Chapter 1

I've had a superpower for as long as I can remember.

If something is one hundred percent true, whatever I wish for on the back of it comes true.

If Mom and Dad love me, I won't be late for school today.

If Mom and Dad love me, I'll get into my dream college.

Then my parents died in a car crash. Jack Langford, the boy next door, the boy I'd loved since I was twelve, held my hand at the funeral and swore he'd love me and protect me forever.

From that day on, my wishes always start with If Jack loves me.

Jack doesn't believe in superpowers. He's a physicist. He believes in data and peer-reviewed journals and the observable universe.

But he always smiles and lets me do my little ritual before anything important.

Until his department gets a new transfer student.

The first time Vivian Cole hears me make a wish, she looks at me like I've lost my mind.

"Jack is one of the most brilliant astrophysicists in the country, and his girlfriend is out here casting spells. That's embarrassing."

"How does someone like you end up with someone like him?"

I'm not good at fighting back. I have never been. I cry, and Jack rubs my shoulder and sighs.

"Don't take it personally, Mol. She's like that with everyone. She snaps at me too."

He says he doesn't even like Vivian. Says she's just a colleague, and he has no choice but to work with her.

But somehow, she keeps getting more of his time.

Monday: helping her rewrite a paper.

Thursday: flying to Paris for a conference she insists he attend.

Until he cancels on me for the eighth time, my birthday weekend, scrapped so he can go with Vivian to an international astrophysics summit in Geneva.

I stop in front of a convenience store.

I stare at the rack of Scratch-off tickets behind the counter.

And I make a wish I've never made before.

If Jack doesn't love me anymore, let me win ten million dollars.

I buy a ticket. I scratch it off with my thumbnail, right there at the counter.

The clerk's eyes go wide. He grabs the edge of the counter.

"Oh my God, ma'am, you just won TEN MILLION DOLLARS!"

I stare at the ticket.

$10,000,000.

The numbers scream back at me in bold silver ink.

My blood runs cold.

That's impossible.

My wishes have never been wrong. Not once.

The clerk is looking at me funny. I get it, a normal person would be screaming, jumping, calling everyone they know. But I'm standing here like the floor just opened beneath me.

I write down the claim instructions. I manage a smile. I fold the ticket into my wallet.

My phone buzzes. Jack.

His voice is warm, easy, the same as always. "Hey, Mol. A few new grad students just joined the lab. Come grab dinner with us tonight?"

I hang up. I go to the restaurant.

Vivian and Jack are sitting side by side at the head of the table, heads together, laughing about something on her laptop screen. When he sees me, Jack stands up, slings his arm around my shoulders, and turns to the group.

"Everyone, this is my girlfriend, Molly Donahue."

The new students grin. One guy raises his glass. "You two look great together."

Only Vivian doesn't smile.

She leans back in her chair and looks me up and down.

"Okay, kids, lesson one: don't pick a girlfriend based on looks alone. Check IQ first."

"Otherwise you end up like Jack. Dating a complete moron."

"The other day I asked her if she knew why stars twinkle. She just stood there stammering and then said, 'I don't know.'" Vivian throws her head back laughing. "'I don't know!' Classic."

The eyes around the table shift.

These are MIT's best and brightest, recruited from top programs across the country, handpicked to work under Dr. Jack Langford. In their minds, the woman standing next to him should be someone like him.

Someone like Vivian.

"Vivian. Enough." Jack's voice is flat. Barely a reprimand.

He gives my shoulder a small squeeze.

It's always like this.

He says Vivian is brilliant and proud and has a sharp tongue. That I'm softer, kinder, more patient, so I should be the bigger person.

Every time she makes me cry, he wipes my tears like I'm a child. You're so good, Mol. You're so mature.

But tonight, I don't want to be mature.

I run my thumb along the edge of the lottery ticket in my pocket. Then I pull out a quarter.

"Quick question for the table. If I flip this coin ten times in a row, what are the odds it lands heads every single time?"