Chapter 1

My phone screen lit up.

Not with a text, or a call.

It was one of those notifications.

Black box, white text, like a system error message from a game I wasn't playing.

"Ethan's SAT scores: 1580. Stanford bound with Tiffany. You're the 'just in case' girl."

I stared at the words.

My heart felt cold.

I was valedictorian of Northwood High. My dad, a firefighter, died saving Ethan' s father from the Harrison warehouse fire years ago. That fire changed everything.

Ethan' s family got rich from the insurance, built a real estate empire.

My mom, Maria, worked her fingers raw at her small bakery, all her dreams pinned on me, on a top university.

"Your father was a hero, Maya," she' d say, her eyes tired but proud. "He believed in education."

And I believed in Ethan.

Childhood friends. My secret, stupid crush.

He sat next to me now, at my kitchen table, his face all serious.

"My SATs were a disaster, May," he' d said an hour ago. "Lowest I've ever scored. No way Stanford or any UC takes me now."

His hand covered mine.

"Let's go to State together. We can still be close. It' ll be fun."

State College. With my 1550 SAT.

My mom would be disappointed, but if Ethan needed me...

I had the State application open on my laptop. My finger hovered over the 'submit' button.

Then the pop-up.

Another one flashed, glitching slightly at the edges.

"LOL. Maya thinks this is real? Tiffany picked out their Stanford dorm colors last week. Blue and Gold. Go Bears, not." The last part was crossed out, then typed again.

Ethan looked at me, his brow furrowed. "You okay, May? You look pale."

I swallowed. The pop-ups only I could see. My phone was dark on the table.

They started a year ago, small things at first. "Rain check on movie night – Chloe has a stomach bug." And Chloe would text me an hour later, canceling.

Then bigger. "Mr. Henderson is lying about the extra credit. He just wants you to re-do his filing."

They were always right. Unsettlingly, terrifyingly right.

"Yeah," I managed. "Just... thinking."

Thinking about how Ethan' s dad always expressed so much gratitude. How they helped Mom get a good lease on the bakery. Subtle things.

Were those acts of kindness? Or something else?

Ethan reached for my laptop. "Let me hit submit for you. Make it official."

His smile was a little too bright.