Chapter 2.5
Jonathan
Summer 2002
It was raining. Hard.
Streaks of lightning were dancing across the sky, and rain bullets were beating across my window pane.
As I looked outside, I saw the reflections of my miserable life in the downpour: Both my parents were denied an early release from prison, my little sister had been sent to live with yet another foster family, and my own terrible excuse for a foster family was trying their hardest to convince me to stay in state for college; they knew that if I stayed, they would get a bonus check from the Children’s Welfare Office for successfully raising a child who remained in state for college.
I knew that my life was bound to be terrible if I spent any more time in the hell hole that was Ohio, so that night I made a plan to get out.
I told my foster parents that I’d decided to go to the University of Dayton, and that right after my graduation ceremony, I wanted to go to a nice restaurant and celebrate. The greedy look in their eyes almost made me hurl on the spot, but I kept playing the part.
I smiled and told them I was grateful for all they’d done for me over the years. I just left out the part about them hijacking my parents’ prison letters, taking me clothes shopping at Goodwill while their biological kids were allowed to shop at real stores, and reminding me day in and day out that I would “end up just like [my] parents one day—a cracked out meth-head who deserved to rot behind bars.”
When the day of my graduation came, I set my well thought out plan in motion: I stuffed my best pants and shirts into a backpack, five hundred dollars I’d made from secretly doing college kids’
computer science homework, and a few essentials for a life on the run.
“What’s that backpack for?” My foster-mother Luanne walked into my room.
“It’s my outfit I’m going to wear after the ceremony. I want to dress more casual at dinner.”
“Oh! Of course! No one wants to get their fancy suit dirty at dinner.” She adjusted my tie. “It’s too bad you weren’t born into this family. We could’ve bought you a better suit, but you know how it is.
The state only gives us enough money to feed you, not clothe you.” I tried not to flinch as she ran a lint-brush against my shoulders.
“Your high school graduation is going to be the highlight of your life.” She sighed. “You probably won’t last that long in college, but don’t worry, neither me nor Bob expect you to.”
“Thank you very much...”
“I still can’t imagine what it must have been like to have meth-dealers as parents. It must have been awful! I think about it every day and I feel so bad for you.” She stepped back to look at me. “But then I say to myself: Luanne, thank god you saved that boy, even if it is only temporary and he becomes a druggie just like his pitiful parents. At least he’ll have some fond memories to look back on while he sits in prison!” She smiled. “I’m going to get my camera!” She left and I thought about jumping out the window right then and there. But I knew that was futile. We lived in the middle of nowhere and I needed the family car to get me into the city.
My foster brother Corey walked into the room and shut the door behind him. He crossed his arms and stared at me for a long time.
I was tempted to tell him that today would be the last day I would ever see him, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. He and I had actually become great friends despite his parents’ treatment of me, and if I wasn’t so broken on the inside I would’ve stayed a little longer—just for him and his little sister.
“I’m sorry about my parents.” He sighed. “But I want you to know that I really liked having a brother— a lot. Are you going to forget all about me and Jessica when you leave and start over? I can’t blame you if you say yes.”
“What are you talking about? I’m not—”
“Don’t worry.” He picked up my backpack and stuffed a brown paper bag inside. “I’m not going to tell my parents. I’ll act like I don’t know anything. Just promise me that when you prove them wrong and do something big with your life, you’ll find me and Jessica and hang out with us again.”
“Promise. Are you still going to Notre Dame in the fall?”
“Yeah, but you’re not going to the University of Dayton. Are you?” I froze. I wasn’t sure what to say. “I—”
“I know I’m not as good as you are with computers, but you do know that I’m a master hacker right?” He laughed. “I hacked into the university’s list of confirmed students for the fall and your name wasn’t on it. You weren’t on any lists at any college that accepted you. So, I started thinking about what I would be planning if I were you, and I—”
“I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you, Corey. I just couldn’t—”
“We can email each other to stay in touch. Whatever you do, don’t look back once you leave. You need to stick to buses and cabs—take alternative routes even if it forces you to go out of your way.
Oh, and don’t open that brown bag I gave you until you’re out of the state.” He stood up and gave me a brief hug. “Jessica knows too by the way...She’s too hurt to say goodbye, but she understands and she says she loves you.”
“Oh my god! Look at the two of you!” Luanne burst through my door with the camera. “I need a picture of my sons! Well, a photo of my foster son and my real son! Both of you stand together! Smile on three! One! Two!—”
“Hey! Kid!” The cab driver snapped me out of my thoughts. “Wake up! This is as far as forty five bucks will take you.”
I looked outside and saw tall stone buildings, but I couldn’t make out what any of them were. I’d been hopping from bus to bus and cab to cab for days and I’d lost all sense of location because everywhere I went it was raining.
“Thank you.” I handed him the money and stepped out of the car.
Within seconds, the thin jacket and tattered jeans I was wearing were completely drenched. I had an umbrella in my backpack, but I knew pulling it out now was useless.
I walked through what appeared to be a college campus—there was greenery and buildings every few feet, but each building I attempted to get into was locked.
I apparently needed an access card to get in. A Harvard University access card.
I’d been accepted into Harvard months ago, but I never wrote back to confirm. As soon as I’d read that their top computer science graduate from the past year was a guy who developed a mini computer—something I’d done when I was fourteen, I decided that there was nothing they could teach me.
I saw a group of students holding the door to a lecture hall open, so I rushed past them. I walked down the hallway, peering into every classroom, cursing when I saw that they were all filled.
Once I was at the end of the hall, I slipped inside a dark classroom and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Nice of you to join us on time. Have a seat in the back please.” The lights came on and a blond haired man in a tweed suit stood up behind a podium. “Anytime now, son...” The class laughed and I walked up the steps, taking a seat in the last row.
I ignored the itchy feel of damp denim against my skin and looked up at the board: Summer Course, Advanced Software 4100.
All the students had laptops and state of the art data configuration boards on their desks. All of them looked way older than I was.
I guess this is a senior level course...
“So...” The professor moved the projector screen from the center of the room. “We’ve been deconstructing our hypothetical company ‘Beta Link’ and so far we have three people in the running for the best computer: George Hamilton II, Lindsay Franco, and William Dane. Could the three of you come up here and show the class what you’ve built please?” They took their places up front and explained their computers in the most mundane voices I’d ever heard. It was bad enough that their computers sucked, but their sense of arrogance and know-it-all attitudes were even harder to bear.
They have access to the best technology in the world and this is the best they can come up with?
“Very impressive!” The professor clapped. “To everyone else in this room, you have quite the competition if you’re going to get an A. Does anyone have any questions for George, Lindsay, or William?”
No one raised their hand.
“No one? No one has a question about how they developed their processors? You’re just going to let them walk away with the top grades? I can only give out a certain number of A’s you know. There is a very steep curve in this class and I will be putting it to use...” I raised my hand.
“Yes, you.” He pointed to me. “What do you want to ask?”
“Those aren’t really the best computers, right? You’re just using those three as an example to make the rest of—the rest of us work harder, correct?” The room erupted into murmurs. Everyone looked back and forth between me and the professor.
“No. I’m not,” he said. “These are indeed the best computers in the class, and seeing as though you didn’t bring yours to critique today makes me feel like they’re definitely better than whatever you built. But, since you seem to think that—”
“George’s computer will crash in six weeks.” I crossed my arms. “He’s over-compassing the ram drive with unnecessary wiring. One too many shut downs and it’ll never turn on again. Lindsay’s computer, if you want to call it that, is using all the wrong materials. Unless everyone else in this class is using sticks and stones, a computer with recycled coils and used wiring should never be considered a good computer. Technology isn’t up to date enough for eco-computers yet. And William’s computer, though impressive to look at, is—actually, he pretty much copied Dell’s earliest model and re-drafted a few mechanisms. Any high-school student with half a brain can do that.” The room fell silent.
The professor took off his glasses and rubbed his forehead. “Class dismissed.” He shook his head and the students rushed out of the room, as if they were scared he was about to explode.
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 ll-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.