Firegirl (review)

Tom's a normal seventh-grader, negotiating a slightly prickly stage in his long friendship with Jeff and yearning from afar after glamorous classmate Courtney Zisky, whom he rescues again and again in elaborate fantasy scenarios. The arrival of new girl Jessica Feeney, however, changes everything: Jessica, who is attending a local hospital for treatment, has been badly burned by a fire, and her terrible disfigurement shocks the class into confusion. This isn't the usual book about adjustment to difference; instead, Abbott brilliantly explores the kids' struggle to manage this intrusion of abnormality into their lives, with tactics ranging from blaming (an elaborate rumor develops wherein Jessica herself set the fire and killed an angelic younger sister in the process, so she's now on the run from the police) to wary avoidance (Tom's friend Jeff refuses to take Jessica's hand during a class prayer). Jeff is clearly demonizing Jessica as a response to his own troubled family situation, but he's just the extreme edge of the general discomfort: even Tom, who rejects the blind suspicion of the herd, is uneasy in his interactions with Jessica, overwhelmed by the momentous horror of her experience ("It was too much to understand, too much to get") and her depersonalized appearance. The book allows Jessica enough voice of her own to ensure she's not merely the object in an object lesson, and it's sharply honest about her necessarily low prioritization of her social stigma: "Every time I go in the hospital, I find out all over again about what really matters. This doesn't." Overall, this is a thoughtful exploration of a brief interlude's lasting impact; Tom may not have been the hero he dreamed of being for Jessica, but he musters some difficult steps for goodness that will influence him all his life. This is an understanding yet thought-provoking novel about difference for those not yet ready for Johnson's Accidents of Nature (BCCB 6/06).