Page 66 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

The messages lined up with his story about trying to warn me. It made me feel weirdly detached from everything that’d happened. If I hadn’t turned my phone off like a dipshit, all this could have been avoided. With a deep sigh, I started typing a reply back.

7:03AM

zekechapman

thanks for trying to warn me

zekechapman

sorry I didn’t have my phone on

The wheels of the dolly creaked, and I sat my phone on top of the toolbox. Mom rolled out from under the SUV with oil smudged across her cheek. She sat up and startled when she saw me lurking nearby.

“You’re up early,” I commented, my voice scratchy from sleep.

“I was dying to use a power tool,” she said, reaching to turn off the air compressor. I knew exactly what she meant; we both had made a habit of tinkering on cars when life got to be too much. “You feeling better, hun?”

“I think so.” I shrugged and pushed my hair off my face. “The QSA meeting helped. We’re gonna plan a rally for Carmen, and we’re gonna meet her campaign team tomorrow. Maybe we can do something good.”

What I meant to say wasMaybe I can do something good,and Mom sensed where I was headed. “Hey,” she said, standing up. “Youwillmake a difference. You’re taking charge, and I’ll help with the rally in whatever way I can.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Her assessment made my hands itch to grab a tool, but the only thing I could control was myself.

She gave me a reassuring smile and started toward the garage doors. I watched her go, trying to blink away the memories from Saturday. Then my gaze landed on the Zelda painting. I wondered how she would’ve handled getting raided. If she had ever taken charge of her own life.

“Hey, Mom,” I began, still staring at the woman I’d been named after, “you told me all about Zelda escaping Alabama and starting a new life in 1920, but what happened to her after that?”

“That’s the reason why I admire her,” she said. “She became the person people expected her to be until she realized she could shine on her own. It wasn’t always easy, but she did it her way.”

I considered what that meant, how someone could find their way through all the versions they’d tried to be.Everyone had expected me to be Anthony Chapman, and then Zeke Chapman. But now? I wasn’t so sure whoIexpected me to be.

I turned to the toolbox for a wrench—to do the only thing I knew how to—and hesitated. My phone screen was bright with a new notification.Then there’s Cohen and the avalanche of emotions he makes me feel.Before I could talk myself out of it, I checked for his reply. But it was a text from Sawyer instead.

Today at7:36AM

Sawyer

I’m out front with disguises and a list of hotels

“Oh, boo-bear, I’m so glad we decided to have a night away from the kids.”

Sawyer’s voice was thick with exaggerated Southern charm. She reached across the table to grasp my hand. Her long auburn wig glinted in the West Point Inn’s LED lighting as she lowered her head. We locked eyes over the top of her giant sunglasses, and it took every fiber of my being not to laugh.

“Yes, dear,” I managed as the concierge side-eyed us. Nervously, I smoothed my fake handlebar mustache. “Bill…and Bob, they’re such little bundles of misery—joy, I mean.”

We both held our breath while he passed by our table, then relaxed back in our seats. “I think he’s still buying our cover story,” Sawyer said. When we’d snuck by the front desk, she’d looped her arm through mine and made loud comments aboutbeing away from our kids. Then she casually asked the concierge to have fresh towels sent up to room 425 as we slipped into the dining room.

“Exactly how much trouble will we be in if we get caught?” I asked, grabbing a sausage from my overflowing buffet plate. Mom had agreed to let me skip a few hours of work, and the last thing I wanted to do was call her from hotel jail.Is that even a thing?

“Technically,” she began with a smirk, “it’s advertised as ‘free breakfast’ without any stipulations. Non-technically…maybe a little trouble, so I’d suggest we make a run for it.”

“I can live with that.”

“Same,” she agreed through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Besides, I owed you for missing your birthday.” Then she grimaced. “I really am sorry—”

“You apologized at least ten times in the car,” I said with an eye roll. “And I’ve forgiven you at least ten times too. We were both being stupid.”

She gave me a conceding head tilt, pushing her sunglasses up on her nose. “At least we still have the library’s outdoor movie night and the Ferris wheel.”

---