Last we left our heroes, they'd discovered a Pride flag where it shouldn't be. Now what will they do?

Now to post this so I can worry about my definition speech for public speaking class. (Yes, I just love college.)


I tried to ignore it. I really did.

Turns out, that was hard to do when the problem was staring me right in the face.

The flag, thankfully, wasn't the one with the triangle bearing the blue, pink, gray and brown. Just the listas de iris. Not that this was much of a comfort to me. I didn't like the Pride flag, certainly not the way it was now. Being glad it was the old variant was like saying I'm glad it's broccoli and not artichoke.

"Who did that?" Amos asked. He looked downright ticked off. I seemed to recall that he didn't favor left-leaning Donkeyhead politics – such as reparations and transgender policies – as other Jews did. That made him a bit of an outlier.

"Diablo if I know," I replied. I figured this must've happened overnight. How else could we not have noticed it before? It wasn't there when we left school, and this was a Jueves.

I spotted Papa at the door, clenching his fists. I couldn't blame him for being upset. He had not yanked me halfway across the country to be faced with this abomination at my school. He certainly hadn't been tossed halfway around the world – five stinking times – to endure the flap of the devil's rainbow flag in his face.

Other people were just as annoyed by it. I could hear the parents muttering comments about the flag (which I will not repeat). The students were similarly shocked by the sight. I could hear a classmate's angry cursing. It was the reniegos that rang my alarm bells. If things weren't resolved – quickly – we'd have a riot on our hands.

"Everyone, calm down!" It was the school principal, Alvin Phillips. "I don't know where it came from, but rest assured, I will have it taken down immediately."

That calmed everyone down just enough to go inside.

The escuela still retained the artwork of the old chapel school – the mural of the saints leading children on in the hallway, an image of the Christian cross in the principal's office – but everyone was used to it at this point. Even the non-Christians – who were still a minority due to their recent entrance (long story) – didn't bat an eye at it.

I caught up to my papa. In case you were wondering – he's in the school as maintenance, having volunteered for the position when he enrolled me. He also worked to maintain the Hangar, our hideout, after both Amos and DJ's mothers had pitched in to buy the place out of Richard Camford's hands (longer story).

"¡Hola, Vicenza!" His voice took on the pretension of happiness. I wondered if he was keeping it cool for my sake. Not to mention, I was presently in male gender. And I didn't much like Vicenza anyway, even when I was female. Too flouncy for me.

He spotted my expression and sighed. "Sé, sé, I hope Phillips makes good on it. I know he will."

"And tighten security, I hope?" I asked. I wasn't sure how well the cams worked around here. This place hadn't been used in a long time. We'd had camera malfunctions on the last "prank" incident (in our neighborhood), and I didn't want it happening again. Besides, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was going to be a regular problem.

"You just worry about school today, for right now. And your diablo," Papa replied.

Oh, right. Papa referred to my gender drama as my diablo, which was the way I'd started referring to it. DJ always refers to me as a girl no matter what, but she's stubborn. My teachers didn't acknowledge the diablo, either, which was kind of nice.

I nodded and rejoined mi amigos.

First class was history with Alyssa Hardcastle. We always tried to behave for Alyssa, since she was keeping one of our allies at her casa. And I personally thought she brought a nice touch to history. If there was anyone I wanted to listen to, it was her. She also had quite the knack for settling down students after a big bit of gossip broke out or a scandal upset them.

"Everyone, everyone, calm down, please!" she called out in that fake high voice she assumed for lecturing about Egypt or anything else in our class. Her ponytailed brown hair and blue blouse gave off the impression of a teacher in an old prairie school, which seemed appropriate for her subject.

"Hold on, Alyssa," snapped Christina Acacio, one of our classmates who sat in the back row. She never had been very tactful during lessons, and now she'd been exposed to something she didn't like or recognize. "We can't just start the lecture. What about the flag outside?"

"Phillips will have it taken care of, Miss Acacio," Alyssa reassured her. She'd never been one of those teachers who insisted on going by a formal name, preferring Alyssa over Mrs. Hardcastle. I liked that about her.

"How soon? Please?" begged Carmel Beaumonchais, who sat next to Christina. I got the feeling the back row was trying to stall off the delivery of the Thutmose vs. Ramesses essays, which had been sending everyone into fits the entire week. "And how do we know it won't come back up again?"

"Someone in this class wanted to acknowledge transgenders," Alyssa said, her voice suddenly firm.

"Not it," I muttered, just barely enough for Alyssa to miss. I was above sneaking a Pride flag at night, nor did I want anything to do with the movement at all. I hated people thinking that I would.

"We do not believe in this," Alyssa continued. "Any of it. It isn't our policy. Rest assured, if it isn't removed today –"

"Hopefully it is," Carmel commented.

"Please, Miss Beaumonchais, raise your hand if you're going to say anything. Essays for this week. I hope you remembered them."

After history was science lab, the trickiest class of all. The one with Taichov. I was worried he'd discuss the incident in the lab (however unlikely that was, as he disliked mentioning anything that didn't have to do with ciencia). But it was ultimately a careless student (read: Christina) bringing it up that made him address it.

"Now, that's hardly proven!" Taichov said, his hair frizzing up as would often happen when he was frustrated. He resembled Einstein – if he was raised by Groucho Marx – and had the same demeanor as the latter. "There's simply no way you can assume male gender just by thinking about it. As for the flag – preposterous, what's behind it."

I had to smile. Good to know. I started thinking about fighting this off.

It wasn't easy. I recalled a little book my dad used to read when I was young –The Little Engine That Could. The engine wasn't the largest or most powerful, but it got over the big hill with the little mantra, "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can." It showed how a little positive thinking could change matters for the better.

I began repeating the mantra in my head: I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. Part of me maintained the rhythm, the other part focused on the lesson.

"Now, for a study of momentum." Taichov grabbed an egg and a heavy pan. I straightened up in anticipation. If it involved eggs, it was bound to be interesting.

"If I dropped this egg at high speed," Taichov said, "it would crack and break. But if I dropped this –" he gestured toward the pan – "it would survive the journey. Momentum is dependent on speed and strength of material. If you tried to crash into a semi with a smart car – which I hope you kids never do – you would inevitably be ruined. Like the Pride matter with Christianity!"

I think I can, I think I can, I think I can. I repeated it once more.

While I was still busy, I couldn't help thinking of why someone would want to force us to acknowledge the Priders. Surely not the mayor? We'd saved him from getting detonated by a plastic explosive recently, and he'd given us his favor and let us use the Hangar. Given the media presence we'd gained thanks to the publicity of Richard Camford's downfall (and DJ's own parentage as a nepo child), he'd be loco to renege on that now. On the other hand, the queers were some of his major backers. He couldn't argue with them.

Was it Camford himself? No way. Last I'd heard, he'd had a restraining order set against him after he'd attempted to destroy Fairview. He couldn't get within fifty feet of the escuela without getting arrested. As for his daughters, they'd been expelled themselves over co-opting his plans for both Fairview and a homeless shelter's destruction (however unknowingly), so they couldn't possibly be the culprits.

So why was I so uneasy?

"Something bothering you, Miss Marzera?"

I felt the shift just then – a light, gentle touch, like what happened when I resumed female identity. (It felt different depending on the direction.) I couldn't help thinking of the little engine's triumphant cry: I thought I could, I thought I could, I thought I could.

"No, señor," I replied sweetly. "Just thinking about what you said."

"Good," Taichov responded. "Miss Marzera, can you explain what happens when gravity adds into the equation?"

Which was right when a squirrel came crashing down on the lab table.


What squirrel is this? Can't say for sure. Verse for the update: Mark 3:4.

Please review, and don't flame. Stay tuned for more! And now to catch up on my homework. :)