Chapter Text
Elphaba walked as briskly as she could without breaking into a run down Hatchetfield High’s main hallway. A few wayward students roamed the halls; the ones who didn’t go to class on time, usually on purpose. Elphaba recognized a few, and greeted them casually with a nod. Her tousled, short dark hair flopped up and down briefly. She grumbled, making a mental note that she needed to cut her hair soon. On the contrary to what everyone expected from her, considering her parents’ reputation in this town, Elphaba ran with the stoners and skateboarders. Speaking of her parents, she knew they would be pissed when they heard that Elphaba had been late to another class. They would’ve traded their daughter for anyone else, as long as she had long, beautiful hair, liked only boys, and kept her mouth shut. Elphaba sighed as she thought about all the ways she’d failed her parents, even back when she was a little kid. There’s just more to life than school, than being a lawyer and doing everything right, Elphaba thought as she defended herself. Her parents couldn’t understand that.
She yanked the door open to Mr. Nikidik's ethnic studies class and weaved her way in between the desks cobbled together to get to her seat in the back. Elphaba sat with a deflated sigh and put her head down on her desk. It seemed like instruction was over, and the kids were working on their assignments for the day. There was some sort of essay they were supposed to be working on, but Elphaba could not care less right now. Kids around her were glued to their phones, playing some sort of video game that was in right now. Well, at least she wasn’t the only one procrastinating on the assignment. To her surprise, the bell rang a few minutes later. Had she really been that late to class? This was a new low, even for her.
Elphaba made her way to the door eagerly, as 5th period was her last class of the day. She couldn’t wait to go home and skive off her homework by going skating or maybe texting Fiyero and Boq to hang out.
“Excuse me, Miss Thropp?” The dreaded voice called out, interrupting Elphaba’s reverie. Elphaba groaned inside. It’s not that he was a bad person, Mr. Nikidik. In fact, he was rather funny. But she just couldn’t deal with any of his shit anymore. He often stopped Elphaba after class and asked her how she would like to “get involved” at the school. After this, Elphaba had scoffed and complained to her friends, who were also adamant about not participating in anything they didn’t have to for school.
“Yes?” Elphaba said, with a bit of sass thrown on the end of the word. It might’ve been too much, Elphaba thought with an inward wince. Oh well, he could probably handle it. Mr. Nikidik had been teaching high schoolers since her parents had strutted these halls that Elphaba knew so well and hated.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to get you to sign up for the drama club. Or the yearbook class, or anything else. What I am going to say, might be worse, though,” Mr. Nikidik said in an even tone. Elphaba braced herself. What could be worse than extracurriculars?
“Let’s just face it. You’re either late to every class or not here at all. I know you’re a senior and the senioritis is hitting hard, especially with everyone done applying for college, but this is a required semester class for all 12th graders, and if you fail it, you will not be permitted to graduate this year,” said Mr. Nikidik.
Elphaba stood, motionless. Was she really failing the class? Maybe the senioritis was affecting her. Even though she hadn’t applied to any colleges. Oftentimes, she felt like everyone in the world was going to Harvard or Yale or whatever university, except her. But to go to college wasn’t Elphaba’s dream. She wasn’t smart like that; that lifestyle wasn’t built for her. Elphaba wanted to stay in Hatchetfield—away from her parents, of course—and work. It would be a humble lifestyle, but a welcome change from the way her parents lived, the way they forced her to live. Elphaba couldn't take the overpriced country club memberships, the PTA fundraisers and law firms that her father belonged to any longer.
“Come on, Mr. Nikidik, can’t there be something I can do? Or can you just boost my grade a bit? Round it up?” She begged, desperate to appeal to his sense of pity for a struggling student in need of a B. It could even be a C, for all Elphaba cared. All she needed was to pass the class; a C was sure as hell good enough.
“Actually, there is something you can do,” he said tentatively. Elphaba wasn’t sure what to expect.
“Luckily for you, there are quite a few other students who are failing ethnic studies this year, and me and the other history teachers have decided to give you all a chance to create a research project on your own time for the credit recovery you need,” Mr. Nikidik continued, “Just stop by on Wednesday after school and I’ll give everyone the details for the project. After that, you’ll have two weeks to research and prepare a presentation that you’ll present to the freshman classes, teaching them a bit about the history of our town while us teachers grade you based on your presentations.”
“So basically you’re making us do your job for you for a day?” Elphaba challenged, raising an accusing eyebrow.
“Maybe,” Mr. Nikidik chuckled. “But I suggest you take the opportunity, Ms. Thropp. Would you like to graduate this year?”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Mr. Nikidik,” she said, as she turned toward the door.
He turned back toward his work, probably grading papers, as she called, “See ya Wednesday!” He looked up to see Elphaba walking out of the class, her baggy, torn cargo pants dragging on the grimy floor.
~
Elphaba unlocked the house’s front door, beelining for the stairs that led to her room. Unfortunately, her mom, Melena Thropp, heard her enter and arose from wherever she had been binging the latest TV show she was obsessed with. Elphaba swore her mom had no life, no purpose. She was the epitome of what you would think of if someone asked you to come up with an identity for a privileged trophy wife.
“Hey honey, how was your day?” Elphaba’s mom asked her busily. “I was just shopping online for you before you came in, what a coincidence!” She followed Elphaba up the stairs.
“Thanks, mother, but I don’t need anymore clothes. Goodwill’s supply never runs out; people are always donating shit,” Elphaba shot back. She couldn't deal with her mom today, and she knew that her mom hated it when she mentioned the fact that most of Elphaba’s wardrobe had been bought at thrift stores or were hand-me-downs from friends’ siblings.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you that you’ve got to stop buying clothes from that…place,” her mom shuddered as she said it. Leave it all for the homeless people, you’re not in need like them! God forbid…” Elphaba’s mother began muttering under her breath.
“Your father can buy you something a thousand times nicer. Plus, all those baggy clothes don’t fit you. You need to learn to shop for your body type, Elphaba. You’re too petite to wear baggy graphic t-shirts and ripped jeans. They make you look fat!” Elphaba’s mom continued to follow her up the stairs, talking garrulously. Elphaba was desperate to brush her off, especially when her mom started on Elphaba’s body. She hated when her mom judged her like that.
“Jesus Christ, Mom, I don’t want anything nicer. I like what I have. And I don’t buy my jeans ripped, they get ripped after I wear them while skating,” Elphaba said with faked confidence. It seems like everything she did these days was fake. A performance for her parents. A facade. Elphaba opened her door that she kept shut while she was at school and closed it rather forcefully in her mom’s face.
She heard a loud scoff and a huff of annoyance.
“You know, one of these days you’re going to look back and realize that I was right about everything! You better enjoy all this before you regret wasting your youth. Like it or not, you are going to law school like your father did, and his father before him, young lady. And I don’t want to hear you taking the Lord’s name in vain in this house ever again!”
Elphaba sighed. She hadn’t told her parents that she hadn’t applied to any of the colleges her school had suggested, let alone any universities with law programs. She didn’t want to. Elphaba meditated on what her mom had said. Would she really regret her youth? Maybe Elphaba was kidding herself, maybe the way she was living her life was the ‘wrong’ way. What did she know? Elphaba was only eighteen, after all.
She approached the mirror that hung on the back of her wall, adorned with fairies and gold fringe. It was the one thing in her room that Elphaba hadn’t bothered to take down after she redecorated a few years ago. Before that, her room looked like the tooth fairy threw up in it. Glitter, pink, and ribbons were stripped down and replaced with deep forest green paint, posters of alternative rock bands, Elphaba’s two skateboards, and her friend Fiyero’s spare electric guitar that he kept in her room for whenever he was over.
Maybe her mom was right about the way she looked. Elphaba dressed like a seventy year old man—baggy clothes were convenient if she fell while skating, and shopping in the men's section allowed her access to clothes that were objectively more comfortable. Why anyone would subject themselves to a tight pair of shorts that showed half their ass, Elphaba hadn’t the faintest idea. She sighed. As soon as she thought she felt confident in how she presented herself, Elphaba’s mom came like a plow truck and tore down her resolve, every time. Her seemingly harmless comments about Elphaba’s appearance slid like slippery eels into the folds of her brain, coming back again and again to haunt her. Why couldn’t her mom just be supportive for once? Everything didn’t have to be her way.
Elphaba sat at her desk, determined to get a start on her Pre Calc homework that had been due last Friday, but her mind had other ideas. Elphaba sat, motionless, and let her mind wander until she thought her brain would explode.
When she couldn’t take the war raging on in her head for any longer, Elphaba got up abruptly, resolving to take a ride on her skateboard to clear her head. Riding during the cool evenings always comforted her. It was something about twilight that really got Elphaba, every time. There was nothing, no noise. Even if someone else was at the park as well, they weren’t really there; not according to Elphaba, not at twilight. In Elphaba’s mind, every single person lived in their own world during twilight, each one full of different, unique opportunities. It was the perfect time for letting one’s mind wander free to the depths of their imagination. Not Elphaba’s parents, peers or teachers could hinder or interrupt her. It was just her and the skateboard, moving almost as one on the smooth concrete.
Maybe the project would be a good thing. After all, Mr. Nikidik had given Elphaba a rare opportunity. She would be able to graduate now. Thank God. If Elphaba didn’t graduate this year, her parents would kill her. Elphaba sighed. Somehow, her mother had the power to wedge her way into the inner workings of Elphaba’s mind and jumble her brain completely, as if her mind was a filing cabinet and Elphaba’s mother a nefarious secretary who nursed a grudge against their employer. Her comments rang around Elphaba’s brain loudly, tearing down her every defense. How was it possible that her mom held this power over her?
Though, it didn’t matter, she thought. Elphaba’d be out of her parent’s house in no time. It had only been about eighteen years, but time was running out for the Thropps to shape and squish their daughter like a piece of limp clay to fit into their idea of a perfect mold of what Elphaba should look and act like. Too bad they hadn’t succeeded, Elphaba thought with a smirk as she pushed harder and harder on the concrete, gaining speed down a hill at an alarming rate.
~
“All right everyone, it’s time to head over to the rally. As a reminder, everyone is required to attend. Thanks for your cooperation, guys,” Elphaba’s Animal Science teacher announced the next day as all the students stood up and began gathering their things to head to the gym, where the dreaded rally would be held.
Elphaba couldn’t stand Hatchetfield High’s rallies, and she always plotted a way to get out of them. She just couldn’t handle spirit, the camaraderie. The cheerleaders looked too shiny and pure, impeccable makeup primed for a brand-new season of football where Hatchetfield High’s golden boys would lead the Nighthawks to victory against the Clivesdale Chemists.
Potentially. Both teams kind of sucked, and the winner could’ve just as easily been decided by the toss of a coin. Despite this, everyone in the whole town seemed to be willing to kill to ensure Nighthawk victory. People placed bets, knees bouncing up and down with anxiety as they sat on the cold, hard bleachers, taking the ‘big game’ as seriously as the NFL. Kids were hopped up on sugar and sometimes alcohol. Tension was always high, which was why Elphaba avoided anything that had to do with football and homecoming as much as possible. It was all just hype.
Maybe that’s why she didn’t really think of a way to skive off the rally, deciding instead to make a big show of straying away from the hordes of kids shuffling towards the gym.
“Fuck that,” she said in an even but moderately loud tone, making sure that everyone heard her as she sat at her desk.
A few students glanced her way and gaped, Mrs. Morrible started towards her.
“Ms. Thropp, I appreciate your spirit, but I’d like you to channel it into something positive, like maybe cheering at the rally we are all about to attend,” Mrs. Morrible said sternly.
“I’m sorry Mrs. Morrible, but I just don’t think this is really worth my time,” Elphaba said in a mock apologetic tone. She grabbed her bag and made a big show of getting out of her seat and stalking out of the room. The only thing keeping Elphaba’s resolve was her knowledge that she or any other teacher would not run after her. Fortunately, during rallies the security staff was always posted around the gym to make sure no shenanigans occurred as students plodded to and from the gym, allowing Elphaba to slip out of the school unbothered.
She slowed her walk and breathed a sigh of relief as she got closer to the exit. Elphaba might’ve seemed confident on the outside, sure. She always made sure that she did, as a part of her persona at school. A facade, if you will. Who could blame her? Nobody was truly themselves in high school. Everyone puts up a front, and Elphaba would too. Most of them didn’t even know who they really were. Elphaba sure didn’t.
Suddenly, loud, quickening footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Elphaba came to an intersection where one hallway met another and saw whom she had least expected: a beautiful, blonde girl was hurrying down the hall in her tight blue cheerleading outfit, lips as red as cherries and makeup as impeccable as a movie actresses’. Glinda Upland. She glanced at Elphaba, so quick a glance that it seemed to Elphaba nonexistent. Elphaba dared to look at Glinda’s face, to meet her eyes. They held eye contact for merely a nanosecond. As Glinda looked down at the taller girl, an expression of recognition, of loss, and hurt took over her face. But then it was gone, and Elphaba couldn’t have recreated it in her mind even if she tried. Even though she and Glinda used to be glued at the hip, even though she used to know Glinda’s every secret and Glinda her own. There was something different now, Elphaba noticed. Glinda had changed. Elphaba didn’t recognize her anymore, and didn’t want to. Or did she?
Glinda passed by Elphaba with a small huff of acknowledgement and kept walking. Elphaba dared not look back in case Glinda caught her at it. What was Glinda Upland doing all the way out here, when she should be in the girls’ locker room getting ready for the rally where she belongs? Glinda, the star cheerleader, should’ve been chanting words of encouragement and performing semi-impressive dance routines alongside the other girls.
The other girls. Her new friends. Elphaba couldn’t stand the cheerleaders, not when they took Glinda away from her, corrupting and coercing her into a new life that left Elphaba friendless sophomore year. But who was Elphaba kidding? She knew that Glinda had chosen to ditch her. It hadn’t been a plot, or manipulation. Glinda just…hadn’t seen the need for her best friend anymore.
Elphaba lamented on the years passed. Glinda and Elphaba, Elphaba and Glinda.
They used to do everything together—going to the movies and arcade, climbing trees and hanging upside down by their legs daring each other to fall, and doing pretty much anything that involved being outside, because of Glinda’s mom. Glinda could never stand being in her house when her mom was home. Luckily for them, Glinda’s mom was almost never home, and always arrived late at night, long after Glinda had gone to sleep. Glinda would wake up and call Elphaba, and they would both pretend to ignore the drunken yelling and banging around the house that came through Glinda’s end of the call. Glinda had trusted Elphaba with her broken secrets, but she revoked that trust after what happened when they started high school.
It was freshman year. Glinda had decided to join the cheer team in high school, even though she often complained about her mom pressuring her into it. It was the only thing her mom cared to talk about with her own daughter. At first, Elphaba encouraged Glinda in her efforts. She even helped her practice for tryouts, and they practiced in Elphaba’s backyard every day after school. Elphaba knew that it wasn’t just her mom’s idea; Glinda wanted to do this too. But once she got on the team, Glinda changed. She stopped calling Elphaba in the middle of the night, stopped texting her back, stopped biking home with her after school. Glinda had left Elphaba with no explanation, and Elphaba had now realized that this was unfair of Glinda. She should’ve at least been honest about ditching her. They had gone from best friends to nothing in just a couple of weeks.
The final blow came as Elphaba kept texting and calling Glinda, begging to every god she didn’t believe in for her friend to somehow have an epiphany, ditch the jocks and popular girls to come back to her best friend. But apparently Glinda had gotten tired of hearing from Elphaba, and instead of just blocking her like a normal person, she had done something completely uncalled for and possibly illegal. Elphaba supposed that Glinda had thought Elphaba wouldn’t be home when she and her friends pulled up in someone’s Tesla armed with as many toilet paper rolls as they could carry. But Elphaba’s usual skateboarding routine had been interrupted when she had fallen pretty badly early in her route, so she had decided to call it a night, needing ice and an extra-large band aid urgently. Later, Elphaba happened to look up at the kitchen window where she was icing her knee and saw a few shadowed figures scampering back into a car parked in front of Elphaba’s house in the dark of the night, whooping quietly. Suddenly, she recognized one of them. The streak of blonde hair and pale, freckled skin was unmistakable. It was Glinda. Foolishly, Elphaba had thought that Glinda might have come to her house to try to reconcile their friendship. As soon as a sigh of relief washed over her, however, a tire screeched as they zoomed off. Elphaba, puzzled, went outside to see why Glinda and her friends had been loitering around her front yard.
Then she saw it. The toilet paper everywhere: in the trees, the solar panels on the roof, the grass, her mom’s garden. Empty rolls fell limp on the grass, and Elphaba physically sank down to the ground, her legs unable to support her any longer. It was then that she knew. Glinda didn’t want to be friends anymore. Elphaba didn’t know what she had done to deserve this, but at that moment, she had decided to hate Glinda for the rest of her time at Hatchetfield High School. No matter what, Elphaba would never interact with or think of Glinda for as long as she lived.
But there was just something about her.
Of course, it was impossible to completely avoid running into her ex-best friend at school, no matter how hard she tried. And when Elphaba did see Glinda, she couldn’t help but want to care for her. She wanted to be close to Glinda again, wanted her to call in the middle of the night so Elphaba could comfort her. Whenever she ran into Glinda she just couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from her. It was like Elphaba was in the presence of a mystical, ethereal being. Glinda was perfect in every way, and Elphaba…wasn’t.
It might’ve been jealousy, with all of what Glinda had. Glinda was Melena and Frexspar Thropp’s dream daughter. If Elphaba had everything Glinda did—status, looks, smarts—her mom wouldn’t scream when she traipsed into the house with scraped up elbows and knees from skating and her dad wouldn’t curse at every C or B on her report card. Glinda was going places, even though she had useless, unsupportive parents. Elphaba was not.
In her heart, Elphaba knew that she hoped Glinda was doing all right, knowing that her dad, who Glinda had never even met, would never support Glinda or her mom. By this point, Glinda’s father had probably forgotten that he had ever had a child. At this thought, Elphaba became full of rage. How could one help make such an incredible human being like Glinda and then just leave it all to find its own way in the world? Glinda was delicate. Fragile. She needed people to protect her. She had no father and practically no mother, so Elphaba had been Glinda’s substitute support system. At least, she had been. Elphaba sighed. She had no idea how Glinda was doing, but she hoped against all her common sense that she was happy with her new and improved life, even if it meant that Elphaba would not be a part of it. She was willing to make that sacrifice.