I stood up and walked down the steps, ignoring the intense glares that were coming from the three computer clowns who were putting their toys away.

“Wait, you.” The professor waved at me. “I want to talk to you for a second.” He waited for everyone to leave the room. “What’s your name?”

“Bill Gates.”

“Your real name...”

“Jonathan Statham,” I murmured.

“Mr. Statham, you’re not a student in this class are you?”

I shook my head.

“Do you even go to this school?”

“No...”

“So, what made you come here today?” He motioned for me to sit in the front row. “You look like you’re still in high school. Are you still in high school?” He waited for me to say something, but I only blinked.

“Okay then...” He sat down next to me. “Tell me how someone randomly shows up to Harvard and knows more about computers than my senior honors students.”

I sighed. I thought about coming up with a lie, telling him that I really was a student and just wanted to drop in on a high level class, but I was tired of lying, tired of running.

“My parents used to—” Accept electronics for the meth they sold sometimes? “They used to um, leave electronics around the house and I would look at how all their parts worked...And I would steal—I mean, I would borrow books from the library and read about computer mechanics...”

“You never went to a tech camp?”

“No.”

“Hmmm.” He rubbed his chin. “So, your goal is to sneak into Harvard?”

I rolled my eyes. “If I wanted to come here, I would’ve accepted the offer.” I realized he was probably going to call the cops on me for trespassing, so I put on my best apologetic face. “I’m sorry for today. I won’t interrupt your kindergarten class again. I’m gonna go—”

“I’m not going to call security on you.” He laughed. Then he suddenly looked serious. “Where are you from?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Okay...Do your parents know you’re here? I’m sure they’re worried sick about you...”

“They’re in prison.”

He looked sympathetic. “Well, your legal guardians must be looking for—”

“I’m eighteen.” I wasn’t a ward of the state anymore. I didn’t belong to anyone, and if his classroom wasn’t so warm I would have walked out as soon as he asked me what my name was.

“You must have made pretty good grades in high school to get accepted here, Jonathan...What number were you in your class?”

Why do I feel like I can trust this guy?

“First. I gave a speech and everything.” I reached into my backpack and pulled out my crumpled speech, tossing it to him. I was hoping he would actually read it for some reason—unlike my foster parents who’d seemed completely oblivious to the fact that I was the valedictorian.

As he looked over the speech, I realized I hadn’t opened the brown paper bag from Corey. I peered into the bag and saw a framed picture of me, him, and Jessica, a flash-drive with “read” scribbled across it, a stack of my parents’ unopened prison letters, and a one thousand dollar check addressed to me. There was an orange post-it clipped to the back of it: “Cash it some place sketchy—like a liquor store or a bail bonds place so I can re-route the information about where it was cashed...Your welcome, Corey. PS—Please let me know if you find the Fountain of Youth while you’re traveling...I’m convinced it’s in New York now...”

“Jonathan, what if I told you that I’ve been looking for a student with your potential to help me out on a new computer that I’m developing?” The professor caught my attention. “A computer that would change everything?”

“I would say I don’t believe you. Then I would say I hope it’s not one of the computers that I saw today.”

“Fair enough.” He chuckled. “Well, what if I said I wanted to help you?”

Ha! “No thanks. I’ve had enough help to last me a lifetime.” I took my speech from his hands, stood up, and headed for the door.

Before I could turn the knob, he jumped in front of me. “I have a one year assistance scholarship that I can award to any student. It’s supposed to be for graduate level students only, but if your background checks out...It’ll cover one year of tuition and a small part of your room and board. You would still have to find a job or two to cover the rest, but I honestly think you would make an excellent student and an even better developer one day. And, if you work hard enough during your first year, I could convince the academic committee to consider you for other scholarships.”

What?

“I’ll do a background check on you tonight.” He adjusted his glasses. “If you are who you say you are and you agree to work with me on this project, you’ve got free classes at Harvard and a once in a lifetime opportunity to work on a national project. What’s your phone number so I can—”

“You think I have a cell phone?”

“I’m sorry...” He looked me over, probably noticing that I was still soaking wet and carrying a dingy and holey backpack. “I just assumed that you...Where were you planning on sleeping tonight?”

I didn’t answer him. I just looked around the classroom. I figured that since my next bus wasn’t scheduled until tomorrow that I’d hide out in the building and sleep underneath a staircase once the janitors were done cleaning.

“My name’s Mr. Lowell, Jonathan.” He walked over to his desk and grabbed his briefcase. “If you don’t have any prior obligations, Mrs. Lowell is making pasta tonight and we have a guest room you can use for a few days while we sort this thing out.”

I looked away from Mr. Lowell and shook my head. I was ashamed of myself. I’d broken every rule of living on the run in a matter of minutes: I wasn’t supposed to talk to anyone. I wasn’t supposed to trust anyone. I was supposed to keep to myself until I arrived in New York—until I stormed into IBM headquarters and forced them to listen to my ideas. Yet, there was sincerity in this man’s eyes, and a national project with access to the best technology in the world was too tempting to pass up.

For an entire year, I used every free minute I had to work on Mr. Lowell’s project. In between soaring through my classes and working three jobs to cover the expensive dorm and food costs, I managed to help him earn a seven hundred thousand dollar grant to build more of his impressive L-tech laptop.

Right after he was officially awarded the money, he handed me an envelope that contained a twenty thousand dollar check, saying that it would help me pay the remaining part of my sophomore year’s tuition.

I was about to run to the bank and cash it immediately, but he snatched it back.

“You know what, Jonathan? You’re better than this.” He shook his head. “Tell you what, instead of this check, I’m going to give you something even better.”

“A bigger check?”

“Funny.” He snorted. “I’m going to be the first investor in your company. I’ll even host a dinner with my wife to get you other investors this weekend. I don’t think you need to waste any more time taking classes with people who aren’t as smart as you. You need to drop out and start working on your own company. I’ll help you in any way that I can for the first year.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t have a company, Mr. Lowell...”

And I want my check back!

“Statham Inc.? Statham Enterprises? Statham Industries! It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” He slid my award check into his briefcase and picked it up. “Trust me, in five years, you’ll have the amount of this check times a hundred. As of now, it’ll just be my consulting fee.” He patted my shoulder and walked out of the room.

Chapter 3

Claire

Today was one of those days when I honestly felt like I’d wasted the best years of my life. I’d spent all morning watching the Lifetime channel, going through old photo albums, and listening to one of my other San Fran friends—Helen, talk about how she’d been nominated for “Lawyer of the Year.”