Page 39

Ever since December, I’d been trying fix the past, as though I could travel back to when it all went wrong in eighth grade.

My eyes had been opened when Sawyer and I had watched Doctor Who for the first time the summer before; however, my father forced me to keep them shut.

I’d kept them closed while he made me get dressed up for a matching photo.

While he paraded me around Chapman Law’s fiftieth anniversary celebration.

While he’d unveiled my future in front of strangers while I suffocated.

I’d come face-to-face with that version of me again last night.

This time, though, I wasn’t alone. My friends had climbed up that rusty ladder to the top of Jones Hardware with me.

Together, we tore down that ten-foot picture of my father and me to reveal a blank billboard—a fresh start.

It had felt like ripping a hole in the space-time continuum.

As though I’d reached into the past and pulled that scared little boy through to the future I’d created for us.

And now, it was time for the sleepy-eyed town of Beggs to wake up.

I stared up at the billboard, squinting against the morning sunshine.

The bright beams were a spotlight on the rainbow-colored words WE’LL FIGHT FOR OUR PRIDE.

Sawyer’s words couldn’t be truer. That was our plan B, a promise to Buchanan that we wouldn’t let him erase us.

We were demanding our right to exist. I wouldn’t beg for signatures to celebrate Pride, to be me, ever again.

Tightening my grip on the voter registration sign, I started toward the QSA tent.

The square felt almost like it had on Pride Day.

The parade float, rows of tents set up like before, same flags waving…

But it felt different. I was different. Pride had once felt like a war between who I was and who I should be.

Now I knew what it meant to me—speaking up and demanding to exist as myself.

I held my head high and marched onward. Community supporters waved as I passed by, each gesture a salute.

Their welcoming smiles were co-signatures on the graffiti we’d tagged on the billboard.

I returned both in kind, startling when I heard my name yelled.

It was an excited yip that sounded like laughter and took me back to the rec center.

To that day Cohen had trained me to mentor and told me I was doing something right.

Addi, I remembered as their afro poofs bounced while they darted from the nature preserve’s setup.

“Zeke!” they exclaimed again, grinning as they ran up to me. “I’ve missed you!”

“Good morning, Addi,” I said. “I’ve missed seeing you at the rec center. You doing okay?”

“Better now with Mayor Butthead leaving office,” they said.

“We don’t know who will win,” a gruff voice added as Owen followed after them, “but we’re here to vote for you, kid.”

Addi rolled their eyes, spinning on their heels. “But maybe the rec center will get the program back if Miss Bedolla wins, though, Daddy,” they reminded him. “I felt safe there, more than I did at school.”

He and I exchanged a look, both of us recalling what he’d said when we built the platform. No matter what happened in the election, he’d still fight for Addi. I had to keep fighting too.

“You know,” I heard myself say, “I’ve gotten pretty good at doing things the mayor might not like, so I promise to figure out how to do the mentorship program again, okay?”

“Okay!” Addi said, bouncing on their heels. “Where’s Momma? I need to go tell her.”

He pointed across to the other row of tents.

I followed his line of sight to the animal shelter, catching Sawyer’s eye as she started our way.

He shook his head with a laugh as Addi bounded up to the woman setting up the adoption drive.

“I want to thank you, Zeke,” he began, turning back to me, “for what you’ve done to make Beggs a safe space for Addi. ”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. “I think—No, I know I’ll keep doing everything I can to make it safe for us.”

He held my gaze for a beat before taking off after his child. There was gratitude in his parting smile. A promise that no matter what happened today, he’d be right by my side fighting. I felt myself standing taller as I glanced back up at the billboard.

“Did you really mean that?” Sawyer asked as she came up beside me. “About the mentorship program?”

“If I made the speakeasies happen,” I started, watching Owen and his family, “then why not underground mentorship programs? Or more? Whatever we have to do if Carmen doesn’t win. Because I can’t go back to hiding in fear.” To living in that shoebox.

“Z, I really am proud of you.”

“Saw,” I said, nudging her with my shoulder. “I’m proud of us. ”

“Don’t be humble,” she commanded me with a snort. “We both know you were born with main-character energy, so just take the compliment.”

I rolled my eyes. “But I wouldn’t have been this way if not for you—” She opened her mouth to argue, but I held up a finger.

“Please let me finish. You were the first person I came out to, and you helped me be me when I didn’t know how.

Gave me that epic pride flag, and just…Sawyer, I’m so thankful you’re my best friend.

I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. ”

Her usual look of focus was back, and she narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t you dare make me cry,” she said, emotions strangling her words.

“But…I’m so glad we nearly threw hands over X-Men.

” Then she hugged me, squeezing tight as she lowered her voice.

“I never said thank you for speaking up at Pride Day after it was canceled. I’d been so upset, but you had my back.

Best friends for life, okay? No matter how far apart we move for college. ”

I laughed, watching the blue tips of her hair swaying in the wind. So much had happened since we’d celebrated the first day of freedom at the blue hole. Since our last break before senior year began to unravel in the best possible way.

“Titty promise,” I said.

I was glad we hadn’t stayed in a fight. Some things were more important than arguing over who was right and who was wrong.

The proof was all around us. Tiny buttons for Carmen’s campaign, rainbow flags, familiar faces that smiled instead of glaring—all stars in our town that shined with more importance than I could’ve ever imagined.

“Hey, son.”

My hands stilled on the voter registration sign at the sound of my father’s voice.

I carefully turned around, and the sight of him sent my pulse thrumming.

His chinos were pressed, shirt neatly tucked in, not a hair out of place as he took off his sunglasses to study me.

His scrutiny made me want to cower as I’d done so many times before, but I squared my shoulders as he approached.

“We need to talk,” he said with a note of authority. “Why don’t we go to the law firm for some privacy—”

“Kinda busy, if you can’t tell,” I interrupted him and gestured around the square. “We’re getting ready for a rally.”

He eyed the Pride tank top I was wearing, and then his gaze shifted to the voter registration sign. “I’m well aware,” he said, dropping his voice.

“Are you here to pull our permit?” I asked sharply.

He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not here to stop you”—he took a step toward me, motioning around the square—“but I do want to warn you about doing this.”

From over his shoulder, Cohen locked eyes with me. He was helping Sawyer and Kennedy set up the sound system on the parade float. He tilted his head in question, and I quickly shook mine to let him know I had this. “I’m not gonna sit back and do nothing,” I finally said, looking back at my father.

“I’m not here to talk you out of it either.”

This close, I could see his—our—blue eyes in the bright sunshine.

For so many years, I’d seen him as my only future.

We were more alike than I wanted to admit.

I wondered if he saw our sharp jawline or the way we both tended to get freckles across our nose in the summer.

Or if he saw a failure for a son like I saw him as a father.

“Then what could we possibly have to talk about?” I asked.

“Anthon—” He cut himself off and tried again. “Zeke, you almost got in trouble with the mayor over your illegal party.” He pointed up to the top of Jones Hardware. “Not to mention you destroyed my billboard ad again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I managed calmly.

“Don’t.” His voice dropped low as he leaned in to whisper, “We both have extremely high IQs, despite your grades suggesting otherwise. I know you’re the one who has been throwing illegal events all over town.

You’re lucky you didn’t get arrested, and you’re only adding gas to the fire with this rally.

This town is in an uproar, and I don’t want you to get hurt. ”

“I don’t care.” My voice came out sternly, unwavering. “Nothing can hurt me more than staying quiet like I have been.”

“You could get in trouble, arrested even, if things get out of hand today. I can’t keep protecting—”

“I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” I said, and knew without a doubt I meant it. He’d tried to keep me safe all these years only to suffocate me instead. “If I get in trouble over standing up for who I am, at least it sure as hell is something I believe in.”

I started to turn away from him, already done with this conversation, but then he surprised me.

“I’m sorry, Zeke.” The coiled muscles of my legs relaxed as his words sank in.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I am. Sorry, that is.

I thought…” He trailed off in search for the words to say.

“I didn’t know how much being gay meant to you. ”

“You make it sound like a hobby,” I pointed out sarcastically.

“We never talked about it.”

“That’s because you didn’t let me.” I had to fight to maintain my composure. Fight to stand my ground and not run from this conversation. “You didn’t want me to talk about it. To be loud. Like Sawyer. Like the people marching on the evening news, in the newspaper. You wanted me to be quiet.”

“That’s what I thought you wanted,” he said, the facade dropping. “You went along with it.” The wattage of his smile dimmed into a grimace. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Keeping you safe from all this. ”

I knew he was referencing the state governor, the mayor’s ordinances, the hateful people in town who were quick to anger. “That’s how you raised me,” I said with a waver in my voice. “You wanted me to be the best, so I kept my mouth shut.”

“That’s not what I want for you.” He huffed out, eyeing the pride flag on the QSA tent. “This is what I wanted for you. For you to be safe and welcomed in town.”

“Then why are you supporting the mayor’s campaign against us?” I asked. “And don’t say it’s just business.”

He wiped the sweat off his forehead with a sigh. “I believed it was the right thing. If I threw my support behind the mayor, then no one would target my son. That’s why I said it wouldn’t affect you—”

“Well, it did.” I stood to my full height, taking in a deep breath. We were nearly eye level now, but his gaze made me feel like a kid again. “It did affect me. I was at Buchanan’s rally too and saw firsthand what he stands for. It was terrifying to witness that crowd, to see you up on that stage.”

“You shouldn’t have been there,” he said with a sad note in his voice. “After this election is over, things will calm down.”

“Because you still expect Buchanan to win, that voting for Carmen won’t amount to anything?” He didn’t reply, and I took a step back. “That’s what I thought.”

“Zeke, wait,” he said as I started to storm off. “It’s not your job to fight. You’re just a kid.”

I turned back to him, clenching my fists.

“You might’ve been trying to protect me when I came out to you and Mom,” I began slowly, leaning into the anger I’d felt for so long, “but I wasn’t happy.

Maybe it would be easier to go back to before, keep hiding so nothing would hurt me.

I can’t do that, though. And if that means I have to fight, then I’m not backing down. ”