”They smirked, but shook their heads.“Oh, don’t look like that,” Alex said, and kissed my frown. “Comedy can be hard. And it was almost funn...!”“I’m glad you don’t actually want me to run, “ Max commented. “The sidewalk’s too icy.”“Yeah, and I don’t want you breaking that gold medal ass of yours,” I said.“Wait? Does that mean Alex has a silver medal ass?” Sam gripped my shoulders a bit too hard to ask that.“God no! Yours should be gold medal,” and Alex shook her head. “Max is silver.”“Hey!” the. Look!" And I let her help me to my feet. I let her turn me away from the dressing table, and I tried to look back over my shoulder. Still smiling, she picked up a hand mirror from the table (had it always been there?), handed it to me, and I looked in wonder at my back. The scars were still there, but something had happened to them. What was it? I couldn't seem to figure out exactly what the difference was. They just seemed... they seemed... to belong to me, to be a part of me. My back was. More

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