Wow, they really have influenced me in the last couple of hours.
Tink is finishing the outline of a curling black vine of flaming roses with thorns winding around my arm. My throat went dry when I realized what she was designing. I never mentioned being from the Realm of Roses. The fire reminds me of Talon.
“Tink’s talent is giving you the marking you need,” Ariel says after snapping another picture.
Snow’s sprawled across the couch, legs flung over Ariel’s lap as they sip iced coffees they got from The Magic Bean across the street. I nervously sucked mine down a while ago.
“Yeah, I got a handheld mirror that has the glass shattered,” Snow says, showing off the beautiful ink design on the inside of her forearm. “Still not sure what that’s about,” she mutters.
“You’ll know when you’re meant to,” Tink says without breaking her concentration.
“I can’t believe how nice you’ve all been,” I say, barely louder than a breath.
They all glance at me. Even Tink pauses for a moment.
Ariel raises a brow. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
I stare at the ceiling for a second. “People usually...treat me different. Either they want something from me, or they treat me like I’m not real. Like I’m some...object. Pretty, maybe. But not really a person.”
Snow lets out a low whistle. “Ah. Hot girl jail.”
I blink. “What?”
“You’ve been in hot girl jail,” she says, like it’s obvious. “People think you’ve got it so good they feel entitled to hate you for it. Project their own shit. Blame you for being born lucky. Sucks.”
That lands sharper than expected. Back home, no one had any concept of how difficult it was to be me. They just expected me to be grateful.
Grateful for the stares. Grateful for the silence they wanted from me. Grateful to be an ornament.
“That shit doesn’t matter here,” Ariel adds. “We all get judged when we walk in the door. Doesn’t mean that’s who we are.”
“Don’t you mean roll in the door?” Snow grins wickedly at her.
Ariel narrows her eyes in fake annoyance. “I’m going to steamrollright over you. And apparently no one would blame me, because I’m just a poor, helpless girl in a wheelchair.” She says the last part in singsong.
I nearly choke on my own spit. My laugh escapes in heaving wheezes.
Ariel blinks. “Oh my gosh, that’s how you laugh?”
“Be still,” Tink murmurs, pausing until I calm down.
“Dammit,” Snow gripes. “Well, Aurora knows better now. You’d avenge my death even against a seemingly defenseless girl, wouldn’t you, Aurora—ow!” Snow’s legs snap up as she rubs the part where Ariel gave her a wicked pinch.
“Thought you said I was defenseless?” Ariel bats her eyes at Snow.
I try to suppress my laugh so I don’t move, but it comes out as a rough snort.
“Sometimes people judging you by what they think you are leaves them at a huge disadvantage,” Ariel says with the first true grin I've seen from her. “I’ve learned to either prove them wrong as often as possible or,” she says with a lofty shrug, “exploit their assumptions.” Her face softens. “Really, Rap taught me that.”
A solemn moment quiets the group, as they pay silent alms to the bar owner.
“They'll underestimate you. Let them,” Tink says as if repeating some mantra.
“They’ll want you to play nice. Don’t,” Snow continues, still holding on to her bruised leg.
“Because Lost Girls aren’t made to fit in. We’re made to find each other,” Ariel finishes.
“And become unfuckable with.” Snow pumps a fist, finally dropping her leg.
