From National Book Award Finalist Josh Galarza comes a moving new young adult novel full of self-discovery, forgiveness, and acceptance.
Intrigued? Read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from False Face by Josh Galarza, which releases on October 20th 2026.
Rusty is positive Todd with two D’s is a figment of his troubled mind. That’s the only explanation for why he breaks into musical numbers and lurks in the school bleachers to stare unabashedly at Burt, the cutest guy in school. But when Todd’s antics go a little too far, Rusty quickly finds himself in a dangerous situation. Little does Rusty know, the boy he’s head over heels for just might be the one to save his life.
By day, Burt Espinoza is the only out kid in school who’s ever maintained his social status. But by night, he is a real hero: a secret agent rescuing vulnerable queer kids in danger. His handlers (also his adoptive moms) are concerned he’s pushing himself too hard to be the man he thinks he needs to be. Now Burt has to prove that he’s ready for his biggest mission yet: saving the only boy he’s ever hurt.
Raw, surreal, and timely, this novel is perfect for fans of Rex Ogle and Randy Ribay.
EXCERPT
Penny’s voice deepens with determination. “I’m serious, Tina. There’s not a moment to lose. I mean, back when you were growing up, all these poor men who thought they could get away with that revolting behavior ended up with AIDS.” She drops her voice to a whisper, as if uttering the acronym might conjure the virus. “And the ones who didn’t get exterminated were left alone. No friends—they were all dead. And certainly no children.” She gives her head a tight shake. Not a single hair moves from the Aqua Net sculpture framing her face, a deeply creviced facade of indignation, cheeks pinched as if her salivary glands pump lemon juice. “And sure, we could chalk it up to the price of sin and wash our hands of the whole mess, but I’ve been praying faithfully about the issue, listening to my WellWord cassettes each and every week, and I can say with absolute certainty that the next generation doesn’t have to face the same fate.”
Tina raises an eyebrow.
“It’s true! But to save them we have to be vigilant, even and especially with the little ones you teach. I mean, with all these queers traipsing about like they own the place—”
“Homosexuals.”
Todd’s chains rattle as he roars with laughter. His shock is overshadowed only by his delight that I just opened my mouth to correct Penny. I don’t know which of us—Penny, Todd, or me—is most stunned. I’m about to berate Todd for composing the retort, but I’ve got him locked up tighter than the queen’s jewels, several boards nailed over his dungeon door. Did I just correct Aunt Penny of my own free will?
Penny raises her brow and fixes her gaze on my chest. I can almost feel the blood bubbling from a stab wound. “Did you say something, Rusty?” Her words sound like, I know exactly what you said and you will live to regret it. They sound like, I’ve had my eye on you ever since you insisted on performing the Nutcracker ballet for the family as a one-man show when you were seven. They sound like, I produced my youth documentary because I love you.
“No,” I mumble. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Speak clearly, Rusty. Pro-ject.” This is one of Aunt Penny’s favorite words. When she was a high school geography teacher, she was famous for screaming it from the back of the classroom whenever a student was giving a presentation, always drawing out the first syllable so the second hit like a gunshot. Prrroooeee-ject!
“I . . .”
“Look at me. You’re a strong young man. If you’re going to speak, do so with authority.”
I clear my throat, force myself to meet Penny’s eyes. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Good, because you should be listening. You . . .” Penny narrows her gaze, seems to reconsider her words. “Your soul is in deep peril. I would hate to see you become another casualty to the devil.”
My gorge rises. There’s something in Penny’s tone, in the knowing look in her eyes, that has me certain she’s leaving something unsaid—something she is saying, actually, just not out loud, something she’s saying only to me. Penny knows. She sees the giant rainbow banner above my head. The flashing neon signage, the pulsing arrows pointing out the truth: homo, homo, homo.
Todd sticks his head through the window in his cell door and gives me a pitiful look, the type you’d give a toddler refusing to accept his bedtime. They all know, Russell. They’ve known since we tried to get away with stealing Liesl’s My Little Pony collection by writing “Rusty” on each of them in permanent marker. It was not the heist of the century, I’m afraid.
I glance around the table at the assembled. All these people who pretend to know me but definitely don’t know me. They don’t know me, do they? Please, God, tell me they don’t know me. They can’t.
Says the boy who used to wear his sister’s bathing suits to play dress-up as the anthropomorphic, tightrope-walking kitty from our favorite Muppet-filled show.
That was you.
Whatever you say, you big, strapping hetero.
Penny returns to her conversation. Besides Tina, none assembled heard our exchange. Dad sits at Penny’s shoulder, but he hasn’t even glanced my way. So why do I feel so naked? I’m standing center stage in Todd’s sinful production, the spotlights so blinding that I can’t see the audience, bulbs so hot that my skin shines with sweat. I’m cowering, trying to cover myself. Whoever is out there—hundreds and hundreds of seats, all filled—they’re jeering, lobbing rotten produce. I want to scream, but I don’t have the breath. I have to get out. I have to . . .
Somehow, I find the strength to move my limbs. I shove my chair back without asking to be excused. I bolt for the staircase. The safety of my bedroom is so close. Just have to make it up the stairs.
My dad calls after me. “Hey, Rusty, you gonna eat your stuffing there, kid?”
“It’s all yours,” I choke. I remember what Penny said about the way young men are supposed to talk. I have to get this one thing right, if only to show Penny that she’s wrong about me. I manage to modulate the quaver in my voice. As I reach the landing, I project, “It’s all yours, Dad.”
I burst into my room and close the door. I sink to the floor, back propped against the wall. Is this really happening? Penny’s secret message? Has she told the others? Are they all talking behind my back? Private phone calls? Hushed conversations while I sleep? Has she told Pastor Davis? Does Pastor Davis know? Is that why he wanted to have a heart-to-heart yesterday? Does my dad know? Has he always known?
My hands tremble. I feel . . . Is this what shock feels like?
But the greatest shock of all is yet to come.
I touch my cheek . . . and my fingers come back wet.
When was the last time I cried? Not since my dad found two dozen of Liesl’s My Little Ponies under my bed. How old was I? Eight? Liesl stood at his thigh, a hand on her tiny hip, fury in her eyes. Even Mom rushed into the room, roused from her day-sleeping by the commotion. Dad threw up his hands in frustration, yelled four simple words that haunt me to this day, even though it’s been nearly a decade since they had me hiding behind the shed in the backyard to cry. “Rusty, you’re a boy!”
Todd steps from his cell. All the padlocks and chains and restraints are gone. I’m not sure if I’m too weak to keep Todd chained or if I just don’t want to fight tonight. For once, he doesn’t say anything sassy or outrageous. He doesn’t make me feel like a jerk and he doesn’t torture me with a song. He just sits beside me and takes my hand. In the mirrored doors of the closet, he’s almost real. I can see his bright eyes and long lashes, his spattering of freckles and rusty red hair, his face so quick to break into a grin.
“I . . . I feel . . .” I sniff and wipe at my eyes. “Um, I feel weird.” A sob bursts out.
Todd gives my hand a squeeze. I know. I’ve got you, lady.
You do?
Of course I do. I’ve always been here for you, haven’t I?
I nod, for once willing to admit that it’s true. Tomorrow is soon enough to acknowledge a more complicated reality. Tomorrow, I’ll remind myself that Todd, whether he means to be or not, is the cause of all my problems. He’s the reason I’m sitting here crying right now. But maybe, just for tonight, I can let myself remember how it feels to be comforted by him.
Just like that day behind the shed, I rest my head on Todd’s shoulder, grit my teeth, and weep.
