Chapter 23
The Pride Blanket
By the time the yellow bus rolled into Springfield, the road had started to feel almost ordinary.
Joshua’s phone buzzed in his hand. He glanced down.
“This is Randy’s mom. The doctors said he took Benadryl—just a small amount. They’re not concerned. He’s going to be fine.”
Joshua read it twice. Then once more.
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he didn’t type anything back. Not yet.
“Everything okay?” Colin asked quietly, watching him.
Joshua slipped the phone into his pocket. “Yeah,” he said. “Text from Randy’s mom. It was Benadryl. He’s going to be alright.” He turned to Colin, the corner of his mouth quirked as he gave a brief shrug.
Colin studied him for a beat—just long enough to know that wasn’t the whole story—but he didn’t push.
Trent eased off the highway and followed the GPS through a stretch of tidy streets lined with maple trees and modest brick houses. Late morning sunlight filtered through the leaves in long golden shafts that cut across the windshield.
Trent glanced into the rear mirror at his passengers. “So, what’s the population of this metropolis?”
Colin squinted at the roadside welcome sign as they passed.
“Hundred thousand, give or take,” he said.
Alex snorted from the back row. “That’s barely a neighborhood.”
“Compared to what?” Trent asked from the driver’s seat.
Joshua smiled faintly. “You should try growing up in a town of two thousand.”
Alex leaned over the seat. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Trent slowed as the GPS chimed again.
“Turn left,” the robotic voice announced.
The road curved around a small courthouse square and then past a cluster of municipal buildings.
“There,” Joshua said quietly.
The Springfield Community Center sat at the edge of a small park. A faded basketball court stretched behind it, and someone had painted a cheerful mural across the side wall—sunflowers, mountains, and a rainbow worked carefully into the design.
Trent pulled into the lot and cut the engine.
For a moment, nobody moved.
The bus hummed quietly as the engine ticked down.
Then Colin stretched and groaned.
“All right,” he said. “Last stop.”
Alex kicked the back of his seat lightly.
“You’ve said that like three times already.”
“Because it’s true.”
Joshua stood slowly, peering out the window as David and Nate pulled in beside them.
For the first time in days, he felt something strange.
Not tension.
Not anticipation.
Something softer.
Almost gratitude.
“Let’s go meet Springfield,” he said.
The woman waiting by the front doors spotted them immediately.
She hurried across the lot with the slightly breathless energy of someone who had been watching the road for twenty minutes.
“Joshua?”
Joshua smiled and offered his hand.
“You must be Rebecca.”
“Rebecca Lin,” she confirmed, shaking his hand with both of hers. “I’m the community center coordinator. I run the teen reading group and… well,” she gestured vaguely toward the building, “this.”
Colin grinned.
“This being the secret underground LGBTQ+ youth movement of Springfield?”
Rebecca laughed nervously.
“Something like that.”
She glanced at the bus.
“I have to say… I didn’t quite believe you were coming until I saw that bus pull into the parking lot.”
Colin folded his arms.
“Most people don’t.”
Rebecca looked toward the bus again.
“It’s… bigger than I imagined.”
“It gets smaller the longer you sit in it,” Colin muttered.
Joshua elbowed him.
Rebecca blinked, then laughed again.
“I like you guys already.”
Inside, the room was smaller than some of the other stops.
Fluorescent lights hummed quietly overhead.
A circle of folding chairs filled the center of the room.
Someone—Rebecca, probably—had set out bowls of chips, pretzels, and homemade cookies.
Alex grabbed one before anyone could stop him.
Colin raised an eyebrow.
“Research?”
Alex shrugged.
“Quality control.”
Nate immediately began unpacking the journals.
Trent set up the coffee urn with David assisting.
Joshua watched the room slowly settle into its familiar shape.
The routine had become second nature now.
Circle.
Journals.
Coffee.
Snacks.
Presence.
Rebecca lingered near the doorway.
“I’ve got about eight kids who said they were coming,” she said quietly. “A couple of parents might stop by too, but most of them prefer to stay… invisible.”
Joshua nodded.
“That’s pretty normal.”
Colin leaned toward her.
“You nervous?”
Rebecca exhaled.
“A little.”
Joshua smiled gently.
“Good.”
She blinked.
“Good?”
“Means you care.”
The first kid arrived three minutes later.
Sixteen, maybe. Tall, messy brown hair, hoodie two sizes too big.
He stepped inside cautiously, scanning the room.
Rebecca waved him over.
“Owen, this is Joshua and Colin.”
Joshua stood and offered his hand.
“Glad you’re here.”
Owen shook it quickly and took a seat.
Two girls arrived together next.
“Lila and Judy, you made it,” Rebecca said with relief.
They walked in mid-conversation and stopped dead when they saw the room full of adults.
Joshua recognized the look immediately.
The calculation. Safe or not?
Alex leaned back in his chair.
“You guys like Marvel?”
One girl blinked.
“What?”
“Marvel,” Alex repeated. “Because if you say DC, we’re gonna have a problem.”
The girls laughed and sat down.
Joshua glanced at Colin.
Colin gave a subtle nod.
Good call.
By the time the last kid arrived, there were nine of them in the room.
Rebecca introduced all the participants, then Joshua stepped into the center of the circle.
“Hi,” he said.
The room quieted almost instantly.
“My name is Joshua.”
He gestured around the room.
“This is Colin. Nate. Trent. David. And Alex.”
Alex lifted a cookie in greeting.
Joshua continued.
“We’re part of the Camp Pride Outreach Tour.”
A boy seated close to Alex leaned forward slightly.
Joshua took a breath.
“We’re not here to lecture anyone.”
A few cautious smiles appeared.
“We’re not here to tell you how to live your life.”
He sat down.
“We’re here to listen.”
The conversation started slowly.
It always did.
Joshua asked the same opening question he’d used all tour: “What made you come here today? What can this group give you?”
Silence.
Joshua waited.
For a few seconds, no one spoke.
Then a tall boy in an oversized hoodie shifted in his chair.
“My mom thinks this is a homework club,” he said.
A few of the kids laughed.
Joshua grinned. “That’s a classic.”
The boy shrugged.
“I mean… it kind of is. Homework on how not to lose your mind.”
Joshua nodded toward him.
“What’s your name again?”
“Micah.”
“Okay, Micah. Fair answer.”
A girl with a braid named Mary Anne raised her hand halfway, then seemed embarrassed and dropped it.
Joshua noticed.
“Go ahead, Mary Anne.”
She cleared her throat.
“I just wanted to see if other people here were… like me.”
“Like how?” Alex asked gently.
Mary Anne hesitated.
“Confused.”
Micah nodded immediately.
“Yeah. That.”
She gave him a slow smile. “And maybe a little lonely?”
The tension in the room loosened a little.
Joshua leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“That’s actually two of the most common reasons people show up.”
A boy named Arron, who was seated next to Alex spoke next.
“I came because Rebecca bribed me with cookies.”
Rebecca looked scandalized.
“That is absolutely not true.”
Alex grinned and gave him a fist bump.
“Okay, maybe a little true,” Rebecca replied sheepishly.
Laughter circled the room.
Joshua let the moment breathe.
Then he asked quietly,
“Anyone else?”
A small voice spoke.
“I just wanted to know if people like us… leave towns like this.”
The room went still.
Joshua glanced at Colin.
Colin answered before Joshua could.
“Some do.”
He leaned back in his chair.
“Some stay.”
The boy looked confused.
“Why would you stay?”
Colin smiled faintly and leaned back in his chair. “Because sometimes the bravest thing you can do is make the place you grew up better than it was.”
Silence settled again, but this time it felt different.
Not uncertain—thoughtful.
Joshua looked around the circle.
Nine kids.
One volunteer.
A borrowed community center.
A tray of cookies.
And somehow, it felt enough.
He smiled softly.
“All right,” he said.
“Let’s talk.”
The room warmed gradually.
Stories surfaced.
Nate passed out journals then stood in the center of the circle.
“Tonight’s prompt,” he announced, “is simple.”
He held up one of the notebooks.
“Write a sentence you wish someone had said to you when you were younger.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Emotional damage incoming.”
But the pens were handed out and heads bent over the journals.
Joshua leaned back in his chair, watching.
These moments mattered.
More than speeches.
More than programs.
Just kids writing truths they’d never said aloud.
The door opened again just as Nate was handing out the last of the writing prompts.
Trent glanced up automatically—and then froze.
“Jeff?”
Jeff stood in the doorway with his usual easy grin, one hand resting on the shoulder of the girl beside him.
For half a second, Trent just stared at his husband.
Then he crossed the room in three long strides.
Jeff barely had time to brace himself before Trent pulled him into a hug that lifted him clean off his feet.
“Hey, cowboy,” Jeff laughed, thumping him on the back.
“Jesus, I missed you,” Trent muttered into his shoulder.
Colin leaned back in his chair. “Well, that answers the question of whether the marriage survived the tour.”
Trent released Jeff and gazed down at the girl standing patiently beside him.
His face softened instantly.
“Well, hey there, kiddo.”
Sophie dropped the folded blanket she’d been holding against her chest and launched herself at him.
Trent caught her mid-stride and spun her once before setting her down again.
“You grew another inch,” he accused.
“That’s because you’ve been gone forever,” she said.
“It was two weeks.”
“Same thing.”
“We talked on the phone every damn night,” Trent insisted, grinning.
“Still not the same.”