Page 80 of The Rebel's Guide to Pride

“Saw,” I said, nudging her with my shoulder. “I’m proud ofus.”

“Don’t be humble,” she commanded me with a snort. “We both know you were born with main-character energy, so just take the compliment.”

I rolled my eyes. “But I wouldn’t have been this way if not for you—” She opened her mouth to argue, but I held up a finger. “Please let me finish. You were the first person I came out to, and you helped me be me when I didn’t know how. Gave me that epic pride flag, and just…Sawyer, I’m so thankful you’re my best friend. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Her usual look of focus was back, and she narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare make me cry,” she said, emotions strangling her words. “But…I’m so glad we nearly threw hands over X-Men.” Then she hugged me, squeezing tight as she lowered her voice. “I never said thank you for speaking up at Pride Day after it was canceled. I’d been so upset, but you had my back. Best friends for life, okay? No matter how far apart we move for college.”

I laughed, watching the blue tips of her hair swaying in the wind. So much had happened since we’d celebrated the first day of freedom at the blue hole. Since our last break before senior year began to unravel in the best possible way.

“Titty promise,” I said.

I was glad we hadn’t stayed in a fight. Some things were more important than arguing over who was right and who was wrong. The proof was all around us. Tiny buttons for Carmen’s campaign, rainbow flags, familiar faces that smiled instead of glaring—all stars in our town that shined with more importance than I could’ve ever imagined.

“Hey, son.”

My hands stilled on the voter registration sign at the sound of my father’s voice. I carefully turned around, and the sight of him sent my pulse thrumming. His chinos were pressed, shirt neatly tucked in, not a hair out of place as he took off his sunglasses to study me. His scrutiny made me want to cower as I’d done so many times before, but I squared my shoulders as he approached.

“We need to talk,” he said with a note of authority. “Why don’t we go to the law firm for some privacy—”

“Kinda busy, if you can’t tell,” I interrupted him and gestured around the square. “We’re getting ready for a rally.”

He eyed the Pride tank top I was wearing, and then his gaze shifted to the voter registration sign. “I’m well aware,” he said, dropping his voice.

“Are you here to pull our permit?” I asked sharply.

He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not here to stop you”—he took a step toward me, motioning around the square—“but I do want to warn you about doing this.”

From over his shoulder, Cohen locked eyes with me. He was helping Sawyer and Kennedy set up the sound system onthe parade float. He tilted his head in question, and I quickly shook mine to let him know I had this. “I’m not gonna sit back and do nothing,” I finally said, looking back at my father.

“I’m not here to talk you out of it either.”

This close, I could see his—our—blue eyes in the bright sunshine. For so many years, I’d seen him as my only future. We were more alike than I wanted to admit. I wondered if he saw our sharp jawline or the way we both tended to get freckles across our nose in the summer. Or if he saw a failure for a son like I saw him as a father.

“Then what could we possibly have to talk about?” I asked.

“Anthon—” He cut himself off and tried again. “Zeke, you almost got in trouble with the mayor over your illegal party.” He pointed up to the top of Jones Hardware. “Not to mention you destroyed my billboard ad again.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I managed calmly.

“Don’t.” His voice dropped low as he leaned in to whisper, “We both have extremely high IQs, despite your grades suggesting otherwise. I know you’re the one who has been throwing illegal events all over town. You’re lucky you didn’t get arrested, and you’re only adding gas to the fire with this rally. This town is in an uproar, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t care.” My voice came out sternly, unwavering. “Nothing can hurt me more than staying quiet like I have been.”

“You could get in trouble, arrested even, if things get out of hand today. I can’t keep protecting—”

“I don’t need you to protect me anymore,” I said, and knew without a doubt I meant it. He’d tried to keep me safe all these years only to suffocate me instead. “If I get in trouble overstanding up for who I am, at least it sure as hell is something I believe in.”

I started to turn away from him, already done with this conversation, but then he surprised me. “I’m sorry, Zeke.” The coiled muscles of my legs relaxed as his words sank in. “I know you don’t believe me, but I am. Sorry, that is. I thought…” He trailed off in search for the words to say. “I didn’t know how much being gay meant to you.”

“You make it sound like a hobby,” I pointed out sarcastically.

“We never talked about it.”

“That’s because you didn’t let me.” I had to fight to maintain my composure. Fight to stand my ground and not run from this conversation. “You didn’twantme to talk about it. To be loud. Like Sawyer. Like the people marching on the evening news, in the newspaper. You wanted me to be quiet.”

“That’s what I thought you wanted,” he said, the facade dropping. “You went along with it.” The wattage of his smile dimmed into a grimace. “I thought I was doing the right thing. Keeping you safe from allthis.”

I knew he was referencing the state governor, the mayor’s ordinances, the hateful people in town who were quick to anger. “That’s how you raised me,” I said with a waver in my voice. “You wanted me to be the best, so I kept my mouth shut.”

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