Chapter 17
Glinda was determined to do this right. If she was going to show up, she was going to really show up.
So, she went all out.
She woke up early, stopped at the café, and ordered coffee for everyone—extra sugar for Crope, tea for Tibbett, and a ridiculous number of blueberry muffins for Boq. She even grabbed something for Elphaba, though she had no idea what she actually liked.
By the time she arrived at the stadium, the boys were already there, half-asleep in the bleachers.
"Surprise!" she announced, setting the drinks and food down like it was some grand event.
They blinked at her, groggy and confused.
"Did you—?" Boq started.
"You did not," Crope gasped dramatically.
"Oh, but I did," Glinda said smugly, handing out their orders. "Am I in the club now? Did I pass initiation?"
Tibbett grinned, taking his tea. "I think you just became our favorite person."
Fiyero raised a brow. "This is suspiciously thoughtful of you."
Glinda rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up and drink your coffee."
She glanced around the stadium, expecting to see Elphaba somewhere, but the team was already warming up on the track. Her stomach twisted, unsure if she was relieved or disappointed.
The boys were too busy inhaling their food to notice. They chatted around her, laughing and making bets on Elphaba’s placement, but Glinda only half-listened. Her eyes kept flicking to the track, scanning the runners, waiting.
And when the race finally started—when she saw Elphaba moving, her long strides powerful and relentless—Glinda felt something strange settle in her chest. Like she was holding her breath.
Glinda had seen Elphaba move before—walking through the halls, slinking away from conversations, disappearing when she didn’t want to be seen. But this was different.
On the track, she wasn’t avoiding or retreating. She was racing.
Glinda watched, barely aware of the boys yelling beside her, their voices blending into the roar of the crowd. Elphaba was ahead, long strides precise, effortless. It was almost frustrating how good she was.
And then—it was over.
First place.
The announcer’s voice confirmed it, but Glinda had already known. Of course she won.
Boq and the others were already on their feet, whooping and cheering. Crope waved a ridiculous handmade sign that said WICKED FAST in bold letters, and Tibbett was practically vibrating with excitement.
Glinda clapped too, though not as wildly as the others. She couldn’t stop staring at Elphaba as she slowed her pace, catching her breath, nodding at her teammates’ congratulations.
She still hadn’t seen Glinda.
And that was fine. It wasn’t like Glinda had come for her specifically.
Right?
By the time Glinda found her, the adrenaline had worn off, and Elphaba looked done. She was standing near the edge of the field, stretching her calves, her usual scowl firmly back in place.
Glinda hesitated for only a second before stepping closer. "You didn’t even look tired."
Elphaba turned, blinking like she wasn’t entirely convinced Glinda was real. "You—wait, you came?"
Glinda scoffed. "Obviously."
Elphaba narrowed her eyes. "You said you weren’t a morning person."
"I’m not," Glinda admitted. "But I figured I’d make an exception for a state champion."
Something flickered across Elphaba’s face—surprise, maybe. Or something Glinda couldn’t quite name.
"Huh," Elphaba muttered, shaking her head. "Well. That’s weird."
Glinda gasped dramatically. "Rude! I bring you coffee, cheer for you, and this is my reward?"
Elphaba smirked, reaching for the cup Glinda was still holding. "You brought coffee?"
"Obviously." Glinda handed it over, watching as Elphaba took a sip. "Black, because I don’t know what you actually like."
Elphaba hummed in approval. "Not bad, princess."
Glinda rolled her eyes but didn’t fight the warmth creeping into her chest.
She had shown up. And Elphaba had noticed.
Elphaba hadn’t thought about her family all morning.
Which, in itself, was a miracle. But as she made her way toward the locker rooms, still buzzing from the win, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out, already knowing what she’d see.
Frex:Congratulations. Your coach called me. We’ll discuss later.
Elphaba sighed, running a hand down her face. Of course he didn’t come. Of course he didn’t even pretend to care unless it was about appearances.
Another message came through.
Nessarose:Father was upset you ran on a Sunday, but I told him it wasn’t your choice. Shell says congrats. Call later?
Elphaba hesitated before typing back a quick: Sure.
She shoved her phone back into her pocket, shoulders tense as she reached the locker room door. The high from the race was already slipping away.
And when she stepped inside, Glinda was still there.
Elphaba blinked. "What are you still doing here?"
Glinda shrugged, fiddling with the strap of her bag. "Waiting for you, obviously."
Elphaba narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
Glinda tilted her head. "Because you won. And because your friends all left, and I figured maybe you shouldn’t be alone with your thoughts just yet."
Elphaba scoffed. "I don’t need babysitting."
Glinda smirked. "I know. But humor me."
Elphaba stared at her for a moment before sighing and dropping onto the bench beside her. Maybe just for a little while.
Glinda leaned back against the lockers, watching Elphaba out of the corner of her eye. "So, what did your dad say?"
Elphaba let out a short laugh. "What do you think? He sent a text. Coach called him. He'll ‘discuss it later.’ Which means I'll get some condescending speech about priorities."
Glinda frowned. "But you won. Doesn’t that count for something?"
"Not to him." Elphaba sighed, rolling her shoulders. "He doesn’t care about what I do, only how it looks. And running on a Sunday? That’s basically a crime in his book."
Glinda was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, "That’s stupid."
Elphaba blinked, caught off guard. "You don’t have to agree with me, you know."
Glinda shrugged. "I’m not. I’m just stating facts."
Elphaba huffed a laugh despite herself. "Well, I appreciate your honesty, I guess."
Glinda smiled, nudging her knee lightly against Elphaba’s. "You’re welcome."
A pause settled between them, comfortable but charged. Glinda glanced at her hands, then back at Elphaba. "Do you ever wish things were different?"
Elphaba exhaled, staring at the ground. "All the time."
Another beat of silence.
"Me too," Glinda admitted.
They didn’t say anything else. They didn’t have to.
For the first time all day, Elphaba didn’t feel quite so alone.
Elphaba barely had time to think about what had just happened before Glinda was standing, brushing invisible dust off her leggings. "Come on."
Elphaba frowned. "Come on where?"
Glinda tilted her head toward the door. "I’m driving you home."
Elphaba blinked. "What? No, you’re not."
Glinda scoffed, already grabbing her bag. "Yes, I am. Your friends left, you clearly don’t want to call your dad, and I highly doubt you want to sit around here waiting for a ride. So, let’s go."
Elphaba hesitated. She should say no. She knew that. But instead, she sighed and stood. "Fine. But if you try to make small talk, I’m tucking and rolling out of the car."
Glinda grinned. "Duly noted."
The drive was quiet at first.
Not awkward, just… still. The kind of silence Elphaba didn’t mind. The sun was out, warm but not unbearable, and Glinda had the windows down just enough to let the breeze in. The air smelled like early autumn—crisp, fresh, like something was shifting.
And then—
"Do you even like running?" Glinda asked suddenly, eyes still on the road.
Elphaba huffed a laugh. "Loaded question."
Glinda shot her a look. "I’m serious. You’re ridiculously good at it. But you always look like you hate every second."
Elphaba sighed, stretching her legs out. "I don’t hate it. It’s just… something I do. Something I’m good at."
"That doesn’t mean you have to like it."
Elphaba glanced at her. "Yeah? And what about you? Do you like cheer?"
Glinda was quiet for a second, then smiled faintly. "I love it. But not for the reasons people think."
Elphaba raised a brow. "Which are?"
Glinda shrugged, eyes flickering toward the side mirror. "People assume I love the attention, the spotlight. And maybe I did, at first. But it’s more than that. It’s the control of it all. The routines, the precision, the knowing that if I nail a routine, everything feels… right."
Elphaba didn’t say anything at first, just watched as Glinda’s fingers tapped idly against the steering wheel.
Then, quietly—"I get that."
Glinda glanced at her, something flickering behind her eyes. "Yeah?"
Elphaba nodded, staring out the window. "Running’s the same for me. It’s not fun, but it’s clear. When I run, I know exactly what I need to do. It’s just me and the track. No expectations. No pressure to be anything else. Just… movement."
Glinda was silent for a long moment. Then—
"That’s kind of beautiful, you know."
Elphaba snorted. "Don’t get sentimental on me, Goldie."
Glinda laughed, shaking her head. "Too late."
The car slowed as they reached Elphaba’s house—Thropp Manor, grand and cold even in the afternoon sun. Glinda pulled up to the front, shifting into park before looking over at her. "You gonna be okay?"
Elphaba let out a breath, staring up at the house. "I always am."
Glinda frowned like she wanted to say something, but she just nodded. "Alright."
Elphaba reached for the door handle, hesitated, then turned back. "Thanks for the ride."
Glinda smiled. "Anytime."
Elphaba stepped out, shutting the door behind her. But as she walked up the path, she could still feel Glinda’s gaze on her—steady, warm, like she was still waiting for something.
Elphaba barely had time to take a breath before the front door swung open.
"Took you long enough," Nessarose said, sitting stiffly in her wheelchair just inside the grand foyer. Her eyes flicked over Elphaba’s disheveled appearance, her damp hair sticking to her neck from the race, and the way she lingered on the doorstep as if she didn’t want to come in.
"Nice to see you too, Nessa," Elphaba muttered, stepping inside. The cool air of the house wrapped around her like a shroud, starkly different from the warmth of the sun outside.
"Father’s in his office," Nessa continued, her voice tight. "He wants to speak with you."
Of course he did. Elphaba sighed, running a hand down her face before pushing forward. She passed through the long corridors, the polished floors echoing beneath her every step, until she reached the heavy oak doors of Frex’s office. For a brief second, she considered turning around, walking right back outside—but before she could decide, the doors opened.
"Elphaba," Frex said, his voice even, unreadable. "Come in."
She stepped inside, keeping her posture straight but her hands curled into fists at her sides. The office smelled like old books and ink, the curtains drawn to keep out the light. Frex sat behind his massive desk, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders was obvious.
"I hear you won today," he said, tapping his fingers against the desk.
"I did," Elphaba replied evenly.
Frex exhaled sharply through his nose. "But, you chose to disgrace this family by competing on a Sunday."
Elphaba clenched her jaw. "I didn’t choose the schedule."
"You could have refused."
She scoffed. "Right. Because that would have gone over well with my coach."
Frex’s gaze sharpened. "Do you think your coach’s approval is more important than your integrity? Than your faith?"
Elphaba let out a bitter laugh. "Integrity? You mean the kind that only applies when it suits your public image?"
Frex’s face darkened. "Watch your tone."
Elphaba bit her tongue, forcing herself to breathe through her nose. She had been through this argument before. She knew how it ended.
"You are reckless, Elphaba. Stubborn. Always defying what is expected of you. And one day, that will catch up with you."
She met his gaze without flinching. "Maybe it already has."
A tense silence stretched between them. Frex exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose before waving a dismissive hand. "Go clean yourself up. I have no more to say."
Elphaba turned on her heel and walked out without another word, her pulse hammering in her ears. When she reached the hallway, Nessarose was still there, watching her.
"You shouldn’t provoke him," Nessa murmured.
Elphaba let out a humorless laugh. "Why not? He never listens anyway."
Nessa pursed her lips but didn’t argue.
Elphaba exhaled, forcing the tension from her shoulders. "I’ll be upstairs."
And with that, she climbed the stairs, the weight of her father’s words settling deep in her chest.
But somehow, she wasn’t thinking about him.
She was thinking about the girl who had driven her home.