Chapter 4: Sins of the Past

Just as I expected, as soon as I walked out the school gate, I heard the roar of a motorcycle. That sound always made the teachers wince.

Derek, with his flashy blond hair and a cigarette dangling from his lips, jumped off the bike. His jacket was scuffed, jeans ripped, and he looked like he belonged in a music video shot behind a 7-Eleven.

Natalie ran over and threw herself into his arms, sweetly introducing me, “Caleb, meet Derek. He’s practically family now.” Her voice was giddy, like she’d won the lottery.

“I’m not walking home with you anymore. Derek will take me.”

I nodded. “Then I won’t study with you on weekends, either. You two have fun.” I made my voice as neutral as possible, but my hands balled into fists inside my backpack straps.

This time, however she wanted to live her life, it had nothing to do with me. I kept my face blank, staring at a passing pickup with a college decal in the window.

Derek grinned in satisfaction, patting me on the shoulder. “You’re a smart kid. From now on, your brother-in-law’s got your back.” His cologne was overpowering, and I could smell the cheap beer on his breath.

I quietly took half a step back. “You two have fun. I’ll head home.”

Back then, Natalie’s situation caused a huge stir. Even the crossing guard at the intersection asked me about her, shaking her head in dismay.

Her mom came looking for me every few days—sometimes begging me to look after Natalie, sometimes blaming me for not telling her sooner—making me feel both guilty and uneasy. It felt like I was carrying around a secret that was too heavy for one person.

And Derek often came looking for trouble. The worst time, he and a group of underage punks broke my leg. It happened behind the bowling alley, my math notes scattered in the dirt.

Even on the day of the SATs, I had to go in on crutches. The proctor gave me a sympathetic look, but it didn’t help.

In the end, I only got into a bottom-ranked state university—not even one of the elite schools I’d dreamed of. The admissions letter felt like a consolation prize.

I’d clearly had the best grades in the whole school. I was always the student the teachers thought most likely to get into Stanford or MIT. My yearbook was full of signatures saying “See you at the top!”

But in the end, I was just like everyone else. I watched the valedictorian give her speech, clapping half-heartedly from the bleachers.

That had always been my greatest regret. It gnawed at me late at night, lying awake, staring at the popcorn ceiling, wishing I could hit rewind.

This time, I was determined to defy fate and achieve the success I should have had. I could feel it in my bones, a second shot at the dream.