This poignant novel about a boy's friendship with a burn victim is perfect for fans of R. J. Palacio's Wonder From the moment Jessica arrives, life is never quite the same for Tom and his seventh-grade classmates. They learn that Jessica has been in a fire and was badly burned, and will be attending St. Catherine's will receiving medical treatments. Despite her appearance and the fear she evokes in him and most of the class, Tom slowly develops a tentative friendship with Jessica that changes his life. Praise for Firegirl : * "Tom's connection to Jessica changes his perspective on himself, his peers and friendship, and underscores the reward of reaching out to another.... This novel maybe be brief, but it leaves a big impact."― Publishers Weekly, starred review * "This isn't the usual book about adjustment to differences; instead, Abbot brilliantly explores the kids' struggle to manage this intrusion of abnormality into their lives.... An understanding yet thought-provoking novel." ― The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books, starred review "A touching story of friendship that is easy to read yet hard to forget." ― School Library Journal "In this poignant story, readers will recognize that even by doing small acts of kindness, people stand to gain more than they lose." ― Booklist Tony Abbott is the author of over 60 books for young readers, including the extremely popular Droon series, which has sold over 4.5 million books to date, and the Golden Kite winner Firegirl . He has worked in a bookstore and a library, and currently lives in Connecticut with his wife and two daughters. Firegirl By Tony Abbott Little, Brown Young Readers Copyright ©2007 Tony Abbott All right reserved. ISBN: 9780316011709 Chapter One It wasn't much, really, the whole Jessica Feeney thing. If you look at it, nothing much happened. She was a girl who came into my class after the beginning of the year and was only there for a couple of weeks or so. Stuff did get a little crazy for a while, but it didn't last long, and I think it was mostly in my head anyway. Then she wasn't there anymore. That was pretty much it. I had a bunch of things going on then, and she was just one of them. There was the car and the class election and Courtney and Jeff. But there was Jessica, too. If I think about it now, I guess I would say that the Friday before she came was probably the last normal day for a while. As normal as things ever were with me and Jeff. It was the last week of September. The weather had been warm all the way from the start of school. St. Catherine's has gray blazers, navy blue pants, white shirts, and blue ties, and it was hot in our uniforms. I sweat most of those days, right through my shirt, making what some of the kids called stink spots under the arms. We weren't allowed to take off our blazers in school, even when it was hot, so mine always got stained from the sweat. Like most afternoons, I got off the bus at Jeff Hicks's house. We jumped from the top of the bus stairs and hit the front yard running, our blazers flying in our hands. "You ever smell blood?" he asked, half turning to me. Jeff had been my friend for about three years, since the summer after third grade. As we went up the side steps to his house, I remember thinking that he asked me off-the-wall questions a lot. "What?" I said. Jeff always said some strange thing, then waited, and I would ask "what?" so he could say it again and make a thing about it. He reached the door first. "Did you ever smell blood?" he repeated. "What does that mean?" I asked. "Sometimes my mom comes home from the hospital all bloody from the emergency room-" We rushed through the side door, making a lot of noise in the empty kitchen. Jeff's house was always unlocked, even though it had been empty all day. "-some guy's guts on her shirt," he said. "It's so gross. It's the coolest thing. So, did you ever smell blood?" He yanked open the refrigerator door. "I don't know. Maybe. When I cut my finger-" "That's not enough. I mean a lot. A whole glass of the stuff." I felt my stomach jump a little. "A glass of blood?" I said. "Who has glasses of blood?" He pulled out a tumbler of red liquid-blood?-from the refrigerator and began drinking. He drank and laughed and drank. I finally realized it was cranberry juice. The juice sloshed all down his chin and onto the front of his white shirt. His shirt had little blots of red spreading down the front as he was dripping juice and laughing and watching me, until I laughed, too, at the whole thing. "Stupid," I breathed. "How long did you have that glass waiting in there?" Laughing even harder, he put the dripping glass on the kitchen table and wiped his mouth on his cuff. "By the way, I went for a ride in it last night." He went to the basement door and pulled it open. I was still looking at the glass on the table. "Huh?" He jumped down the stairs to a room with a TV a