Chapter 6
The track was alive with energy, a mix of tense concentration and the buzz of spectators. It was meet day.
Elphaba stood at the starting line, one foot digging into the rubber, her hands shaking out the nervous energy in her limbs. The stadium lights glared down, but she barely noticed them. She needed to focus.
This wasn’t like cheer, where perfection had to be performed. This wasn’t about smiling at the crowd or faking confidence. This was about results.
She crouched into position, muscles coiled, ready to explode forward.
The gun fired.
Elphaba launched off the blocks, feet pounding against the track, air burning in her lungs. The world narrowed down to momentum and speed.
Nothing else.
She placed first.
For the first time.
The moment she crossed the finish line, her chest heaving, her legs aching, it hit her. Not the adrenaline rush she was expecting, not the instant satisfaction—just shock.
She had won. She had actually won.
The team cheered, the sound blending into the chaotic noise of the stadium. Crope and Tibbett practically tackled her, both shouting in her ears.
“Elphaba Thropp, ladies and gentlemen!” Crope cackled, shaking her shoulders.
Tibbett beamed. “What’s it like being Crage Hall’s fastest student?”
Elphaba huffed out a breath, barely steadying herself as she pried them off. “Don’t jinx it.”
Boq approached with a grin, hands shoved in his pockets. “Nah, this was it. You killed it.”
Elphaba rolled her shoulders, still coming down from the high. “Yeah, well. One good race doesn’t mean anything.”
“Tell that to the scoreboard.” Crope nudged her. “You just outran every girl in this district.”
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, glancing around the stadium, at the crowds still buzzing, at the flashes of school colors in the stands.
She had actually done it.
She glanced toward the stands instead, her eyes scanning the crowd almost on instinct. That’s when she spotted Pfannee, perched on the bleachers, scrolling through her phone with the kind of disinterest that suggested she’d been dragged here.
Elphaba frowned. Pfannee was here?
Which meant… what? Glinda might be here too?
Her stomach twisted before she could stop it, her fingers tightening slightly around the strap of her bag. She wasn’t looking for Glinda. That would be ridiculous. Why would she even care?
Still, she hesitated for half a second longer than she should have before shaking her head and pulling out her phone for the first time that day, thumb hovering over the screen. Notifications flooded in—team updates, a congratulations from her coach, a few track messages.
And, of course, nothing from Glinda. Not that she had expected anything.
She didn’t know why she checked.
Boq slung an arm over her shoulder, smirking. “I wonder why Pfannee is here without her queen bee.”
Elphaba scoffed, locking her phone. “Like I care.”
Crope and Tibbett exchanged a look.
“Uh-huh,” Tibbett drawled. “You definitely don’t care.”
Elphaba ignored them, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Are we eating or what?”
Crope looped his arm through hers dramatically. “Only if you let me tell the waitress you’re a champion.”
Tibbett snickered. Boq just shook his head, trailing behind as they headed toward the parking lot.
And Elphaba didn’t check her phone again.
The house was packed. Victory parties at Avaric’s were always excessive, but tonight felt even more chaotic than usual. The music pulsed through the walls, the scent of spilled drinks and cheap cologne thick in the air.
Glinda had been here a hundred times before. She knew the drill. Laugh, celebrate, let the attention wrap around her like a familiar warmth.
But something felt off.
She stood near the kitchen, an untouched drink in her hand, smiling at the right moments as Pfannee chattered beside her. The post-game high had faded quickly, leaving behind a restless energy she didn’t know what to do with.
“Glinda, come on.” Fiyero’s voice cut through the noise, his hand sliding around her waist. “We won. You should be having fun.”
“I am,” she said automatically, forcing a brighter smile.
His eyes flicked over her, unreadable for a second before he tugged her closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Prove it.”
Her stomach flipped, not from excitement, but because she knew this was expected.
Still, she let him lead her away from the crowd, past the clusters of students and up the stairs to one of the empty bedrooms. The second the door shut behind them, Fiyero’s lips were on hers, insistent and familiar. She kissed him back without thinking.
His hands skimmed down her sides, fingers pressing into her waist as he backed her up against the bed. It should have been effortless. This was Fiyero. Her boyfriend. This was what they did.
So why did it feel like she was going through the motions?
She let him push her onto the mattress, his weight pressing her down as his lips trailed to her neck. She exhaled sharply, tilting her head to give him access. It should have felt good. It should have felt easy.
“Glinda,” he murmured, voice thick with want. His hands slid beneath the hem of her top, fingers tracing her bare skin.
She bit her lip, eyes fluttering shut. If she just focused, maybe she could shake whatever this was. Maybe she could lose herself in it.
Then, for a split second, her mind betrayed her.
A flash of something—green skin, sharp eyes, a dry remark that always got under her skin.
Her stomach twisted.
She inhaled sharply and pushed at Fiyero’s chest. “Wait.”
He pulled back, blinking down at her. “What?”
Glinda swallowed, her pulse hammering for all the wrong reasons. She had to fix this. “I—I just need a second.”
Fiyero searched her face, something flickering in his expression before he nodded, shifting to sit beside her instead of over her. “You okay?”
She nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just—long day.”
He watched her for a moment longer before exhaling and leaning back on his elbows. “You know, if you wanted to stop playing perfect for once, I wouldn’t mind.”
Glinda’s throat tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Fiyero shrugged, his gaze knowing. “You’re always thinking. Even now.”
She forced a laugh. “What, you want me to turn my brain off?”
He smirked. “Might be fun.”
She rolled her eyes, but the teasing didn’t land the way it usually did. Because he was right.
Her mind wouldn’t stop. Not about the game. Not about tonight. Not about what had just happened.
Not about why, for even a second, Elphaba Thropp had crossed her mind.
Glinda sat curled up in one of the oversized chairs in Pfannee’s room, the familiar scent of expensive perfume and hair products lingering in the air. A candle flickered on the vanity, casting a soft glow over the mess of makeup palettes and discarded jewelry from earlier in the night.
Pfannee lounged on her bed, scrolling through her phone while Shenshen painted her nails a glossy shade of pink. The music hummed low in the background, a pop song Glinda normally would’ve been singing along to.
Tonight, she just listened.
“I had to sit through the dumbest track meet this morning,” Pfannee groaned suddenly, tossing her phone onto the comforter. “My dad made me go—networking or whatever.”
Shenshen wrinkled her nose. “Sounds awful.”
Pfannee smirked. “Oh, it was. But guess who actually won something?”
Glinda already knew the answer before Pfannee said it.
“Elphaba,” Pfannee continued, rolling onto her stomach dramatically. “Can you believe that? The school freak, actually being good at something.”
Shenshen snorted, not looking up from her brushstrokes. “Maybe now she’ll actually wash her hair.”
Glinda felt the laugh bubble up automatically, the same way it always had. This was normal. This was just how things went.
Except it didn’t feel normal. Not tonight.
“She looked ridiculous standing up there,” Pfannee went on, tapping at her nails. “Like she had no clue what to do with herself.”
Glinda thought about Elphaba on that podium, about how she hadn’t looked smug or triumphant—just steady. Focused. Real.
Pfannee nudged Glinda’s leg with her foot. “You’re quiet. Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for her.”
Glinda blinked, snapping back. “What? No.”
Pfannee smirked, tilting her head. “Good. I was starting to think the school’s biggest charity case had actually gotten to you.”
Glinda forced a laugh, though it felt wrong in her throat. Had she?
She didn’t know why this was bothering her so much. It wasn’t like she and Elphaba were friends. But something had shifted, and she didn’t know how to shift it back.
So she just smiled, like she always did, and let the conversation move on.
The house smelled like fresh coffee and expensive perfume, the telltale signs of Upland family brunch. Glinda sat at the dining table, perfectly poised as her mother sipped at her cappuccino, flipping lazily through a magazine. Her father scrolled through his tablet, barely looking up as the house staff set out the morning spread.
“I saw the game highlights,” Larena Upland mused, stirring her drink. “You looked lovely, darling. It’s such a shame cheerleading doesn’t get real recognition.”
Glinda kept her smile polite. “It’s more work than it looks.”
Her mother hummed, unconvinced. “Well, at least it’s keeping you active. You know how important that is.”
Her father finally glanced up, his expression unreadable. “You’re maintaining your grades?”
“Yes, Popsicle.”
He nodded, already distracted again. Conversation over.
Glinda took small bites of her fruit, letting her parents fall into their usual morning discussions. Her mind, however, was somewhere else.
She scrolled through her phone absently, pausing when a photo from the track meet crossed her screen. It wasn’t from anyone she followed—probably one of the sports accounts—but she still recognized the green streak in the background.
Elphaba. Standing on the podium, her face unreadable.
Glinda’s thumb hovered over the post for half a second longer than necessary before she quickly kept scrolling.
Later that afternoon, Glinda sat in the driver’s seat of her car, parked in her usual quiet spot overlooking the lake just outside town. The engine was still running.
She didn’t remember how long she had been sitting there.
Her notebook was open on the passenger seat, half-filled with lines of poetry she wasn’t ready to admit were hers. The words blurred together as she stared out at the water, tapping her pen against her knee.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of it. Fiyero.
She ignored it.
Instead, she pulled up a different contact.
Glinda:We should plan our next study session.
Glinda:I promise I’ll actually focus this time.
She hit send before she could overthink it.
Then she shut her notebook and drove home.
The school parking lot was already full of movement—students filtering toward the entrance, the sound of engines shutting off, conversations picking up where they had left off on Friday.
Glinda stepped out of Fiyero’s car, adjusting the strap of her bag as she smoothed a hand down her skirt. The morning should have felt normal. It should have been easy—just another Monday, another week of routines.
Instead, she felt off.
“Goldie,” Pfannee called, linking arms with her as they made their way toward the entrance. “Tell me you’re actually awake today.”
Shenshen smirked. “Doubtful. She looked wrecked at the party.”
Glinda rolled her eyes, forcing a smile. “I was fine.”
Pfannee hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Mm. Well, at least we get a drama-free day after that mess.”
“Drama-free?” Shenshen scoffed. “In this school?”
Pfannee laughed, but Glinda barely heard them. Her mind was somewhere else.
She pulled out her phone instead, unlocking it with muscle memory. Unread message.
Elphaba:What a relief. I was afraid you’d just stare at your notes dramatically again.
Elphaba:Name the time. I’ll be there.
Glinda bit her lip, caught between amusement and something else she didn’t have the energy to name.
“You’re distracted,” Fiyero noted, nudging her lightly. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Glinda answered, pocketing her phone. “Just thinking about the game.”
Pfannee grinned. “As you should. You were perfect.”
Glinda didn’t respond. She just kept walking, wondering why she suddenly wanted this conversation to be over.
Glinda was only half-listening as Pfannee and Shenshen chattered beside her, their voices blending into the morning chaos of the hallway. Students were still filtering into their classrooms, groups lingering by lockers, laughter and conversation filling the space.
“Did you see what she did with her hair today?” Pfannee drawled, eyes flicking toward a passing student. “Oz, she’s so tragic.”
Shenshen snickered. “I swear, she does it on purpose.”
Glinda wasn’t paying attention, at least not until the shift in tone—a more familiar kind of ridicule.
“Speaking of tragic,” Pfannee continued, lowering her voice just slightly, “did you see her?”
Glinda followed her gaze before she could think better of it. Elphaba.
She was walking ahead of them, earbuds in, posture stiff but purposeful—like she could feel the eyes on her but refused to acknowledge them. Like she was used to it.
“She really thinks she’s something now,” Shenshen scoffed. “Like, we get it, you can run fast. Doesn’t make you less of a freak.”
Pfannee smirked. “I dunno, maybe she’s hoping someone will finally notice her.”
Glinda felt it immediately—the irritation, sharp and unwelcome.
She had laughed at jokes like this before. She had made jokes like this before.
But now, something about it felt off.
She exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. “Don’t you ever get tired of this?”
Pfannee blinked. “Tired of what?”
Glinda rolled her shoulders. “Making fun of people all day.”
There was a beat of silence before Pfannee scoffed. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Shenshen’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Since when do you care?”
Glinda bit the inside of her cheek. She didn’t know.
It wasn’t like she and Elphaba were friends. And yet, the way she carried herself, the way she never reacted to their words—it suddenly felt pathetic to be on the other side of it.
“Forget it,” Glinda muttered, brushing past them.
Pfannee called after her, but Glinda didn’t stop.
The conversation moved on, but Glinda’s mind didn’t
Glinda barely made it through her morning classes, her mind still tangled in the lingering tension from her earlier conversation with Pfannee and Shenshen. She could still hear Pfannee’s disbelief, the way she had snapped at her like she’d grown two heads. Maybe Glinda would’ve laughed it off a few weeks ago, but now? Now, it sat in her chest like something she didn’t know how to get rid of.
By the time she made her way through the crowded hallway between periods, she wasn’t really watching where she was going—until she nearly collided with someone turning the same corner.
Elphaba.
They both stopped abruptly, inches apart. Glinda’s fingers instinctively tightened around the strap of her bag, while Elphaba, ever composed, merely raised an eyebrow.
“Hi,” Glinda said, too quick, too stiff.
Elphaba tilted her head slightly. “Hi.”
Silence settled between them, too thick for such a simple interaction. Neither of them moved.
Glinda cleared her throat, shifting her weight. “I- is it okay if we study after practice tomorrow? I've got a thing, before practice.”
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, adjusting the books in her arms. “Yeah. After practice tomorrow, that works."
Glinda nodded automatically, not even thinking before she said, “The library won't be open for much longer after practice, would you be okay with studying at my place?”
Elphaba blinked, as if mildly surprised, but didn’t argue. “Alright.”
Glinda let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Why was this so weird?
Before she could figure that out, the bell rang, and Elphaba shifted her books under one arm. “See you later, Blondie.”
Glinda didn’t respond—she just stood there, pulse skipping in ways she really didn’t want to think about.
Elphaba wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation at her table—not that she ever fully did. Crope and Tibbett were caught up in some dramatic retelling of a hallway encounter, Boq was scrolling through his phone, and Elphaba was just there. Eating, listening, but mostly letting the noise wash over her.
At least, until Crope nudged her foot under the table.
“What?” she asked flatly, not even looking up from her tray.
“You’re acting weird,” Tibbett said, pointing his fork at her. “And before you say it, no, weirder than usual.”
Elphaba arched a brow. “That’s specific.”
Crope smirked. “You had a moment in the hallway earlier.”
Elphaba sighed, setting down her drink. “We had a conversation. That’s hardly a moment.”
Boq finally glanced up, looking between them. “With who?”
Tibbett grinned. “Who do you think?”
Boq made a face. “Glinda?”
Elphaba didn’t react. Which, apparently, was an answer in itself.
“Oh, Oz,” Crope laughed. “You so did.”
“She asked about our project,” Elphaba said, leaning back in her chair. “It was nothing.”
Crope and Tibbett exchanged a look.
Boq, however, was watching her a little too closely. “You don’t talk to people, Elphaba. Especially not her.”
“She’s my partner,” Elphaba said evenly. “We have to talk.”
“Right, right,” Tibbett nodded. “And you just have to keep looking over at her table, too?”
Elphaba stilled.
She hadn’t realized she’d done it—hadn’t even thought about it—but sure enough, across the cafeteria, Glinda was sitting with her usual crowd.
And the second their eyes met, Glinda looked away. Fast.
Elphaba inhaled through her nose, picking up her drink again. “You’re all annoying.”
Crope rested his chin in his hand. “You know, Tibbs and I can always tell when someone’s queer.”
Elphaba nearly choked. “Excuse me?”
Boq groaned. “Crope, don’t.”
“No, do tell me,” Elphaba deadpanned, setting her drink back down. “Because I’d love to hear what ridiculous theory you two have cooked up about me.”
Tibbett smirked. “I just know, It’s a gift.”
Crope nodded, a wicked smile on his face. "It takes one to know one."
Elphaba rolled her eyes. “Fantastic. So glad you’ve solved my entire existence for me.”
Crope wiggled his fingers. “We just know, babe.”
Elphaba opened her mouth, but nothing came out right away. Because what was she supposed to say? That she’d never really thought about it? That she had thought about it, but only in flashes, in ways she always shoved aside?
She wasn’t clueless. She knew attraction, she knew what it looked like on other people. But when it came to herself—
She cut the thought off, exhaling sharply. “You’re both idiots.”
Crope grinned. “Avoiding. Interesting.”
Boq shook his head, clearly deciding to stay out of it. “Leave her alone, guys.”
“Fine, fine.” Tibbett held up his hands. “Just saying—our track record’s pretty solid.”
Elphaba didn’t dignify that with a response. She just picked up her drink again, focusing on not looking in Glinda’s direction
Elphaba sat in the back of her afternoon class, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the board—but she wasn’t actually seeing anything. She was too busy being annoyed.
Not at Crope and Tibbett for teasing her—she was used to that. Not even at Boq for looking at her like she’d grown a second head when they mentioned Glinda. No, she was annoyed at herself.
Annoyed because she’d looked. Because she kept looking. Because when she locked eyes with Glinda for that fraction of a second, she should have felt nothing. Should have.
She exhaled sharply through her nose, adjusting the grip on her pen. This was stupid.
“Miss Thropp,” the teacher’s voice cut in.
Elphaba blinked. Shit. “What?”
A few students snickered. The teacher sighed, clearly unimpressed. “If you could pull yourself away from whatever existential crisis you’re having, perhaps you’d like to answer the question?”
Crope, sitting a few seats away, smirked. Elphaba ignored him, straightening in her chair. “I’d love to, but I wasn’t listening.”
More laughter.
The teacher sighed again but moved on. Elphaba didn’t care. She just needed to get through the rest of the day without thinking about Glinda Upland.
A nearly impossible task, apparently, because when she glanced up again, Glinda was looking at her.
This time, she didn’t look away.