Page 22 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

Opening Instagram, I checked my latest post. The four slides were pictures of a pride flag, the square’s pavilion clock reading nine p.m., the public library, and a Halloween meme. I’d captioned it with “already thinking about this year’s costumemaybe my favorite character?”

“Fifty so far,” I announced. She had been worried it was too subtle at first, but I posted it anyway. And I was right to do so. Comment after comment of pride flag emojis racked up. Most of them were businesses in town, some people I hadn’t met. “I think we could get way more…”

A banner notification across the top of the screen distracted me. The Beggs Rec Center had just sent me a DM. Sawyer said something about too many people being risky, and I absently mumbled a “Yeah” as I clicked to read it.

BeggsRecCenter:

Hi Zeke, the mayor has threatened to pull funding for our kids’ program because it’sLGBTQIA+ inclusive. Your “underground” Pride month has inspired us to continue it regardless. I’d like to invite you to come check it out tomorrow in hopes you’ll volunteer. Let me know if you can make it! —Jess

Relief eased the tension in my chest. At least someone thought I wasn’t hurting the QSA’s cause. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth, that spark Cohen had dampened reigniting.Yes, I can definitely make it!I typed. But the self-doubt that’d been hassling me all day stopped my thumb from tapping send. Was I even qualified to go?

“Hey, Saw,” I began, in hopes she’d encourage me, “what do you think about—”

A loud thwack sounded as she kicked at a roll of green carpet. “What a flaccid dickhead,” she yelled, waving her hands angrily at the TV. I followed her gaze to where the news report was covering the Alabama governor’s homophobic campaign messaging. “Can you believe this education reform bullshit?”

She looked at me expectantly, and I froze before glancing back at theMontgomery Evening News.“Yeah, um, total bullshit,” I agreed, even though I didn’t understand.

“He can call it what he wants, but he’s trying to erase all traces of queer history in the classroom,” Sawyer went on. “And the corrupt Supreme Court of Dipshits won’t do anything about it.”

The name of the proposed education bill filled the screen. It was a mishmash of numbers and letters. I’d never really paid attention to the news before we moved out of the old house.The hate couldn’t reach me inside my shoebox. But now? How was I supposed to know every single bad thing happening in the world?

“I can’t deal with this,” Sawyer said, turning away from the TV. “Sorry, what were you about to ask?”

“Oh, um.”

I fidgeted with my phone, unsure if I should tell her I wanted to volunteer. What if she wrote me off because I didn’t fully comprehend the magnitude of what was happening? What if Cohen was right?

“Do you think the speakeasies could hurt the QSA’s cause?” I asked quietly.

She pushed her wire-frame glasses up on her nose and shook her head. “Don’t let what Cohen said get to you, okay? I get why he’s worried, but we deserve to have fun too. And you were having fun, right?”

“Fun,” I echoed, remembering what it had felt like in the bookstore’s basement. How I’d been free to be myself and dance with Mason. How it didn’t matter if I was the best worst type of gay or not. “You’re right, we deserve to have fun.”

“And for all anyone else knows,” she added with a reassuring grin, “we’re just having a party.”

Pride is about more than throwing parties, Zeke.

Cohen’s dig shot through me. Doubt threatened to creep in as I eyed the abundance of decorations surrounding us. Wewerethrowing a party, but it was more than that. It’d inspired the Beggs Rec Center to stand up against the mayor too. That had to meansomething. And I had to prove to myself that I could do more.

I unlocked my phone and tapped send on the reply.

Chapter 10

The shimmery moss shade of the dress made the blue of my eyes shine. Its neckline scooped low, and the little chest hair I had poked out. Pearlescent beading covered the bodice and fringed at the hemline—the incredibly short hemline.

Everyone’s gonna see my junk.

I watched the mirror on my bedroom door and jumped around. Shimmied side to side. Shook my ass with a clacking of beads. Nothing of prominence slipped out, and it’d work for the speakeasy. Even if the degree of leg it showed was revealing. So much so that my mind wandered to Mason and whether he’d be there to witness how much thigh I was displaying. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since Sawyer grilled me about never getting too close to anyone.

I studied my reflection. Mom had called it a flapper dress. If someone had told me back in December that I’d be fearlessly wearing one, I wouldn’t have believed them. Here I was, though, donning it proudly in my new bedroom.

Technically it wasn’tnew,I guess.

There had to be a time limit on how long I could keep calling it that. It still felt like we’d just moved in, like Mom had just promised this was only temporary. Now, after six months in this alternate universe, I was still unsure where pieces of my old life fit in it.

I eyed the room behind me, the button-up and khakis draped over my bed. I’d pulled them out of a box marked JACASS CLOTHES to wear to the rec center, but they looked wrong in the space. The person I’d once been didn’t belong in this new life. It was like working in the mechanic shop, how sometimes broken parts had to be replaced to keep an engine running. How I could switch out bad memories for new ones.

I’m still Zeke,I reminded myself, staring at the pile of clothes I’d changed out of. A thrifted T-shirt with a faded four-leaf clover, worn-in jeans, Converse sneakers—it all made me who I was now. Less restricted, freer.Dressing up for the rec center won’t change that.

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