I step through the curtain and immediately see all of my friends clustered together, chanting, “Pumpkin, Pumpkin, Pumpkin!”

“People, folks, y’all,” says Lee from her barstool perch on the far end of the stage, “it is my great pleasure to welcome to the stage for her Hideaway debut, Miss Pumpkin Patch!”

My heart beats through my chest, and I wobble on my heels, steadying myself on a stranger’s chair. Well, I wouldn’t call them heels. They’re sandals with a kitten heel that I found at the thrift store, and my toes hang out of the front. Surely all baby drag queens are as big of a mess as I am.

I allow myself a quick glance across the room, and sitting there at the bar is Tucker.

He smiles, and I don’t have the mental capacity to play games or pretend I’m not happy to see him. My lips twitch into a brief smile back at him, and I take the stage.

Lee holds her hand out for me as I take the last step. She pulls the microphone down and says, “The heels get easier, I swear. You got this, baby.”

She takes her seat like she is the queen and I’m performing for her court, which I guess is the case. I feel suddenly shy, waiting for my music to begin.

And then my song begins, the iconic intro immediately recognizable to the entire audience.

I snap my fan open like Nick taught me and hold it in front of my chest. “At first, I was afraid. I was petrified,” Gloria Gaynor sings as I mouth along. “Kept thinking I could never live without you by my side.”

I look out to the audience for a face, anyone I know. But the lights are blinding.

Up on this stage, all I have is myself. Waylon Russell Brewer, aka Miss Pumpkin Patch.

It doesn’t matter who’s in the audience or what they’re thinking or what they’re doing, because for these three minutes and eighteen seconds, the world revolves around me.

Soon, I’m stomping across the stage lip-synching “I Will Survive” while the entire club sings along. And I feel the words all the way down to my toes. I will survive.

I wish Clem could see this, but right now, this isn’t for the people watching me. This moment is for me. It’s all for me. I’ve got all my life to live. I’ve got all my love to give. I will survive.

Thirty-Four

“Clementine didn’t die. Her phone did.” I roll over onto my stomach and rest my chin in my hands as I finish telling Grammy about my very dramatic evening.

“Well,” Grammy says, “I’m determined to come see you at one of these drag night shows.” She looks down to Clementine, who is lying with her head in Grammy’s lap. “And I’m glad you’re alive.”