“The Jefferson Academy for Advanced Science,” she whispered. “They’re offering one full scholarship. Just one.”
Jefferson Academy wasn’t just a school. It was a fortress of privilege. Children of CEOs, politicians, and tech executives walked its halls. Tuition cost more than Sebastian’s house was worth.
One scholarship.
One crack in the wall.
Sebastian walked nearly two hours to take the entrance exam. His shoes — stitched together three times by his mother — slapped against the sidewalk.
When he arrived, the security guard looked him up and down like he was something tracked in on a boot.
But he let him in.
Inside the grand auditorium, Sebastian felt invisible among polished shoes and expensive watches. He shrank in his oversized secondhand blazer.
Then the test landed on his desk.
And everything else disappeared.
The fear.
The whispers.
The judgment.
The problems on the page weren’t obstacles. They were conversations. His pencil moved fast — not because he rushed, but because he understood. In less than half the allotted time, he was done.
Three weeks later, the acceptance letter arrived.
Highest score in seventeen years.
The scholarship was his.
Elvira cried quietly in the kitchen.