“So, Ava Lee, Piper tells me you did drama at your old school.”

“Well, not like this.” I want to ask why he and Piper were talking about me, but instead I nod toward the cast members who huddle around a freshly posted cast list. “I was one of them.”

Kenzie jumps up and down, hugging the pixie-haired girl, squealing loud enough for everyone to hear that she got the lead role of Dorothy. A twinge of jealousy hits me: that used to be me with my friends.

“Why’d you cross over?” Asad says.

I laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

Asad’s eyebrows stitch together, so I point to my face to spell it out for him.

He pushes himself up and scoots closer. To my right, two girls elbow each other and nod toward the boy who is blatantly gawking at the Burned Girl.

“So how did they happen, anyway?”

“My scars?”

“Yeah.”

The way the girls stare, waiting to see what I say, makes me channel Piper, who wouldn’t care at all that some girls are looking at her or that some stupid kid didn’t hold her hand in the circle of shame. She would say something shocking and hilarious that makes everyone forget her wheelchair and her burned skin. I lean forward with the creepiest smile I can muster and whisper, “ ‘You wanna know how I got these scars?’ ”

Asad’s eyes widen as a smile spreads across his face.

“You did not just quote The Dark Knight to me.”

“Technically, I quoted the Joker.”

“Well, then technically, you may be the coolest girl I know.”

I stare at the stage, trying to ignore the flip of my stomach. Fortunately, the boy in black appears from behind the curtain and everyone snaps to attention, making Asad momentarily forget his question, which I have zero intention of answering with these girls lurking close, waiting to turn my personal tragedy into lunchtime gossip.

“So you want to be on crew?” the boy says. “I warn you now. You won’t get roses or applause.”

He pauses, scanning our faces.

“But without you, the show stops. You are the invisible hands behind the scenes.” He holds a black T-shirt high in the air. “In fact, your sole purpose is to disappear into the stage itself. Can you do that?”

I nod. Yeah, that I can do.

Everyone passes around the black T-shirts, putting them on over their clothes. I slip mine over my head, hoping I can get myself dressed like a big girl. But of course, my life is the cosmic joke that just won’t quit, and I somehow insert my head into an armhole. I silently panic in the 100 percent cotton-polyester darkness as I try to get my elbow to bend enough to get me out.

Through his laughter, Asad asks if he can help. I give up and let my arms hang limp at my side as I nod from within the shirt.