Page 77 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

The weight of reality forced me to sit on the edge of my bed. There was more important shit happening in Beggs. The rally was tomorrow, and I should be brainstorming ways to ensure a vote for Carmen would amount tosomething. Running through our plan. Double-checking the details. Anything other than being self-centered, with main-character energy.

“What the hell am I evendoingright now?” I asked too loudly.

My outburst echoed through the apartment, and I hung my head. Part of me was glad Mom had gone out to dinner with her new friends from book club. Otherwise, she’d give me a first-date pep talk and only add more stress by mentioning condoms. Then again, another part of me wished she were here to tell me what to do.

Should I even be worrying about this?I groaned, snatching my phone off the quilt.

I swiped to unlock the screen and navigated to my favorite contacts. Sawyer’s goofy display photo of smushed cheeks, puckered mouth, stared back at me as I tapped the video call icon. Staccato beats rang three times before a chime sounded. The screen lagged, Chappell Roan blasting through the speakers first, and then she appeared.

“I’m literally about to see you—” Sawyer began, but I cut her off without preamble.

“Helllllp,” I whined. “I’m freaking the F out. Gasket fully blown. Lid completely flipped.”

She blinked slowly, only one eye done in the little mascara she wore, and stepped out of frame. The music stopped mid-song as she returned. “What’s up, Z?” she asked, and then, squinting without her glasses: “Did you do something different with your hair?”

“Does it look bad?” I asked, voice lilting. “I combed it too much, and it got frizzy. So, I used some of my mom’s hairspray and…Why are you laughing?”

Her giggles echoed into my room, and she pointed the makeup wand at me. “Because you, of all people, are losing your shit.”

“What doesthatmean?” I countered.

“You’ve been with so many guys.” She held up her hand and counted. “Jonathan, Bailey, Zach—”

“ ‘D appointments’ don’t matter,” I huffed, glancing back at the citation. “And I don’t even know if tonight matters either.”

“Oh, Z.”

“Don’t give me that look,” I said as she made a pouty face at the camera.

“It’s so precious how you and ‘the antagonistic fucker’ ”—she quoted from all the times I’d shit-talked him—“are sooo enemies-to-lovers coded, and I’m here for it.”

My stomach churned at her use of the wordlovers.“What do I do?” I asked quietly, anxiously smoothing my hair back.

“Seeing as I’m not well-versed in your preferred porn—”

“Not. That.” My face was on fire at the thought. “Like, how am I supposed to act tonight with everything that’s happening?”

The frame tilted back as she propped the phone up in frontof her bathroom mirror. “Just be yourself,” she said, leaning in to finish her other eye.

“I don’t even know what that means anymore.” My sneakers thudded aggressively as my feet tapped like racing heartbeats. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever for this, but now it’s here and”—I brought the phone closer for emphasis—“likehowdid you keep your cool with Kennedy?”

She laughed again, leveling her gaze at me. “I didn’t,” she explained, putting her glasses back on.

“Okay, that actually checks out,” I teased, and she stuck her tongue out at me. “So what happened?”

“I tripped in the parking lot of the restaurant, spilled my drink all over my shirt, snorted at one of her jokes that should’ve been a chuckle at most, and yeah. It got worse from there. But it didn’t matter because she likes me. Cohen likes you too, so stop stressing. Let whatever happens tonight…just happen.”

“I have a track record of messing shit up, Saw.”

“That’s not necessarily true. Well, on second thought”—she winked at me, holding up her thumb and forefinger—“maybe just a little true. But you’re also owning up to your mistakes and fixing them. That’s what matters.”

“I guess.”

“You’ll be fine,” she assured me. “Nothing is perfect, Z, and that’s okay as long as you’re trying. Even if tonight doesn’t go as planned, Cohenwillunderstand. Worst case scenario, you can try again. There’s always the theater over in West Point or Founder’s Day or…”

She continued to ramble off suggestions, but I was stuck on Founder’s Day. That implied “after the last speakeasy,” areminder of the upcoming election for the new mayor of Beggs. It made everything about right now feel trivial in comparison to what was to come. “Sorry,” I interrupted her. “I know it’s stupid to worry about this when I need to focus on tomorrow’s rally.”

“You’ve done all you can. We all have,” she said, bringing a hand to her chest. “I titty promise, it’s not stupid to be an actual person. That’s what Mayor Buchanan and the state governor and even the Supreme Court of Dipshits want us to think, that we don’t deserve to be people too. So don’t give them the satisfaction of dismissing your life.”

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