I’m Caleb Wilder, the human equivalent of a typo in a family of bestsellers. While the "Golden Boy" across the hall prepares for his stadium tour, I’m currently marinating in a cowhide furnace because I’m convinced a leather jacket equals a personality. I’m risking heatstroke just to stop my childhood lifeline from drifting toward his gravity. She was my only quiet corner in Oakhaven, but now I’m a sweating fraud, trading my comic-book soul for a motorcycle I’m too terrified to actually start.