Page 174 of Pride High

“Oh my god, shut up!” Anthony said, shoving his friend playfully. “We haven’t gone that far yet.”

“Do you love him?” Omar asked, his tone concerned. “What you said about me… I like it. It’s flattering. But what about Cameron?”

“I love him,” Anthony said without hesitation. “And I love you. It’s weird, but I can deal with it.”

“Good,” Omar said, “I don’t want you getting hung up on me when you’ve got such a great guy on the line.”

Anthony would always be hung up on him. For the rest oftheir lives, which it sounded like they would continue to spend together. Thank goodness.

“I mean, I know I’ve got a hot bod,” Omar said with a toothy grin. “So it’s probably for the best that we’re both taken. Still, it must be hard to sleep next to me at night. How do you manage to keep your hands to yourself?”

“I don’t,” Anthony said. “You’re areallyheavy sleeper. We’ve already done it a few dozen times. You just weren’t awake for it.”

“Sothat’swhy I always wake up feeling relaxed when you stay over.” Omar got to his feet and grabbed one of the canvas chairs, dragging it over to face him before plopping down. “Okay, enough joking around. You’ve been holding back on me. I wanna know how you and Cameron kicked things off. Tell me everything.”

Anthony stared at that handsome face of his, his heart pounding for Omar like it often did, but this time it felt different. Lighter. Happier. Anthony had meant what he’d said earlier. He didn’t want Omar to change. Not even for him. Anthony would though, in a good way, because he was finally free to be himself.

CHAPTER 38

November 23rd, 1992

Ricky felt tired. Washed out. His parents had shown up at the urgent care center in the evening. There were only so many dinner theaters, and the medical staff had contacted each of them. His mom and dad were more devastated than angry, which only made Ricky feel worse for putting them through it all. Getting to go home to his own bed was a welcome relief, although his father had slept on the floor of his bedroom last night, worried that he might try again.

Nearly dying and having his stomach pumped should have earned him the right to miss school the next day, but no. His parents didn’t want him to be alone. When he had taken a shower this morning, they’d asked Ricky to keep the bathroom door open. He was glad when they dropped him off at Pride High, even though he would have preferred to stay home and sulk in his room all day.

When he walked into journalism class, Ricky was puzzled to see Anthony sitting at the table with Mindy like he had at the beginning of the year.

“You’re with me,” a voice said as an arm draped around his neck. Omar grinned at him and led Ricky toward their old table.

“You don’t have to do this,” Ricky mumbled in embarrassment.

“You say that,” Omar murmured in hushed tones as they sat, “but my grades have gonewaydown since we switched seats.” In a much louder voice he added, “Besides, I already have to listen to Anthony talk about music nonstop when we’re not sitting together.”

Anthony turned around and flipped him off with a grin. Omar returned the gesture.

“Are you sure?” Ricky asked once they’d stopped goofing off.

“Yup. I really do see enough of him, and not enough of you, so it makes sense.”

“I don’t want anyone’s pity.”

“Good, because you’re not getting it.” Omar slid a piece ofpaper toward him. “Can you spellcheck this real quick? Hurry up. I don’t want to turn it in with a bunch of mistakes.”

Ricky laughed and began reading the paper. To his relief, it had nothing to do with him. Omar only wanted help on the most recent assignment. He was only halfway through when Mr. Finnegan walked into the room and began the lesson, but Ricky managed to read the rest in between taking notes.

“Stop groaning,” Mr. Finnegan said toward the end of class. “I intentionally gave each of you a subject I didn’t think you would enjoy. That’s how it is in the real world. Come up with a pitch for the remainder of the period. I want to hear them first thing tomorrow. Mr. Nishikawa, could you please join me in the hall for a moment?”

Ricky stood, his face flushing as everyone watched him walk to the classroom door.

“My apologies,” Mr. Finnegan said. “I wish they gave us dedicated hours to meet with students, like they do in college. But they don’t, so this is the only opportunity we’ll have to speak.”

“It’s fine,” Ricky said, hoping this wasn’t going to be a lecture about how special he was and how he should never quit.

“Forget about the subject I assigned you,” Mr. Finnegan said. “That was before I’d heard the news. I’d like you to write about something else.”

Thank god! Ricky had no interest in the town’s founding history.

“How would you feel,” Mr. Finnegan said, “about writing an editorial discussing what you’ve just been through?” He raised his hands before Ricky could reply. “I know it’s all still very fresh, but I think you’ll be surprised how therapeutic it can be to collect your thoughts on paper.”

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