Chương 4
Daniel stared at him.
“You didn’t even ask why I want to go.”
Richard looked toward the open garage door.
A neighbor was walking a golden retriever past the driveway.
“I know why.”
“Then tell me.”
“You’re angry.”
Daniel waited.
Richard lowered his voice.
“You want to prove something.”
“That’s not why.”
“It’s at least part of why.”
Daniel opened his mouth and closed it again.
That annoyed him more than if Richard had been completely wrong.
His father picked up the wrench.
“You’re not using the military to punish us.”
Daniel felt heat rise into his face.
“You think this is about you?”
“I think most things with you become about winning.”
Richard crouched beside the Honda again.
The conversation was over because Richard had decided it was over.
Daniel stood there for another second.
Then he left.
Upstairs, he shut his door too hard.
The frame rattled.
He sat at his desk and pulled up the Naval Academy candidate portal.
For the first time all summer, the page looked childish.
Boxes.
Deadlines.
Green check marks.
A fantasy assembled from forms.
Richard’s accusation stayed with him because a piece of it fit.
Daniel had imagined the satisfaction of getting accepted.
He had imagined telling his parents.
He had imagined Richard’s face.
He had imagined Elaine discovering that all the money she withheld had become irrelevant.
Those images had carried him through runs when his legs hurt.
That did not mean they were the whole reason.
But they were there.
He closed the laptop.
The next morning Ethan was waiting downstairs in running clothes.
Daniel walked past him toward the kitchen.
“You sick?”
“No.”
“You’re not running?”
“Not today.”
Ethan studied him.
“Dad said something.”
Daniel poured cereal.
“Dad says lots of things.”
“He told Mom you’re trying to join the Navy.”
Daniel kept his back turned.
“Academy.”
“Okay.”
Ethan leaned against the counter.
“So that’s what all this is for.”
“Some of it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Daniel turned.
“Because you’re sixteen and you can’t keep a birthday present secret for forty-eight hours.”
“That happened once.”
“You told Grandma where we hid her cake.”
“She asked.”
Daniel almost smiled.
Ethan did not.
“Are you serious about it?”
“Yes.”
“Like really serious?”
“Yes.”
Ethan scratched his shoulder.
“Then why aren’t we running?”
Daniel looked down at the cereal bowl.
“Because maybe Dad’s right.”
Ethan stared at him long enough that Daniel looked up.
“About what?”
“That I’m doing this because I’m pissed off.”
“You are pissed off.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m pissed off too sometimes.”
“At what?”
Ethan laughed without humor.
“Do you think being their favorite is relaxing?”
Daniel said nothing.
Ethan went to the refrigerator, opened it, then closed it without taking anything.
“Dad has my football schedule on his work calendar.”
“So?”
“He knows practice better than I do.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“See, you say stuff like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m complaining about having advantages.”
“Aren’t you?”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
“Forget it.”
He headed for the hallway.
Daniel watched him go.
“Ethan.”
His brother stopped.
Daniel hated the next words before he said them.
“I’m sorry.”
Ethan turned halfway around.
“You’re kind of a jerk lately.”
“I know.”
“That wasn’t an apology.”
“I’m sorry I act like everything you get was stolen from me.”
Ethan looked at the floor.
“Some of it kind of was.”
The sentence sat between them.
Neither knew what to do with it.
Finally Ethan jerked his head toward the front door.
“Put your shoes on.”
Daniel frowned.
“You’re still going?”
“You want Annapolis or not?”
Daniel put the cereal in the refrigerator by mistake.
Ethan looked at it.
“Elite academic mind.”
“Shut up.”
They ran six miles.
Later that week, Mrs. Patel helped Daniel identify which records could be requested directly by the school and which documents could be replaced through official channels.
She also told him something he did not want to hear.
“You need to stop treating secrecy like strategy.”
Daniel looked at her.
“My parents destroyed my applications.”
“I’m aware.”
“They’re blocking my documents.”
“I’m aware of that too.”
“So how is secrecy the problem?”
“It isn’t always.”
Mrs. Patel capped her pen.
“But secrecy can become a habit when trust breaks.”
Daniel shifted in the chair.
“You’re seventeen and dealing with adults who hold practical power over you.”
She continued before he could interrupt.
“That means we protect your options carefully.”
“Which is what I’m doing.”
“Sometimes.”
He disliked the pause.
“What am I doing the rest of the time?”
“Trying to make sure nobody can hurt you by making sure nobody knows you need anything.”
Daniel looked away.
Outside the office, a student laughed loudly enough to make somebody shush him.
Mrs. Patel slid the nomination checklist across the desk.
“You need people.”
“I have you.”
“Yes.”
She tapped the recommendation section.
“And now you need more.”
Daniel stared at the list.
His English teacher agreed first.
Then the manager at Grant’s Market, Mr. Alvarez, surprised him.
Daniel had expected a routine recommendation.
Instead Mr. Alvarez called him into the cramped office behind customer service and closed the door.
“You going military?”
“Maybe.”
“You want to?”
“Yes.”
“Or your parents want you to?”
Daniel almost laughed.
“No.”
“Good.”
Mr. Alvarez pulled off his reading glasses.
“My father wanted me in the Army.”
“What happened?”
“I became a grocery manager and disappointed him in a completely different direction.”
Daniel smiled.
Mr. Alvarez pointed the glasses at him.
“You joke now, but listen.”
Daniel did.
“Don’t pick a hard life just because somebody said you couldn’t survive it.”
The words hit close enough that Daniel’s smile vanished.
Mr. Alvarez nodded once.
“Pick it because you can explain why you want the life after the proving part is over.”
That night Daniel opened a blank document.
He did not write an application essay.
He wrote a list.
Reasons I Want Annapolis.
The first reason he typed was financial independence.
He stared at it.
Then he added service.
Engineering.
May you like
Structure.
Leadership.
