“Imp. If you have to be a little cunty, as you so eloquently phrased it—”

Imp said something.

“Latin, I’m sure. If you have to be a Latin cunt—”

Imp said something else.

“Your effort’s wasted, because I didn’t even bat an eyelash at you knowing the word for it. If you have to be a jerkass to get through the next few hours, then you do that. But I’m going to warn you, if you don’t set boundaries, if you don’t keep the older Heartbroken from stomping all over what Chicken Little, Darlene, Candy and Lookout are trying to build, those four kids will never forgive you. They—”

A momentary pause, an interruption.

“—Yeah, ‘fuck’. Those four kids will love you but they won’t forgive you. They’ll wonder for the next forever about what could have been and when they’re nursing hurt feelings and resentment in their hearts, a little piece of that resentment and hurt will forever and always be ‘why didn’t Imp back us up?’”

There was a long pause. I didn’t hear any of Imp’s voice in there.

Tattletale went on, “If that triple-pronged dildo Samuel wants to stomp all over their feelings, mayyybe let him know you can stomp all over his. Make him buckle and the others will follow. If they’re really into it, you might need to get Chastity to back off, because she’s another mini-leader in that troupe. She always gets giddy when we order pizza and grumpy when it’s not the teenager with the scooter, and as far as I know she doesn’t even realize why. Mention it. That’ll get her to stop.”

Imp said something. I heard a long, drawn out sound that might’ve been a groan or a strangled scream.

“Together-together?” Tattletale asked.

One-word response.

“That’s fascinating. You could ask those two if they want dessert, and if one said yes, the other would skip dessert out of sheer spite. And they’re together on this?”

Another short response.

“Mostly together. That’s still something.”

Imp said something more.

“Easy. Drop a comment like how similar they are to one another sometimes. You—well say it and be careful, Imp. Obviously. So it’s Samuel, Juliette and Roman, you’ve got everyone else handled? How’s Flor? And she’s not being sly so you let your guard down? Huh, good for her. Okay. And Lookout?”

I frowned at Tattletale, as her eyes locked onto mine in the mirror.

“Good. Then it’s just the three older ones. Go handle that. Yeah, good luck. Bye,” Tattletale said. She didn’t hang up.

“Um,” Sveta said.

Tattletale held up a finger. After a pause, she said, “Don’t listen in on my phone calls, Lookout.”

She hit the button on the phone, then laid it across her knee.

“She was listening?” I asked.

“No idea.”

I sighed.