Page 18 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

“Hun, you have to talk to him. He’s your father, and he has the right to be worried about you.”

“What about my rights?” I questioned. “This whole Family First bullshit he’s supporting?”

“I saw that on one of those posters,” she said, sadness filling her eyes. “Someone hung one on the shop window downstairs.” The still-simmering rage had me up off the bed. Ready to march down there and tear it down like all the others. She held a hand up to stop me. “Don’t worry, I’ve already trashed it.”

“Oh…”

I hesitated as she stepped farther into the room. She walked toward me and gave me a hug, my chin resting on her head. “Zeke, I’m sorry about what’s happening. I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you better when you came out to us. I’m sorry it took me three years to finally do it.”

The trembles of her voice reverberated in my chest. “It’s whatever, Mom,” I offered, but she shushed me.

“It’s notwhatever.” Her tone was decisive as she pulled back to look at me. As though she’d rehearsed this countless times. “I thought I was nothing without your father, too scared of him leaving me to see how scared you were, and I won’t let that happen anymore. You’re my son, and I’ll do everything I can to fight for you. Because I’m proud of you.”

“You are?” My voice came out in a whisper, and I was fearful she’d take it back.

She nodded as she wiped at her eyes. “Everything you’ve done with the QSA, even if they canceled your Pride Day celebration. You’re invested in something again, like who you used to be.”

“I’m nothing likehim.”

“You’re still the boy who helped me in the garage.” She sighed softly, like she was remembering all those times it was just us. “You cared so deeply about fixing things and working with your hands to put everything back together. That’s what I’m talking about. That’s who I remember, not the young man your father tried to mold you into.”

I thought of the spark plug I’d put on the dresser next to the picture of us. It was proof that I was her son too. That part of me had been hidden away with all the others. It was hard to remember with how my father’s loud opinions drowned everything else out. I’d resented her for letting him push us around, but she and I were more like strangers now. It felt like I was getting to know her all over again. I could remember how she was as loud and rebellious as Zelda Fitzgerald, capable of fixing things too. And she was trying to fix the past even though it was complicated. That had to count for something.

“Even though you’ve grown so much since then,” she continued, “you’re still just a kid, okay? You might think you’re tough, but bad things can happen if you aren’t careful, especially if you’re using a rusty old fire escape to sneak in.”

“I’m always careful, Mom,” I promised, despite the ache from falling that morning.

“That might be the funniest joke you’ve told,” she deadpanned, pointing a finger at me. “No more sneaking around.”

“Thanks, I try,” I said with a laugh to dodge her latter statement. Because the Pride speakeasies would require copious amounts of sneakery. There was a chance she’d understand why I wanted to do them. I couldn’t risk it, though.

“With that settled, how about I make us some pancakes?” My stomach immediately rumbled at the thought of food. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she surmised, pushing me toward the door. “Go wash up and—Hang on.” Her eyes lingered on where I’d landed on that gnome. “Why are your jeans ripped?”

“No clue,” I blurted quickly, backing into the hallway.

Last night had been fun. So had this morning with Mason. But I didn’t want to explainanyof the last twelve hours to her. It finally felt like I was taking charge of my life, especially if it was pissing my father off.Even more reason to start planning for next weekend.I grabbed my phone from my pocket and fired off a quick text to the group chat.

QS-SLAY!

Zeke:

Meet tomorrow? We have to plan for Saturday

Chapter 8

BeggsPublicLibrary

My name is Bronwen with the library, and we’d like to offer our third floor for Pride.

The Instagram message had burned in my mind since yesterday. It was an answer to a question I hadn’t thought to ask. An answer that had my mind sprinting ahead to next Saturday as I steered my dirt bike along the streets in search of a plan.

“We’ll only do it if there’s some privacy,” Sawyer said decidedly, passing my phone to Kennedy.

With a deep breath, I glanced up at her from my spot on the bachelorette pad floor. I had to bite my tongue instead of saying she didn’t get to make that call. “Actually,” I began evenly, “I checked it out last night. There aren’t any windows up there, and the back entrance is hidden from view. It wouldn’t be sus.”

I stuffed a handful of yogurt-covered raisins into my mouth and chewed aggressively. They were my favorite, and Sawyer’smom knew to keep the pantry stocked for me. Between chomps, my neck prickled as Cohen stared me down with narrowed eyes. It was like the last time we were down here—him looking straight through me. He absently pulled at the collar of his polo, revealing a peek of chest hair that hadn’t been there three years ago.

“Like what you see, Coco?” I teased, even though he could’ve asked me the same.

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