Page 109 of Full Split
Weston is sitting next to Niles at the table in front of him. They’re close enough that I can hear them whispering, joking around like they normally do. Brandon, Cody, and Rina are at the table as well. And the live stream has already started, with nearly all of their other team members accounted for being public and vocal in their support for Niles.
A hush goes over the room as Niles stands and steps up to the podium. Reporters crowd the edge of the room, lenses gleaming, notepads balanced on thighs, phones and recording devices held high. The air is thick with curiosity and anticipation. There are some conservative news stations here that I fear arebloodthirsty, but I know Niles can handle whatever they throw at him.
“My name is Niles Pruitt,” he begins. The room stills as if a switch has been flipped, but he doesn’t flinch. “I’ve been a proud addition to this year’s U.S. National Team, and until recently, I’ve stayed silent about my private life, about the harassment I’ve faced, and about the parties responsible.”
I have every confidence in him, believe in him like no other. But he still has the capacity to surprise me. Because despite the fact that I’ve heard his voice a thousand times, in a thousand different ways. Confident and cocky, teasing, husky panting whispers in the dark. But I’ve never heard him like this. In a tone that belongs to a world leader, standing in front of the whole population, sure and clear.
As he speaks, I don’t watch the press’ reactions. I don’t watch the other coaches. I watch him.
“Some of you already know who is behind the articles, as he hasn’t done much to hide it. Peter Trenton’s actions, the lies he’s told, and the harassment he’s encouraged, have been documented and turned over to the authorities. This isn’t what I wanted, but I’ve realized that it’s necessary. I stayed silent for a long time because I thought that by ignoring the noise, it would go away. I thought drawing more attention to what should be a non-issue would make things worse. I thought you’d all grow tired of hearing about my identity and move on.”
I watch the way his hands grip the edge of the podium, not out of fear, but conviction. I watch the flicker of emotion that passes across his face when he says Peter’s name. I watch his strength harden into purpose as he continues. “Avoidance doesn’t protect you. Sometimes, it just gives hate a bigger stage.”
This man is braver than anyone else I’ve ever met. It’s half the reason I fell so hard for him.
He could have stayed quiet. Could have handed it over to Ms. Worth and Mik, and let them handle it. He could have bowed under the weight of the immense pressure and let the media turn him into a villain, a headline, a cautionary tale.
Instead, he’s standing in front of all the people who could hurt him, unshaken and unapologetic in his strength.
“This country has a problem. One where the LGBTQ+ and BIPOC communities are unfairly and inaccurately used as scapegoats. We’re blamed for discomfort, for change, for challenging the status quo, but we are not the problem. Hate and fear are the problem. The misdirection of your attention away from the actual harm being done and placed on the backs of people who just want to live their lives is the problem.”
A ripple moves through the crowd. People shift, but the audience remains as I am, rapt to his every word as he names the problem, calls out the hate, and reclaims the story that was never anyone else’s to tell. And he does it with a voice that doesn’t waver.
“If you want to learn more about what it means to be a transgender person—what it means to me—then I’d like to invite you into a conversation. Over the years, my best friend Weston and I have amassed a small following by being jackasses on the internet.”
There are some light chuckles, and he bows his head with a small grin.
“We’ve decided we’d like to use that platform for something a little more meaningful. I’ll be opening a respectful and educational line of discourse. To be clear, it is not a place todebate, but to learn. I’m not here to fight. I’m just here to share, because I understand that there are things about me you don’t understand, that might frighten you or that you’re curious about. The truth is, though…”
He holds his hand up to his chest and lowers his voice to something softer, and somehow it’s when he hits the hardest.
“I’m just a regular guy,” he says. “There are parts of me you can’t see, just like every other man. There are parts you might not understand, just like every other man. And there are parts of me that are extraordinary…”
God, he is, though.
“The difference is that the parts that make me whole—the parts you don’t understand, the parts that might be considered extraordinary—are the parts that threaten small-minded people.”
He glances over his shoulder for a heartbeat, just a flicker of connection, but it’s enough. I meet his eyes and let him see every emotion written on my face. How proud I am. The awe I feel. The love I have for him.
This is who he is. Not the headlines. Not the scandal.This.
And I get to be by his side for it. Not just today. Not just until the story fades and he’s collected all his trophies and medals on the Worlds stage.
I want to stand next to him every time he steps into the light. And I want to help him carry the weight of the darkness when the world tries to make it too heavy.
Niles looks at each of his coaches and teammates, thanking them with smiles and nods for being behind him. Then he turns backto the crowd, lifting his chin, and finishes with a challenge.An invitation.
“I challenge you to open your minds. To rise above. To remember that everyone belongs. There is room here for all kinds of different. For every version of extraordinary. And you,” he says, scanning the room, “you are part of everyone. No matter who you are, what body or skin you were born in, who you love, or how you pray.”
If there’s a dry eye in this place, they’re robots disguised as people. Even Coach Harris wipes away a tear.
When he thanks the crowd and steps back from the podium, the silence in the room is total. For a long moment no one moves, too overcome to do anything other than soak in the moment.
Then the bubble bursts. Cameras flash. There is applause, and people rising to ask questions. And Niles faces it all the way he faces everything in life…
As his amazing, authentic self.
EPILOGUE- NILES
