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“Hell no, he’s the absolute worst—never mind, it’s not important,” he nearly shouted, his words tense. “I’m freaked because we could have gotten caught, and you’re too busy being you to care.”

“Cohen,” Sawyer said, holding her hands up to calm him. “It’s not Zeke’s fault.”

“It’ll be fine,” I told him. “The cops are useless. I trashed my dad’s billboard without them seeing.”

“So you’re the reason they installed security cameras after they cleaned it up?” He threw his hands up, muttering “Unbelievable.”

“Relax, Coco,” I urged. “Come back inside and dance—”

“I can’t relax, Zeke.” He stressed the word with sarcasm. “Do you know what would happen if we got caught? Because I actually read the small print on those Family First posters. No Pride events. Period. We could get fined or, worse, arrested.”

“They’re not going to arrest us,” Sawyer pointed out.

“We’ll at least be forced to do community service or something,” he went on. “Then it would be on record when we apply to college. And there go my chances for scholarships.”

“Hey,” Sawyer began in a gentle tone, “we’ll be fine.”

“ He will be,” Cohen said to her, shaking his head. “His father will pull strings, since Chapman Law represents the town, but he never cared about Pride until now—”

“Stop saying that,” I interrupted. “I’ve always fucking cared”—I motioned toward the alley door—“and we’re having Pride like the QSA wanted. At least I’m trying.”

“ We’re trying,” Sawyer corrected, side-eyeing me. “We finally did something for the queer community in Beggs.”

I wanted to ask if he knew how proud I felt tonight, but I was sick of explaining myself. “You’ve made it clear how hard y’all have worked,” I said instead, “and I understand how dangerous the consequences are. But it’s one night, okay? I’ll stay here and monitor the door if you want.”

“I don’t know…” He trailed off, gulping as the thumps of music suddenly died. “Do you think the cop came back?”

Sawyer shook her head in confusion, and she opened the door to check. “It’s just Ms. Bedolla,” she assured him. “She asked if she could say a few words”—she checked her phone—“and it’s almost time for it to end.”

“Let’s just go back in and have fun, okay?” I almost patted Cohen on the shoulder to calm his nerves. Then I remembered how much of an asshole he’d been and stopped myself. “This was my idea, and I’ll take the blame if something happens. Swear.”

A moment passed before he reluctantly nodded, mumbling under his breath.

Then Sawyer led the way back inside as soft finger taps echoed through the speakers.

The door shut behind me with a clang, and I took in the crowd.

Everyone had formed a circle around the center of the basement, where Carmen stood.

The overhead lights had been turned on, the fluorescence dancing off her rainbow-sequined shirt.

She lifted the sound system’s microphone to speak.

“I just want to thank y’all for coming out to celebrate Pride,” she announced with a broad smile.

Someone whooped, and she nodded toward the guy in the front.

“That’s my grandson Mason, everyone, and he’s part of the reason why I’m up here…

because it’s a disgrace what Mayor Buchanan is doing to our town.

The LGBTQIA-plus community shouldn’t have to carry the weight of this intolerance alone.

That’s why I’ve decided to run against the mayor in the Founder’s Day election next month, and I want y’all to know first because your fight is my fight. ”

Applause erupted, and I felt myself smiling despite the argument in the alley. Cohen might’ve thrown those accusations at me, but I was proud of the speakeasy. Proud that Mayor Buchanan’s ordinance—along with Chapman Law’s support—wouldn’t succeed in silencing us without a fight.

“But first,” she continued, scanning the crowd, “someone showed up to help me this morning, and I want to thank him properly, if he can come to the microphone.” My eyes went wide when she locked her gaze on mine.

“Zeke, I could tell you felt out of place, like you don’t belong, and I want you to know that you do.

Your bravery is the reason why we’re here tonight. ”

My hands went clammy, and I started to back away. But Sawyer elbowed my side and pushed me toward the center. She said something unintelligible that was drowned out by the thunderous beats of my heart.

It took only a few strides to meet Carmen where she stood, yet it felt like I’d raced around the baseball diamond to get there. “Um, hi,” I said with a breathless gulp. Everyone was staring at me, and I could feel sweat rolling down my back. “Th-thanks for letting us use your bookstore.”

“No thanks necessary,” she said with a small laugh. “This morning, I said we needed people to speak up and make the mayor listen. Then you spoke up. Thank you for that and for letting us be proud together.”

“I don’t know about—”

She held up a hand, politely stopping my objections. “You showed up and did the right thing. That’s what matters.”

“No,” I tried to say. But someone screamed my name, and my voice was too quiet. Mason whooped again, and Carmen held the microphone up to me. “Is there anything you’d like to say?”

“Um…”

My mouth went dry as nerves rioted in my stomach. Everyone will know I’m a… They were smiling at me? It was as though they were seeing me, Zeke. The one who created this. Not Anthony Chapman.

“Thank you?” My voice pitched higher, and I cleared my throat. “For coming out this morning and showing up tonight.”

“Zeke!” Sawyer yelled, and I braced myself for her to call me out.

To tell everyone I hadn’t put in any work.

However, she only smiled reassuringly. I thought of how she was always so focused on what she wanted.

How she’d made a long list of our traditions, from X-Men comics to Doctor Who.

How much I wanted to be like her and feel like someone who belonged here.

“I know,” I started, pointing at where she stood with Kennedy and Cohen, “that the Beggs High School QSA has fought to make today happen.”

But this wasn’t what the club had originally planned.

They’d wanted a whole month, but the mayor thought we only deserved three hours.

Then he backtracked and took away the scraps he’d given us.

Everything Cohen had accused me of, not caring and not paying attention—all of it swirled in my head.

Tonight had shown me what it felt like to breathe outside the shoebox I’d put myself in.

“I think Ms. Bedolla is right…this is our fight. The QSA pushed for a Pride Month, but the mayor wouldn’t give us that, didn’t even give us a day.

” My heart thrummed steadily with the possibility of taking back what we deserved.

“Fu—I mean, screw him and those who helped him enact his hateful agenda. We’ll celebrate Pride how we wanted to… all month long.”

A rush of voices asked “Where?” and “How?” and “When?” as I turned toward Sawyer, Kennedy, and Cohen.

They wore matching expressions that were part awe and part confusion.

It made me feel like I was finally earning my spot in the QSA, being good, like the rest of them. That I belonged, like Carmen said.

“Follow me on Insta, ‘at Zeke Chapman,’?” I said over the crowd’s murmurs. “I’ll post details.”

Then, silently to myself: Once I figure out what the hell I’m doing.