Chapter 2

My body still trembled from the cold of the cabin, a cold that wasn't real. Not anymore.

But the memory was seared into me.

Mother' s twisted face. Father' s brutal grip. Grandma' s needle.

Sophie. It was always about Sophie.

I touched my cheek, then my arm. Nothing.

It felt so real. The snow, the despair.

I looked at my laptop. The email wasn't there yet. Of course. The results weren't officially out.

But I knew. I knew I had won. And I knew what would happen.

Panic tightened my chest. I had to stop it.

I got dressed, my hands shaking.

Downstairs, Mother was in the kitchen, sipping tea, reading a literary journal. She looked serene. Polished.

The woman who would scream "disgrace" at me.

"Morning, dear," she said, not looking up. "Big day today, isn't it? Scholarship announcements."

Her voice was smooth, casual. Too casual.

"Yeah," I said, trying to keep my own voice steady. "But I don't think I got it. It's super competitive."

She finally looked at me, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Oh? Not feeling confident, Ava? After all that work?"

"Just being realistic, Mom."

Father came in, kissed Mother on the cheek. "Morning, Ev. Morning, Ava. Ready for the good news?"

He winked. The man who would help drag me to a frozen death.

"Probably no news, Dad. Or not good news, anyway."

He frowned. "Don't be like that. You' re a shoo-in."

Grandma Beatrice was at the table too, doing a crossword puzzle. She smiled faintly. "She' s just being modest, Richard."

The image of her holding the syringe flashed in my mind.

I felt sick.

"I'm going to head to school early," I mumbled. "Study group."

"Alright, dear," Mother said. "Don't forget your lunch."

Her concern felt like a lie.

The official notification usually came by mail too, a thick, impressive envelope.

If I could just hide that letter. If they never saw it.

Maybe then... maybe it wouldn' t happen.

At school, I tried to act normal. Liam Chen, my classmate, my friend, maybe more, caught my eye.

"Nervous, Ava?" he asked, his smile warm. He was also a high-achiever, probably up for something big too.

"A bit," I admitted. "You?"

"Trying not to think about it."

But I was thinking about it. Constantly.

The mail usually arrived mid-morning. I had to get home before they did.

I feigned a headache during third period. The school nurse, after a quick check, let me go.

I practically ran home.

The mail truck was just pulling away from our street.

My heart pounded.

I fumbled with the mailbox latch. Bills, junk mail... and there it was.

The thick envelope. Crest of the National Innovators Scholarship Foundation.

My hands shook as I grabbed it.

I had to hide it. Burn it. Something.

I shoved it into my backpack just as Mother' s car pulled into the driveway.

She got out, a small, knowing smile on her face.

"Feeling better, Ava? You' re home early."

"Yeah, just a slight headache. It' s gone now."

"Good," she said. "Because I have a feeling today is going to be a very special day."

Her eyes seemed to look right through me, right at the backpack.

Suspicion. It was there. Cold and clear.

This wasn't going to be easy.