Chapter 1

The bass from the speakers vibrated through the floor of the O'Connell Innovations event center.

It was Mark O'Connell's graduation party, a huge bash celebrating college acceptances. His dad owned the place, this sprawling tech campus.

Alex Thompson walked in, feeling the expensive fabric of his one good shirt. It still felt cheap under all these chandeliers.

He saw them immediately, the popular crowd, Mark at the center. Stanford-bound, his voice loud, already acting like a CEO.

Brittany Hayes, USC-bound, hung on Mark's arm. Her laughter was sharp, like breaking glass.

They were all showing off. Thick acceptance letters, university logos already on new sweatshirts and hats.

Alex had nothing in his hands.

Brittany spotted him. Her eyes, once curious about him during Academic Decathlon season, now just scanned him up and down. Cold.

"Alex! I almost didn't see you there," Brittany called out, her voice dripping with fake sweetness.

A few heads turned.

"So, where are you off to in the fall? Did you even apply anywhere? Your hands look a little empty."

Snickers rippled through the group.

Someone whispered, "Captain of the Decathlon team, right? Total bust, I guess."

Alex just looked at her. He didn't say anything.

Kevin Chen, Alex's only real friend, shifted nervously beside him. Kevin had gotten into a good state engineering school. Not Stanford, but good.

"He's, uh, Alex has plans," Kevin mumbled, his voice barely audible over the music.

Brittany waved a dismissive hand, her eyes still locked on Alex. "Plans? Like what? Working at the local bookstore? Or maybe you're taking a 'gap year' to find yourself?"

More laughter. Louder this time.

Mark O'Connell, class president, son of the tech mogul, finally turned his full attention to Alex. He had that smooth, practiced smile.

"Hey, Alex. Good to see you, man." Mark's tone was friendly, but his eyes weren't. "Don't mind Brittany. She's just excited about USC."

He gestured vaguely. "Everyone's just letting off steam, you know? Big achievements all around."

Alex knew this game. The polite dismissal before the real jab.

He thought about the small, heavy medallion in his pocket. It wasn't flashy like a Stanford hoodie. It didn't scream "success" like these people understood it.

His "acceptance" wasn't to a place they'd ever heard of, not unless they were in very specific rooms, with very specific people.

This party, these conversations, felt like they were happening on a different planet. A loud, shallow planet.

"I should probably get going," Alex said, his voice quiet but clear. "Got an early start tomorrow."

Brittany snorted. "Early start for what? Counting your rejection letters?"

The group around her howled.

Alex looked at Brittany, then at Mark. Their faces were flushed with triumph, with the easy cruelty of the popular.

He didn't feel anger. Mostly just tired. Tired of the noise.

"Something like that," Alex said. He started to turn away.