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Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jason

Summer 2002

It was raining. Hard.

Streaks of lightning were dancing across the sky, and rain bullets were beating across my window pane.

As I looked outside, I saw the reflections of my miserable life in the downpour: Both my parents were denied an early release from prison, my little sister had been sent to live with yet another foster family, and my own terrible excuse for a foster family was trying their hardest to convince me to stay in state for college; they knew that if I stayed, they would get a bonus check from the Children’s Welfare Office for successfully raising a child who remained in state for college.

I knew that my life was bound to be terrible if I spent any more time in the hell hole that was Ohio, so that night I made a plan to get out.

I told my foster parents that I’d decided to go to the University of Dayton, and that right after my graduation ceremony, I wanted to go to a nice restaurant and celebrate. The greedy look in their eyes almost made me hurl on the spot, but I kept playing the part.

I smiled and told them I was grateful for all they’d done for me over the years. I just left out the part about them hijacking my parents’ prison letters, taking me clothes shopping at Goodwill while their biological kids were allowed to shop at real stores, and reminding me day in and day out that I would “end up just like [my] parents one day—a cracked out meth-head who deserved to rot behind bars.”

When the day of my graduation came, I set my well thought out plan in motion: I stuffed my best pants and shirts into a backpack, five hundred dollars I’d made from secretly doing college kids’ computer science homework, and a few essentials for a life on the run.

“What’s that backpack for?” My foster-mother Luanne walked into my room.

“It’s my outfit I’m going to wear after the ceremony. I want to dress more casual at dinner.”

“Oh! Of course! No one wants to get their fancy suit dirty at dinner.” She adjusted my tie. “It’s too bad you weren’t born into this family. We could’ve bought you a better suit, but you know how it is. The state only gives us enough mone to feed you, not clothe you.”

I tried not to flinch as she ran a lint-brush against my shoulders.

“Your high school graduation is going to be the highlight of your life.” She sighed. “You probably won’t last that long in college, but don’t worry, neither me nor Bob expect you to.”

“Thank you very much...”

“I still can’t imagine what it must have been like to have meth-dealers as parents. It must have been awful! I think about it every day and I feel so bad for you.” She stepped back to look at me. “But then I say to myself: Luanne, thank god you saved that boy, even if it is only temporary and he becomes a druggie just like his pitiful parents. At least he’ll have some fond memories to look back on while he sits in prison!” She smiled. “I’m going to get my camera!”

She left and I thought about jumping out the window right then and there. But I knew that was futile. We lived in the middle of nowhere and I needed the family car to get me into the city.

My foster brother Corey walked into the room and shut the door behind him. He crossed his arms and stared at me for a long time.

I was tempted to tell him that today would be the last day I would ever see him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He and I had actually become great friends despite his parents’ treatment of me, and if I wasn’t so broken on the inside I would’ve stayed a little longer—just for him and his little sister.

“I’m sorry about my parents.” He sighed. “But I want you to know that I really liked having a brother—a lot. Are you going to forget all about me and Jessica when you leave and start over? I can’t blame you if you say yes.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not—”

“Don’t worry.” He picked up my backpack and stuffed a brown paper bag inside. “I’m not going to tell my parents. I’ll act like I don’t know anything. Just promise me that when you prove them wrong and do something big with your life, you’ll find me and Jessica and hang out with us again.”

“Promise. Are you still going to Notre Dame in the fall?”

“Yeah, but you’re not going to the University of Dayton. Are you?”

I froze. I wasn’t sure what to say. “I—”

“I know I’m not as good as you are with computers, but you do know that I’m a master hacker right?” He laughed. “I hacked into the university’s list of confirmed students for the fall and your name wasn’t on it. You weren’t on any lists at any college that accepted you. So, I started thinking about what I would be planning if I were you, and I—”

“I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you, Corey. I just couldn’t—”

“We can email each other to stay in touch. Whatever you do, don’t look back once you leave. You need to stick to buses and cabs—take alternative routes even if it forces you to go out of your way. Oh, and don’t open that brown bag I gave you until you’re out of the state.” He stood up and gave me a brief hug. “Jessica knows too by the way...She’s too hurt to say goodbye, but she understands and she says she loves you.”

“Oh my god! Look at the two of you!” Luanne burst through my door with the camera. “I need a picture of my sons! Well, a photo of my foster son and my real son! Both of you stand together! Smile on three! One! Two!—”

––––––––

“Hey! Kid!” The cab driver snapped me out of my thoughts. “Wake up! This is as far as forty five bucks will take you.”

I looked outside and saw tall stone buildings, but I couldn’t make out what any of them were. I’d been hopping from bus to bus and cab to cab for days and I’d lost all sense of location because everywhere I went it was raining.

“Thank you.” I handed him the money and stepped out of the car.

Within seconds, the thin jacket and tattered jeans I was wearing were completely drenched. I had an umbrella in my backpack, but I knew pulling it out now was useless.

I walked through what appeared to be a college campus—there was greenery and buildings every few feet, but each building I attempted to get into was locked.

I apparently needed an access card to get in. A Harvard University access card.

I’d been accepted into Harvard months ago, but I never wrote back to confirm. As soon as I’d read that their top computer science graduate from the past year was a guy who developed a mini computer—something I’d done when I was fourteen, I decided that there was nothing they could teach me.

I saw a group of students holding the door to a lecture hall open, so I rushed past them. I walked down the hallway, peering into every classroom, cursing when I saw that they were all filled.

Once I was at the end of the hall, I slipped inside a dark classroom and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Nice of you to join us on time. Have a seat in the back please.” The lights came on and a blond haired man in a tweed suit stood up behind a podium. “Anytime now, son...”

The class laughed and I walked up the steps, taking a seat in the last row.

I ignored the itchy feel of damp denim against my skin and looked up at the board: Summer Course, Advanced Software 4100.

All the students had laptops and state of the art data configuration boards on their desks. All of them looked way older than I was.

I guess this is a senior level course...

“So...” The professor moved the projector screen from the center of the room. “We’ve been deconstructing our hypothetical company ‘Beta Link’ and so far we have three people in the running for the best computer: George Hamilton II, Lindsay Franco, and William Dane. Could the three of you come up here and show the class what you’ve built please?”

They took their places up front and explained their computers in the most mundane voices I’d ever heard. It was bad enough that their computers sucked, but their sense of arrogance and know-it-all attitudes were even harder to bear.

They have access to the best technology in the world and this is the best they can come up with?

“Very impressive!” The professor clapped. “To everyone else in this room, you have quite the competition if you’re going to get an A. Does anyone have any questions for George, Lindsay, or William?”

No one raised their hand.

“No one? No one has a question about how they developed their processors? You’re just going to let them walk away with the top grades? I can only give out a certain number of A’s you know. There is a very steep curve in this class and I will be putting it to use...”

I raised my hand.

“Yes, you.” He pointed to me. “What do you want to ask?”

“Those aren’t really the best computers, right? You’re just using those three as an example to make the rest of—the rest of us work harder, correct?”

The room erupted into murmurs. Everyone looked back and forth between me and the professor.

“No. I’m not,” he said. “These are indeed the best computers in the class, and seeing as though you didn’t bring yours to critique today makes me feel like they’re definitely better than whatever you built. But, since you seem to think that—”

“George’s computer will crash in six weeks.” I crossed my arms. “He’s over-compassing the ram drive with unnecessary wiring. One too many shut downs and it’ll never turn on again. Lindsay’s computer, if you want to call it that, is using all the wrong materials. Unless everyone else in this class is using sticks and stones, a computer with recycled coils and used wiring should never be considered a good computer. Technology isn’t up to date enough for eco-computers yet. And William’s computer, though impressive to look at, is—actually, he pretty much copied Dell’s earliest model and re-drafted a few mechanisms. Any high-school student with half a brain can do that.”

The room fell silent.

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