Page 16 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

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 himproperly, 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 toDoctor 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 isourfight. The QSA pushed for a PrideMonth,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, beinggood,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.

Chapter 7

The tree outside Mason’s bedroom creaked as I nervously climbed down. My sneaker hesitantly stepped on the next branch, and I exhaled in relief when it held my weight. For a moment. A loud snap split through the early-morning silence. The ground rushed up to meet me, leaves slapping my face as the world blurred. I hit the flower bed with a heavy thump and tried to catch my breath.

I lay there stunned, looking up at the window I’d just snuck out of. A few beats passed as I waited for his handsome face to appear—for that same coy smile he’d given me last night, a lure that would have me climbing right back up to him again. However, it remained darkened despite my clumsy escape.

A dull ache radiated from my thigh as I gathered my bearings. Standing up, I felt a tear in my jeans and looked down at the cracked garden gnome that’d broken my fall. Last night had been a blur in the best possible way. After we cleaned up, Mason had given me directions to his house in West Pointalong with a promise of what we’d do. It was so spicy that I nearly beat him home.

There was still no sign of movement, and I grabbed my dirt bike from where I’d leaned it beside the tree.Fucking gnome,I griped, steering my ride out of the backyard with a slight limp. At least that had been the only mishap. Well, actually…I hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but I’d thankfully woken up before him. It was obvious we were both dancing around each other’s feelings last night. And it only made sense to bail before he kicked me out, even if Sawyer called this move “the Z-step.”

Once I was in the clear, I checked my phone for the time. The screen read 5:53 a.m., and below that was a long list of texts and new-follower alerts from Instagram. I could only guess these were all the people waiting for details about next weekend. Which would require way more thought than I could muster now, especially after only a few hours of sleep.

If I even know what I’m doing.

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I kick-started the engine and took off down the street. Guilt twisted in my stomach as I felt the creeping weight of the notifications. Before it could fully strike, I reminded myself of what happened last night. We’d accomplished Pride Day despite the curveball Mayor Buchanan threw at us. What my father had thrown at me when I came out.

My hands gripped the handlebars in frustration as I approached a four-way intersection. Ever since I figured out who I was, my father had been scaring me into submission. If he’d had his way, the speakeasy wouldn’t have happened. I wouldn’t have said anything at the square. I wouldn’t have even comeout. But with the promise of more speakeasies, it felt like I was finally facing that fear.

Slowing to a stop, I checked both ways and noticed familiar red writing in a salon’s window. Chapman Law stared out at me from the Family First poster. Memories of yesterday morning flooded my mind, and it only pissed me off more.

---