“Ahem.” Van clears his throat.
“Vander, Vander, Vander.” I walk toward him by the side door. Bren’s tight on my heels, hands latched on to my waist. I love that she’s feeling the same need to hold on as I am. As if our separation, might break the dream. “What am I going to do with you?” I ask Van as we go back inside to the float.
“I was thinking, since I can’t ask Johnny Depp, I’ll ask you. Be my queen?” From behind his back, he reveals the most gorgeous copper crown I’ve ever seen.
“What is this?” I take the crown from his hand. Colorful crystal beads on thin copper wire are woven in an intricate lattice pattern to form the shape of a crown. It’s absolutely stunning.
“My idea, but Charlotte’s creation.” Past his shoulder I see Charlotte Wozniak puffing up proud, her arm around her girlfriend, Jacinda.
“But in the gym I thought … the whole ball and Bren thing … I just assumed that you wanted …”
“Bren?” Charlotte busts out laughing. It’s more like hiccups than a laugh. “I was trying to distract the class so you could bust your move, and when you didn’t, I gave you a friendly little push.”
“Friendly, huh?” The biting sting of the volleyball is fresh in my memory. I’d hate to see how she treats her enemies. “What about Sarabeth and Andrew’s crowns?” I ask.
With a bobby pin in her mouth and her hands working the real crown into her hair, Sarabeth says, “You’re taking my place on the float and you want my crown too? Hell to the no. Plus I’m not standing up there by myself, no thank you.” She finishes pinning the silver and crystal crown on her head. “It’s bad enough I’ll have to stand on the field with Andrew tonight before the game. Ugh.”
Charlotte bends over a shoe box with crushed tissue paper. She pulls out a second handcrafted crown. This one is larger with fatter crystals; less dainty, more masculine. “This one might be a little heavier.” She lifts it over Van’s head. “But you have plenty of hair for Jacinda to pin it to.”
“You made these? This week?” I ask in awe. Charlotte nods. “They’re so gorgeous. I … I can’t thank you enough.” I’m amazed. Camouflage, mullet, and ass-kicker are all I see when I look at her. I’m utterly baffled that someone as hard-edged as her could create something so delicate. What an ass I am. Here I go, not wanting people to judge me for what I am, when all the while, I was judging Charlotte.
Jacinda snap-pops her bubblegum. She steps in front of me with a colorful sash in her hands that says LGBT Royalty. Her gum does nothing to mask the stale aroma of cigarette smoke. “I thought maybe you’d like to wear a sash, like they do for the real thing.”
Her curled hair is teased up huge and poufy, molded stiff with half a can of Aqua Net. I’m tempted to advise her against smoking with hair that flammable. I didn’t realize she had so many freckles, which soften her rounded cheeks like a little kid. Of course the marker-thick eyeliner and hairy spider-leg eyelashes tell me she’s not a child in the slightest.
Jacinda drapes the sash over me and makes a slight adjustment to center it just perfectly on my shoulders. She leans in to whisper to me. “You’re brave. You know that?” She picks a piece of glitter off my sweater and steps back.
I feel like I’m the one who should be saying thank you to her. Sarabeth pins my crown to my head, giving me words of love and encouragement. Van is over to the side, receiving his own LGBT royalty sash. A smaller sign that says, Love Everybody, is shoved in my hand, the rainbow glitter not quite dry. Somebody tells us we’ve got the huge supply of candy between our thrones to throw to the kids. There’s more candy for those who’ll ride in the back of the pickup that pulls the float. It’s like the world is happening around me, and I’m only an observer. All of this is because of me. Me.
Bren squeezes my hand. “You okay?” She steps into my line of sight.
There’s this humbling realization that my plan is coming together. In a few minutes, the whole town will know what I am. I won’t be able to hide behind my lies anymore. Something about the absolute truth is freeing. Today will go down in Sunshine’s history as the day of the first Gay Pride Parade, and for once, this town will have to face the reality that not everybody fits in the same mold. They will either embrace diversity or suffocate in their own hate. Either way, I’ve done my job. I look up at Bren. “I’m doing this.”
“Yeah you are, babe.” Her smile is contagious like a yawn.
I’m sporting a grin that reaches all the way to my heart. “I’ve never done this before.” The words tumble out in a hurried rush of excitement.
Bren leans in close and cocks her head all serious. “What? You mean to tell me you’ve never been in a Gay Pride Parade before?” She shakes her head and tsks. “Oh, you haven’t lived until you’ve been in a Gay Pride Parade.” My body rumbles with laughter. She gives me a good luck peck on my cheek before jumping into the back of Chuck’s truck.
She’s right, I really haven’t lived yet.
But I am now.
The float jerks forward and slowly moves toward Main Street. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. Van reaches over and grabs my hand. “You ready?”
“You bet your life I’m ready.”
Bunches of color dot the crowd like scattered Skittles—just small groups of high school students who rallied in support. Not quite the wave of rainbow color I was hoping for, but a good start nonetheless. From the end of the strip, I can see all the way up to the courthouse. At the top, the juniors’ float rounds the corner of the Court Square, and on it, a giant book lies open. But the pages aren’t the “I Wish I Were in Dixie” sheet music as they were rumored to be. Instead a giant fluffy quill has scrawled the words, God made marriage between Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve across the pages. It’s a big fat slap in my gay pride face. Their float has nothing to do with the Tennessee Treasures theme, but their anti–gay marriage statement will surely get some votes.
Van squeezes my arm. “Don’t let it get you down, Kaycee. Stand tall.”
I smile at Bren who’s sitting in the back of Chuck the Buck’s truck and find strength in her presence. I lift my head up and pull my shoulders back.
Buckets of candy are packed all around her and Terrance. Sarabeth stands behind the cab of the truck. She winks at me before she turns around, executing a flawless homecoming queen wave as we approach the crowd. Kids scream as fistfuls of candy rain into the crowd.
A couple of businesses participated in Pipsqueak Harry’s service-learning project. Colorful balloons and posters brighten the lone Mexican restaurant in town. A few others took a more subtle approach with No Bullying and Stop the Hate signs in their windows. Maybe the message isn’t as loud as rainbows, but their small gestures mark their place in history. A moment in time when their participation changed lives in Sunshine, whether they realize it or not.
A few shops are closed, unusual since it’s not a Sunday. The Christian fish symbol and Christ’s cross are painted on their doors with the words, Protect our religious liberties! The Hannigan Funeral Home that Chelsea’s family owns has Leviticus 18:22 painted in bloodred on the front window. It makes me feel sad for her … for like a half a second. Old Man Jenson hulks in front of his barbershop, scowling at us as we pass. Andrew and his fellow plaid cronies stand next to him with the same face of disgust. Van, Sarabeth, and I exchange glances as our minds arrive at the same idea. In unison, our hands dive into our candy buckets, and we throw fistfuls of candy at Andrew, causing a horde of children to scramble around his feet. I smirk.
Halfway up Main Street, my jaw drops open, and I forget I’m supposed to be tossing candy. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen rolls into view.
The giant brick wall that greets everyone who passes through town no longer features Sunshine’s Wildcat football pride, but a different kind of pride.
A magnificent rainbow streams from a huge lopsided heart painted in the bottom corner. The
colors wave up and across the wall like flowing ribbons. The Sunshine High School Wildcat’s roaring mouth has been repainted into a cartoon grin, no longer terrifying but a big ole pussy cat.
“This is the ‘art banner’ Melissa was talking about.” Van yells over the screaming kids so I can hear him. I shrug. His guess is as good as mine. “Can you believe it?”
I point to the top of the two-story building. As we roll around the Court Square, we can see Keira and three of her fellow art students from school waving at us. Paint covers their hands and arms.
“Omigod, that is not some small banner.” Van tosses a few more handfuls of candy.
“No, it isn’t. But it’s amazing.” I shake my head, smiling. But holy smokes, we’re going to pay something fierce for ruining their football wall of pride. I shake the worry from my head and fling a fistful of candy to the kiddos.
“Kaycee Jean McCoy,” Van says, “I’d say we’ve done good today. Haters be damned.”
“Agreed. All I wanted was some colorful streamers on the float. Maybe a show-your-pride banner. But this, this is way more than I ever hoped for.” Though in my heart, once we got started, I imagined something explosive, like those Gay Pride Parades in San Francisco. Next year, Kaycee. Next year.
I see my fellow classmates riding ahead with their rainbow-decorated cars, gay pride signs hanging on their car doors. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have believed one person—besides Van—would support me. Now a small clan of people, made up of classmates who aren’t even gay, has joined our cause. As we move up Main Street, with the support of our friends all around us, I stake claim to my gay pride and vow to never hide from it again. Like Van told me before, there will always be haters. But if I open my heart up to loving and accepting myself, I open it up to beautiful people like Bren too.
As we make our way around the courthouse, Kappy’s Diner comes into sight. All dressed in his Sunday’s best, Mr. Bobby waves a rainbow flag with his right hand. Standing next to him, holding his left, is Ms. Doris Carver with a matching colorful feather boa draped around her neck. I smile hugely at the two of them holding hands. Next door, in front of Hot Flix, Arthur stands with a big smile. I snap a shocked look to Van, who blushes. Mrs. Betty waves at us like a chicken flapping its wings. She has painted a Band-Aid over the broken heart on their rainbow window.
Next to her store is Mother’s shop. I hold my breath.
I’m not sure what I expected really. Colorful streamers in the window maybe? A rainbow flag? Balloons? A sign? But there’s nothing on the outside of the building from my mother to show support for her daughter. As the float drives past, my heart sinks. I crane my neck as we get farther away, praying for the tiniest sign.
And just about the time the store is almost out of sight, Mother steps into the window’s view real quiet like. A smile spreads across her face, and a shaky hand tosses me a light kiss. We disappear around the corner. I close my eyes and hold on tight to the image.
It’s something. As tiny as it was, it’s all I needed to feel her love. Okay, so it wasn’t a bold window display, complete with rainbow-spewing heart, like the one Van’s mom made for Hot Flix’s storefront window, but she didn’t lock her doors in protest like other businesses. It’s middle of the road. I can accept middle-of-the road. Middle of the road means no telling where we might go.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I can truly be myself.
I use the sleeve of my sweater to wipe my tears.
Bren jumps out of the slow-moving truck and hops onto the float. It seesaws from her weight.
“You did it, baby.” She reaches toward me like she’s about to hug me but then holds back. “You survived.”
“Yep, I did.”
Bren stuffs her hands in her pockets and creates a fair amount of space between us, the gap signifying we are only friends.
“I’ll be having none of that.” I pull one of her hands out of its pocket and clasp it in mine.
“But … what about all these people?”
I laugh. “I’m holding your hand, Bren. It’s not like we’re making out. Besides, cat’s out of the bag now. No sense hiding.”
The crowd thins as the float turns off of Main Street. The sound of screaming children dies down. I tug Bren a little closer.
“You know, the day ain’t over yet. We still have to survive tonight’s homecoming football game and the cornfield after-party.”
“Cornfield party? You southerners and your traditions.” She shakes her head.
“Yes, cornfield party. Don’t tell me you’ve never been to a cornfield party, because you haven’t lived until—” The sweetest lips I’ve ever tasted shut. Me. Right. Up.
Bren pulls back and speaks across my lips. “If I want any lip out of you, I’ll just take it.”
I smile against her mouth. “I’m counting on it.”
Bren peers past my shoulder and points. “Look.”
In the distance, at the end of the parade route, is the Wildcats’s giant silver-and-blue balloon arch. The juniors’ giant feather quill has snagged the arch, making the middle droop and turning it into a big fat heart.
“Love note,” Bren says, then kisses me again.
Acknowledgments
To my incredible agent, Lauren MacLeod, thank you for dealing with my overactive type A personality, for being as passionate about this book as I am, and above all, for believing in my story.
To my editor, Wendy McClure, thank you for your in-depth insight and your spot-on tightening and tweaks. Thanks to Kristin Zelazko, for keeping my characters in charge of their own body parts and allowing me to disindumbedify my story with made-up words. I am grateful to the entire Albert Whitman team. I have found my home.
To the fierce and wonderfully inspiring Ellen Hopkins, thank you for pointing your finger at me at that SCBWI conference so long ago and telling me to “Write that. Write that book. Write what scares you.”
To Tim Whittington, who was my Van that one faithful summer, I hope you find your one true love someday.
To my OLBFF Nicole McLaughlin, we made it! I’m so happy we had each other to lean on.
To my indisputably awesome girlies, Kathryn Rose, Rachel Searles, Jessica Love, and Elizabeth Briggs: “Started from the bottom, now we’re here. Started from the bottom, now my whole team’s here.” Thank you for the writing retreat laughter, for being my conference compadres, for your encouragement, love, advice, and support—but, most importantly, for your friendship. I could not have traveled this road without you by my side. Extra chocolate for Rachel, Liz, and Jessica for critiquing those fledgling drafts.
To Ara Burklund, thank you for all our many hikes to reassure and guide me through my publishing journey and for always reading my raw first drafts and seeing my story’s potential with enthusiastic support.
To my mother, Steva Banks, you’ve always said I should write a children’s book. Here it is. Though it’s not a picture book, I hope I’ve made you proud. I love you, Momma.
To my boys, Luke and Jackson, thank you for being the beautiful chaos in my life.
And finally to my husband, Chris Elmendorf, you are my love, my soul, and my best friend. Everything you give to this family made my dream possible. I love you, honey.
About the Author
Dana Elmendorf was born and raised in a small town in Tennessee, and now lives in southern California with her husband, two boys, and her tiny dog. South of Sunshine (2016) is her first book.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 by Dana Elmendorf
Cover photo © Shutterstock.com
978-1-5040-3180-6
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South of Sunshine Page 24