Page 73 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

She glanced at me, and I saw the anger in her eyes. “I just grabbed the mail from out front,” she said. Her voice was as strained as her knuckles gripping the paper. “The mayor has issued a citation to Roaring Mechanics for participating in prohibited activities.”

What?I stood up quickly and wiped my hands on my jeans. “Can I see?”

She exhaled roughly and held the paper out for me to read.The top line noted it had come from “The Mayor’s Office of Beggs, Alabama.” Then in a big red font, just like on his ordinance posters, the word “CITATION” screamed. I scanned through the details I already knew—the event date, what happened, what ordinance it broke—until I saw the final line.

“Two hundred bucks?” I asked, looking up at her. “I’ll pay it since it was my fault.”

“No,” she said with a severe shake of her head. “You won’t be paying it, and I won’t be either.”

“But it says right here,” I continued, reading the letter, “that future infractions could mean losing your business license.”

“Doesn’t matter.” She rubbed at her temples, determination in the firm set of her mouth. I knew that look, had seen that look when she’d fought in the divorce proceedings against my father. “I amnotpaying for violating his homophobic bullshit.”

“But—”

“No buts, hun. It might seem like just a couple hundred bucks, but it’s more than that. Paying it means you did something bad. Other than, ya know, lying and sneaking around, you didnothingbad. I need you to know that, okay?” I nodded in understanding. “It was technically a party, which was well within my right as a business owner. There also happened to be queer kids there, and by the looks of the place everyone enjoyed themselves…Did you?”

I thought back to that night, how it’d felt to just exist in the crowd of people. How I hadn’t been afraid. How I’d felt safe before Buchanan destroyed everything. “Yes,” I decided. “I did.”

“Then we won’t be paying it.”

“What about your license?”

“Let them try.” She wadded up the letter and threw ittoward the trash bin. “He trespassed on my property, and I learned enough from that brutal divorce about how going to court can ruin a man.”

“Go off.”

She stood up from the toolbox, absently adjusting her mechanic shirt. “This only furthers the need for Carmen to win the election,” she said. “All the campaign endorsers are meeting tonight to make a plan B if things don’t go the way we want and we don’t get enough votes.”

The weight of her words pressed down on me, and I nodded in understanding. Nothing had gone the way I’d wanted since coming out. This summer was evidence of that. I’d only wanted to prove myself with the idea to have speakeasies for Pride. Too much had happened since because of me, and doubt made me worry that I’d ruined everything.

“Zeke?” Mom’s voice cut through the haze. “If your eyebrows pinch together any tighter, there’s only gonna be one of ’em. Everything okay?”

“Just a lot on my mind with Founder’s Day and just…”

I let out a sigh, chewing my lip.A vote for Bedolla won’t amount to anythingreplayed in my mind. Would voting for Carmen in two weeks even matter? It was intimidating to think how a singular vote would even help.

“Can I ask you something about this election?” She nodded. “How is a vote supposed to change anything?”

“Hey.” She studied me, the overhead lights reflecting the emerald of her eyes. “It’s not just a vote,” she explained in a soft voice.

I shook my head, that same confusion from watching the news muddling my mind. “But what my father said at dinner—”

“Don’t listen to him,” she interrupted with a raised hand. “Each vote will join the others who are fighting back because of you. Who knows what will happen on Founder’s Day, but it’s just the start.”

A month ago, Buchanan had climbed up to the pavilion, and my father had stopped me. He’d told me the mayor’s plan wouldn’t affect me if I kept my head down and stayed quiet. However, it had affected me, affected all of us. But I didn’t know ifIhad a plan B.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if Carmen loses, though,” I admitted. “If Buchanan enforces more ordinances.”

Mom considered me for a moment, my words hanging between us. “That was how I felt when I made the decision to leave your father,” she admitted. “The worry of not knowing what would happen next nearly stopped me. I had to focus on what I did know, and that was making your life better. Our life. Then it became the easiest decision I’ve ever made.”

“I don’t know what to focus on, though…” If she had wanted to make my life better, then who was I doing this for? I hadn’t known who would show up at the speakeasies or what they’d cause in town. Then everyone played a part in something bigger, something more important that had been set in motion.

“Hun,” she began, “what you should do is focus on who you aredespitethe election. No matter what happens, you’ll still be you. And you have been working hard with the QSA, for people like you in Beggs. Don’t let that citation fool you, because nothing you did was wrong. You’ve certainly lived up to your namesake this summer.”

“How so?” I asked, resting back against the SUV.

“Obviously, attention-seeking—”

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