up for myself, too.

And I cannot mess up Hank’s career. I’ll never forgive myself.

It’s time to defuse.

“I’m home, away from the rally,” I tell him. “There won’t be any more news. I promise.”

After a long pause, he sighs. “We need to talk. Your mother wants you to come to dinner with the family. Are you available?”

My gut says to run away, but in the spirit of facing my problems head-on and proactively, I agree.

“Fine.”

“Fine,” he repeats. “I’m done dealing with this. Understood?”

“It’s over,” I tell him and hang up.

Totally demoralized, I cry into a heart-shaped throw pillow. After drinking a lot of water and eating some of the rice and veggies from the fridge, I go back to the couch and fall asleep.

My phone rings, waking me hours later. It’s Hank, and I answer as I sit up.

“Hank.”

“I’m just home from work. How are you, Elliot?”

“Awful,” I confess, my thoughts waking through a haze. “I fucked up, Hank. I’ve tried to smooth things over with my dad the best I can, but I’m so sorry.”

“I’m just relieved you’re safe. I can’t believe that person chased you.”

“The mask got caught on my face, and I couldn’t breathe.

I was starting to panic, but I didn’t mean to rip it off.

” I chew on my bottom lip. “I haven’t been sleeping enough or resting like I should,” I confess.

“I’ve been super stressed because I can’t pay my bills, and I took too much on. Now I’ve ruined it all.”

“Elliot,” Hank says, “slow down. You didn’t ruin anything. You pushed yourself too hard and made a mistake. That’s all.”

“Are you mad at me?” I ask.

It takes Hank no time to answer. “Absolutely not. You were trying to follow through on your commitment and support your friends. I understand that. But I hate that you were under more stress than you indicated to me. I could have helped, Elliot. I want to be there for you.”

“It’s embarrassing. I’m working to be more responsible. But I’m a mess. You might as well know it now—I’m a total fucking mess.”

“You don’t have to impress me. And if we’re going to be together, I don’t want you hiding your problems like I’m going to leave you for making a mistake.

I want the kind of relationship where we tell each other about our problems.” He clears his throat.

“And you’re not a mess. You’re the guy who made the raft that saved us, even if it didn’t go quite according to plan. Got it?”

Gratitude flows through me. “Thank you for understanding, Hank. That’s the kind of relationship I want, too.”

“Your dad has plenty of other problems to occupy his attention. But he was clear with me today, Elliot, that he doesn’t want to hear another word about us or the island. We have to be careful.”

“After the rally, I’m ready to hide away from civilization again. Now I just hope my appearance hasn’t caused a distraction for the event.”

“The oil executive who was foolish enough to get in an argument with a drag queen has won the day’s viral moment, I believe. It seems the rally was a huge success.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “You’ll still come over for game night tomorrow?” I ask. “With appropriate subterfuge, of course.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Will you be able to take tonight off?”

“I think my body has already made that decision for me.”

I hold the phone, comforted just to know he’s on the other end.

“Thank you, Hank,” I tell him, but it’s three other words that whisper in the back of my mind.