The sun over Hollow Park was disrespectful.
It was one of those days where the heat sat on your shoulders like a backpack full of bricks. Kids were yelling on the playground, a lawnmower roared somewhere nearby, and Jordan's head was still spinning from the envelope in his backpack.
He had checked the number again that morning, just to make sure he hadn't imagined it.
He hadn't.
His parents were broke by every normal definition—old car, small house, no vacations—but somehow they'd scraped together enough to put a real dent in his med school costs. Enough to give him a head start that most kids from his side of town would never see.
And now it felt like the money was burning a hole through the bottom of his bag.
His phone buzzed again.
Trell:
"Bro stop playing. You close"?
Jordan smirked despite himself and shoved the phone back in his pocket. Same Trell as always—loud, impatient, and halfway ready to fight anybody who doubted him.
By the time Jordan cut through the cracked pavement of the basketball court, Trell was pacing near the far hoop, phone in hand, headphones hanging around his neck. His braids were pulled back under a snapback, and a half-finished Gatorade bottle sat on the bench.
"There he is!" Trell shouted, arms spread like he was introducing a celebrity. "Mr. Doctor Hunter! Future heart surgeon! Jade Reid's personal physician!"
"Chill, man." Jordan bumped fists with him. "You gon' make somebody think I'm important."
"You are important," Trell said, suddenly serious. "That's why I hit you."
Jordan raised an eyebrow. "You said it was 'life-changing' and then sent me a link that looked like a virus."
"That's because you don't know what you're looking at."
Trell dropped onto the bench and patted the spot next to him. "Sit. Lemme put you on game."
Jordan sat, shrugging his backpack off his shoulders. "You got five minutes. Jade wants me to swing by her parents' place later."
Trell rolled his eyes. "Ah, yes. The Reids. How's life with your own personal board of directors?"
"Annoying," Jordan said. "Her mom still looks at me like I tracked mud into her bloodline."
"Bro, she looks at everybody like that."
"Yeah," Jordan admitted, "but I'm the one dating their daughter without a trust fund."
Trell snorted. "Yet."
He unlocked his phone and turned the screen toward Jordan. It was a graph—lines, numbers, red and green candles climbing up like a staircase.
Jordan frowned. "Okay… what am I looking at?"
"This," Trell said, tapping the screen like it was holy scripture, "is a new coin. My cousin Dre's been on it for a minute. He got in when it was like, fractions of a penny. This is where it's at now."
He zoomed in. The graph lurched upward, then dipped, then shot up again.
Jordan tried to care. He really did.
But the words at the top—_BlockForge_, _market cap_, _24h volume_—all blurred together.
"Trell," he said slowly, "you know this stuff is like gambling, right?"
"Everything is like gambling."
"I'm serious. People lose everything on this crypto mess. Scams. Rug pulls. Whatever they call it."
"Bro, Dre put in four grand. He's up to almost thirty now." Trell's voice dropped. "He cashed ten already. Paid off his mom's car."
Jordan paused.
Paid off his mom's car.
That line hit different.
He thought about his father's rough hands, his mother's tired smile, the way they'd both tried to make that envelope seem like it was nothing.
"We didn't do it for credit," his dad had said. "We did it so you wouldn't have to go through what we went through."
"What are you asking me to do, exactly?" Jordan asked.
Trell leaned back, looking up at the washed-out sky. "I'm saying… you got that money now. You invest a piece of it, just a piece, and if it flips the way Dre says? You could pay your folks back before you even step in a med school classroom. You could tell the Reids to keep their side comments. You could walk in there on equal footing."
Jordan shook his head. "Or I lose it, and I walk in there looking stupid."
Trell didn't answer right away.
He rubbed his hands together, thinking, which was rare enough that Jordan noticed.
"Look," Trell said finally. "I know what that money means. I grew up next door, remember? Your mom used to send me home with plates when my fridge was empty. I ain't trying to play with what they gave you."
"Then why—"
"Because I believe in you," Trell snapped, frustration leaking into his voice. "You're always talking about wanting to change things. For your parents. For the neighborhood. For kids like us."
He shook his head. "You can't do that just by clocking in and out. Doctors make good money, sure. But that's still one paycheck at a time. This? This could put you in a whole different category."
Jordan stared at the screen again.
Another notification popped up at the top—_BLOCKFORGE: UP 12% IN LAST 24 HOURS._
His chest felt tight.
"It could also wreck everything," he said quietly.
Trell's shoulders dropped. "You trust me?"
Jordan looked at him.
This was the same Trell who'd thrown hands for him when some older boys tried to jump him in eighth grade. The same Trell who'd brought him food when his dad got injured at work and there was more worry than groceries in the house. The same Trell who, even now, talked reckless but showed up when it counted.
"Yeah," Jordan said. "I trust you."
"Then let me show you how to do it smart." Trell's voice softened. "We don't throw everything in. We start small. You move a little. Watch what it does. Then decide."
"What's 'small' to you?" Jordan asked.
Trell hesitated. "How much did your folks give you, if you don't mind me asking?"
Jordan swallowed. "Enough. I'm not saying the number."
"Okay. Cool." Trell nodded. "Then start with ten percent. You lose it, it'll hurt, but it won't kill you. You win… the upside is stupid."
Ten percent.
It still sounded like a lot.
But in his mind, he saw his mother's hands scrubbing that spotless plate. Heard his father say, _We didn't do it for credit._ He saw Jade's father looking him up and down like he was a stray dog that wandered into the living room.
"You really think this thing is going to keep going up?" he asked.
Trell shrugged. "I think momentum is real. I think the project is solid. I think people with way more money than us are getting in right now. And I think if we don't at least *look* at the opportunity, we're gonna be sitting here in five years mad as hell."
Jordan chewed his lip.
"What if we wait?" Jordan said. "What if I get through my first year, see how med school looks, and then—"
"And then it's gone," Trell cut in. "These runs don't last forever. Dre says this is the early stage for real. Once the big dogs notice, regular folks like us are just exit liquidity."
"Exit what?"
"Don't worry about it," Trell said. "Point is, this window ain't staying open."
Silence settled between them for a moment.
A group of kids ran past, chasing a half-flat basketball. Somewhere, a siren wailed in the distance.
Jordan closed his eyes.
He saw his parents at the table again, pushing that envelope toward him like they were handing over their hearts.
He saw himself in a white coat, years from now, stethoscope around his neck.
He also saw a number on a screen growing bigger and bigger, enough zeroes to wipe away every worried look he'd ever seen on his mother's face.
"There's something else," Trell said quietly.
Jordan opened his eyes. "What?"
Trell hesitated. "Dre said there's some kind of… update coming. Big one. They're about to announce partnerships or something. He swears when that news drops, it's going to send this thing crazy."
Jordan frowned. "And if the news is bad?"
"Then it drops," Trell said simply. "And we take that L together."
Jordan stared at the phone one more time.
Then he reached for his backpack.
"You got your cousin's number?" he asked.
A slow grin spread across Trell's face. "I knew you weren't soft."
"Relax," Jordan muttered, pulling out the envelope. "This doesn't mean I'm all-in. It just means I'm willing to look."
"That's all I'm asking," Trell said.
He stood up, already dialing. "Yo, Dre. Yeah, he's here. I told you he wasn't gonna punk out."
Jordan took a breath as the call connected, fingers tightening around the edge of the envelope.
This was stupid.
This was risky.
This was everything his father had warned him about.
But it also felt like the first step toward something bigger.
"Jordan?" a voice crackled from the speaker. "What's good, fam? You trying to change your life today or what?"
Jordan looked out over the broken court, the bent rim, the tired houses beyond the fence.
He thought about med school. About the Reids. About his parents. About Jade.
His heart pounded.
"Yeah," he said, more to himself than to the phone. "Yeah… I think I am."
He didn't know it yet, but the decision he made in the next hour would cost him everything he had…
…before giving him more than he ever imagined.