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word I knew, in addition to some awfully creative ones.
    “Mr. Fritz!” Fear strangled my voice into a garbled mess.
    My chem teacher was next to us in an instant. He placed his hand on Quentin’s back, his eyes wide with alarm. “What happened?”
    “I—I—” Oh, you know, I lost control of my ki and set my best friend on fire. “I don’t know. Quentin was lighting the Bunsen burner, and then—” I sucked in a ragged breath. “And then—”
    “It exploded,” Quentin mumbled miserably against his hands.
    Mr. Fritz held his arms up and glanced at the students who’d left their seats and were climbing over each other to get a closer look. “Okay, I need everyone to calm down.”
    I stared at him in disbelief. Calm down? I’d nearly roasted Quentin’s face off, and he wanted me to be calm about it? My stomach twisted until I thought I’d double over from the pain. What if it’d been worse? What if—
    Before I could finish my thought, the Bunsen burner flared to life again, issuing a beach ball-sized fireball that dissipated with a whoosh into black smoke before reaching the ceiling.
    “What the—” Mr. Fritz stumbled backward, knocking over Carly’s abandoned stool. I jumped in front of Quentin and grabbed onto a metal leg, righting the chair before it could fall on him. At least my reflexes hadn’t failed me.
    Mr. Fritz’s skin paled to the color of the plastic skeleton mounted on the wall. He grasped the counter and pulled himself to his feet. “Gas leak. It has to be a gas leak.” He looked at us, his eyes impossibly wide. “I want all of you”— he scanned the entire classroom—“outside and in front of the gymnasium. NOW.”
    The stunned silence erupted into squeals and shrieks as my classmates scrambled to grab their belongings before stampeding from the room.
    “Ms. Martin.” Mr. Fritz grabbed Quentin’s elbow and motioned for me to do the same. Together, we lifted him to his feet. “Get Mr. Farmer to the nurse. I’m going to the office to alert them about the gas leak. The school needs to be evacuated.” Mr. Fritz placed a hand between my shoulders and gave me an urgent push forward.
    I nodded even though I knew there was no gas leak. Wrapping my arm around Quentin’s waist, I guided him out the door and down the hall. I whispered how sorry I was more than a hundred times, but still he refused to look at me and kept his face buried beneath his hands. How badly had I burned him? Would he scar? Guilt twisted my insides.
    Carly had been right about me.
    I was dangerous.

7
    T he good news is, you’ll live.” The nurse, a tired-looking woman with a sloppy gray bun at the base of her skull, patted Quentin on the cheek. His eyes stayed locked on the mirror in his hands.
    I stood by his side, my chest tight with worry. “So he’s going to be okay?”
    The nurse smiled and tugged on the ends of the stethoscope wrapped around her neck. “They’re just eyebrows, dear. They’ll grow back.” She glanced at Quentin. “It is interesting, though. If you were as close to the Bunsen burner as you say, I’m surprised you weren’t burned. You’re a lucky young man. I’m going to get some salve for your face. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    When she was out of the room, Quentin set the mirror aside, closed his eyes, and groaned.
    “It’s not that bad.” I stared at the bare skin where his eyebrows used to be. The nurse was right. While the flames had burned away his eyebrows, his skin wasn’t even inflamed.
    “Not that bad?” He turned angry eyes on me. “Give me a robe and an ugly pedicure, and I could play the bad guy in those wizard movies!”
    I flinched. In all the years we’d been friends, he’d never once yelled at me. “Q, I’m so … I just … I’m sorry.”
    He closed his eyes and exhaled loudly through his nose. He stayed that way for a moment, like a deflated balloon, as the silence between us pressed against me so thick and heavy I thought I might suffocate.