Chapter 1: The Fall of the Golden Boy

2005. The year of the SATs.

Back then, the SATs loomed like the ultimate boss fight—the one test everyone swore could make or break you. College dreams, scholarships, the shot to finally get out—everything funneled through that one Saturday morning, in a classroom thick with the smell of pencil shavings and nerves.

That test changed everything. For me, anyway.

I still remember the buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead—the way my palms were already slick with sweat, even before the proctor said, “You may begin.” I didn’t know it yet, but my life was about to go off the rails for good—a turn I’d never come back from.

With my grades, I could’ve gotten into a top university—maybe even Columbia or Stanford—and finally get out of this town.

My guidance counselor, Mrs. Kelly, kept telling me, “Eli, you’re going places. Don’t let up now, champ.” Even my dad, in his worst moods, would mutter about how I was his ticket to a better life. I could practically taste the city air, could almost feel the springy campus lawns under my sneakers. All I had to do was ace this test. I was so close I could almost smell the fresh-cut grass of a campus I’d only ever seen in brochures—and my heart would beat just a little faster, thinking about it.

But I cheated. No one saw it coming—not even me.

Even now, I swear, the shame still burns in my cheeks. The kind of shame that keeps you up at night, that makes you flinch from your own reflection.

And that one mistake... it cost someone their life.

No one ever tells you how fast things can spiral. One bad choice, and suddenly your world flips upside down. I never meant for it to go that far.

During the 2005 SATs, for cash, I agreed to pass answers to Brandon Miller. He sat just a few seats away.

Brandon was the golden boy—varsity jacket, perfect smile, the kind of kid whose dad owned half the town’s strip mall. He slipped me a note in the hallway, all cool and casual, like we were just trading baseball cards. “Help me out, I’ll make it worth your while.” I said yes before I could even think.

At first, everything went smoothly. After the first day of exams, we went out for burgers at Mel’s Diner to celebrate—laughing too loud, the taste of grease and adrenaline in the air.

That night, we were crammed into a sticky vinyl booth at Mel’s, fries and milkshakes between us, laughing way too loud, pretending we’d pulled off the perfect crime. Brandon slapped me on the back, grinning like he owned the place. “We’re untouchable, Eli. Just you wait.”

But then? Everything fell apart.

I should’ve known it wouldn’t last. There’s always a price. Always.

Just as the test was about to end on the second morning, Brandon was suddenly called out.

The proctor’s voice was tight, her lips pressed into a line. “Brandon Miller, please come with me.” I watched him stand up, his face gone pale. My heart hammered so hard it hurt.

Through the glass, I saw police officers appear at the classroom door, talking quietly to Brandon.

Their uniforms looked so out of place in the school hallway. For a second, I thought maybe it was a mistake, a fire drill—anything but what it really was. But then I caught the look on Brandon’s face—terror, pure and simple.

Instantly, cold sweat broke out all over me.

I could feel it trickling down my back. The room felt like it was closing in. I tried to keep my head down, but my mind was screaming: They know. They know.

We must’ve been caught cheating.

Every second dragged. My ears rang. I could almost hear my future shattering, piece by piece.

The cops would come for me next! Any minute now. I just knew it.

I imagined my dad getting a call from the school, his face going slack with disappointment. I pictured my teachers, my classmates, everyone I’d ever known, looking at me like I was something dirty. I wanted to disappear.

My scores would probably get canceled, and my teachers and classmates would never look at me the same again...

I could already see the headlines in the local paper: “Honor Student Disgraced.” I’d be the cautionary tale parents used for years. My stomach twisted.

Thinking about it, I got so nervous my hands started shaking, and I could barely hold my pencil.

I tried to focus on the last few questions, but the letters swam in front of my eyes. The graphite snapped in my grip, and I just stared at the broken tip, paralyzed.

Just as I was trying to figure out how I’d explain myself, a scream—raw and jagged—ripped through the hallway.

The sound was sharp, like glass shattering. I’ll never forget it.

“Ah!!”

It echoed down the linoleum floors, making everyone freeze. The proctor’s face went white as chalk.

A classmate by the window glanced outside and immediately shouted, “Br—Brandon just jumped! He jumped off the building!”

Time seemed to slow down. For a moment, no one moved. Then all hell broke loose.

The whole exam room exploded into chaos.

Desks scraped back, people shouting, some kids started crying. The proctor tried to restore order, but it was hopeless. I just sat there, numb.

The noise made my mind go blank, my heart pounding so hard I thought I’d faint.

I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. My ears rang. I thought I might throw up right there on my test booklet.

Why would he jump? Even if he got caught cheating, that’s not a reason to go that far!

It didn’t make sense. Brandon was the kind of guy who always landed on his feet. Why would he do something so final? It just didn’t add up.

Why…

I kept replaying it in my head, searching for something I missed, some sign.

Before I could react, someone called my name.

I heard it distantly, like underwater. My legs moved on autopilot. I stumbled toward the door.

I walked out of the classroom, shaking, barely remembering what I said. All I remember is being surrounded by teachers and police, led out of the testing center, my head buzzing the whole time.

Everything was a blur. Faces swam past me. The world felt like it had tilted sideways. I couldn’t even remember what I told them.

That was how I cheated on the SATs, and that’s what I told the police.

I sat in a small, cold room—the kind with uncomfortable chairs and a clock that ticked way too loud. I told them everything, or at least, everything I thought I knew.

Before all this, I couldn’t understand why Brandon would jump.

I kept thinking about his face, the fear in his eyes. It haunted me at night, long after the police let me go.

Until they told me Brandon had secretly contacted other students behind my back, selling answers for $800 a subject.

The numbers blew my mind. Eight hundred dollars? For a single subject? I’d never seen that much money in one place. Turns out, Brandon had been running his own side hustle, playing me like a pawn.

He naively thought he could make a fortune, but didn’t expect that after one student got caught, everyone else would get dragged down.

He wanted to be the big man on campus, but greed always trips you up. The dominoes started falling fast.

The police followed the trail and found over thirty students involved.

Thirty kids—some I barely knew, some I’d grown up with since kindergarten. All of us tangled in Brandon’s mess.

As the organizer, Brandon, when he realized everything had blown up, couldn’t handle the pressure and jumped from the third floor of the school building.

I can still see him, up on that ledge, the wind whipping his hair. I wasn’t there, not really, but I see it in my nightmares.

He didn’t make it to the hospital.

The ambulance wailed all the way, but it was too late. The news hit our town like a bomb.

A month later, in the interrogation room.

The room was cold as a meat locker. Fluorescent lights flickered, casting harsh shadows on the cinderblock walls. I sat hunched, nerves stretched so thin they might snap.

I sat in the shadows, outside the reach of the flickering fluorescent light, nerves frayed to the breaking point.

I could hear my own breathing, shallow and quick. I kept rubbing my hands together, trying to keep from shaking.

The officer who called me in said it was because detectives from the city precinct wanted to ask a few more questions.

He tried to sound casual, but I could see the tightness in his jaw. No one ever calls you in for “a few more questions” unless things are bad.

I didn’t think much of it, figuring they just wanted to check details about Brandon’s suicide.

I figured it was just a formality, a box to check before they closed the file.

But as soon as the other detective spoke, he went right for me.

No warm-up, no small talk. Just straight to the point, like a hammer to the skull.

“Eli Turner, you organized this cheating ring, didn’t you? You’re the ringleader!”

The words echoed in the tiny room, bouncing off the walls. My heart skipped a beat.

The detective across from me was named Detective Harper. He looked to be in his forties, heavyset, balding, with a kind of easygoing air.

He had a face like a tired bulldog, eyes that didn’t miss a thing. His badge glinted in the harsh light.

I stared at him, and after a moment, realized he was talking about me.

For a second, I almost laughed. Me? The ringleader? I could barely organize my own backpack.

“Are you kidding? How could I be the ringleader?”

My voice cracked, but I tried to hold his gaze. I didn’t want him to see how scared I was.

“If it wasn’t you, why did someone see you at the cheaters’ rented house?”

The words stung. Rented house? What was he talking about?

“Cheaters’ house? Rented place?”

I stared at him, starting to realize something was off.

A knot formed in my stomach. This wasn’t about clearing things up. They were after me.

This cheating case had already been investigated. It had nothing to do with me.