SHE HAD ONLY just begun scheming ways to prove her worth to Snow when Wayne cleared his throat and Jo’s head jerked up. Jo hadn’t even realized he’d lingered while the rest of them had left. He offered her a shrug, a half smile, and the tension seemed to instantly break.

“Is he always such a dick to the new recruits?”

“Snow doesn’t always need all of us for a wish,” Wayne explained. “He has the tact of a three-year-old, but I’m sure he only meant to remind you that fieldwork can be dangerous, especially when you’re only just beginning.”

“Thanks for coming to my defense,” Jo huffed, and rested her chin in her palm. Right or wrong, justified or not, it still left her with nothing to do other than stew about not existing. Wayne chuckled.

“Well, fine, he was also being a right pill.” Wayne pulled up a chair next to hers. Boldly, he took the hand that wasn’t occupied with her chin, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t let it get to you.”

“Easy for you to say,” Jo mumbled. She hadn’t invited the contact, but she also found she didn’t mind it, either. So, for now, she let his hand stay. “You’re already integrated here, familiar with this life; you have nothing to prove. You’ll be useful as they need you to be.”

“But I’d rather not be needed,” Wayne said quickly. “Trust me, dollface, helping with a wish isn’t always what you want.”

Jo turned to face him, searching. “Why?”

Wayne shook his head. “It’s a lot of pressure. But you’ll have your moment. When you’ve had a chance to learn and understand more of what it is we do, I have no doubt you will be an irreplaceable asset to the team.”

“Even still. . .” Jo sighed heavily. “I wish I could do something now. I’m not the sort to just sit around and wait for something to happen, I never have been. I’ve always had a job or a duty to someone or something. Even if it’s not helping with our mission, I’d take any distraction.”

Jo’s eyes drifted toward the Door. It was as unassuming as it had been yesterday. But she now knew it was her only portal out.

Remembering all at once her new circumstances, Jo twisted her wrist, looking at her watch. Sure enough, under the time where her stopwatch would count down—if she was using one—the numbers read 10:00.

“I have time,” Jo whispered. “How? I’m not part of the wish, so—”

“Everyone gets time when a wish comes in,” Wayne clarified. “Snow isn’t the one to dish out the time; it’s given by default.”

“Is it the same for every wish?”

Wayne shook his head. “It varies, depending on the complexity of the wish. And any leftover time can roll-over from one wish to the next. I think Takako has almost a hundred hours stored. She’ll never risk wasting minutes, just in case she’s not given enough time for a future wish.”

“Has that ever happened?” Jo asked. “Not having enough time to complete a wish?”

“No, never.” Wayne chuckled. “That’s just the sort of woman Takako is. Nothing ever in excess. Boring if you ask me. But you seem like a woman who can appreciate spending a little bit here and there.”

Jo wasn’t ready to let him derail the subject. “If Snow doesn’t dish out the time, and doesn’t decide how much is given for any wish. . . who does?”

“Who knows? Maybe it’s just some automatic magic system?” Wayne shrugged. His nonchalance grated her. She didn’t like the idea of some invisible force governing such an important aspect of her life. But Jo swallowed down the worry. The Society and its members had been around long enough. If it was something worth worrying about, they would’ve already done it.

“How do I use it?”

“Let’s not get ahead of yourself, doll.”

“What happened to appreciating someone spending a little?” Jo grinned, satisfied by his look of surprise and brief frustration at her throwing his words back at him. “Do I just go through the door?”

Jo didn’t wait for a response; she was already at the threshold, her fingers hovering over the keypad. Intent, Wayne had said—she just had to have the right intent to get to where she wanted. As long as she had that, she shouldn’t risk using the same magic that picked up the last code input and took her to the Ranger’s HQ—she supposed. Magic seemed more guesswork and determination than an exact science.

“Now that I have time, can I just go out and interact with the real world?”

“Ease up.” Wayne grabbed her wrist, pulling it away from the keypad. “Let’s not be hasty.”

“I want to go home,” she demanded, her voice raising by a fraction. Jo blinked at herself, startled by the sudden ferocity that escaped her, but she stood by it.

“Jo, there isn’t—”

“I need to see it,” she whispered. “Snow tells me that I didn’t exist, that I’m not real.” She shook her head. Saying it was harder than she thought it would be. But it wasn’t the first hard thing she’d done in her life and it wouldn’t be the last. “He says that my wish worked, but how do I know for sure? How can I give up on that world if there’s any hope that it still has a place for me?”

His grip went slack on her wrist and Jo could tell she was gaining ground. An inborn sense told Jo that if she pressed just a little more, he’d break.

“I’m going to go either way. You can either help me or stand aside.” It sounded threatening, but Jo intended it simply as matter of fact. As if to seem less threatening, Jo shoved her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, a threadbare thing that had become softer with every wash since her first year of junior high.

“All right, I can tell when a dame’s mind is set,” Wayne conceded. “It shouldn’t be an issue, I suppose.”

“Good.” Jo freed her hand and held it back over the touch pad.

“What you need to do is—”

Before he could finish the thought, her fingers were moving. Home was crisp and clear in her mind. Jo didn’t even know what numbers or letters she depressed, but her fingers moved with certainty. There was that same hiss of pressurization, the click of the door opening, and then—light.