Page 3 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

The honey of her eyes turned sticky with pity as she waited for me to be honest. That was another thing about her. She could always see through my bullshit. As if I were wearing a Halloween mask of the new version of me, and she wanted me to reveal who I really was underneath.

“I’m dying of boredom, that’s what,” I deflected, focusing on the sunlight glinting off her wire-frame glasses.

“You’re sooo melodramatic.”

My mind raced in search of the right words to tell her the divorce was finally settled. There weren’t supposed to be any secrets between us, another staple of Sawyer-and-Zeke. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell hereverythingyet. That was the problem about communication—you had to actually talk. And I didn’t know the words to use, didn’t know how to begin explaining.

How my coming out publicly last December caused my parents’ divorce.

How my dad had tried to manipulate me into staying closeted for “safety.”

How it was Mom’s final push after years of tolerating his controlling behavior.

“Yeah, well…” I trailed off. Even if I’d known how to tell her, Sawyer would’ve pushed me to do something about it. To confront my father and get over it. Only I wasn’t ready to do that. For years, he and I had always been a team, those grinning faces on the billboard, who had each other’s back. Then I came out despite his disapproval and discovered he only caredabout himself. About what people would think of him and his perfect image.

“Well what?” she prodded, still waiting for honesty.

“What you meant to say is ‘fun,’ ” I said instead while she dipped her toes into the water. “But I’ll also accept ‘zealous’ or ‘exuberant.’ ”

“And to think you only scraped by in AP English, despite me making you flash cards.”

I forced a laugh as we stared out at the blue hole, the chuckle lodging in my throat. She thought I’d been too stressed about the divorce and insisted on tutoring me. I let her believe she was helping, even though I’d come close to failing all my classes on purpose. It was step two in getting back at my father, and it fueled more rumors that dismantled my reputation.

Zeke’s such a gay disasterandZeke’s too worried about the D to studyandZeke’s a burnout.At least this was a version of meI’dchosen. I let my hair grow long, skipped class, drove the green dirt bike Mom and I built instead of the new truck he’d gifted me, whatever I could do to be someone other than thebestAnthony Chapman.

Now they all looked at me like I was trouble.

I could feel the eyes of Beggs High School watching on the other side of the blue hole like the non-player characters they were. No doubt all the NPC assholes we went to school with had heard about Billy punching the shit out of me. Slowly, I lifted my hand toward them with a middle-finger salute. “Keep staring, and I’ll give you something to look at!” I yelled.

“You’re such a simp for attention,” Sawyer teased, kicking water at me. “It’s like you want another black eye.”

“I’m not a simp—”

“You literally painted a giant dick on your dad’s face.” She held her hands apart in a length measurement for emphasis and laughed appreciatively. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s hilarious…but judging by how many times your mom has called, I’m betting your dad knows you did it.”

“Good.”

“Zeke, seriously…What’s up?”

I groaned, still not wanting to talk about my father, and turned to her. The blistering sun had kissed her freckled cheeks, andthatwas what I wanted. To spend the next two months with sunburns as we repeated today over and over again.

“We need to add to our traditions,” I pointed out, changing the subject. “And I’m most def in favor of spending every moment right here.”

“About that…” she started hesitantly. “I got a job at The Cove—”

“But it’s the last summer before senior year!” I cut her off, my voice pitching with a whine. “You’re definitely getting accepted to the University of the South, and then you’ll have to move next summer…”

“Iknow,” she stressed, “but my dad begged me.” Her family owned The Cove, and it was the fanciest restaurant in Beggs, where everyone went for an Occasion. Anniversaries, prom, business meetings, trying to sway your estranged gay son into living with you so you can shove him back in the closet. “It’s not like I wanna be a host for stuck-up assholes.”

“I’m so gonna die of boredom!” This time I was purposefully melodramatic, to hide the pang in my chest. Not having Sawyer around, not being able to escape the thoughtsthat kept me up all night, would make this a positively shitty summer.

That focused expression was back as she leaned over and scooped up a handful of water. Then she cocked an eyebrow before flinging it, soaking my old mathlete tournament shirt. “Can you do us both a favor and calm the hell down?” she asked. “We’ll still do our summer traditions.”

My reply was to flop back on my towel in mock distress.

“You can come hang with me at the front desk and eat free food, or you could get a server job there”—I contorted my face in horror, and she narrowed her eyes—“or if you are that desperately bored, you could hang out with us in places other than the QSA meetings you sometimes attend.”

Byus,she meant her and her longtime crush, Kennedy Copeland. Sawyer had spent years scrolling Kennedy’s CosplayCheerleader TikTok account dedicated to Black characters—not to mention every day of eleventh grade freaking out after Kennedy joined the QSA. They wouldn’t be so bad to hang out with if Kennedy’s bestie, Cohen Fisher, didn’t go everywhere with her.

---