Chapter 1

"I'm going to do it, Petey."

Ethan Miller stood by the window of the small, cluttered cabin, looking out at the dense redwood forest. The late afternoon sun filtered through the giant trees, casting long shadows.

Mr. Peterson, "Petey" to Ethan, looked up from a complex equation scrawled on a chalkboard. His spectacles were perched on the end of his nose.

"Do what, son? Finally figure out that Riemann hypothesis?"

Ethan turned, a rare, small smile on his face.

"No. The NSA program. Stanford. I'm taking the offer."

Petey set down his chalk. A slow smile spread across his own weathered face.

"Well, now. That's... that's something. The Cryptologic Scholars Program. They don't just hand those out like candy, you know."

He paused, his expression growing serious.

"It means a clean break, Ethan. New identity, no contact with... anyone from before. For a long time. Maybe forever. You understand the weight of that?"

Ethan nodded, his gaze steady. "I do."

"Your mother? Sarah?" Petey asked gently.

Ethan's smile faded. "They'll have Kevin. That's all they seem to want."

He thought of his family. His mother, Brenda, always tired, always guilty. Guilty about Kevin's mother, who died years ago in an accident Brenda felt she could have prevented.

His stepfather, Gary, Kevin's biological father, openly despised Ethan, the reminder of Brenda's first marriage.

And Kevin. Two years younger, a master of feigned illness, of weaponized anxiety. He preyed on Brenda's guilt and Gary's blatant favoritism.

Ethan was the scapegoat, the unwanted burden.

This scholarship, this NSA program, wasn't just an opportunity. It was an escape hatch.

He remembered his grandmother, his biological father' s mother. She had been his only real family before Petey. She' d left him a small trust, enough for community college, maybe.

But Kevin always needed more. Braces. Therapy for his "fragile nerves." Special summer camps.

The family' s meager resources, and Brenda' s overtime pay as a waitress, always went to Kevin.

Ethan got hand-me-downs and leftovers.

Even Sarah, his girlfriend, his fierce protector in middle school, had started to change.

She was a year older, practical. She talked about a stable future, a life in their small town near Eureka.

Lately, Kevin had been spending a lot of time with her, confiding in her, his voice full of fake sorrow.

Sarah started saying things like, "Ethan, Kevin's had it so rough. We need to be understanding."

Understanding. Ethan understood perfectly. He was being erased.

The pressure had started a week ago, when Ethan first mentioned the possibility of Stanford to his mother.

Brenda had wrung her hands. "Oh, Ethan, that's wonderful! But... what about Kevin? He was so counting on that honors program spot at the community college. He says his anxiety will be terrible if he has to go to the regular one."

Gary had been blunter. "Stanford? Who do you think you are? Your brother needs that spot. You owe him. Your mother has sacrificed enough for you."

Then Sarah had chimed in, her voice soft, reasonable. "Ethan, honey, maybe you could defer for a year? Get a job at the mill, help out. Kevin really needs this chance. If you do this for the family, for Kevin... we could even get married sooner. I could get a job as a teller, and you could work."

Give up Stanford, his dream, his ticket out, so Kevin could have an "honors" spot he hadn't earned and Ethan could work at the lumber mill.

And Sarah, his Sarah, was suggesting it. As if it were a small thing.

Ethan clenched his fists. The decision wasn't hard anymore. It was necessary.

"They made their choice, Petey. Now I'm making mine."

He felt a sense of grim resolution. Hope, yes, but also a cold anger.

He would cut the ties. All of them.

He walked home later, the air smelling of damp earth and redwood. The town felt small, suffocating.

He saw kids playing in their yards, families sitting down to dinner. Normal lives.

He felt a million miles away from them.

A beat-up pickup truck, Kevin' s, screeched to a halt beside him.

Kevin was in the passenger seat, Sarah driving.

"Ethan!" Sarah called out, her voice tight. "We need to talk."

She sounded annoyed, like he was a problem to be managed.

Kevin leaned across her, a smirk on his face. "Yeah, Ethan. We heard you were thinking of being selfish."

Ethan said nothing. He had already mailed his acceptance to the NSA program via Ms. Albright, his guidance counselor. It was done.

He just stared at them.

Kevin was wearing a new jacket. A nice one. And a new pair of sneakers.

"Like my new threads?" Kevin preened. "Sarah got them for me. For my college interviews, you know. Gotta look sharp for the community college honors program."

Then Ethan saw it.

Around Kevin' s neck.

The silver locket.

His grandmother' s locket. The one he' d given Sarah last year, on their anniversary. A promise.

His breath caught. It felt like a punch to the gut.

Kevin fingered it. "Sarah said I could wear it. I told her how much I admired it. She said it looked better on me."

Ethan looked at Sarah. Her face was set.

"It's just a trinket, Ethan," she said, her voice dismissive. "Kevin was feeling down. He really liked it. Don't make a big deal out of it. I can get you something nicer when we're married."

Just a trinket. His grandmother' s legacy. Their promise.

He saw it then. She didn't care. Not anymore. Maybe never as much as he thought.

Kevin started to fake a cough, clutching his chest. "Oh, Sarah, I think... I think my anxiety is flaring up. Ethan' s looking at me so...intensely."

Sarah immediately turned to Kevin, all concern. "Oh, Kev, honey, are you okay?"

She glared at Ethan. "See what you do? You're always upsetting him! He' s fragile!"

She put the truck in gear. "We're going to get some ice cream to calm Kevin down. And Ethan? You better have signed that deferral for Stanford by tonight. And tell the community college you' re giving your honors spot to Kevin. It' s the right thing to do."

Kevin gave Ethan a triumphant, pitying look over Sarah' s shoulder as they drove off.

Ethan stood there, the dust settling around him.

He felt hollow. Empty.

He remembered Sarah, years ago, defending him from bullies. "Leave him alone!" she' d shout, fierce and protective.

That Sarah was gone.

He reached into his pocket. His fingers closed around a Snickers bar. Stale now.

Their "first date" candy. They' d shared one under the big redwood in the park, carving their initials.

He walked to the storm drain at the edge of the road.

He looked at the Snickers, then threw it into the darkness.

It landed with a soft thud.

"We're done," he whispered to the empty street. "Completely done."