Chapter 1The Wish

I was just making polite small talk with my neighbor. "Your grandson is so cute," I said. "I wish I had one just like him."

I went home for the summer, and my parents presented me with a baby brother.

"It was *your wish* that made him happen," they said. "You have to be responsible for him."

They completely checked out. My brother's entire life became my problem. From his homework to his job, from his first car to his first house.

Eventually, when I couldn't afford to buy him a house, my brother murdered me.

I opened my eyes and I was back on that day, admiring the neighbor's kid.

"Wow, he's so cute," I began. "I wish I had..."

My parents' eyes lit up, a predatory glint in them. I paused.

"...a mansion!" I finished.

"And a yacht!"

"And a scholarship to study abroad!"

"And ten billion dollars in cash!"

* * *

Our neighbor, Mrs. Gable, brought her little grandson over to our place. My mom watched my face like a hawk.

"Jessie," she said, testing the waters, "look how adorable he is. If you had a sweet little brother like this, I'd be the happiest mom in the world."

I almost laughed out loud.

Having lived this nightmare once before, I knew the truth. It didn't matter what I wanted. The "brother" was already on his way. This whole song and dance with Mrs. Gable was just a setup, a way to trick me into saying, "I wish I had a brother," so they could saddle me with the crushing responsibility of raising him.

In my last life, I fell for it. I was that naive.

Because I said, "He's so cute, I wish I had one," my parents became deadbeats the second my brother was born. They dumped him on me, making me responsible for his every need. As he grew up, everything fell on my shoulders: his tutoring, his job applications, his car, and his down payment.

If I showed the slightest hesitation, the guilt-tripping would start.

"It was *your wish* that brought him into this world! You have to be responsible for his life!"

My wish could make someone pregnant? Their excuses for wanting a son were more creative than a sci-fi writer.

The tragedy is, they repeated it so often that they completely brainwashed my brother. If he failed a test, it was my fault for not finding a better tutor. If he couldn't get a job, it was my fault for not having the right connections. If he couldn't afford a house, it was because I wasn't working hard enough.

It all came to a head when he came at me with a knife, screaming, "Why did you even have me if you're broke?! This is all your fault! If you hadn't wished for me, I wouldn't be in this hellhole! Just die!"

The little brother I had raised from infancy murdered me in cold blood.

And my parents? They signed a document saying they wouldn't press charges.

I was the only one who got hurt in the end.

This time, I wouldn't make the same mistake.

When I didn't say anything, Mrs. Gable gave her grandson a little nudge. "Go on, sweetie. Say hi to your aunty Jessie. Let her hold you."

The kid just stared at me blankly.

"See, Jessie?" Mrs. Gable pushed. "He's such a darling. You should tell your mom to have one for you."

My mom held her breath, her eyes glued to my mouth. She might as well have had "SAY YOU WANT A BROTHER" tattooed on her forehead.

I smiled. "Wow, he is so cute. I wish..."

My parents' eyes lit up with pure joy. They both leaned forward, practically vibrating with anticipation.

"...I had a mansion!" I declared.

"And a yacht!"

"And a full ride to Yale!"

"And ten billion dollars cash!"

The living room went dead silent. Mrs. Gable's smile froze on her face. My mom's mouth hung open in shock. My dad's hand trembled, and he spilled hot tea all over the coffee table.

"What kind of nonsense are you talking?!" my mom finally sputtered, her face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

My dad's face was grim. He set down the teapot with a thud. "Jessie, don't joke around. We're talking about something serious."

I blinked innocently. "What's serious?"

"Mrs. Gable asked if you wanted a little brother. What do you think?"

I played dumb. "You mean if I want one, I can just have one?"

"Of course," they said in unison. "Anything you wish for, we'll do our best to make it happen."

"That's great!" I beamed. "Okay, so, a mansion, a yacht, a scholarship, and ten billion dollars. Which one are you getting me first?"

Silence.

I raised my voice. "I said! I want a mansion! I want a yacht—"

"Enough!" my mom shrieked. The fake smiles were completely gone.