“Really?” I ask. I picture buying my dad a big house in Atherton. Hiring the best lawyer around and figuring out a way to get my mother back to the States. Helping the people back home. I turn to Sara. “I think we should do it.”

“But people are interested in a product we don’t actually have.” She bites her lip.

“Could we have the app working by the end of the month?” Braden asks.

She runs a hand through her hair. “I mean, maybe.” She looks to me. “Do you think we could do it?”

“We’ll make it happen,” I say. I’m not sure it’s possible, but if this is a million-dollar chance, we have to take it.

“Yes!” Braden raises his glass toward us.

“Easy to celebrate when you don’t have to build the thing you made up today,” she says.

“Fair enough. Although you have to admit...” Braden extends his arms proudly. “I saved us all. MVP performance for sure.”

She makes a face and mimics him, repeating his tone back in nonsense words. I laugh and take a sip of my drink, oddly happy our little group will stay together for a while longer.

The next day, Sara and I get to work trying to put together an app that actually does what Braden said it would.

“Ah, my computer’s about to die,” I say just minutes after setting up at Sara’s. I pull the charger out of the bag and cross the room to plug in.

As I head back to my seat, I have a good view of Sara’s screen. I notice the familiar blue-and-white homepage of Instafriend, rather than the black screen with white characters that would take up the window if she is coding.

“Ooops.” She clicks the red X in the corner of the screen.

I sit down across from her and plug the charger into my laptop. “What?”

“I swear I was only checking my feed for a second.”

“Dude, do you think I care? Braden watches Jersey Shore while we work—heck, he’s not even here right now. You can check your Instafriend.” I spread my arms in a grand gesture, mocking Braden. “We are our own bosses now.”

She laughs. “Okay, cool. Because for some reason my brain is hardwired so that a step from not working to working is going on that damn site.”

“Dude, I know!” I say. “It’s like I go to my computer to work, open a browser to get my homework assignment, start typing, and boom, no matter what homework site I meant to go to, my fingers just type Instafriend.”

She shakes her head. “I know. It’s nuts.”

“Maybe we should try to work there, even if we do become millionaires from this. See if they’ll let you in on whatever mind control they did to make that happen.”