Chapter 1

The digital SAT exam hummed around me, a low, electronic drone filling the high school computer lab. Each click of a mouse, each soft tap on a keyboard, was a countdown to someone's future. Mine was already set, a full ride to MIT locked in from a national coding competition I never talked about. No one in this Rust Belt town needed to know. It was better to stay invisible.

My dad's face flashed in my mind, his skin a pale, sickly yellow. He was a former steelworker, a man of strength reduced to waiting on a transplant list that was a mile long. The medical bills were a mountain we couldn't climb.

I looked at the clock on the screen. It was time.

My hand, slick with sweat, reached for my pocket. I pulled out the small, black USB drive.

"Proctor," I said, my voice louder than I intended, cutting through the silence.

Every head in the lab snapped up. The proctor, a tired-looking history teacher named Mr. Gable, looked over his glasses at me.

"I have something," I announced, holding up the drive. "It's an exploit. It's on this."

His eyes widened. The air in the room went still. This wasn't a kid asking for a bathroom break. This was something else entirely.

"Son, put that down," he said, his voice tight.

"No," I replied, my own voice sounding distant, cold. "You need to take it. You need to invalidate my test. Now."

He moved quickly, his chair scraping against the linoleum floor. He snatched the drive from my hand as if it were radioactive. The students around me, the sons and daughters of this town's powerful elite, stared, their faces a mix of shock and confusion.

I saw Jenny Chavez, my childhood friend, my best friend, watching from two rows over. Her mouth was slightly open, her perfectly made-up face a mask of utter disbelief. She looked like she wanted to help, to rush over. It was a good performance.

"Caleb Wright," the proctor said, his voice shaking with a rage he was trying to control. "Your test is invalid. Get your things. You're coming with me to the principal's office."

I nodded slowly, a strange sense of calm washing over me. The first move was made. The game had begun.