She couldn't. She really made a moment of effort for Tucker. She did. She thought about looking up, but instead she just closed her eyes more tightly. "I can't." She groaned. "I can't. I can't its not just… its not just the scars. if it were… but it isn't. I'm not that vain." 

Sure, she still got incredibly jealous of all the other girls and their flawless faces. But he wouldn't call herself vain. She hated that they could wear short sleeves and didn't have to wear leggings under their uniforms. They could imagine having sex with someone, and not forcing them to avoid the left side of their body. Maybe they could even shag with the lights on. She was so jealous of every one of the girls who's boyfriends held their hands and kissed them, perfectly unblemished faces held between strong hands. And It killed her. She focused on Quidditch. She hung out with Hazel who had no plans for boyfriends. And she pretend that it was okay. That she never wanted that kind of thing. But it was not okay. She was sixteen, and she wasn't a nun.

It didn't matter if other girls wanted to charm their eyes two colors. It made no difference to her. T.J. would have given anything to have her blue eyes back. It didn't matter if no one snickered. It didn't matter because she knew it wasn't true. Most of the students had adjusted to her, yes, but there were new firsties every year. And T.J. was the big bad quidditch monster. 

"It is not just the scars," She groaned, giving it one more effort to look up. But instead of looking at the mirror she turned to face him. Because she couldn't look at the mirror. She couldn't look at herself."Its… I don't see the scars. I do. See them. How can I not? They're… better, I know, but its not better. The things I see aren't the things that stop being red and burning."

She frowned searching for words. She couldn't explain it, she didn't know how to explain what she felt to someone who wasn't… broken. She didn't know how to make a whole person understand. Tucker was a whole person, and T.J. wasn't and making him  understand how she was feeling was completely impossible. She watched his face. His face where both halves of him where him. Though she supposed one half could have been Joel and she never would have been able to tell the difference.

"Half of me is me." She answered finally. "But the other half… I'm not the person I was. I'm somebody else. Its like…" She put both hands in her hair. It had been cut short after the accident and had now grown out. She needed a haircut. The split ends were getting bad, but she was so happy it was long again she'd not bothered yet. "Its not just my face, or my thighs, or my breasts that are burned Tucker. Its everything. All of me." 

She was not the kind of person who tackled her friends and hit them. She was not the kind of person who got so violently angry that she wanted to hurt people. She wasn't the kind of person who called her friends a whole string of profanities."I don't like who I am anymore. But I don't know how to be me. I just know how to be the burned parts." 

"I can't look in the mirror, Tucker, I can't. I see… I don't just see the scars." If it were just scars, she would have gotten adjusted to it. But she had spent years fighting to keep herself sane. She had never really talked about it with Anyone. And she didn't want to talk about it with Tucker. He couldn't understand. It wasn't his fault. He just wasn't broken like she was, so he couldn't understand. Not like she wanted him to understand. But she didn't know how to make words. Not real ones. She struggled, starting and stoping, making frustrated noises in his general direction before she started using actual words again. "I can't because one side of me is still me. It's still me, but the other side of me is the me I am now, the burned me. And I don't know which one I hate more."

"I don't see the scars. I see the ballets I will never be in. I see meeting someone for the first time who doesn't avoid making eye-contact or who doesn't just blatantly stare. I see going into shops and not hearing mothers telling their children not to point." He could insist those things didn't happen, but she had been doing this for years. She knew better. "I see the boyfriends I will never have. I see first dates and first kisses. I see…" She did not continue her train of thought, but switched from what she was going to say to something else. "I see family pictures that I don't cringe when I look at, kids who actually look like me. Its not just the scars. Its… everything is burned."