them like me at last. I’d been waiting for the prime time, thinking up how I could impress them. And I realised one way that would definitely win them round to me.” He smiled and the sight made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. “No one ever paid me any par-tic-u-lar attention so when I slipped down from the haystacks and took off my clothes to show them my party trick, they didn’t realise I was behind them until I hollered out.”
“Did they laaaugh at you?” Gambol asked with a sad frown.
“No, ma’am,” Plunger said, lifting his chin. “They watched in silence as I flipped the lid off Jimmy’s ice cream tub and wet my dipping stick in the chilly goodness. Then I stood up with ice cream coating my plunger and bent over, licking off every bit of it – I’m very flexible see.” He bent over, imitating what he’d done that day with added slurping noises that made bile rise in my throat.
“By the fucking moon,” I muttered as Gambol made frantic notes on her Atlas and everyone stared at him in horrified disgust.
Twelve scooted her chair away from him which was a feat in itself as she’d already moved it as far from him as possible when they’d taken their seats, and she had to force the guy in the chair beside hers to scoot over too. The look of utter repulsion on her face mirrored my own thoughts on that story precisely and for half a moment as she met my eyes, it felt like we were sharing something. Of course, her lip curled back a second later, reminding me that she held me in just as much contempt as Twenty-Four and I cursed myself for the errant, pointless thought as she turned her gaze away like I meant less than nothing to her. Which was how I wanted it. Obviously.
“No one came to the barn anymore after that, so I guess I did it wrong,” Plunger said sadly as he straightened. “I’ve perfected my party trick since though, so I won’t ever get it wrong again. If there are any requests, I’m more than happy to oblige-”
“Thank you,” Gambol said quickly. “For sharing. But we’ll move onto Rosalie now.” Everyone seemed thankful as Plunger sat down and I looked to Twelve whose nose was still wrinkled in disgust. She met my eye for a moment and my throat hardened as she got to her feet and turned to Gambol.
She twisted her fingers together, seeming nervous and that grabbed my attention like she'd just grabbed a fistful of my hair. I sat up straighter, frowning as she started her story.
"Well...when I was twelve, I had to move in with my step-mother for a while. My papa had married her on a whim and I'd never met her before, but I was excited to have a mother figure in my life. At first, my stepmother seemed nice. Things were okay. I used to help her out with chores. She lived on a farm so there was always work to be done and I wanted to pitch in. But she had two daughters who were a bit older than me and they used to laugh at my dirty clothes at the end of the day though I tried to laugh along, wanting them to love me as I tried to love them. After my papa died, my stepmother stopped making any effort with me. She never gave me the money to buy anything new and after a few months...my clothes were just rags. And when she started making me sleep in the attic...things got worse. "
My gut twisted sharply and the curse mark on my wrist started to throb as I gazed at her eyes and she blinked back the wetness gilding them.
"It was so cold up there," Twelve murmured, eyeing her fingers as they knotted tighter together. "And there were mice living in the walls. They were really my only friends for a while – I used to talk to them and make them clothes out of scraps I found which seems so silly now. The longer I was there, the meaner my stepsisters got, and my stepmother just worked me harder. I'd have to be up before dawn and clean the pigs and the horses out before making breakfast for the three of them. In the winter, the snow was so deep and even though my stepmother had fire magic, she never leant me any to