Chapter Text
Momsie didn’t wake up that day. Or the next. Or the day after that. For the next week Galinda spent practically all of her time glued to her phone, waiting for updates from Popsicle. They barely came and when they did they were short and almost brusque, because there wasn’t much to report. Boq and Alix spent most of the day in Momsie’s lab, tinkering with the flash drive. Nessa often sat with them for moral support. They hadn’t made any breakthroughs yet, but they were optimistic.
After a week the doctors said that Momsie’s condition was stable enough to release her for monitoring at the Annex. A state of the art infirmary had already been set up there before the team members arrived, so they had all the necessary equipment and Popsicle thought (and Galinda agreed) that Momsie would much rather recover at home than in a hospital full of strangers where anyone could be hiding a camera. The press pack that had been camped in front of the hospital since Momsie was admitted was still there when the helicopter flew away, camera flashes bouncing off of the windows and forcing Galinda to shut her eyes against the sudden glare. She squeezed Momsie’s hand, but it remained cold and listless. Galinda’s stomach turned over. There was something horrifying about holding a hand that should be so vibrant and full of life but instead was absolutely still. Popsicle faced the window, as if he couldn’t bear to look at them.
They settled Momsie in the bed at the farthest edge of the infirmary, where there was plenty of light streaming in through the windows and a beautiful view out over the back gardens that Momsie had landscaped when the girls were very small. Galinda took to spending most of the afternoon sitting with her, reading her way through the books that Momise had left on her nightstand. Although Momsie would never admit it, she had a soft spot for the kinds of summer romances with colorful colors that populated the Oz Times bestseller list. Sometimes Galinda just talked to Momsie about everything that happened at the compound, since the doctors said that she might be able to hear her. She told her about how Nessa and Alix had sat together at nearly every meal all week, and how Fiyero made Sarima laugh more often than anyone else did. She had watched Sarima practicing with the new shoes on the back lawn, trusting Fiyero enough to hold the rope that kept her tethered to the ground.
And Galinda told Momsie about the scrap of fabric that she and Elphaba had found in the woods. “I think she’s out there,” Galinda whispered, so quietly that Momsie wouldn’t have been able to hear her even if she had been awake. “I think she’s closer than we think. And I promise that I will do whatever I need to do to bring her back.” Momsie didn’t stir. Her eyes flickered under her eyelids, moving rapidly back and forth. Galinda squeezed her hand and willed her to wake up, but she didn’t. The silence pressed in on her until it was hard to breathe.
There was a soft knock on the infirmary door and Elphaba stepped inside, holding a pale pink mug. “I thought you could use something sweet,” she said, setting the mug down on the end table in front of Galinda.
“Thank you, Elphaba.” Galinda gestured for Elphaba to sit down in the chair on the other side of Momsie, knowing that Elphaba wouldn’t stay if Galinda didn’t ask her to. She visited Galinda every afternoon; Galinda suspected she was checking in on her, even if she was too kind to say so. Maybe Elphaba was right to be concerned. All of the recent happenings had unsettled Galinda: Momsie’s attack, the clothing in the forest, the figure who may (or may not) have been Aurellia, even the formation of the team itself. Each event snatched away a little more of the tenuous peace she had managed to find for herself in the years since Aurellia had vanished—because how could she ever really find peace when her sister was missing? How could she just go about her daily life when Aurellia might be dead and nobody would ever know it?
Unless Aurellia was never dead at all and might be nearby, closer than they had ever thought possible, just waiting for Galinda to find her.
But Galinda knew instinctively that she didn’t need to pretend in front of Elphaba. They could sit in silence and sip their hot chocolates, listening to the hums and beeps of the machines that worked to keep Momsie alive. Elphaba wasn’t the sort of person who pried or demanded more from Galinda than she could give. Whenever Galinda had something to tell her, she listened. She rarely volunteered information about her own childhood, though Galinda could imagine the broad outlines: the fear, the uncertainty, the guilt of knowing that perhaps her mother could have been cured if she hadn’t given birth to two Powered daughters. But Galinda tried not to pity Elphaba. She’d been subject to enough pity over the course of her lifetime. She knew how cloying it felt, like it was forcing her into a mold that she didn’t really fit. Enough people had tried to reduce Elphaba to something smaller than she really was—but they hadn’t broken her. Elphaba was still here, still working to build a better future. Galinda thought—no, knew—that she wouldn’t have been as brave if their positions had been reversed.
Eventually Popsicle came to take over the vigil or Oscar came to get Elphaba for team or individual training and Galinda was left alone. She spent some of her free time doing a different kind of research. She knew that if she was going to convince Popsicle to let her be on the team she was going to have to get along with everyone, not just Elphaba. And realizing how little she knew about Elphaba, besides the biographical information that had been in her file, had made Galinda realize that she should spend more time getting to know the other members of the team as well.
She started by searching up information on Boq. A simple online search brought up pictures of him standing in front of the Computer Sciences building at Shiz, holding a silver plated award. She found an article from a newspaper in Munchkinland, the Rush Margins Times-Gazette, that was titled Local Boy Wins Admission to Shiz University to Study Computer Science. Another article, dated several years later, read Boq Woodsman Wins Prestigious Science Prize and Registers First Patent. That brought her to the online patent base where she found that Boq had three registered patents for different types of gaming software. She found another picture of him with his award, this time standing in front of his family—recognizable because of their red hair, which was exactly the same shade as his. The article said he was the third oldest of five children and his parents had scrimped and saved every penny they could to send him to Shiz. “We always knew that he was destined for great things,” his mother said in the video that accompanied the article, sounding like she was near tears. “He’s been so smart, ever since he was a little boy.”
“He’s the best of us,” his father added, adjusting his glasses on the brim of his nose. One of their lenses was cracked. “We’ve done everything we can to help him unlock all of the potential that we know he has in him.”
Galinda looked up Fiyero next. The first image that came up was a carefully staged family portrait: Fiyero and his three brothers grouped stiffly around their parents, all of them staring unsmiling at the camera. They each wore charcoal suits. She learned that his parents were Vinkan nobility; although the title didn’t mean much in an era of representative democracy, it still carried some prestige. It still opened doors, particularly for wayward sons. And judging from the sheer number of tabloid articles that had been written about Fiyero Tigelaar over the course of his short life, he had needed second chance after second chance. The same girl was rarely pictured with him twice. Sometimes the cameras caught him stumbling out of bars, his eyes bleary and red. He’d failed out of three different schools before his parents had sent him to Shiz—and probably made a generous donation to the school in the process. He’d flourished at Shiz, studying Public Policy and heading twenty five different student organizations in three years. There were pictures of him taking part in the yearly regatta, water coating the ends of his hair; pictures of him planting a new tree on the quad, his hands caked in dirt; pictures of him holding a fencing trophy with a giant smile on his face. One of his friends was quoted as saying “Fiyero Tigelaar has never met a person he couldn’t charm.”
Then she moved on to Sarima. Like Boq, she was the first person in her family to attend Shiz, although she had earned a scholarship to study medicine. There was a picture of her and her five sisters on the train station platform, their arms thrown around each other as Sarima proudly showed the camera her offer letter. Sarima had excelled at all of her prerequisites and had earned some of the highest scores ever given out in her pre-med classes. In her final year, she’d completed a prestigious internship at Shiz General. So far, so typical. But then Galinda noticed something unexpected. After graduation, Sarima had received a full ride scholarship to study at Shiz’s medical school, but she had never enrolled. Why had she never gone back to school, when she clearly had such a bright future ahead of her?
There were no surprises in Nessa’s profile. She’d studied art and design at Shiz and her work had been featured in several student exhibitions: big canvases that were covered in sunbursts of color. Popsicle had installed a state of the art studio in the Annex just for her. In an interview with the student newspaper after the Spring Art Show, Nessa said that most of her work had been inspired by her childhood, growing up in a world that had always been hostile towards Powered Ozians. She described watching other children play in the street through their apartment windows, because it was too unsafe for her and Elphaba to play outside. “I suppose it’s not a surprise that I began to explore themes of isolation in my work,” she said. “When I was younger, art was the only way I could express my feelings, especially my confusion. I just didn’t understand why anyone would be afraid of me or my sister. I certainly couldn’t understand how they could hate us so much.” Galinda couldn’t help wondering how Elphaba had coped with the rest of the world’s disdain, since she’d never mentioned any artistic leanings. Sometimes she was tempted to ask, but there had to be a reason that Elphaba never really brought up her childhood. Galinda didn’t have to know the details to know that she’d suffered.
Every morning, before the rest of Annex woke up, Galinda took the suit out. As soon as she stepped outside every morning, it felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She might not have been able to wake up Momsie, but when she was in the suit she didn’t feel powerless. She made adjustments, making it faster and sleeker and more importantly quieter, so she could go on reconnaissance missions around the property as the sun burned its way skyward. Every morning she found herself drawn back to the bend in the road where they had seen Aurellia—or someone who looked remarkably like her, at least. Every morning she touched down in the woods, the soft undergrowth sagging under her metal boots, and looked for more scraps of clothing or dropped wrappers. She tried to temper the hope that surged through her chest. If Aurellia had been anywhere near Frottica all this time, surely they would have found her.
And still, Galinda always found herself taking off the suit and crawling into the hole in the ground, searching for new footprints or discarded bits of trash or other exits that she might have not seen on her first visit. And every day, Galinda came up empty. She flew back to the Annex in silence and headed into the shower, so she could wash the mud off of her hands and cheeks before anyone else could notice that she’d been gone.
One morning, she found Elphaba sprawled out on the chair across from the bathroom, reading a book. She didn’t seem surprised to see Galinda step out, her hair still wet. “You’re an early riser,” she said, in a way that suggested this wasn’t the first time she’d noticed.
Galinda felt herself stiffen, wondering how much Elphaba had seen. She had to stop her hand from instinctively flying to her necklace. Did Elphaba know about the suit? She’d overheard part of the conversation with Popsicle on her first night in the Annex. Would she threaten to tell him that Galinda was still working on it?
Elphaba finally looked up. “You’re going back to the cave, aren’t you?”
Galinda scuffed her sandal against the tile floor. “Well, ‘cave’ is rather a strong word for it, don’t you think? It’s really a glorified hole in the ground.”
Elphaba’s brow furrowed in concern. “You shouldn’t go there alone, Galinda. Even if the person we saw that night wasn’t…” She seemed hesitant to say Aurellia’s name, as if Galinda might break. As if she didn’t have to deal with people saying Aurellia’s name all the time, after she’d been featured on some Oz-damned true crime podcast that had gone viral. “Someone was clearly out there. And given what happened to your mother, it’s dangerous for you to go out alone. What if whoever attacked her comes back?”
Galinda was almost touched by her concern. Of course Elphaba didn’t think Galinda could take care of herself in an emergency. Galinda didn’t have powers of her own. “Momsie’s attacker is still at large. All the more reason to figure out exactly what happened that night, and what the person we saw has to do with it.”
“I agree that we need to investigate. I just don’t think you should do it alone.”
“Are you offering to help?”
It was hard to tell, but she thought that Elphaba’s cheeks darkened slightly. “If you’ll let me.”
Galinda could have fought her, but she found that she didn’t want to. Whatever was happening, she sensed that she would need as many eyes on the problem as possible. That was good scientific practice. She would have to be more careful using the suit so that Elphaba didn’t find out, but deceit had almost become second nature to Galinda in the last few years. Besides, Elphaba had already shown that she could be good in a crisis. So, they were doing this.
She held out a hand for Elphaba to shake. “Partners?”
Elphaba took her hand and shook it firmly, her fingertips cool and soft. “Partners.”
Later that day, they were having lunch after group training when the door to the kitchen opened and a young woman with a cascade of dark hair pulled back by a dark blue headband sashayed inside. For a moment Elphaba had a strange sense of deja vu—the newcomer looked just like Alix, but Alix was sitting on the other side of the table next to Nessa—but then she remembered that Alix had a twin sister. Where Alix was wearing jeans and a faded Shiz University t-shirt, the newcomer wore a designer sundress that matched her headband and heels that rivaled Galinda’s. “Good afternoon!” she trilled, pulling two racks of clothing into the kitchen after her. “My name is Angelique Duffroy, but you can call me Ange. I’m your fashion consultant and I’m here to get you ready for tonight’s photo shoot!” She said it all in one very long breath.
Sarima nearly dropped her water glass. “A photo shoot?” She sounded just as nervous as Elphaba felt.
“Yes! You’re going to be on the front cover of next month’s issue of Ozmopolitan!” Ange glanced around at them all, found Sarima’s confusion reflected on their faces, and frowned. “Didn’t Highmuster tell you?”
“He’s been a bit…preoccupied recently,” Nessa said, moving her pasta salad around her plate.
“Ah, right. His wife is in a coma.” Galinda flinched, but Ange didn’t seem to notice. “Well, the camera crew will be here at four so we’ll just have to do what we can. Is anyone finished?” Boq raised a tentative hand. “Wonderful. Follow me.”
“Where are we going?” Boq asked as he put his plate in the dishwasher.
“We’re going to have a fashion consultation so I can decide what you’ll be wearing and how you’ll be styled tonight,” Ange said, pulling her racks of clothing down the hallway with her. Boq followed her, his face turning rather green, like she’d said waterboarding session.
“Good luck,” Fiyero whispered, hiding a smirk behind his water glass.
“Oh Oz,” Galinda muttered as the door closed behind them. “I think I was supposed to tell you.”
“It’s all right,” Elphaba said, shooting Fiyero a Look. “We can manage,” she added, with more confidence than she actually felt. Ozmopolitan was one of the premiere magazines in the country—ostensibly a fashion magazine, but it was well known that everyone who was anyone had gotten a cover story at least once. Appearing on the cover of Ozmopolitan meant something. It made a statement, a demand to be taken seriously. A cover story would tell Oz that they weren’t going to disappear into the woodwork. They were going to demand change for Powered Ozians, change that Elphaba wasn’t sure the rest of Oz was ready to give.
Luckily, Galinda had been on plenty of photoshoots so she could tell the rest of them what to expect. “The questions have all been approved in advance,” she said as they sat in the den and waited for Ange to disappear with them, one by one. “No one will ask you about anything you haven’t already shared with us.” She distributed lists of questions for them to look over. Although Elphaba took hers with trepidation, she soon realized that Galinda was right: the questions were all straightforward, softball questions about her time at Shiz and the factors that had led to her joining the team. They only asked about her background in the broadest of strokes. Her parents weren’t mentioned. “They’ll take the pictures first and then each of you will do an interview with ShenShen.”
Sarima and Elphaba exchanged a look. “You mean the ShenShen?” Elphaba asked.
“Oh yes,” Galinda said, almost impatiently, like they weren’t talking about the most famous journalist in Oz. “Oscar called in a favor.” Elphaba was reminded once again that their childhoods had been very, very different.
Boq came into the room wearing a turquoise suit and a matching tie that he kept fiddling with until Ange gently knocked his hand away. When he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror over the television, he had to do a double take. Elphaba couldn’t deny that Ange had done a good job; the blue brought out the richness of his red hair, and his shoes added a couple inches of height without appearing to do so. He was wearing a silver watch that Elphaba had never seen before and she wondered if Ange had given it to him to help accessorize. Ange looked around the den, her gaze settling on Sarima. “You next.” Sarima followed her out, looking slightly pale. Fiyero reached out and squeezed her hand, his fingers closing around hers so quickly that Elphaba might have missed it if she’d been looking away.
One by one, everyone came back dressed in their finery. Sarima came back in a beautiful red dress that dropped low along her back, her hair swept back over her shoulder by garnet hairpins. Fiyero looked like he’d stepped right off the runway in a deep black suit, his hair sprayed with product until it lay flat. When he saw Sarima, for a moment his eyes went soft. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. For a moment they just looked at each other, like there was no one else in the room, and Elphaba’s stomach twisted the same way it had when Alix and Nessa had first made eye contact. She was happy for them, of course, but she felt left behind too—like the ground had shifted beneath her feet and no one had thought to tell her.
Though she should have been used to it by now, she supposed. That kind of love would never be for her, not with her Mark.
Nessa came back wearing a green dress with just the right amount of ruffles, the neckline low enough to be suggestive without being scandalocious. She beamed at Elphaba and Elphaba was forcibly reminded that she had grown up too. For as long as she could remember Elphaba had done everything she could to protect Nessa, both physically and emotionally…and now her sister no longer needed her.
Finally Ange turned to Elphaba and beckoned her forward. Almost instinctively, Elphaba’s eyes flicked to Galinda, who gave her a reassuring smile. “Ange is very good at what she does,” she murmured. Elphaba wanted to say that she didn’t doubt Ange’s abilities. She just doubted the fact that she could be beautiful at all, even for a magazine like Ozmpolitan. But Angelique was already leading her through a rabbit warren of rooms until they reached a large circular room that had been turned into a makeshift dressing room. A vanity had been erected in one corner and it was covered with enough makeup products to fill a small drugstore. Ange gestured for Elphaba to take a seat in front of the vanity and stared at her for a long moment, like Elphaba’s face was a canvas that she was trying to decide how to paint. Then she swept over to one of the racks of clothes and began to riffle through it. Elphaba realized that one of the racks had suits, while the other had dresses.
“Dark blue or black, I think,” Ange trilled, pulling out a handful of dresses. “Something that looks like the night sky.” She gestured Elphaba to the curtain drawn across the corner of the room. “Let’s see how it looks.”
Elphaba spent the next hour trying on at least ten different dresses, their quality so fine that she was nearly afraid to put them on. Every time she put a dress on she had to present herself to Ange, who fluttered around her like a very blue butterfly, checking the way the dress hugged her bust and shoulders and waist. Elphaba felt vaguely ridiculous, like one of the dolls she and Nessa had pored over in the department store catalogues that came every year that Mother had never been able to afford. Those dolls had eyes that opened and closed and came with an entire closet of clothes.
None of the dresses she tried were exactly right. Some were too big or too small. Some hung oddly on her shoulders or were the wrong color against her skin. Elphaba noticed that the rack of dresses wasn’t quite as long as she’d originally thought and was starting to worry that perhaps Ange wouldn’t find something that fit her after all, but then Ange handed her a black dress that slid through her arms like silk. “Try this one,” she said.
Elphaba knew, even before Ange looked her over, that the dress fit perfectly. It came in at her waist and flared out around her hips, rhinestones sprinkled amid the folds of the skirt like stars scattered across a hollow sky. It was such a beautiful dress that Elphaba caught her breath.
“This is the one,” Ange breathed, almost reverently. “That’s the dress.” Elphaba couldn’t say anything around the lump that had suddenly sprouted in her throat.
Ange led her back over to the vanity, styled her hair, and then applied a light layer of makeup to her cheeks and eyelids. Somehow, she’d managed to find a foundation that exactly matched Elphaba’s skin tone. “I made it myself,” she said to the question in Elphaba’s eyes. “You deserve to be just as confident as everyone else tonight.”
“Makeup makes you more confident?” Elphaba had never really thought about it that way. She’d watched Nessa apply her makeup more times than she could count, but Nessa had never really shown any pleasure in it. Makeup just seemed to be something she put on, because everyone else did.
“I’ve always thought so,” Ange said, swirling blush along her cheekbones. “It’s my mask that I show the rest of the world when I don’t want them to see exactly who I am. There you are.” She took a step back so that Elphaba could examine her reflection in the mirror. “Now you’re camera ready.”
Wearing makeup did feel like wearing a mask, Elphaba thought. She was still herself, but a carefully curated version. She could talk to ShenShen and know that even though the rest of Oz would see her, they wouldn’t have to see all of her. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice thick.
“Of course!” Ange chirped, checking her watch and swearing. “Come on—they’re almost here.”
They hurried back to the den, Elphaba trying not to stumble in the black kitten heels that matched her dress, where the others were still waiting. Fiyero grinned at her. “You clean up well, Thropp.”
She grinned back. “You’re not so bad yourself, Tigelaar.”
Galinda stood up so quickly she nearly fell over the back of the couch. For a moment she just looked at Elphaba’s dress and Elphaba was sure she was going to say it wasn’t right for the interview and send her back to change. But she just opened and closed her mouth and said “You look beautiful, Elphaba,” like it was the simplest thing in the world.
The word hit Elphaba in the chest and sent her staggering back a step. Not pretty. Not cute. Beautiful. No one had ever called her that.
She hadn’t seriously thought that anyone could call her that.
But before she could say anything at all, Oscar swept inside. He looked over them quickly, as if to make sure they were presentable, and then nodded once. “Wonderful job, Ange,” he said. “Everyone ready?” They all stared at each other and then nodded quickly. “Good. Highmuster was supposed to oversee this but since he’s, ah…otherwise occupied, I’m going to take over. Everyone all right with that?” There were more nods, decisive this time, and then there was a knock on the front door.
As soon as the door opened, the camera crew streamed inside. There were more of them than Elphaba had thought there would be and Oscar ushered them into a large room with white walls and matching carpeting, where a couple of chaise lounges had been tastefully scattered around. Some of the photographers set up their cameras and tripods while others directed them around the room, telling Elphaba and Sarima to sit on one of the lounges while Boq and Fiyero stood slightly behind them and Nessa moved her chair next to the chaise. They’d hardly taken their position when the cameras began to go off in flashes of light, turning Elphaba’s vision white. After a few moments they were rearranged againn—Sarima and Boq on the chaise, Elphaba and Fiyero on the sides. Again and again and again, different permutations of sitting and standing and, once, lying on the ground. Voices telling her where to look and smile, how to hold her hands. Ange darting here and there adjusting hair and touching up makeup. Oscar with his arms over his chest, talking with the photographers. Galinda pressed into the back corner with her OzPad tucked under her arm, as if trying to make herself as small as possible. Elphaba couldn’t help but notice how strange that was—Galinda, the life of the party, trying not to be noticed.
After some indeterminate amount of time, the photographers seemed to have gotten all the photographs they needed. When Elphaba blinked, she could still see splashes of white behind her eyes. Her cheeks hurt from smiling. But before anyone could move the chaises were rearranged again so everyone could sit down and ShenShen walked in on heels that rang through the room with every step. “Oscar, how lovely to see you again,” she said, flipping a notepad back and forth in her hands.
“ShenShen.” Oscar nodded to her and then extended a hand towards them. “This is everyone. I’m sure you’ve read about them.”
“Ah yes. The heroes.” She kept her voice purposefully blank, neutrally polite, so no one could gauge exactly how she felt about them. “Lovely to meet you all.”
“Lovely to meet you too,” Boq managed to stammer out. He clasped his hands together in his lap to hide his sweaty palms.
ShenShen’s eyes roamed over them, landing squarely on Elphaba. “Miss Elphaba, let’s start with you. Shall we?” Elphaba stumbled to her feet and felt a wave of relief wash over her when Galinda fell in step behind them, following them out. ShenShen’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, like she either hadn’t expected or didn’t particularly want Galinda to be there, but Galinda ignored her.
The interview was conducted in the den. ShenShen sat in the chair in front of the fireplace while Elphaba and Galinda sat on the couch closest to the double doors that led into another sitting room. “What an opportunity,” ShenShen purred, stroking her fingertips along the arm of the chair. “Miss Elphaba, I can guarantee that there are thousands—if not millions—of women in Oz who would give anything to be you right now—living in such a beautiful facility, one on one training with one of the most famous men in Oz, everything underwritten by Arduenna Technologies, and Oz, the size of that pool. It’s like a Cinderella story. ” Elphaba felt herself blush furiously.
“Stick to your questions, please,” Galinda said, her voice clipped. “We’ve had a very long week.”
ShenShen sniffed, offended. “I’m just trying to make conversation.”
Galinda’s eyes “Are you? Or are you trying to lull Elphaba into a false sense of security so that she’ll say more than she means to and you’ll have something scandalocious to write about in your article?” Her smile never wavered and her tone was unfailingly polite.
ShenShen’s lips pressed together, like she was sucking on a lemon. “I’d argue that what you’re doing is rather scandalocious in and of itself: introducing a team of superheroes into a world that has only just started to accept Powered Ozians.”
“And what better way to drive acceptance than by showing the rest of Oz that there’s nothing to fear?” Galinda asked. “My father only recruited the best of the best: the smartest, the kindest, the strongest. No one embodies our mission better than Elphaba Thropp.” She batted her eyelashes. “But then, you’re not here to talk to me, are you?”
“I don’t know, Miss Galinda. You seem to have a lot to say. Perhaps we should be interviewing you instead.”
“But I’m not a part of the team,” Galinda said, sitting back on the couch. There was a beat of silence, as if to say Not yet. “I’m just as ordinary as you are.” A muscle worked in ShenShen’s jaw, but she didn’t contradict her.
Elphaba recognized every question ShenShen asked from the sheet of paper that Galinda had shown her and she began to relax into her answers. Galinda nodded encouragingly every time she said something. Occasionally ShenShen asked her to elaborate, her pencil flying across paper, but the smug gleam had left her eye and she didn’t seem to be trying to catch Elphaba out in a lie. But Galinda watched her carefully, her entire body still and tense, like a lion waiting to pounce on its prey.
“Last question, Elphaba,” ShenShen said. “Why exactly did you choose to join the team? Was it just the glamour, the luxury, the—if rumors can be believed—sizable paycheck? Or do you also believe in Highmuster Arduenna Upland’s professed higher motives?”
Galinda’s cheeks went (adorably) pink, but before she could say something cutting, Elphaba spoke. “I believe wholeheartedly in Highmuster’s mission. My sister and I, and too many other Powered Ozians, know what it’s like to be hated and feared just because of who we are and what we can do. If we can show even one other person that they don’t need to be afraid, if we can ensure that even one Powered Ozian has an easier childhood than we did, or grows up never knowing the world’s hatred, then I will consider this team a success.” ShenShen didn’t say anything as she finished up her notes. Galinda sent Elphaba a covert thumbs up.
“It was lovely to meet you, Miss Elphaba.” ShenShen almost met her eyes, but looked away at the last moment. “Would you send Miss Sarima in next?”
Galinda and Elphaba walked together until Elphaba was sure they were out of earshot. “I’m pretty sure she hates me.”
Galinda scoffed. “It’s impossible to hate you, Elphaba.”
Elphaba almost told her just how wrong she was, with examples, but she found she quite liked being the person that Galinda thought she was—the same person that Oscar seemed to think she was: someone miraculous, someone special. “Thanks for helping me back there,” she whispered.
“Of course. And you needn’t worry about ShenShen. She acts tough, but she knows the family lawyers are tougher.” Lawyers, as in more than one. Like the Uplands were so powerful they needed a whole team of lawyers to defend them. “If she prints something unflattering, they know what to do. It isn’t the first time they’ve had to do this, after all.” Elphaba was very tempted to ask what that meant. For a moment, the air between them stretched taut. She was close enough to see that Galinda had a dusting of freckles on her cheeks, so light they were almost nonexistent beneath her foundation.
Galinda took the smallest of steps back, but Elphaba felt every inch of distance between their bodies. “I’d better sit in with Sarima and make sure ShenShen doesn’t get any ideas. I’ll see you tomorrow morning to investigate?”
“See you then,” Elphaba said as Galinda turned and walked away, every ring of her heels beating in time with Elphaba’s heart.