She wobbles, her body half leaning on me, until she teeters slightly and lets herself collapse onto the trampoline with an “oomph.”

Her forehead glistens with sweat. I flop down beside her, pretending not to notice when she takes a pill from her pocket and swallows it whole. She’s been popping pain meds like candy since the cast came off.

“Well,” she says. “I may have that standing ovation in time for your play, but definitely not in time for Wicked. What day is it again?”

I turn my face away from Piper, toward the sky, bathed in fading pink light. The setting sun illuminates the eastern mountains in coral hues.

“Well, actually, I was thinking of taking Asad,” I say.

“That’s cool. I can put up with him for an evening for free Broadway.”

“Well, there’s only two tickets.” I pick at the sleeve of my compression garments as I spell it out for her. “So I mean just Asad.”

Piper sits up abruptly, sending the trampoline rolling.

“Like a date?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe?”

Piper’s eyes light with realization. “Wait. Is Asad the boy?”

I try not to smile like a middle school girl at a sleepover. Piper throws her hands in the air.

“Are you for real? Asad. Dorky, jazz-fingers, lighting-nerd Asad? He’s the boy you’ve been crushing on this whole time? Does he like you?”

“Sometimes I think he could.” My mind shoots back to his fingers wrapped around mine. The way he talked about my star scar. The way he does everything.

Piper clucks her tongue as she shakes her head. “I don’t know. Asad seems like a prime candidate for the friend zone.”

“You don’t think he could like me?”

“No, that’s not what I’m—”

“ ’Cause who could possibly be into me, right?”

A lump forms in my throat. Piper holds up her hands to me. “Whoa, chill out. Date whoever you want. Doesn’t matter to me. I’m just trying to protect you.”

I turn away from her, back to the stars starting to punch through the sky as teary pinpricks threaten to dribble out of my busted eyes. I shouldn’t have told her.

“Your protection feels a lot like a hostage situation. Don’t be friends with Kenzie. Don’t like Asad. You have a lot of rules for my life lately.”

Even without looking, I can feel her staring at me.

“I didn’t know this friendship was such a burden,” she says, a sharp edge to her words.

The silence between us thickens with each second that I don’t dispute her. The trampoline rocks us slowly as we look away from each other. Finally, her mom blares her car horn when she pulls into the driveway.

Piper inches herself to the edge of the trampoline. I balance myself on the waving net and try to help her up, but she brushes away my hand.