Page 2 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

“I gotchu next time, ugh—” Billy dry heaved, and Damian groaned.

They’d obviously been at Josh Boone’s barn blowout to celebrate the start of summer. I’d gone the last two years, dragging my best friend, Sawyer, along even though she hated myold jock friends. Those so-called friends had deliberately excluded me tonight. Not that I wanted to go. But the fact that his party had happened without me made me miss who I used to be. I could’ve been there tonight, pretending to be the guy everyone loved instead of dealing with so much shit.

“C’mon, I’ll drop you off at your house,” Damian began, steadying Billy, “but I swear if you spew in my truck…” He fell silent as he squinted in my direction. “Anth—er, I mean, Zeke?”

Billy twisted around, nearly falling, and slurred, “Tha hell you doin’ here?” Another heave. “C’mere so I can kick your ass, Fastball.”

The old nickname sent a jolt of anger through me. I sprang back to my feet. “Fuck you, Peak,” I bit out. He didn’t get to call me that, not after he’d accidentally outed me last fall.

“You wish—”

“Bro, you’re drunk.” Damian put a hand on Billy’s chest as Billy lunged at me. “Don’t start shit.”

As much as it pained me to admit, my father had been at least partially right about coming out. It made me a target. If I hadn’t left my phone unlocked, if Billy hadn’t tried to prank me and seen the private browser tab I’d forgotten to close, if he hadn’t called me a slur—maybe then I wouldn’t havehadto come out and endure all the hell that followed. But in that moment, it’d felt like he was daring me to deny it, and I refused to be manipulated by someone else.

“Yeah, Peak,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “I thought you learned your lesson.”

“Zeke, don’t,” Damian warned as Billy struggled to find words.

Billy had made sure the guys on the team wouldn’t be chill with me in the locker room by spreading a rumor: “Anthony Chapman is only on the team to suck down our ‘brotein.’ ” I had tried to play it off, but it was clear I wasn’t welcome when my gear was trashed. That was the final push I’d needed to quit before the holiday break…right after I rubbed poison ivy all over Billy’s jockstrap.

“Thought you learned yours, Fastball,” Billy finally managed with a sneer, trying to shove Damian back. “Or should I call you Brotein now?”

His haphazard smirk rattled me. That stupid rumor had only been the beginning, with more spreading after the new year. Eventually, I used them to my advantage. The rumors became step one in getting back at my father. His obsession with me having thebestreputation was the reason I was determined to have theworst.I’d taken my golden-boy status and tarnished it. No more class president who won by a landslide or perfect student who gave more than 100 percent or all-star who took the Wildcats to the state playoffs two years running.

My popularity had been a double-edged sword, but now it was time to live up to who I’d become. “You wanna go?” I asked, dropping my backpack to the ground. “Or are you still too busy scratching your rashy balls?”

“Not again,” Damian groaned in exasperation. He rubbed a hand over his face, eyes pleading with me not to start something. Then the corners of his mouth grimaced against the rich brown of his cheeks. At one time we’d been good friends, but now he looked at me like I was trouble. That’s all he and everyone else did: stared and made assumptions about my life.

I turned around and almost let it go. Almost grabbed mybag and ignored the both of them. Almost started toward home so I could sleep before Sawyer and I went swimming.Almost.Until Billy called out the same slur he’d thrown around countless times in the locker room. Once, I might’ve been scared of him and of being calledthat,but not anymore.

“Dare you to say that again,” I said slowly, spinning on my heels.

“I said you’re a—”

My fist knocked the word out of his mouth. Pain radiated from my knuckles up through my elbow, but I felt too damn good to care. And for a moment, I relished his shocked expression. Then I remembered why his nickname was “Lightning.” His punch came out of nowhere. I was suddenly flat on my back with my eye throbbing, staring at the penis-graffitied billboard. A chuckle rattled through me imagining my father’s reaction, hoping he’d feel the same way I did just now. Put in his place.

Chapter 2

“What’s the plan for this summer?”

No reply as sounds of destruction rang out. I squinted at Sawyer Grayson, my right eye obnoxiously swollen behind the Wayfarer sunglasses I’d scored thrifting. She sat cross-legged in a dinosaur-print bathing suit while she played on her phone. Her blue-tipped black hair swept across her sunburned shoulders as she leaned closer to the screen. She bit her bottom lip, and more explosions sounded from the X-Men gaming app.

“Almost, almooost, c’mon!” she yelled in concentration. That was the thing about her—she was always focused. From starting the first Queer-Straight Alliance at school to having her top colleges already picked out, she set her sights on a goal and rarely missed. Sometimes she also set goals for me, and then she’d push me to reach them with just as much determination.

“Stop playing that game,” I demanded, waving a hand in front of her face, “and givemeattention.”

“Stooop, dickhead,” she huffed without looking at me. “I’m trying to level Storm up.”

The X-Men was how she and I became besties in middle school. We’d been enemies long before then, thanks to her bullying me during dodgeball at recess. Her jealousy over the fact I was always the teacher’s favorite had spiked when we were in seventh grade. We were at Estrella Books and both reached for the last copy of an X-Men graphic novel. Neither of us wanted to let it go, and hands would’ve been thrown if our moms hadn’t made us share it. Somehow, while we sat on the tiny chairs in the children’s section, I realized she wasn’tsobad.

That was the start of Sawyer-and-Zeke’s list of traditions.

Since then, reading the comics together had become a staple of our relationship. Over time, we added fall concerts, video game marathons for winter, and hiking adventures in the spring. However, summer came with its own traditions: binge sessions of our favoriteDoctor Whoepisodes, my sneaky birthday celebration, the library’s movie night, the Ferris wheel on Founder’s Day, but, most importantly, celebrating our first day of freedom at Beggs Blue Hole in the nature preserve.

I let out a resigned sigh and lay back on my jacket while Sawyer played her game. She’d given me hell for turning into a “bad boy” trope when I’d started wearing leather, but it was extra protection on my dirt bike, not to mention it was a size too small and enhanced my biceps. Its woodsy scent was soothing as I tilted my aching face toward the sun and tried to relax. The weight of finals, an anchor that had finally sunk my GPA, had lifted. The JACass couldn’t pressure me anymore, and I wouldn’t let him take my freedom before senior year. Before he’d inevitably fight me on his future dream.

“Finally!” Sawyer’s shout rang out, startling me. She gave me a triumphant smile, only for it to downturn a second later. “What’s wrong, Z?” she asked.

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