Page 23 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

My phone lit up from the jeans pocket, and I turned from the mirror to check the notification. The dress definitely showed my ass when I bent over; I’d have to remember that if Mason did show up. The screen flashed with new-message reminders. Sawyer had double-texted me ten minutes ago.

Today at4:53PM

Sawyer

QSA meeting tonight?

Sawyer

Kennedy’s coming over and we need to finish details for the speakeasy

I started to type a response, telling her what I had planned tonight. But I backspaced and deleted it. It was something I had decided to do on my own, and I couldn’t risk her talking me out of it. Or worse, tagging along and taking charge.

Zeke

busy tonight but maybe tomorrow?

Sawyer

okay…?

I knew she was waiting for an explanation, but there wasn’t enough time to invent a cover story. I still had to shower and change. Leaving her on read, I tossed the phone back onto the pile of clothes and—

“Hey, hun,” Mom’s voice abruptly called out.

Her footsteps sounded down the hallway, and I gulped. My attention snapped back to the mirror, back to the dress I’d snuck from her closet. Panic set in as I rushed to grab my clothes to change.

“How do you feel about spaghetti for dinner?” she asked, her voice too close, and then the bedroom doorknob rattled.

“It’s for a costume party,” I nearly shouted as she stepped into the room.

“What?” she asked, slow to register what I was wearing.Then she shot me an amused expression. “Well, that’s just not fair.”

“Huh?”

“It looks better on you than it did on me.” She laughed and shook her head, blond waves tumbling. “It’s supposed to be loose, but you really fill it out.”

“Sorry, I should’ve asked first. I, uh, wanted to dress up as Zelda Fitzgerald,” I explained nervously. “For a, um, QSA thing on Saturday.”

“Here, let me help you.”

She stepped toward me as I stood stock-still. Then she was zipping up the dress’s back, the metal clicking loud in between my heartbeats. The bodice grew snug at my waist and even more snug across my chest. I exhaled through the tightness and looked in the mirror again, at her smiling face behind me.

“I have some jewelry you can wear with it,” she began, running her hand through my hair, “but I don’t think you’ll need the wig since you’ve let yours grow long. Just the headband should work.”

“Th-thanks,” I stammered, watching her watch me.

Her eyes were crinkly with a smile. And I knew that look. It was the same one she’d given me after I changed my first spark plug in the family SUV. Maybe we hadn’t come so far from who we used to be. Maybe I could replace the bad memories we had with better ones too.

“So spaghetti?” she asked.

“That sounds great to me,” I replied, turning to face her. “I’m going to volunteer at the rec center, but I’ll be home by seven.”

“Volunteer?”

“For their LGBTQIA-plus kids’ program. The mayor’s trying to cut their funding, and I want to help.”

She took a second to study me, her eyes drifting up to the rainbow flag above my bed. “I love that you’re still trying to fix things.” Her hand was soft as she patted my cheek.

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