Cast Aside: The Genius You Can't Have

From eighteen on, I worked three jobs. Overnight shifts at a burger place, standing until one in the morning. Trays in the school cafeteria all day, until my wrist swelled too much to hold a pen. The reservation desk at the library, ten dollars an hour, seven weekends of it. The money went home one paycheck at a time: Colton's cleats, the family broadband bill, the four tires on my father's car.

I held on year after year because I believed one thing: if I held this family up, there would be a place in it for me.