Page 84 - What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours

“For what?” Gustav asked, laughing, but Rowan just plugged his earphones in

and sauntered off.
—

TYCHE AND MYRNA came back from Scotland with tender new constellations, one
tattooed on Tyche’s left arm and the other on Myrna’s right. They’d chosen a
configuration of four brilliant stars collectively called the Chameleon. Rowan
looked on impassively as Myrna tucked notes into Tyche’s locker for her to read

later. Tyche whispered her replies into Myrna’s ear and Myrna smiled in a way
that most onlookers took as confirmation of erotic intimacy, though knowing
what I did about Myrna’s aversion to flesh I doubted it. As for Radha, the fight
never quite went out of her—she admired the tattoos, continued to fluster Myrna
by cheerfully calling her “wife” to her face, and invited Tyche and Myrna puppet

shopping, though she returned from those trips empty-handed. Music was the
only thing that exposed her; she found that she was too easily brought to tears by
it, and skipped so many tracks on her playlists that I lost my temper and
switched the music off altogether, leaving her to work at her desk amid a silence
she looked grateful for. At times she held her head in her hands and laughed
softly and ruefully. She found notification of a missed call from Gustav on her
phone one night and made no attempt to return the call but stayed up late, very

very late, in case he tried again. (He didn’t.) Ah, really, it was too annoying how
bold these ones were when they were in each other’s company and how timid
they were when apart. It was beneath me to knock all their pretty heads together
and shout, “Exactly what are you trying to do with each other?” but it was my
hope that Rowan would. Rowan was more interested in knitting a snowflake
shawl, so Radha continued writing for Gustav’s puppets unhindered. She was

scripting her contribution to the school’s end-of-term show; the working title
was Polixena the Snitch and all that I was permitted to know about it was that it
was mostly set in a karaoke bar for gangsters.
—

THE SEGMENT following Polixena the Snitch belonged to Tyche and Myrna, who
were working on an idea of Tyche’s they called The shock of your life or a piece

of cheese. We, the audience, received cards in advance: One version of the card
read Shock, and beneath that word was an instruction to write a name (CANNOT
BE YOUR OWN). The other version of the card read Piece of Cheese, and again
there was space to write a name that was not your own. These cards provoked