“Star Wars is pop culture. In fact, I would say that being a nerd is mainstream.” He shakes his head. “It’s not like all those old movies make it out to be. You’re not just a jock or a nerd or a rebel or hot. There’s a whole group of guys on the football team who straight-up throw down every weekend over tabletop games. Melissa, my ex? Yeah, she’s captain of the dance team, but she’s also president of the regional National Honor Society and she kicks my ass at Red Dead Redemption 2 and Call of Duty.”

“That’s different. Those people are popular people drifting into nerd territory. They’re already cool, so whatever they do is cool—but show me the kid on the debate team who tries to join the football team without catching any flak, or the fat gay boy running for prom queen who’s not a joke. Show me those people making it and I’ll believe your little theory about cliques and social food chains being a thing of the past.” I hand him a bag of food. “Let’s go.”

We take the food inside and Tucker goes to let all the other guys know that dinner has arrived.

I sit inside Dad’s office and we eat chicken wings over paper towels.

“So, this prom thing . . . Mom says you and Hannah are sticking with it. You know, buddy, I’m a small-town guy, but that doesn’t mean I’m small-minded.”

“I know, Dad.”

He bites into his second wing and takes a swig of unsweetened iced tea. “But that doesn’t mean other people in this town aren’t. And I don’t want what those people might say or do to stop you from being who you’re meant to be.”

I put my chicken down. It’s so hard to look people in the eye when they’re so sincere like this. It makes my chest tighten and my eyes water. “Thanks, Dad.”

“But I also don’t want you to do anything that could hurt you. Or . . . not everyone is good, son.” He looks out the window at the setting sun on his work site.

He’s scared for me. And I don’t want him to be. Except that I’m scared for me too sometimes. “Dad, I . . . me and Clem both . . . we still have to live our lives, and right now that means saying a big F-you to everyone who tried to humiliate me and running for prom queen. If me being prom queen is such a joke, what better way to get back at them than to take myself seriously.”

He wraps his hand around my arm. “How’d I get such a badass kid?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “A wait list. Is that how these things work?”

He chuckles. “You better head home. And tell your mother her dinner was delicious.”