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Molars are the big lies, the lies that hurt people and aid in truly bad things happening-- they're the painful ones. The little ones taste like copper, sharp and bitter when she runs her tongue over her gums (she's grown to like those). Telling the truth doesn't bring her teeth back, it only keeps the teeth she has; but who says those have to be hers? It's a bloody loophole, but a spoiled little girl with a tendency to lie turns into a vain woman with a need for perfection. They say there's something dangerous in the woods, something ferral that ripped the jaw right off the Peterson's boy-- but Charlotte's house borders the woods, and she'll tell you she doesn't believe that. A shame they had to have a closed casket, he had such a perfect smile.