She announces us one by one, reciting a brief bio she must have written for each of us, because I have no memory of writing one myself. Everyone else’s bios are lists of extracurriculars and academic achievements while mine mentions choir and my “tight-knit” relationship with my twin sister. Even Hannah surprises me with the fact that she’s in the top 5 percent of our class, but—maybe it’s my imagination—I swear that after I’m announced, the cheers from the audience are louder and more enthusiastic than they are for the rest of the queen nominees. I can’t help but wonder if my performance on Saturday night was memorable for others too.

The queen nominees sit in a row in chairs while the king nominees sit staggered behind us on stools.

Tucker leans forward and says, “Can we talk after this? About prom?”

I smile and nod wordlessly. Is Tucker Watson going to ask me to prom? It takes every ounce of self-control for me not to whirl around and demand he spit it out right this moment.

Millie asks us each a few basic questions, like our favorite classes and who our heroes are. (My answer, Ursula the sea witch, is met with applause and whoops of delight.)

“Okay,” says Millie, “Waylon, I’m going to let you start us off with this one. What’s your favorite memory from your time at Clover City High?”

I laugh, momentarily forgetting that I’m onstage in front of the entire senior class. “Nothing.”

The air is sucked out of the auditorium and it’s so quiet I can hear my heart thumping in my chest.

“And everything,” I quickly add. Because I have absolutely nothing to lose right now, I decide the only way I can answer this question is to be honest. “I’m only eighteen, ya know? I can’t tell you yet if these will be the best or the worst years of my life. What I can tell you is that I love my friends—some of whom I’ve only made in the last few weeks.” I search for Willowdean and Ellen and Amanda, who are giving me their most encouraging smiles from the second row. Ms. Laverne stands at the back of the auditorium in her white scrubs and cardigan, waving frantically, while Corey and a few of the Prism kids are watching me intently. “I think one day it will be easy to look back on this time and see that I was this gay kid trapped in a small town. And yeah, sometimes I feel like that. But sometimes I’m with all of you and I see that we all feel trapped and the only thing stopping us from feeling free is our fear of what others will think.”

In the last row, Patrick Thomas snickers with Aaron and some other guys.