Instead of taking it back, Dr. Layne regales me with how burn camp is for survivors like me. A place where we can talk and bond and sing “Kumbaya” about our scars.

“All I’m asking is you think about it, and whether you’re getting all the support you need.” She looks at me earnestly for a minute. “Telling a little boy your scars are from vegetables doesn’t sound like the Ava I know.”

I toss the pamphlet in the trash on the way out.

At our postgroup study date, Piper shoves her phone between me and my math textbook.

“More anonymous cruelty from the queen of drama,” she says.

Three texts fill the screen:

You know it was your fault.

How do you even get up in the morning?

Everyone would be better off without you.

Piper rolls back and forth in swift, jerky movements.

“Just want to show you that Kenzie King is more likely to burst into flames than be anyone’s friend.”

“Are you sure they’re from her?”

Piper nods and takes the phone back.

“Anonymous text bullying? Sounds like Kenzie’s style to me. Probably got one of those untraceable numbers to route through her phone like with that picture of you. Guess it wasn’t enough to just cut me out of her life.”

Piper clicks off the screen, but I can’t help asking the question that’s been bothering me since Color Day.

“Sage told me you cut Kenzie out first,” I say. “That they tried to visit you in the hospital.”

Piper stops rocking her chair as her eyes flash toward mine and then away just as quickly.

“The friendship was over. Who cares who made the first strike? We’re not friends now, and that’s all that matters, okay? The past is the past.”

“But—”

Piper throws her head back, heaving an exasperated sigh.

“I’d think you’d be the last person to lecture me on facing the past.” She picks her phone back up, taps it, and when she flips it around, my Ava Before the Fire photo wall stares at me. “That’s right, I found your abandoned account growing weeds out in cyberspace. But you don’t see me interrogating you about it, because clearly you want to forget it. So could you please do me the same favor?”

Piper plops the phone back in her lap.

“Now can we stop talking about this, because I have something way more important than Kenzie King to show you.”

Piper insists I wheel her out to the trampoline and help her hoist out of her chair. I put my arm out like a ballet barre so she can grab on to me as she plants her feet on the ground and rises, shakily. I steady her until she’s almost completely upright.

“Piper! You’re doing it!” I can hardly keep from screaming.