“I think you’ll be happy to hear that you can get rid of this little guy.”

Cora squeals and awkwardly side-hugs me, careful not to apply too much pressure to disrupt the all-important healing process.

“You couldn’t have given us a better gift today, Dr. Sharp. It’s been a year, this week actually, since—” Cora pauses, and I can almost see her brain trying to come up with the right words.

“The fire,” I jump in. “One year since the fire.”

Dr. Sharp hands me the mask, which has been my constant companion every day, twenty-three hours a day for that year. Its one job: keep my face flat as it heals so my scars don’t bulge out in fleshy blobs. The doctors and nurses reassure me constantly that the mask has made my scars heal so much better, although I’m unconvinced it can get much worse than the patchwork of discolored grafts I call my face.

“You’ll still need to wear the body-compression garments until we’re sure the scars won’t interfere with your movements,” Dr. Sharp says. “But I do have one more piece of good news for you.”

Cora gives him the slightest nod, which tells me that whatever comes next is a direct result of an Ava’s Life meeting. My invitation must have gone straight to spam.

“Now that you don’t have to wear the mask, I am authorizing—and strongly recommending—that you return to school,” he says.

I flip the mask around in my hand without looking up.

“Yeah, that’s a hard pass,” I say. “But thanks.”

Jumping off the sidelines, Cora lays her massive binder by the sink and half sits on the patient chair with me, lightly tapping my thigh.

“Ava, I know you’re bored with those online classes, and you’re always saying how you wish things could go back to normal.”

Normal.

Right. Old normal. Ava Before the Fire normal. Normal normal.

“That’s Never. Going. To. Happen,” I say. “I’m not going to waltz back into my old school and have everything be the same.”

“You could go to the school by our house, like we’ve talked about. Or pick any school you want,” Cora says, undeterred. “You know, a fresh start? Make new friends and begin a life here.”

“I’d rather die,” I mumble.

I’ve been doing fine at home taking classes online in my pajamas. Where no one can see me. Where no one can point and stare and whisper as I walk by like I’m deaf as well as deformed.

“I know you don’t mean that,” Cora says. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Right. I’m a human rabbit’s foot.”