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“What’s the plan for this summer?”

No reply as sounds of destruction rang out.

I squinted at Sawyer Grayson, my right eye obnoxiously swollen behind the Wayfarer sunglasses I’d scored thrifting.

She sat cross-legged in a dinosaur-print bathing suit while she played on her phone.

Her blue-tipped black hair swept across her sunburned shoulders as she leaned closer to the screen.

She bit her bottom lip, and more explosions sounded from the X-Men gaming app.

“Almost, almooost, c’mon!” she yelled in concentration.

That was the thing about her—she was always focused.

From starting the first Queer-Straight Alliance at school to having her top colleges already picked out, she set her sights on a goal and rarely missed.

Sometimes she also set goals for me, and then she’d push me to reach them with just as much determination.

“Stop playing that game,” I demanded, waving a hand in front of her face, “and give me attention.”

“Stooop, dickhead,” she huffed without looking at me. “I’m trying to level Storm up.”

The X-Men was how she and I became besties in middle school.

We’d been enemies long before then, thanks to her bullying me during dodgeball at recess.

Her jealousy over the fact I was always the teacher’s favorite had spiked when we were in seventh grade.

We were at Estrella Books and both reached for the last copy of an X-Men graphic novel.

Neither of us wanted to let it go, and hands would’ve been thrown if our moms hadn’t made us share it.

Somehow, while we sat on the tiny chairs in the children’s section, I realized she wasn’t so bad.

That was the start of Sawyer-and-Zeke’s list of traditions.

Since then, reading the comics together had become a staple of our relationship.

Over time, we added fall concerts, video game marathons for winter, and hiking adventures in the spring.

However, summer came with its own traditions: binge sessions of our favorite Doctor Who episodes, my sneaky birthday celebration, the library’s movie night, the Ferris wheel on Founder’s Day, but, most importantly, celebrating our first day of freedom at Beggs Blue Hole in the nature preserve.

I let out a resigned sigh and lay back on my jacket while Sawyer played her game.

She’d given me hell for turning into a “bad boy” trope when I’d started wearing leather, but it was extra protection on my dirt bike, not to mention it was a size too small and enhanced my biceps.

Its woodsy scent was soothing as I tilted my aching face toward the sun and tried to relax.

The weight of finals, an anchor that had finally sunk my GPA, had lifted.

The JACass couldn’t pressure me anymore, and I wouldn’t let him take my freedom before senior year.

Before he’d inevitably fight me on his future dream.

“Finally!” Sawyer’s shout rang out, startling me. She gave me a triumphant smile, only for it to downturn a second later. “What’s wrong, Z?” she asked.

The honey of her eyes turned sticky with pity as she waited for me to be honest. That was another thing about her. She could always see through my bullshit. As if I were wearing a Halloween mask of the new version of me, and she wanted me to reveal who I really was underneath.

“I’m dying of boredom, that’s what,” I deflected, focusing on the sunlight glinting off her wire-frame glasses.

“You’re sooo melodramatic.”

My mind raced in search of the right words to tell her the divorce was finally settled.

There weren’t supposed to be any secrets between us, another staple of Sawyer-and-Zeke.

But I couldn’t bring myself to tell her everything yet.

That was the problem about communication—you had to actually talk.

And I didn’t know the words to use, didn’t know how to begin explaining.

How my coming out publicly last December caused my parents’ divorce.

How my dad had tried to manipulate me into staying closeted for “safety.”

How it was Mom’s final push after years of tolerating his controlling behavior.

“Yeah, well…” I trailed off. Even if I’d known how to tell her, Sawyer would’ve pushed me to do something about it.

To confront my father and get over it. Only I wasn’t ready to do that.

For years, he and I had always been a team, those grinning faces on the billboard, who had each other’s back.

Then I came out despite his disapproval and discovered he only cared about himself.

About what people would think of him and his perfect image.

“Well what?” she prodded, still waiting for honesty.

“What you meant to say is ‘fun,’?” I said instead while she dipped her toes into the water. “But I’ll also accept ‘zealous’ or ‘exuberant.’?”

“And to think you only scraped by in AP English, despite me making you flash cards.”

I forced a laugh as we stared out at the blue hole, the chuckle lodging in my throat.

She thought I’d been too stressed about the divorce and insisted on tutoring me.

I let her believe she was helping, even though I’d come close to failing all my classes on purpose.

It was step two in getting back at my father, and it fueled more rumors that dismantled my reputation.

Zeke’s such a gay disaster and Zeke’s too worried about the D to study and Zeke’s a burnout.

At least this was a version of me I’d chosen.

I let my hair grow long, skipped class, drove the green dirt bike Mom and I built instead of the new truck he’d gifted me, whatever I could do to be someone other than the best Anthony Chapman.

Now they all looked at me like I was trouble.

I could feel the eyes of Beggs High School watching on the other side of the blue hole like the non-player characters they were.

No doubt all the NPC assholes we went to school with had heard about Billy punching the shit out of me.

Slowly, I lifted my hand toward them with a middle-finger salute.

“Keep staring, and I’ll give you something to look at! ” I yelled.

“You’re such a simp for attention,” Sawyer teased, kicking water at me. “It’s like you want another black eye.”

“I’m not a simp—”

“You literally painted a giant dick on your dad’s face.” She held her hands apart in a length measurement for emphasis and laughed appreciatively. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s hilarious…but judging by how many times your mom has called, I’m betting your dad knows you did it.”

“Good.”

“Zeke, seriously…What’s up?”

I groaned, still not wanting to talk about my father, and turned to her. The blistering sun had kissed her freckled cheeks, and that was what I wanted. To spend the next two months with sunburns as we repeated today over and over again.

“We need to add to our traditions,” I pointed out, changing the subject. “And I’m most def in favor of spending every moment right here.”

“About that…” she started hesitantly. “I got a job at The Cove—”

“But it’s the last summer before senior year!” I cut her off, my voice pitching with a whine. “You’re definitely getting accepted to the University of the South, and then you’ll have to move next summer…”

“I know, ” she stressed, “but my dad begged me.” Her family owned The Cove, and it was the fanciest restaurant in Beggs, where everyone went for an Occasion.

Anniversaries, prom, business meetings, trying to sway your estranged gay son into living with you so you can shove him back in the closet.

“It’s not like I wanna be a host for stuck-up assholes. ”

“I’m so gonna die of boredom!” This time I was purposefully melodramatic, to hide the pang in my chest. Not having Sawyer around, not being able to escape the thoughts that kept me up all night, would make this a positively shitty summer.

That focused expression was back as she leaned over and scooped up a handful of water. Then she cocked an eyebrow before flinging it, soaking my old mathlete tournament shirt. “Can you do us both a favor and calm the hell down?” she asked. “We’ll still do our summer traditions.”

My reply was to flop back on my towel in mock distress.

“You can come hang with me at the front desk and eat free food, or you could get a server job there”—I contorted my face in horror, and she narrowed her eyes—“or if you are that desperately bored, you could hang out with us in places other than the QSA meetings you sometimes attend.”

By us, she meant her and her longtime crush, Kennedy Copeland.

Sawyer had spent years scrolling Kennedy’s CosplayCheerleader TikTok account dedicated to Black characters—not to mention every day of eleventh grade freaking out after Kennedy joined the QSA.

They wouldn’t be so bad to hang out with if Kennedy’s bestie, Cohen Fisher, didn’t go everywhere with her.

Cohen and I had once been…something. But we were nowhere near friendly now, not after he burned me freshman year.

His last text message from back then was seared in my mind: I never want to talk to you again.

And I refused to willingly subject myself to more of his jerk attitude than necessary.

Just being in the Queer-Straight Alliance together was pushing it.

“You know that antagonistic fucker and I can barely be in the same room. I’m this close”—I held my thumb and pointer finger up—“to knocking that condescending sneer off his face.”

“Please,” she began with a leveled gaze, “do not get into another fight before Saturday’s over.

It’s the first ever Pride in Beggs—your first since finally coming out to everyone—and we have to keep our shit together until then.

” She brought her hand up to her chest, another tradition we’d started in honor of our mutual admiration of boobs.

“I titty promise that I’ll be the one throwin’ punches if y’all act up. ”