Chapter 1

Before time went back, my stepsister used some kind of magic system to steal my SAT answers.

The test I had worked on for hours turned in completely blank when I handed it over.

She got into Faraday University with the answers she stole from me and became the pride of the family.

I cried and tried to explain that I hadn't turned in a blank test, but everyone thought I had lost my mind.

When my answers disappeared, I had nowhere to turn. They all said I was mentally ill.

My stepmom and stepsister dragged me to a mental hospital, laughing the whole way. "I always said she was crazy."

*****

Memories mixed with pain hit me like a strong gust of wind.

I jumped off the mental hospital building, but I didn't feel any pain.

Instead, I felt hot and opened my eyes—only to find myself back in high school.

On the classroom wall, there was a countdown for the SAT. Thirty days left.

The teacher was going around collecting homework.

My stepsister, Beatrice Fraley, was the class leader. She stood in front of me with a smug look. "Sarah, your homework."

I quickly pulled out my notebook and handed it to her. She gave me a cold smile, stacked mine on top of the pile, and then passed everything to the teacher.

The teacher's face darkened as he flipped through my notebook. "Sarah!" he barked.

I froze, not sure what was going on.

Holding up my notebook, he snapped, "What's this? Where's your homework? You didn't write a single thing!"

Fear jolted me awake. This wasn't a dream. Time had really gone back. I was reliving everything all over again.

Before time rewound, thirty days before the SAT, strange things had started happening.

My homework would vanish.

Back then, when the teacher scolded me nonstop for not turning it in, I just stared at the blank pages, unable to explain.

I thought maybe stress was messing with me, so I apologized and redid it.

I had always been a top student, so at first my teacher worried and told me to rest.

But when it kept happening, he stopped believing me.

And right around then, Beatrice—who'd always been just average—suddenly started pulling ahead in class.

Back then, it never crossed my mind that magic systems could be real.

I didn't think anyone was stealing my answers. I blamed myself.

Every time I saw blank homework and empty test sheets, I started wondering if I really was sick.

Right before I died, my whole life flashed before my eyes.

And that was when I learned the truth—Beatrice had gotten a magic system right before the SAT. It let her steal answers from anyone she wanted.

Just then, I snapped out of my memory and looked up at Beatrice.

Sure enough, she was smiling, thrilled to see me in trouble.

Before, I had doubted myself so much that I lost all confidence.

But now, I met her smile with cold eyes and clenched fists.

What a joke that she thought her lousy magic system could control my life.

Trash would always be trash, no matter what tricks she used.

*****

That night, after study hall, Beatrice's mom cooked her a big dinner, claiming it was to keep her healthy.

When she saw me, she acted fake-pitiful. "Sorry, Sarah, there's not enough food. I only made one serving."

Grandma had always pitied my mom, so she usually stood up for me.

She came out and said, "If you didn't have enough, why didn't you buy more? You're obviously playing favorites. You give your daughter good food and leave Sarah with nothing. They're both prepping for the SAT!"

Beatrice's mom didn't back down. Instead, she smiled proudly. "Yes, that's true. But Beatrice is working harder. She's ranked first in class several times now. As for Sarah—"

She turned to me with a nasty grin. "I heard from the teacher that Sarah doesn't even do her homework, and she's been turning in blank papers."

Grandma's face fell. She looked at me, torn. "Sarah, is that true?"

I had no way to explain myself.

Grandma looked disappointed and dragged me back to my room, her voice sharp. "Sarah, you lost your mother young, and I've always felt sorry for you.

"But you can't just give up like this! You used to be so good at school. Why aren't you even doing your homework now?"

Back then, when she asked me this, I had no answer. I just cried, which made her think I was being childish. She eventually lost hope in me.

But this time, I held her hand and said, "Grandma, don't worry. I'm fine. I'll do my best. Trust me."

I had always been a good kid. Seeing the seriousness in my eyes, Grandma softened a little, though she was still worried.

She patted my shoulder and told me not to push myself too hard. Then she went to the kitchen and made me a big plate of pasta with eggs.

The moment I tasted Grandma's cooking again, I broke down crying.