Page 185 of Pride High 3: Yellow
“Drag the mattress to your floor, put lamps at the corners, and tie a rope around them to make a ring?”
Omar’s eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t think to use lamps, but basically, yeah! So are you game?”
“No, I’m gay. And I need you to get off me.”
“How come?”
“Because you’re giving me a boner.”
Omar flashed him a toothy smile. “You’ve still got a thing for me, huh?”
“Yup,” Anthony said shamelessly. “Do you really need to be reminded?”
“Yeah. I don’t have a girlfriend anymore. I need you to prop up my self-esteem.”
“Just take a look in the mirror, pretty boy,” Anthony said, shoving him off and sitting up.
“What do you want to do today?” Omar asked, settling down next to him.
“How about nothing?”
“That doesn’t sound epic enough. This is theofficialstart of the summer. It’s a Monday and we’re not in school. Don’t you love that?”
“Absolutely,” Anthony said. “It’s so relaxing.” He made his eyelids droop like he was about to fall asleep as he slowly tilted to the side.
Omar laughed and pushed him upright again. “For real. Do you want to play video games? Or watch a movie?”
“We did that all night.”
“Hell yeah, we did,” Omar said. “First sleepover of the summer.”
They bumped elbows in celebration.
“So what’s next?” Omar asked, his knee bouncing with excess energy. “Oh, I know! I meant to do this last night.”
He rolled out of bed and went to his entertainment center to mess with the VCR. Then he patted the director-style canvas chairs he was so fond of and said, “Showtime!”
“All right.” Anthony got up and joined him.
He figured they might watch the video yearbook again, which he really did love. He was surprised then when the screen flickered and he was looking at his own reflection. Except instead of sitting on the chairs, he and Omar were squished together on the edge of the bed. And they looked different.
“Remember this?” Omar asked with a cackle. “We made this to watch at the end of the year.”
“I’d almost forgotten! Am I crazy, or do we look smaller?”
“Definitely,” Omar agreed. “We’re like… Ricky sized.”
Anthony laughed. “I kind of miss having black hair. Should I go back to it?”
“You looked cool,” Omar said, checking him out in real life, “but the pink hair is way more punk. I dig it.”
“Thanks.”
They both paused to tune in to what their former selves were saying. They had apparently felt the need to set goals for themselves.
“We hope you’re still best friends,”younger Omar said.
“Nailed it!” said his older counterpart.
