Chapter 1

When my scores came back, I found out I'd placed in the top ten across the whole district.

Our class president organized a graduation trip to Pinehaven, which worked out to about 3,000 dollars a person. It was the first time in my life I'd ever felt the urge to go out and see something of the world.

So, I carefully took out the bank card I'd kept in perfect condition all these years. My parents gave it to my brother and me back in 7th grade, right in front of all our relatives. They called them our "college fund" cards.

"100,000 dollars each. We're being completely fair!

"Boys need to learn about the world. Once you're in college, this money will keep you from getting tempted by all the material stuff out there."

My brother, Joseph Steele, took his card and immediately went out and bought the newest phone and a pair of designer shoes.

Meanwhile, I hid mine away.

Growing up, my parents always told me how hard they worked for their money, how I'd been a sickly kid who cost them a fortune in medical bills. I felt guilty about that, so I never touched a cent on that card.

All three years of high school, I ate the cheapest option in the cafeteria and wore my brother's hand-me-downs. Even when a fever hit so hard that my head felt like it was splitting open, I couldn't bring myself to buy a bottle of Tylenol.

But today, I wanted to treat myself just this once. It was only 3,000 dollars. I'd save the remaining 97,000 dollars for four years of college tuition.

I walked to the ATM on the corner with my heart racing and slid the card in. I typed in my birthday as the PIN. The screen loaded, and I pressed "Check Balance".

I expected to see a reassuring number. Instead, the screen read, "Available Balance: $0.00".

I froze, sure my eyes were playing tricks on me, and rubbed them hard. It still read zero.

I fumbled to take the card out, moved to a different machine, and inserted it again. I typed in the PIN and checked the balance.

It still said, "Available Balance: $0.00".

How was this possible? I hadn't touched this card once in six years. Had someone stolen the money?

But that was 100,000 dollars of my parents' hard-earned savings!

I broke into a cold sweat, yanked the card out, and rushed straight into the bank next door.

"Excuse me, could you check the transaction history on this card?" I handed the card and my ID to the teller.

"I need to know when the 100,000 dollars was transferred out. I think it might've been stolen."

The teller took the card and typed away at his computer. Then he looked up at me with an odd expression.

"Kid, are you sure you've got the right card?"

"Yes!" I said. "My parents gave me this card six years ago. There's supposed to be 100,000 dollars in it!"

The teller sighed and turned the screen toward me. "See for yourself.

"This card hasn't had a single deposit since it was opened six years ago, aside from the 10-dollar activation fee when the account was set up. Even that 10 dollars was withdrawn the very next day.

"So for the past six years, this has been a completely empty card."

My mind went blank.

Joseph's card had real money in it, so why was mine empty?

In a daze, my mind drifted back to the winter of sophomore year. The old puffer jacket I'd been wearing—something Joseph had thrown out—had a huge hole in it, and the cold wind cut straight through.

Freezing and unable to take it anymore, I asked Dad to buy me a winter coat. He yelled at me for wasting money and told me to just patch the jacket up.

I remembered feeling so wronged. Joseph asked them for spending money all the time—50 dollars here, 100 dollars there, yet they never even blinked before handing it over. Why was it different when it came to me?

But I didn't dare talk back. I turned to go to my room, planning to withdraw 200 dollars from the card instead. The second Dad saw what I was doing, his expression shifted, and he let out a scoff.

"Let me remind you that 100,000 in your card is everything you'll have for college, tuition, living expenses, all of it.

"If you blow it now just to live it up and then can't afford school later on, don't come crying to us. We won't be giving you a single cent more."