She studied me for a moment, pushing my hair back from my face. Then, slowly, she nodded once, agreeing to let me go. I smiled at her weakly, unsure of what fixing my mess would mean. What any of it meant after last night.
Chapter 25
I’d lost count of how many times I’d said, “I’m sorry.”
When I was younger, my father forced me to apologize every time he thought I messed up. When I ruined my new chinos helping Mom work on the family SUV? “I’m sorry.” When I stayed up late binge-reading Sawyer’s X-Men fanfic and got an A minus on my history test? “I’m sorry.” When I blew my allowance on concert tickets instead of saving it like he’d wanted? “I’m sorry.”
Those two words were said so often they’d lost their meaning. They would fall out of my mouth without me feeling it. Two stones worn smooth from the steady stream of apologies. Now, I was starting to remember how tobesorry. There was a difference between saying it because someone else thought I should and saying it because I was in the wrong.
And this time, I knew.
I knew why Sawyer had gotten mad. I knew that I deserved it after disregarding her concerns. I knew there wasn’t a wayto go back in time and make it right without the Doctor and a TARDIS. I knew it was too late to change what I’d done.
However, it wasn’t too late to do something about it.
With a deep breath, I raised my hand and knocked twice on the basement door. Silence pulsed as I stood there in my sweaty, disgusting clothes. After cleaning the garage, I’d come straight over to Sawyer’s. This was too urgent for me to meander upstairs, shower, procrastinate, let fear keep me from making amends. I had to talk to her before something bad could happen again.
I knocked louder, and then the knob finally rattled. The door swung open, revealing Sawyer in her oversized pajamas and gaming headphones. A bemused expression crossed her face as she stared at me. I braced myself to be scathed, for her to continue our argument from the last time I was here. But then she rushed forward and caught me off guard with a tight hug.
“Z,” she sighed. “I’ve been calling, texting—Are you okay?”
“Hey,” I said hesitantly, ignoring her question. “Sorry, my phone is…”Where?I tried to remember. Flashes of bodies rushing to escape, the mayor and his megaphone, the fear, came rushing back. I cleared my throat. “Guess you heard what happened, then?”
“My dad told me.” She took a step back and motioned for me to come inside. “It was all over the local news last night. People bragged about Mayor Buchanan shutting down an ‘illegal’ event, and Iknewit had to be the speakeasy.”
“Oh,” I said absently, my eyes adjusting to the dim lighting of the bachelorette pad.
The TV was bright with aFinal Fantasygame on pause. Thescreen’s glow washed over her face as she sat back in her nest of blankets. “Are you okay?” she asked again.
“I, um…” I shrugged and perched on the arm of the sectional. “Shaken up, I guess.”
“Cohen is too,” she said, twirling her blue-tipped hair.
Memories of last night flashed through my mind again, on a constant loop ever since it happened. I tried to smile at her, to play it off like I always had, but that panicked fear twisted my mouth into a grimace. “You were right,” I began, glancing away from her focused stare. “I get it now, and I’m sorry I ruined everything.”
“Z.” My nickname was softly spoken. So soft it made me look back up. Her eyes were as glassy as mine felt. “I don’t care about—”
“No,” I interrupted. “I was being reckless, and now the mayor is targeting us just like you said…and with that One Lifestyle ordinance…when he gets reelected, there won’t be a QSA or anything queer in Beggs.”
“It’s not a guarantee that he’ll win.” Her voice was quiet, laced with remorse. “And I’m sorry for how I treated you. It wasn’t fair of me to push you—”
“I deserved it.”
She shook her head. “No, you didn’t. It’s my fault. If I’d helped out, maybe things would’ve been different.”
“How is ityourfault?” I asked, thrown off by her admission. “You didn’t ignore the danger. That’s all on me.”
“But if I hadn’t pushed you out, then you wouldn’t have had to do everything alone…It’s supposed to be my responsibility as QSA president to…I dunno, make this place safe? That’s all I wanted, and I failed.”
“No, you didn’t,” I countered. “You got Beggs its first ever Pride Day, and it would’ve been incredible if it hadn’t been canceled.”
“Look where that led, though.” She pushed her wire-frame glasses up in her hair, rubbing at her eyes. “The mayor is using it to his advantage, and…” Her eyes went distant, unfocused. It was clear she was flipping through her memories just like I’d been.
“I was at his rally…and I don’t think it would’ve made a difference if we’d had Pride Day or not. He’ll do anything to get reelected.”
She leveled her gaze at me. “Whydid you even go to that rally?” she pressed.
“I went to the rec center for the mentorship program, but the mayor shut it down. I was so mad and wanted to let him know how much of a jackass he is. When I got there…Saw, it was terrifying. Seeing all those people, hearing what they were saying about me—about us. I panicked.”
