Page 7

I couldn’t get Cohen out of my head. His biting remarks had followed me home.

Lurked in the corners of my tiny bedroom.

Haunted my dreams while the sheets twisted around me.

Breathed down my neck and woken me a little after three a.m. I’d slipped out onto the fire escape and ridden around town until moonlight gave way to sunshine.

And then I kept riding until it was time for Pride Day.

My dirt bike rolled to a stop back at Beggs Town Square, and I hesitantly put down the kickstand and dismounted.

Everything Cohen had said about the QSA amplified the JACass’s warnings.

But there were only rainbow flags waving, laughter and excitement drifting with the breeze as I scoped out the square.

Before the guilt could strike again, I set off on a mission.

I’ll prove to them I’m not a bad gay. I searched for something to do other than “not be late.” The van for Estrella Books was parked next to the curb, and someone was struggling with boxes.

My sneakers crunched on pea gravel as I marched over with determination.

“Need some help?” I asked, reaching out to steady the wobbling stack.

A woman peeked around the corner, and relief eased the tense lines of her brow. A lock of long salt-and-pepper hair fluttered as she blew out a sigh. “I wouldn’t say no,” she admitted, a kind smile dimpling her olive cheeks. “If you don’t mind.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” I took the boxes from her and cut my eyes across the square. “I’m Zeke with the Beggs High QSA.”

“Carmen Bedolla.” She held out her hand, then let out a laugh, its trill light and airy, as she realized my hands were full. “What you’re doing today is nothing short of beautiful.”

“Yeah…” That’s all I could say as I followed her toward the tents. The bright rainbow colors and laughter, the community coming together despite the mayor—all of it was supposed to make me feel proud. But it made me feel like an even bigger fraud.

“Thank you for what you’re doing,” she added as we reached the bookstore’s tent. “I’m so grateful you asked my shop to be part of Pride.”

“It, uh…it wasn’t really me,” I admitted weakly, unable to fight my growing imposter syndrome. “My friend Sawyer and the rest of the QSA did most of it. I’m just here, I guess.”

“You showed up today,” she pointed out as I set the boxes on the table. “Not everyone is brave enough to show up.” Her smile never faltered, and it felt like she was seeing me. That she somehow knew the hidden parts I’d kept in that shoebox.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said, my voice rising.

“And thank you for helping, Zeke,” she replied as my phone buzzed in my pocket. “We need more people like you to raise their voice, especially with that hateful propaganda the mayor is pushing. Someone needs to make him listen.”

Her unwavering eye contact made me nervous. Unsure of what to say, I fidgeted with my phone and checked my notifications. A message from the QSA group chat flashed across the screen. “Guess I better help set up,” I finally said with a polite smile.

She wished me a happy Pride, and I wanted to thank her again. Tell her how much I needed her kindness. My voice got stuck in my throat, though. Too many emotions were lumped together. All I could do was give her a small wave goodbye, keeping my head down as I read the new texts.

QS-SLAY!

April 4, 2025

Kennedy

we can use the pavilion for the drag stage

Today at 11:23 AM

Sawyer

okay everyone get in place we’re about to start

Coco

Is the Zasshole even here yet?

Coco

Oops. Wrong thread.

My brow furrowed, wrinkling even more when I realized what he meant.

Then I reread the last message before today.

That had been two months ago, and they’d evidently started a new group chat without me.

How did I not notice? I questioned, stomping my way to the sidewalk.

The divorce proceedings had been hectic at home, Mom’s worry spilling over into mine.

So much had been going on, and maybe I had been too distracted to pay attention to our QSA meetings.

But that wasn’t an excuse for them to leave me out.

They didn’t know all the sordid details.

They had only decided to exclude me because…

I’m not a good gay like Sawyer or Cohen or Kennedy. That guilt was back, but I pushed it down. Pushed myself to keep walking so I could prove to them—to myself—that I wasn’t who my father had made me.

My stomps grew more determined, and I kicked at the ground in annoyance.

A brightly colored scrap of paper skittered to the side in my pissed-off strides.

I slowed to a stop, the line “Beggs High School needs you to join the QSA” barely visible.

It was one of the flyers Cohen and I had hung up.

Its edges were crumpled from being trampled, the corners torn like it’d been ripped down.

There was another a few feet away.

And another.

They were gone from every single lamppost in the square.

Posters hung in their place, and I stepped to the closest one to read the violently red ink.

“Support Mayor Buchanan’s Family First ordinance and keep our children safe,” I read, voice stumbling as I saw the last line.

“Proudly supported by City Attorney J. A. Chapman, Esq., of Chapman Law.”

There was no doubt this was a result of the backlash brewing in town since the petition.

The fact that my father supported it sent an icky rage through me.

Have the others seen this? Hands shaking, I tore it down.

Then I was moving, jogging to the next one.

Part of me felt like I should run home, hide the posters in my shoebox, and accept what was happening in town like I was raised to do.

But I wasn’t Anthony Chapman anymore.

I tossed each crumpled ball to the ground, not caring who saw. One after another as I traced the same path from last night. The white paper ripped from the posts as my breath grew ragged—

My rampage skidded to a halt. The roar inside me quieted, my shoes sinking in the pea gravel. Blood rushed to my ears as I gazed across the town square at him. The slicked-back brown hair, the polo tucked into ironed khakis, the same fake-ass smile from the billboard.

James Anthony Chapman. The JACass. My father.

A spark pushed me through the crowd toward him.

My tongue pressed to the roof of my mouth as pressure swelled in my chest. I wanted to tear into him.

But I stopped abruptly when I saw the short man beside him.

White hair cropped and neat, matching beard.

A grin as obnoxious as the pristine linen suit he wore.

Mayor Buchanan.

My father leaned over, whispering into the mayor’s ear, and then they turned toward the pavilion.

The mayor waved to the crowd while he climbed the steps, like this was planned.

A wave of voices crashed against me as I tried to make sense of what was happening.

Something wasn’t right. Sawyer was getting ready in the changing tent, and Captain Jaymes Catz was supposed to welcome everyone to Pride Day.

Buchanan grabbed the microphone, his grin growing wider, and I shoved my way to the front.

A piercing gaze pinned me in place before I could cause a scene.

My father shook his head and held a hand up for me to be quiet.

The gesture made my mind trip over all the memories of when he’d done it before as the mayor’s Southern twang rang out.

“Hellooooo, ladies and gentlemen,” he greeted the crowd, his voice reverberating through the speakers. “It’s gonna be a good day today, and I wanted to take a moment to address you fine folks of Beggs with a special announcement.”

He paused as if waiting for applause, but there was another wave of disgruntled tension. I glanced around as everyone nervously mumbled under their breath. Then I caught sight of Sawyer pushing toward me, beard halfway glued on. Kennedy and Cohen were on her heels in a frenzy.

“What. The. Hell?” she asked, out of breath, coming to a stop.

“Why didn’t you tell us your dad would be here with the mayor?” Cohen demanded with an accusatory tone.

“Like I knew this was gonna happen,” I said with too much force. “If you’d bothered to actually pay attention, you’d know I don’t talk to him anymore.”

Cohen opened his mouth, but his voice was lost in the static of the microphone.

“I’m proud to officially announce my Family First ordinance today,” Buchanan continued with open arms. “In order to protect the values of Beggs, I’m rolling out new city legislation to prioritize our children.

The first step is banning public displays that flaunt unnatural sexualities and adult cabaret performances.

As such, I’m here to tell you Pride Day is officially canceled, as it violates this ordinance. ”

A beat of silence settled over the square as his words sank in. “What the actual fuck?” Sawyer seethed, ripping her beard completely off. I grabbed her shoulder before she could rush the stage.

My father gave me another sharp look, but this time it didn’t stop me. I inhaled deeply and bellowed, “You can’t do that! We got signatures!”

The JACass’s face flushed scarlet, and I jutted my jaw in defiance as the mayor continued.

“The folks of Beggs have spoken up,” he declared, ignoring my outburst, “and it’s my job to listen.

I’ve revoked the permit for today’s festivities.

Please remove your materials from city property within the next hour or be fined. ”

A cacophony of boos erupted around us, but the mayor just smiled and exited the pavilion. My father didn’t spare me a second glance as he followed. Didn’t even attempt to explain himself.

“What’re we gonna do?” Kennedy asked, a quiver in her voice.

“I guess we have to break stuff down and clean,” Cohen muttered. He ran a hand through his messy hair, shoulders slumping in defeat. “The last thing we need right now is to get in trouble.”

Trouble rattled in my brain as Sawyer blinked furiously. “This is total bullshit,” she said, her words vibrating with rage. “He’s only doing this because of the backlash from the town. Because he wants the small-minded votes at the Founder’s Day election. So he can stay in office and keep…keep…”

She fell silent as too many voices called out to her for advice.

The vendors asked Kennedy what they needed to do, asked Cohen where to move the parade floats.

Nobody paid me any attention as all three of them searched for the words to say.

Because they had organized today on their own, worked hard to make it possible.

And all I had to show for it was guilt. Maybe if I had helped more, or maybe if I still talked to my father, I would’ve known what was happening. Maybe I could have warned them.

“I guess this means Pride is over,” Sawyer finally said.

She sounded helpless, and her eyes watered behind her glasses.

It only intensified my anger. My head spun with more curveballs.

Are you even paying attention? We need more people like you to raise their voice.

But Mom’s voice sounded like the bat cracking with a hit— You never know who’s listening, so be proud.

“Be proud,” I said aloud, chasing away any uncertainty.

I didn’t want to accept this, didn’t want to keep being a fraud.

What I needed was to be free of this town and my father.

Face the fears he’d engrained in me. Be like Zelda Fitzgerald, a rebel who never let anyone stop her from doing what she wanted and lived her own life and partied in speakeasies…

Wait.

Something snagged in the back of my mind, and memories flashed: the portrait at Roaring Mechanics; my mom throwing a speakeasy party for the grand opening; her pride over her accomplishment; my father, who’d stopped her dream for years; how he’d held a hand up to stop me.

That JACass and the mayor and this shitty town were all doing the same exact thing, and…

A speakeasy, I thought, glancing to where my father had stood on the pavilion with the mayor. What if…What if Pride was a secret celebration too?

The idea of defying the ordinance felt more and more right with each excited thump of my heart.

I turned to Sawyer, tears spilling down her cheeks.

She had worked hard to make today happen.

So had Kennedy and Cohen and the bookstore lady and everyone else who had signed that petition.

I needed to show them I was here too. I’d joined the QSA to prove I was the best worst type of gay person, and this was finally my chance to speak up.

“No,” I said, raising my voice. “We’re gonna celebrate Pride anyway.”