Chapter 5
Glinda’s alarm went off at precisely 6:00 AM, pulling her out of a restless sleep. She blinked against the early morning light spilling through her curtains, a dull ache settling in her muscles from the previous night’s practice. No time to dwell. Today had to be different.
The game was only two days away, and she refused to let anything—or anyone—distract her.
She sat up, rubbing her temples before reaching for her phone. A few notifications cluttered her screen, but one stood out among them.
Elphaba: When’s our next study session?
Glinda exhaled sharply, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Right. The project. She had meant to text Elphaba first, but between cheer, Fiyero, and the strange feeling still lingering in her chest, she had forgotten.
Glinda: Tomorrow after practice. I can’t do today.
She stared at the message for a second before hitting send.
No response came immediately, but she wasn’t expecting one. Elphaba didn’t strike her as the type to hover over her phone.
Shoving the covers back, she swung her legs out of bed and stretched, rolling her shoulders as she mentally ran through the day ahead. No distractions. No wasted energy. Just focus.
By the time she was dressed and downstairs, her mother was already halfway through her morning coffee, scrolling through her tablet at the kitchen table.
“Morning, Sweetie,” Larena Upland greeted without looking up.
Glinda smoothed down the front of her blazer. “Morning.”
Her mother finally glanced over, eyes flicking over her appearance. “You look tired.”
Glinda bit back a sigh. “It’s called working hard, Mother.”
Larena hummed, unimpressed. “Try not to look it. No one admires effort—they admire results.”
Glinda pressed her lips together but didn’t argue. Instead, she grabbed a protein bar from the counter and checked her phone again.
Still nothing from Elphaba.
She wasn’t sure why that annoyed her.
With a sharp exhale, she tucked her phone into her bag and headed out the door.
Elphaba had never been a morning person. It was a well-documented fact among anyone who knew her. She functioned purely on routine—waking up at the last possible second, throwing herself together in record time, and making it to school without a minute to spare.
Today was no different.
Except for the text waiting for her when she finally dragged herself out of bed.
Glinda: Tomorrow after practice. I can’t do today. I've gotta focus on getting ready for the game on Friday, that's more important.
Elphaba snorted, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she typed back.
Elphaba: Obviously.
She didn’t expect a response, and none came. Not that she cared.
Fifteen minutes later, she was in her car, pulling into the school parking lot just as the first bell rang.
Another day. Another routine.
And for some reason, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was shifting.
The final bell rang, releasing the students of Crage Hall into the humid afternoon air. Some lingered in the halls, chatting by their lockers, while others rushed toward the parking lot, eager to escape. But for the athletes, the day was far from over.
Glinda barely spared a glance at the other students as she headed straight for the gym, her cheer bag slung over her shoulder. Practice had been extended today. Yesterday had been sloppy, and with the game on Friday, they didn’t have time to waste. Everything needed to be perfect.
She tightened her ponytail as she entered the locker room, already mentally running through the stunts they needed to drill. There was no room for mistakes.
Meanwhile, across campus, Elphaba was focused on something entirely different.
The first track meet of the season was on Saturday, and unlike the cheer team, her team wasn’t stressing over perfection—they were focused on endurance, precision, and speed.
She stood near the edge of the track, rolling out her calves, eyes trained ahead. The sun was starting to dip, casting a golden hue over the field. The usual pre-meet nerves buzzed low in her chest, but it wasn’t nerves that had her on edge today. It was something else. Something she couldn’t quite name.
“Elphie, you good?”
She glanced to her side to see Boq approaching, he was still in his school uniform, a folder of sheet music tucked under his arm.
She nodded. “Yeah. Just ready to run.”
Boq grinned. "Good. ‘Cause while you're out here torturing yourself, I get to suffer through another three-hour rehearsal."
She smirked slightly, shaking out her arms. "Remind me again why you didn’t pick a sport?"
And just like Glinda across campus, she locked in, pushing everything else aside.
Glinda wasn’t absorbing anything.
Her eyes skimmed over the words on the page, her pen tapping against the edge of her notebook, but her mind was elsewhere. The game was tomorrow. A few hours of studying wouldn’t make or break their grade, but a few missed steps on the field could cost her everything.
She bit her lip, shifting in her chair, her knee bouncing beneath the table. Across from her, Elphaba sighed, clearly having had enough.
“You’re not listening.”
Glinda blinked, snapping back to reality. “What?”
Elphaba raised a brow. “I just asked how you wanted to split the research sections. And you nodded. Which means you either weren’t listening or you don't care."
Glinda straightened, rolling her shoulders back. “I was listening.”
Elphaba just looked at her.
Glinda let out a breath, rubbing her temples. “Fine. Maybe I wasn’t.”
Elphaba set her pen down. “Because of the game?”
Glinda’s jaw tightened. “It’s important.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Elphaba tilted her head slightly. “That you’re acting like the fate of the world depends on it.”
Glinda’s fingers clenched around her pen. “You don’t get it.”
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, leaning back in her chair. “Then explain it to me.”
Glinda shook her head, pressing her lips together. She didn’t want to explain. Didn’t want to put it into words, didn’t want to say out loud that if she wasn’t perfect, if she wasn’t the best, then what was the point? What was she worth?
When she didn’t respond, Elphaba watched her for a moment, something unreadable in her expression. Then, quietly, she said, “You know that doesn’t exist, right?”
Glinda swallowed. “What doesn’t?”
“Perfection.”
Glinda’s grip on her pen tightened. “Maybe not for you.”
Elphaba didn’t rise to the bait. She just looked at her, her sharp green eyes unwavering. “Not for anyone.”
The words settled between them, heavy and inescapable. Glinda wanted to fight it. Wanted to argue, to roll her eyes, to brush it off like she always did.
But she couldn’t.
Instead, she inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly as she looked away. “We should finish this.”
Elphaba watched her for a beat longer before speaking again, her voice softer than before. “You’re already good, Glinda. No game is gonna change that.”
Glinda’s breath hitched slightly, caught off guard by the statement. She stared at the words on the page, trying to ground herself in something factual, something tangible.
But the words didn’t mean anything. Not right now.
Her fingers curled against her notebook. “You’ll be there tomorrow, right?”
Elphaba hesitated for the first time that night. “I can’t.”
Glinda’s head snapped up. “Why not?”
Elphaba exhaled, rubbing the back of her neck. “My track meet is Saturday. I have late practice. I need the time.”
Glinda nodded slowly, pressing her lips together like she hadn’t expected the answer but still didn’t like it. “Oh. Right.”
Elphaba studied her, tapping her pen against the table. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
Glinda scoffed lightly, shaking her head. “I didn’t ask for reassurance.”
Elphaba smirked. “Yeah, well. You got it anyway.”
Glinda huffed, rolling her eyes. But her shoulders had dropped slightly, the tension in her posture no longer as rigid.
They fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn’t as heavy.
And when they finally returned to their work, Glinda could at least breathe a little easier.
The stadium was packed. The roar of the crowd pulsed through the air, energy crackling like electricity. The massive floodlights illuminated the field, casting everything in a sharp, golden glow. It was game night, and Crage Hall’s student body was out in full force.
Glinda had been here a thousand times before, had performed under these same lights, had led these same cheers. But tonight felt heavier.
She stood at the front of the formation, pom-poms tight in her grip as the game played on behind them. She should’ve been locked in, should’ve been thriving off the energy. But her mind wouldn’t quiet.
Everything needed to be perfect.
The stunt sequence was coming up. Their hardest of the night. It had to be sharp, effortless, the kind of performance that made the crowd lose their minds.
“Positions!” she called, voice steady, masking everything else.
The squad moved in sync, lining up for the pyramid. Bases braced, flyers prepped, and Glinda’s heart pounded against her ribs.
One, two, three—
They went up.
And then, her foot slipped.
It wasn’t much—just a fraction of a misstep, the kind that would go unnoticed by anyone who wasn’t trained to see it. But she knew. The wobble, the brief shift in balance, the split-second where her heart clenched in panic.
She corrected herself instantly, forcing the smile, keeping the routine going as if nothing had happened.
The crowd cheered like nothing was wrong. Like it had been perfect.
But she knew.
And that was enough.
The game continued. Glinda went through the motions, smiles on cue, cheers sharp and practiced. She looked flawless. But her thoughts were spinning, twisting, looping around that single moment of imperfection.
The final whistle blew. The team won. It didn’t feel like a victory.
The locker room was loud. The energy of a win always carried over, teammates laughing, music blasting from someone’s speaker, everyone riding the high.
Glinda sat at her locker, fingers curled loosely around her phone. The adrenaline had faded, replaced by a hollow exhaustion.
She should be happy.
She should be celebrating.
Instead, she opened her messages and stared at Elphaba’s contact.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard before she typed, You were right. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close. Good luck tomorrow.
She stared at the words, debating for longer than she’d ever admit. Would Elphaba even care? Would she even respond?
Glinda exhaled sharply and deleted the message.
Instead, she tossed her phone into her bag and forced a smile as Pfannee called her name, pretending like tonight wasn’t sitting heavy on her chest.
Like it didn’t matter.