Page 132 - What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours

she actively listened for them. Lisbon, Paris, and Vienna were tough places for

her, beauties clotted with blood. Hilde refused to accompany Theo to Oslo.
“About a quarter of my family lives there, Theodora. Let me know these things
in my own way.”
—

AND THEN THERE was Grainne Molloy, who had lobbied to be recorded in the
annals of the Homely Wench Society as “the irrepressible” Grainne Molloy,

unsuccessfully, since, as Hilde pointed out: “Sometimes you are repressible,
though.” While Grainne did truly lose her temper several times a day, that
frenetic energy of hers occasionally served to obscure another trait: the cool and
calculated collection of incriminating anecdotes.

—

THE NEWEST HOMELY WENCH was half in love with every single one of her fellow
Wenches, but she wasn’t sure what she, Dayang, brought to the mix. She’d been
a member for just over three months and hadn’t had an idea for an article or a
group activity yet. She snapped the group photos so she wouldn’t have to see
physical proof of her being odd man out. Maybe she could do something toward
recruitment; a few of her friends from college and faculty had seemed interested

when she mentioned the Wenches.
—

FLORDELIZA, the youngest Wench, their first-year, arrived late. As expected.
“Afternoon, ladies!” She grabbed a handful of biscuits and flopped down onto
Day’s bed. She’d been growing out a side Mohawk since the summer, so her

front hair was still much longer than it was at the back. Her clothes were
crumpled and she’d clearly slept without removing her eyeliner; Day had barely
noted this before Flor announced that she had a tale of shame to tell. But also a
tale of possibility.
“Go,” Theo commanded from the window seat; she’d arranged Day’s curtains
about her so that they resembled a voluminous toga.
“OK, first of all, you’re not allowed to judge me . . .”

“We’re all friends here,” Marie said, sternly.
Flordeliza revealed that a member of the Bettencourt Society was into
Yorkshire Filipinas. “Or maybe just into this?” She pointed at herself.
“Oh God,” Grainne shouted. “Oh God, Flordeliza, what did you do?”