“She said what she did to you,” Dot said, interrupting. She wasn’t moving as much as she had been. “You sounded beautiful and noble.”

That being said to me, somehow, seemed to slap Amy across the face more than my calling her a cunt, earlier.

It kind of slapped me across the face too, for that matter.

“You’re not helping, Dot,” Amy said.

“Not trying to help. Am saying,” Dot said. “I think you thought it beautiful and noble too or you wouldn’t have done it.”

“It was a mistake,” Amy said.

“I’m sorry you look boring and ugly now,” Dot told me, her ears turning my way a fraction of a second before her head did. “Nothing interesting about you. You not so beautiful as she is.”

“But she did it without asking. I wasn’t her subject. Hunter wasn’t her subject. She made mistakes with… how many others?”

“Three or four,” Amy said.

“Ten, twelve,” Dot said. “I wasn’t there for all. I saw some and decided to stay and watch. I hope every time for more beautiful-interesting things.”

“Not ten or twelve,” Amy said. Her voice was tight. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Coloring outside the lines,” I said.

“Yes!” Dot said, her eyes widening. “I love those words. I love color.”

“Do you remember what she did?” I asked. Dot was… she was like a miniature force of nature in this confined space we occupied. The more exuberant she got, the worse it was for both Amy and I.

But it was putting pressure on Amy, uncovering more truths. Her buttons were obvious, apparent, and easy to push.

“Girl with a bad back, twisted up. The day after Hunter,” Dot said. “Back straightened until it broke. Snap, crack, couldn’t walk. She screamed.”

“That was one,” Amy said. “I fixed it.”

“The old man. Aged backward,” Dot said.

“Just stop, okay?” Amy cut in. “This isn’t helping anything.”

“Was it interesting?” I asked.

Dot’s head turned my way, eyes wide. She looked interested at the sheer mention of the word interesting, ears up. Then the ears dropped to the sides and she shook her head. “Not really.”

“Dot,” Amy said.

“Why not really?” I pressed.

“Because it was ordinary. He old and kind of interesting looking, then he young and not so interesting looking. But he shouts and swears and says not his face, not his face.”

“He wanted to be young again,” Amy said. “He was offering a lot, politically and for what we could give to Gimel. We struck a private deal. I de-aged him, made him thirty again, but he didn’t recognize his face in the mirror as the one he used to have. He was upset and didn’t follow through on his end of the deal. Said I made him ugly.”

“Very plain,” Dot added.