Chapter 4
Glinda doesn’t leave her room for the rest of the night. For the longest time, she doesn’t even leave her bed. She lays there, silent and brooding and imagining the different ways she can take out the green girl.
After a while she calms down and her glare softens into a slight scowl, not that the ceiling particularly cares. As her anger starts to fade, she imagines Ama Clutch’s voice.
Now, duckie, was all that really worth it?
She pictures the old woman looking down at her, stern yet kind. But then she remembers her last conversation with Ama.
Are you really ready to kill other people?
Glinda jumps to her feet and pushes away from the bed, shoving away the image of tears filling Ama Clutch’s eyes. She stomps into the bathroom, breathing hard, and punches a few buttons on the panel in the shower. A minute later she’s standing under the spray, letting the hot, soapy water wash over her.
“I’m ready,” she mutters to herself. Her eyes slide shut and she takes a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of water dripping down her skin. “I’m ready for these Games.”
But was it worth it to make a target out of a single tribute?
Glinda thinks about it. It seems childish, maybe, but surely it’s justified. It’s one thing for the blonde to only get a nine in training, but as if that isn’t bad enough, she was put at the same level as some girl from Munchkinland. Getting the same score as other Careers—and maybe even a few Vinkans—makes sense. But the green freak? No way.
She tries to imagine how Elphaba’s role in the Games will play out. With a score as good as or better than half the Careers, she’ll definitely be a target of the alliance that Avaric is leading. Being anywhere near the green girl would mean being near that pack of tributes, which isn’t exactly ideal. But it would also mean that Glinda knows where most of her biggest threats are, which could be useful. And if the green girl panics and loses control, and if the alliance pack is close enough, and Glinda plays it just right…
The blonde shakes her head. It’s no use planning out details now, not when she has no idea what will actually happen in the arena. But her anger has faded into certainty now, and her mind has been made.
All the Emerald City wants is a good show, anyway. And she’s sure they’ll enjoy watching her hunt down the green freak.
***
Glinda feels better when she wakes up the next morning and, for the most part, her good mood lasts throughout the day.
She spends the morning with Dina and Nikidik, preparing for tomorrow’s interview, which will be televised and viewed by all of Oz. Not that Glinda is worried. She has excellent posture, walks gracefully in heels, and is a master of manipulating attention to her benefit. The hours fly by as she’s showered with compliments and little bits of advice from both the Emerald City citizens.
After lunch, she’s in Madame Morrible’s room. The mentor takes one look at her and scoffs.
“You’re set on going after Miss Thropp, aren’t you?”
“W-what?” Glinda stammers. She feels a real blush creep into her cheeks and fidgets in her seat. “I never—how did you—?”
“I saw you last night,” says Morrible. “Of course, you could be over the scores by now, but the look on your face as I’m talking about it says otherwise.”
Glinda attempts to smooth out her expression. “Alright fine. Look, I know you said to avoid her, but—”
“With that score she’s going to be a target.” Morrible raises an eyebrow at her. “You do realize that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Glinda says firmly. “An alliance was formed in training, and I’m almost certain they’ll go after her, too. If I follow her and I’m careful, I’ll always know where they are. They’ll be too focused on chasing her to find me.”
“So you’ve thought this through.”
“Yes,” she says again. “Besides, if it’s true that her family isn’t very popular in the Emerald City, then whoever kills her is sure to become an audience favorite. And the more the audience likes you, the more sponsors you get.”
Morrible studies her. “You are correct, Miss Glinda. Perhaps your determination is for the best. My only other advice would be to stay out of sight and keep an eye on whatever Career alliance forms, so I suppose this works just as well. You must remember, though, that Elphaba Thropp will be more resourceful than you expect. Do not underestimate her.”
Glinda nods but she has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She knows better than anyone that appearances aren’t always accurate, but she’s been watching the green girl from the beginning. She has Elphaba figured out—what could possibly be left to surprise her?
“Any other advice?” she asks.
Morrible gives her a look. “Take a seat, Miss Glinda.” She waits for the blonde to do so before continuing. “Now, I know you’re upset about the nine you got in training, but that’s still quite impressive, both to the Gamemakers and potential sponsors. Besides, getting anything higher would have probably made you a target to young Master Tenmeadows, and then you’d be in a fair bit of trouble, whether you wanted to join an alliance with him or not.”
“I’m not joining any alliance,” Glinda says.
“Very well,” Morrible answers, though not before giving her another look. “Then let’s move on to what happens after the Cornucopia—provided that you survive until then.”
Glinda grits her teeth. Careers almost always survive the bloodbath of those first few minutes. Morrible has to be trying to get a rise out of her now, but what is she supposed to do about it? She forces herself to unclench her fists and smooth her fingers against the skirt of her dress.
“Obviously the alliance will take over the supplies at the Cornucopia, so I shouldn’t linger,” Glinda says. “But I can handle myself long enough to get what I need and run off.”
Morrible makes a noise in the back of her throat. “You said a dagger was your best weapon, correct? There will be plenty of those to choose from, but don’t get too picky. The faster you get out of there, the better. Those who remain to claim the Cornucopia will stay there a while to go through supplies and work out a plan. In the meantime, you can get a head start.”
“On hunting Elphaba.”
“Yes. Though don’t start after her until you’re alone. You don’t want anyone else to know you’re chasing her.”
Glinda nods. She wonders how it will happen. Will she find the green girl right away? Will she track her down slowly, or hang around her for a while to see what happens? There’s no way to know. Once they’re released into the arena, anything could happen.
She can’t wait.
The afternoon passes slowly as they continue to discuss strategy, but by dinner even Morrible seems pleased by their work, and Glinda is more confident than ever.
The meal is quiet and a little awkward. The mentors and Nikidik have all but done their jobs—the only thing left to do is get them to the arena on time. Tomorrow will be the interviews, of course, but that day belongs to their stylists and prep teams. And since they’re absent from the room, there isn’t much to talk about. The adults keep up half a conversation, but Glinda and Jeron eat silently.
The blonde keeps sneaking glances at her fellow tribute. What is he thinking? What strategies has he planned? Has he discussed anything with the other Careers? Did that alliance make any plans, or are they all just running on the hope that they don’t kill each other at the Cornucopia in two days?
Two days. Glinda has to stop and think about that. Two days until they’re put into the arena. No, less than that, because today is almost over. What are the other tributes thinking? Are they excited, like her? Are they nervous? Terrified, even? What is the green girl doing right now? Making plans with the boy from her district? Glinda smirks into her glass as she takes a drink. No, probably not. The two seem somewhat friendly, but Elphaba has to know that Boq is helpless. Oz, even he has to know that.
These thoughts follow Glinda late into the night, and it’s a while before she’s able to actually fall asleep. She doesn’t think she’s the only one, though. She can practically feel the buzzing of restless minds throughout the Training Center, and it’s still an entire day before the Games.
Glinda smiles and turns over to nestle more comfortably into her pillow. Just one more day before the thing she’s been waiting for all her life begins.
***
Since the interviews aren’t until evening, they get to sleep in a little bit the next day. It’s mid-morning when the prep team arrives, giving them plenty of time to completely transform Glinda, but they get to work immediately.
By the time Dina shows up late that afternoon, her arms full of a long plastic bag and a small box, Glinda is nearly ready. Her hair is twisted into a bun at the back of her head, with her bangs curled and down, brushing against her cheeks. Her nails are painted a deep emerald, and every piece of jewelry she wears—from the necklace that hangs just above her sternum to the earrings dangling from her ears to the clip that holds her hair in place—shines as bright as the stylist’s unnatural eyes.
Dina hangs her bag on the wall and shoos the prep team away before turning to Glinda.
“You ready?” she asks. The blonde nods.
“Are we still going for innocent?” she asks, moving closer to the dress.
Dina just smiles. “Close your eyes.”
Glinda does. She hears the rustling of the bag, then the quieter shifting of fabric. Dina tells her to lift her arms, and then the dress is being slipped over her head, onto her body.
“Okay,” Dina says. “Open.”
There have been crazy outfits in the interviews. Tributes have walked onto the stage in feathers or flames or even nothing but paint or dye. All things considered, Dina’s designs have been entirely plain. And to Glinda’s surprise, she’s in love with it.
The gown is a deep, rich emerald, and something in the material makes it sparkle like the actual gems she’s wearing. There’s a soft white sash in the middle, and white lace flowers branch away from it, reaching nearly halfway down the skirt and coming up to form thin, lacy sleeves that come to Glinda’s elbow. The bottom of the skirt hovers at her ankles and for a second Glinda looks down at her feet, suddenly afraid of tripping.
“Here,” Dina says, grabbing the box she was carrying earlier and opening it. “I hope you like them.”
The blonde looks down and audibly gasps. Inside the box are a pair of jeweled shoes, shining and glimmering. Her hands shake as she reaches for them.
“They’re heavy,” she says, holding them closer. “They can’t actually be…”
“Real, solid emerald,” Dina says proudly. “Cut and shaped specially for you.”
Glinda clutches the shoes, suddenly certain that she will never in her life hold anything more precious. She has no words, but Dina seems to understand. She leans over to give Glinda a quick kiss on the cheek, then gently takes the shoes and bends down to help her into them.
“Normally,” she says, “This is where I give you some last piece of advice or encouragement. But honestly, I think you’ve pretty much got it.”
Glinda beams. She likes compliments. She likes looking amazing. She likes Dina, and the way she has never underestimated her because of her size.
“Thank you,” the blonde says. “The dresses, the shoes, everything has been so amazing.”
Dina takes Glinda’s hand and squeezes tight, and then the blonde is being led out of her room to the elevators on their floor.
Everyone else is already gathered there. Nikidik and the rest of the styling crews nearly squeal when they see her. As they all start complimenting Dina, Glinda meets Jeron’s eyes. His cheeks go red and he looks away, and Glinda can’t help but smile.
The elevator arrives and they all climb in to head down to the ground floor. The interviews will take place on a temporary stage that has been set up just outside the Training Center. Glinda thinks of all the people and cameras and bounces a little in her shoes, ignoring the look Morrible gives her.
As soon as they reach the ground, Glinda and Jeron are ushered away. They line up in order with the other tributes. Glinda leans around Jeron and looks back, trying to see if a certain green girl is here yet, but before she can get a good look the music starts playing and they’re being led up a small staircase and onto the stage.
Glinda is immediately blinded by the bright lights, but she can still hear the Emerald City crowd. The applause is overwhelming. She hears her name over the roar of the crowd as people call out to her specifically. She beams at the audience and cameras and gives a tiny wave, which earns her even more cheers.
Their seats are arranged in a semicircle toward the back of the stage. Crope and Tibbett are already bouncing around the front of the stage, as loud and enthusiastic as the crowd is. They begin as soon as the applause has died down enough for them to be heard. Once they welcome the crowd and get a few laughs out, they introduce the first tribute.
Shenshen stands from her chair and walks toward the boys. Her dress is tight and low-cut, even more revealing than at the opening ceremonies. She speaks in a low, smooth voice, stands with her chest out, and plays with her hair every other question. The crowd is immediately in love with her. Even Crope and Tibbett play along, although Glinda knows from years of watching the Games that the two boys only have eyes for each other. By the time the buzzer signals Shenshen’s interview is over, Glinda can’t remember a single word she’s said. She’s sure half the men in the Emerald City are the same way, but it doesn’t matter. They won’t forget her anytime soon.
Avaric is next, and half the girls in the crowd are screaming before he can even take his place at the front of the stage. He’s dressed sharp but you can still see how big he is, how much muscle he has. He performs flawlessly throughout his interview, giving brilliant smiles and winks that make the crowd go crazy. When the commentators go along with the flirting this time, Glinda isn’t entirely sure they’re faking it.
The next Gillikin district is called. The girl answers every question with some sort of witty comeback, cracking the audience up. The boy is huge and brooding, and he responds to Crope and Tibbett with a series of one word answers, or sometimes just grunts. Still, he’s big enough that it’s intimidating, and the crowd’s reaction makes it obvious that he’s still a favorite.
“And now, from the Pertha Hills district, Glinda Upland!”
Glinda’s heart pounds as she stands and walks toward the front of the stage. She’s suddenly aware that she’s trembling, but she masks it with her best smile and shy little waves at the crowd. Crope and Tibbett each shake her hand and smile reassuringly at her.
“May I say, you look wonderful this evening,” says Tibbett. “That dress is gorgeous.”
The lights are so bright and she’s so dizzy all of a sudden that when she smiles back at him, she thinks the flush in her cheeks might actually be real.
“Thank you,” she says. Her hands go to her skirt and she holds it out. “I can’t believe I’m actually wearing this. And just look at these shoes.”
She lifts up the dress a little to show them off, and the crowd cheers appreciatively.
“So, Glinda,” Crope says, “Pertha Hills is the smallest Gillikin district, correct? Tell us, what’s different between here and there?”
The blonde giggles. “Well, it’s a lot greener here.” That gets her a laugh. “No, but seriously. Everything is just so grand and wonderful. It’s like a dream come true, being here.”
“Is there anything you miss about home?” Tibbett asks.
For the first time, Glinda realizes Ama Clutch must be watching this.
“My family,” she says, somewhat slowly. “My parents and my Ama. They mean the world to me.”
There’s a collective aww from the audience. Glinda smiles down at her feet.
“Did you get a chance to say goodbye?” asks Crope. “After the reaping?”
“I did. My parents told me they were proud of me. And my Ama…” Glinda trails off, hearing the old woman’s last few words to her. Are you ready to kill other people? Are you really that excited to throw away your life? Even if you win, you might not be coming back in one piece.
The blonde realizes she hasn’t finished her sentence yet. The audience is murmuring. Crope and Tibbett are staring expectedly. She thinks fast. Her left hand reaches up to cup her right elbow and she ducks her head away, sniffing just loud enough for the boys to hear.
“It’s okay,” Tibbett says gently, putting a protective arm around her shoulders. “We understand.”
Glinda mumbles an apology and looks up again in time to see at least a few people in the front rows dabbing at their eyes. She blinks a few times before nodding a little at the boys.
“One last question, before our time is up,” Crope says gently. “If that’s okay?”
“Y-yes, of course.”
“Your reaping. I think we’re all dying to know—why did you volunteer? What was going through your head?”
Glinda smoothes her hands against her skirt and takes a breath. She’s had this answer planned for years. “Well, I was thinking of my family. See, we live in a small house several miles outside the closest city, and I’ve always thought that my parents and Ama deserved better. I’ve wanted all my life to win the Games so that we could live in the Victor’s Village and have everything we want.” There are more sounds of sympathy, of adoration, but then Glinda gives a little laugh. “Of course, now that I’ve spent time in the Emerald City, I realize that nothing in Pertha Hills could ever compare.”
That gets her even more applause, but before the boys can respond her buzzer goes off.
“Well, we wish you all the luck with that noble cause,” says Crope, grasping her hand and raising it in the air. “Glinda Upland, tribute from Pertha Hills!”
Glinda stares out over the crowd as they cheer, completely in awe. She manages another smile and wave before she heads back to her seat.
She sits trembling, in a daze, throughout all of Jeron’s interview. She misses most of what he says, but the adrenaline and excitement wear off by the time they call the first Vinkan district.
It’s the Sarima girl. She walks to the front of the stage with a calculated sort of grace—like a hunter, Glinda thinks. Her outfit is made out of leather and animal skins, and it shows off most of her skin. She looks too young in it, though, and it’s clear that she’s overwhelmingly nervous when she shakes the boys’ hands.
They ask her about the Vinkus, about her skills as a hunter, and even about her relationship to Fiyero. Apparently everyone has noticed there’s something there. But she doesn’t give them a clear answer, and her time is up before they can press the issue.
Fiyero is next, and for the first time Glinda realizes how attractive he is. His dark skin and bright tattoos—which she’s only caught a glimpse of in training, but are now on full display—make him exotic and exciting. He looks like he could be dangerous, too, but at the moment he’s just endearing. He grows more and more bashful as Crope and Tibbett tease and flirt, and Glinda can practically hear the sponsors lining up for him.
“Now Fiyero.” Tibbett lowers his voice and leans in “Sarima didn’t give us nearly enough detail. What’s the deal with you two? You knew each other before the reaping, yes?”
“Y-yeah,” Fiyero says. His cheeks darken and he rubs the back of his head, looking down. “We grew up together. We hunted together, our families are close, that kind of thing.”
“Oh come on, give us more,” Crope begs. “Is there something there? Because I must say, the two of you would be beautiful together.”
There’s a scoff from the other side of the tributes’ circle, and Glinda looks over to see the green girl glowering toward the crowd. But then Fiyero’s stammering out a response, and the blonde looks back at him.
“Well…you see…Sarima and I…well, we’re engaged.”
That draws the loudest reaction yet. The crowd seems to gasp as one. Women squeal as the cameras cut to Sarima, who is blushing furiously down at her feet.
Glinda raises her eyebrows. Fiyero is probably eighteen, but Sarima can’t be older than fifteen or sixteen. Are they really engaged, or is it just an act to get fans? She thinks about the couple during training. They were familiar with each other, yes, but they didn’t seem all that devoted to each other. Then again, the Vinkans have some odd practices. Engaged, maybe, Glinda thinks, but probably not in love.
Either way, it’s effective. Crope and Tibbett can’t get another word in for the rest of the interview, the audience is so wild. The buzzer goes off and Fiyero hurries back to his chair, where Sarima leans over and whispers something in his ear.
The crowd settles down after a minute or two, and the interviews carry on. Crope and Tibbett continue to greet everyone with the same enthusiasm and seem genuinely interested in their answers, even though Glinda finds herself growing bored by the time they’re halfway through the Quadling tributes.
She perks up again when Nest Hardings, the last Munchkinland district, is called. The green girl seems to float forward on the stage. Her dress is purple, but the color is so deep it almost looks black. It flutters around her as she walks, shimmering ever so slightly in the stage lights, making her dark and mysterious and, once again, captivating.
Elphaba looks dangerous as she takes her place beside Crope and Tibbett. Not just for the Games, but right here, right now, on this stage in front of the entire Emerald City. Glinda glances around her, but there’s no hum of energy or rippling air. Her magic must be, for once, in control.
Miraculously, Crope and Tibbett get her to smile. At least, she smirks a couple of times. They tease her and she bites back, her answers clever and cutting. Glinda realizes this is the first time she’s actually heard the green girl speak. Her voice is low—not purposefully, like Shenshen’s, but naturally. It’s smooth and rough at the same time, like water running over stones. It’s quiet but mesmerizing, drawing the full attention of the crowd no matter what she says. Glinda can hear intelligence and passion and she has the sudden desire to listen to the green girl talk for hours.
She shakes her head a little. Elphaba’s interview is almost over, and she’s said almost nothing about herself. Crope and Tibbett seem to realize this, too, but before they have a chance to fix it the buzzer goes off. The green girl smirks, a bit triumphant, and Glinda wonders if that was her plan all along—play along well enough, and distract them from asking about things she doesn’t want to talk about.
The crowd sounds regretful as Elphaba Thropp makes her way back to her seat, just as mysterious as ever.
They call Boq’s name next, and the Munchkin seems even smaller than usual as he walks slowly to the front of the stage. Crope and Tibbett shake his hand and smile warmly at him, but he still trembles as they start asking questions. The Emerald City boys are friendly and even a little flirtatious with him, and Boq looks relieved. Still, it’s not enough. He has no skills to speak of. His reaping wasn’t exciting, and neither is his home life. He’s nice enough, and Crope and Tibbett seem to genuinely like him, but it’s clear that the boy is hopeless.
His buzzer goes off and he hurries back to his seat, his face bright red. Crope and Tibbett wrap up the show as the audience jumps to their feet, cheering madly. The tributes all stand as the music plays again, and Glinda catches a glimpse of herself on one of the screens that lines the nearby buildings. She wonders if Ama Clutch is still watching, but more likely than not the old woman has turned her attention to her knitting by now and is pointedly not looking at their television screen.
She’s not sure why it suddenly matters, but since she’s certain her Ama isn’t watching, Glinda waves and blows kisses and smiles until her cheeks hurt.
She doesn’t realize until they return to their rooms that night that the funny feeling in her stomach is something oddly like guilt.
***
The next morning comes both too soon and not soon enough. Glinda rolls out of bed, not entirely sure she ever actually slept, and dresses into a plain outfit that’s been set out for her. They’re loaded onto a hovercraft that will take them to the arena. Dina is there with her, but she sees no one else but Emerald City servants the entire ride. The flight lasts just long enough for them to insert a metal tracker into Glinda’s arm and serve breakfast. Glinda eats light but drinks plenty of water. Who knows when she’ll have cold, clean water again?
When they land she’s led to an underground chamber beneath the arena. Glinda pulls her hair into a tight ponytail and scrubs whatever makeup is left from the night before off her face. Dina unwraps an outfit and inspects it.
“The material is well-insulated,” Dina says, helping Glinda into the clothes. “And the jacket is designed to keep out wind. My guess is it’s going to get cold out there.”
When she’s all dressed, Glinda wears a thick, long-sleeve shirt beneath the jacket, black pants, and sturdy boots. She walks around and swings her arms a bit, getting used to the clothes. She feels warm and protected, although her hands are still bare. Maybe there will be gloves in the Cornucopia.
“You don’t have a token, do you?” Dina asks. “Anything you brought from your district?”
Glinda shakes her head. She hasn’t even thought about it until now. The stylist just smiles.
“Okay. You’re all set then. Can you eat anymore?”
Nerves have finally caught up with the blonde, and she shakes her head again. Dina squeezes her hand and moves her over to the launching pad. In just a few short minutes, Glinda will be carried up to the arena.
“Take a deep breath,” says Dina. Glinda obeys and feels her heartbeat start to slow down.
“Thanks,” she says quietly. “I…” She trails off, not sure what else to say.
“They loved you last night,” the stylist whispers, tucking a stray piece of hair away from Glinda’s face. “I’ll bet you anything Morrible is already overwhelmed with people who want to sponsor you.”
The blonde nods. “Thank you so much.” She wraps her arms around Dina, hugging her just as a voice announces that it’s time to launch. Glinda steps back into her circle as a glass cylinder begins to lower.
“Good luck,” Dina says, grasping her hand one last time. She looks like she wants to say something else, but then the cylinder is around her, cutting her off.
Glinda feels herself begin to rise. She meets Dina’s steady gaze and lifts her chin, taking another deep breath.
Darkness surrounds her and she closes her eyes, waiting. She keeps them closed until she feels cool, fresh air around her. She inhales and opens her eyes. All around her is green—not the shining emerald of the city but the deeper, richer color of evergreen trees. In the distance, above and all around them, she can see rocky peaks covered in snow and fog.
A valley, she thinks, looking around. We’re in a valley.
Her eyes adjust more to the brightness and she takes in her closer surroundings. All twenty-four tributes are arranged in a circle around the Cornucopia, a giant metal horn overflowing with supplies. A countdown of sixty seconds is displayed in the sky above them. If they move before then, the mines buried around their plates will blow them to bits.
Glinda tenses, ready to run, and studies the supplies she can see. There’s a decent sized backpack leaning against a small rack of daggers about thirty feet from the mouth of the horn. It shouldn’t be too hard to grab the bag and a good blade before running off. She’s fast—there’s a good chance she can be in and out before most of the other tributes even make it to the Cornucopia.
She’s thinking all of this, with about thirty seconds left, when something in the corner of her vision distracts her. She looks over. A few plates away stands the green girl, but Elphaba isn’t looking at her. She’s staring at someone else. Her eyes are wide, her mouth slightly open. She shakes her head, slowly at first, then more urgently, mouthing something.
Glinda follows the green girl’s gaze and sees Boq. The little Munchkin stares back at Elphaba, who has now frozen in place. He gives her a small, sad smile, then glances up at the timer. Twenty seconds left.
Boq closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and steps off his plate.