Chapter 1

The roar of the crowd faded behind me as I walked through the nearly empty high school parking lot. The Friday night lights still buzzed over the football field, a sound that usually meant victory. Tonight, it just felt like noise. I needed to get to my dad' s auto shop, help him close up. My Harvard acceptance letter felt heavy in my pocket, a ticket out of this rust-belt town.

Then I heard a cry.

It wasn't loud, more like a muffled sob, coming from between two parked cars. I stopped. My dad, Sean, always told me, "You see something wrong, you make it right." He was a Marine. He lived by that code.

I walked toward the sound. I saw Jessica Miller, the head cheerleader, pinned against a car. Bryce Vanderbilt, the star quarterback, had her trapped. His hand was over her mouth.

"Let her go, Bryce," I said. My voice was steady.

He turned, his face a mask of annoyance. "Mind your own business, O'Connell."

I didn't move. I just looked at him. He was bigger than me, stronger. But I saw the fear in Jessica's eyes. I took a step forward.

"I said, let her go."

Bryce shoved her away and came at me. We fought. It was short and ugly. I got a few good hits in, but he was a quarterback. He knocked me down. But Jessica was free. She scrambled away, sobbing. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911, keeping my voice low and anonymous, then I limped away before anyone could see me.

The next day, the school was buzzing. I tried to keep my head down, but then I saw them. Two police officers walking down the hall with Principal Thompson. And with them was Jessica.

She pointed right at me.

"That's him. That's the one who attacked me."

My world stopped. The hallway went silent. Everyone stared. The officers walked toward me. They put my hands behind my back. The cold metal of the handcuffs clicked shut.

I lost everything.

Harvard rescinded the scholarship. The words "moral turpitude" were in the letter. My name was dragged through the mud. The local news ran my picture. "Scholarship Student Accused of Assault."

My dad fought for me. He spent every dollar we had on a lawyer we couldn't afford. He knew I was innocent. The stress was too much. One night, while he was on the phone, begging a character witness to speak up, his heart gave out. The phone clattered to the floor. He was gone.

The charges were eventually dropped. "Insufficient evidence." But it didn't matter. My future was a wasteland. My father was dead. I was an outcast.

Months later, I was working a dead-end job at a gas station. I saw a fancy car pull up. Bryce was driving. Jessica was in the passenger seat, laughing, wearing a diamond necklace. They looked happy. They looked like they had won.

Something inside me snapped.

I walked out to their car. I didn't shout. I just stood there.

"Why?" I asked Jessica.

She wouldn't look at me. Bryce got out of the car, a smirk on his face.

"Get lost, loser. It's over."

"He was my dad," I said, my voice cracking. "You killed him."

Bryce just laughed. "He was a weak old man. Just like his son."

He shoved me. Hard. I stumbled backward, off the curb, into the street. I saw headlights. I heard a horn blare.

Then, nothing.