Chapter 2

Dad's expression shifted.

Mom stood up, her patience clearly running out. "Nathan, what do you want? Kevin's already kneeled, he's already apologized. Are you trying to drive him to his death?"

"I'm trying to drive him to his death?"

I stared at her, not quite believing what I'd heard.

"He knelt because he wanted to. He apologized because he took something of mine. What exactly am I driving him to? I just want back what's mine!"

"What do you mean, took? Your father and I agreed to this! Kevin is a kid we've been supporting—his business is our business!"

The murmuring around us grew louder.

"Poor Nathan. His own parents treat him worse than the one they took in."

"The Reeds have always been so good to Kevin. I saw them buying him a coat at the mall last week—must've been over a hundred and fifty dollars."

My head buzzed with static.

Last winter, I'd worked a part-time job until ten at night, riding my bike back to campus with my fingers frozen stiff. The twenty-dollar coat I'd worn for three years had frayed at the cuffs, and I hadn't let myself replace it. When my parents saw it, all they'd said was that money was tight and it still had some life left in it.

And then they'd bought Kevin a coat worth more than seven times that.

So it wasn't that there wasn't money. It just hadn't gone to me.

Kevin was still standing there, head down, shoulders shaking. Mom had her arms around him like he was something fragile and precious.

I felt sick.

"Fine. If you want to give it to him, give it to him. Apparently, what I say doesn't matter anyway."

I looked at Kevin, spacing out each word.

"Remember this, Kevin. This opportunity is one I gave up. Not because I'm not good enough. Because my parents play favorites, and you're the one they favor."

Then I turned and walked away. I didn't look back at them again.

My phone rang. It was my advisor.

"Nathan, come by my office. There's something I need to talk to you about."

…

I knocked and stepped into the advisor's office.

"Nathan, perfect timing, I wanted to talk to you about something." He pulled a folder out of his desk drawer. "The school just secured a new exchange spot—a one-year program abroad, in Olweyn. Since your application for the sponsored program fell through, do you want to consider this instead?"

I took the folder and skimmed it.

Olweyn. One year. The tuition was nearly double that of the sponsored program's.

"Professor, is this self-funded?"

"That's right." He patted my hand. "Your grades are too good to pass this up. Go home and talk it over with your parents. I'm sure they'll support you."

I gripped the folder without answering.

They'd just handed the sponsored spot to someone else today. Were they really going to support me spending twice as much out of pocket?

Still, I nodded. "Thanks, Professor. Let me think about it."

I walked out into the hallway and stood there, looking out at the moon through the window.

My parents were both professors. Their salaries weren't small.

But would they actually give me the money?

I leaned against the wall and suddenly remembered something.

Before Grandma passed, she'd told me she'd left me a bank passbook. She'd been very sick by then, and she'd gripped my hand and made me promise.

"Nathan, Grandma hid some money for you at the old house. I saved it up myself, and nobody else knows about it.

"Your parents don't have their heads on straight. They can't be relied on. Once I'm gone, you'll have a hard time, and no one will be looking out for you. Keep this money for yourself. Don't let them find out."

I hadn't understood it back then.

I understood it now.

Grandma had seen through them a long time ago.

I took a cab to her old house, went straight to the bedroom, and dug a metal box out of the cabinet.

I opened it. The passbook was inside.