“Do you believe in fate?”

“I believe that you should put your shoes on,” I answer without looking up from the toaster oven. “Answer the question first.”

“I don’t think I will, thanks.”

I slept like garbage last night. There’s an unidentified substance on one of my glasses lenses from packing lunches. I had to switch my Tuesday shirt with my Thursday shirt after an unfortunate incident with the peanut butter jar, and the only thing holding me together is the hope and glory of the emergency cruffin that’s currently in the toaster oven. I refuse to burn it.

Adeline huffs. “This is a serious question, Jackson.”

“A serious question at half past seven on a Tuesday morning is not a serious question, Addie.”

She is undeterred next to me, ­starry-​­eyed and shoveling Lucky Charms into her mouth. A horseshoe marshmallow flies into the sink.

“Do you believe in fate?” she asks again.

“Do I believe in cosmic forces that guide our ­decision-​­making and lead us on a predestined path to an already decided end?” I twist the toaster oven knob hard to the right. “Absolutely not.”

Her eyes widen. “Really? After everything we’ve been through?” Adeline hip checks me on the way to return the cereal box she’s been eating directly out of, her face a teenage mask of outrage. “Don’t you think fate brought me, you, and Penelope together?”