Chapter 20
Glinda’s hands were shaking.
The second Elphaba walked away, something in her snapped. The air in the cafeteria felt too thick, the voices around her too sharp, and her heartbeat too loud.
She barely heard Pfannee’s next smug remark, barely registered the way Milla smirked like she’d won.
Because she hadn’t.
Glinda had just lost.
She pulled out her phone under the table, hands gripping it too tight as she typed.
Glinda:Elphie—
Glinda:Please answer me.
Glinda:I didn’t mean it.
Nothing.
She swallowed hard, shoving the phone into her lap, trying to school her expression into something that didn’t scream guilt.
The next class blurred together. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stop replaying it in her head.
By the time the final bell rang, she was already dialing.
Straight to voicemail.
Glinda’s stomach twisted.
She tried again. And again. Nothing.
Elphaba was shutting her out.
And Glinda—
Glinda didn’t know how to fix it.
Glinda wasn’t panicking.
Not yet.
But the longer she searched, the more that sick, twisting feeling in her stomach grew.
Elphaba was nowhere.
She checked the library first. Empty.
The track? Vacant.
Locker room? Nothing.
She even swung by the parking lot, scanning for Elphaba’s car. Gone.
Her phone was still silent. Every call ignored. Every text left on read.
And then—
"Looking for someone?"
Glinda’s heart nearly stopped.
She turned to find Boq, watching her with a knowing look.
She forced a smile. "No. Just… had to grab something."
Boq didn’t look convinced. "You seem kind of frantic for someone who’s just grabbing something."
Glinda shifted. "I’m fine."
"Right." Boq nodded slowly, then tipped his head toward the lot. "She left after lunch."
Glinda inhaled sharply. Of course she did.
"Not that you care or anything," Boq added, watching her way too closely.
Glinda turned away. "I have to go."
Glinda had spent all night replaying it, over and over.
Her own voice, sharp and cruel, ringing in her ears.
Please. You really think I’d waste my time on her?
She’d barely slept. She barely ate. None of it mattered.
Only one thing mattered. Fixing this.
And Elphaba wasn’t giving her the chance.
So, she took matters into her own hands.
She caught Elphaba before practice, cornering her in an empty classroom.
"Wait—" Glinda started, but Elphaba was already turning to leave.
"Elphaba, please."
That made her stop.
Slowly, Elphaba turned back. Her arms were crossed, expression unreadable, but her eyes were sharp. Tired. Hurt.
"I tried to talk to you," Glinda said, voice quieter than she meant. "You ignored me."
Elphaba let out a humorless laugh. "And I didn’t want to hear it."
Glinda swallowed hard. "You don’t understand—"
"Oh, I understand," Elphaba interrupted, voice cold. "You panicked. You did what you had to do to save face. And in doing that, you made sure everyone knew exactly where I stand."
Glinda’s throat tightened. "That’s not—"
"You think I don’t know what self-preservation looks like?" Elphaba’s jaw clenched. "You think I haven’t lived that?"
Glinda’s breath hitched.
"I get it, Glinda," Elphaba continued, voice lower now. "I do. But it doesn’t change what you said. And it doesn’t change that you said it while they were laughing about me."
Glinda felt small.
She wanted to say something—anything—but what was left to say?
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "I just need some time."
Glinda bit her lip, voice barely above a whisper. "How much?"
Elphaba’s eyes softened. Just barely.
"I don’t know."
And with that, she walked away.
Glinda had never felt more alone in a crowd.
The rest of the week blurred by—classes, cheer practice, the usual routine—but Elphaba was missing from all of it.
She was still there, of course. Sitting in the same spots, walking the same halls. But Glinda wasn’t part of her world anymore. Not really.
And it was killing her.
Elphaba didn’t look at her. Didn’t acknowledge her.
Every time Glinda caught herself searching for her in a room, she had to force herself to stop.
Every time she almost texted, she had to put her phone away.
By Friday, she was exhausted. Fractured.
The game should have been a distraction. Should have been easy.
They won, the crowd cheered, the team celebrated—but Glinda didn’t go to the party.
She couldn’t bring herself to pretend she was fine.
Instead, she drove home, went through the motions, and curled up in bed, staring at her phone in the dark.
And then—
Her screen lit up. Incoming video call.
Her breath caught. Elphaba.
For a second, she hesitated.
Then, before she could think too hard about it—
She answered.
Elphaba’s face appeared on the screen, dim lighting casting soft shadows across her features. She looked tired, hesitant, maybe even a little nervous.
Glinda swallowed. "Elphie."
Elphaba exhaled, shifting slightly. "You didn’t go to the party."
Glinda huffed a laugh, something weak, brittle. "Guess we had the same idea."
Elphaba didn’t smile, but something in her expression unclenched.
A pause. Quiet. Loaded.
"I just..." Elphaba hesitated, then sighed. "I don’t know why I called."
Glinda’s chest tightened. "I’m glad you did."
Another pause. Another shift.
And then—
"Can we just... talk?" Elphaba’s voice was soft, like she was still figuring it out as she said it.
Glinda nodded. "Yeah. We can talk."
And just like that—
She wasn’t alone anymore.
Glinda didn’t hesitate this time.
The moment she ended the call, she grabbed her keys and slipped out of the house, heart hammering as she drove toward Elphaba’s place. She didn’t second-guess herself, didn’t think about what she was doing—she just needed to see her.
When she pulled up outside, Elphaba was already waiting by the curb, arms crossed, face unreadable. The streetlights cast long shadows over her frame, highlighting the sharp angles of her face, the tension in her shoulders.
Glinda rolled down the window. "Get in."
Elphaba hesitated for a second before exhaling, then slid into the passenger seat, shutting the door softly. She didn’t look at Glinda right away, just stared straight ahead, fingers drumming lightly against her thigh. The quiet between them wasn’t tense anymore—just uncertain.
"I needed to see you," Glinda admitted, gripping the steering wheel, voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk."
Elphaba nodded, glancing out the window before sighing. "Yeah. We do."
Glinda pulled out of the driveway and drove, neither of them saying a word until they reached the empty parking lot of the high school. She parked under a dim streetlamp, cutting the engine, but neither of them moved to leave the car.
Finally, Glinda turned toward her. "I’m not ready," she said, her voice softer than she meant. "To be… out."
Elphaba studied her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, finally, she nodded. "I figured."
Glinda’s chest tightened. "I don’t want to hide you, but I—"
"You don’t have to explain," Elphaba cut in, voice even. "I get it. And I don’t care if people know about me." She shrugged, forcing a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Like I ever did."
Glinda frowned. "But you do care."
Elphaba exhaled sharply through her nose, tilting her head against the seat. "Maybe a little. But not enough to make this harder for you."
Glinda bit her lip, looking down at her hands resting in her lap. "I won’t ever talk badly about you again. That won’t happen."
Elphaba nodded, gaze flickering toward her. "Good."
"But…" Glinda hesitated, guilt pooling in her stomach. "I might need time before I start standing up to Pfannee and the others."
Elphaba’s gaze softened, and this time, she didn’t argue. "I know."
Glinda swallowed past the lump in her throat. "But I will."
A beat of silence. The streetlamp buzzed faintly outside, throwing shadows across the dashboard. The space between them changed.
Glinda reached out slowly, hesitantly, her fingers grazing Elphaba’s wrist. The touch was soft, careful, questioning.
Elphaba’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned her hand over, letting their fingers brush, then slowly interlaced them.
Glinda inhaled sharply, glancing down at their joined hands, then back up at Elphaba, searching her expression. "Is this okay?"
Elphaba swallowed. "Yeah."
Glinda bit her lip. "I don’t know what I’m doing."
A small, almost imperceptible smile flickered over Elphaba’s lips. "Me neither."
The air between them shifted again.
Glinda’s eyes darted to Elphaba’s lips before she could stop herself. The tension between them thickened, heavy and charged. She didn’t know who moved first, only that the space between them disappeared.
Glinda tilted forward, her nose grazing Elphaba’s, her breath hitching as her free hand found the nape of Elphaba’s neck, fingers brushing against her braids.
Then, finally—
She kissed her.
It was tentative at first, hesitant, almost testing—
Until Elphaba responded, tilting her head, pulling Glinda in.
The kiss deepened, slow and warm, filled with every unsaid thing between them.
Glinda let out a soft breath against Elphaba’s lips as fingers tangled in her hair, her own hands sliding to Elphaba’s jaw, feeling the slight tremor beneath her fingertips.
Elphaba shifted slightly, turning in her seat as much as the cramped car would allow, one hand firm on Glinda’s waist, grounding her.
Glinda pressed forward, her back arching as she let herself get lost in it.
The world outside the car didn’t exist. Just this. Just them.
Neither of them moved.
The car was quiet, save for the sound of their breathing, still unsteady, still tangled with something unspoken.
Glinda’s fingers rested lightly against Elphaba’s jaw, her thumb brushing over smooth green skin. Neither of them spoke, but neither of them pulled away, either.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the silence wasn’t heavy—it just was.
Elphaba exhaled, leaning back against the seat, head tilting toward the window, but she didn’t let go of Glinda’s hand.
"I don’t want to go home," Glinda murmured.
Elphaba let out a quiet breath, something like a tired laugh. "Me neither."
Glinda studied her, fingers still idly playing with one of her braids. "You don’t talk about home much."
Elphaba gave a small shrug. "Not much to talk about."
Glinda frowned, but didn’t push. Instead, she just held on.
"I should get you home," Glinda murmured, voice reluctant.
Elphaba nodded but didn’t move. Didn’t let go.
Glinda sighed, squeezing her hand once before finally—reluctantly—letting go.
She started the car, the low hum filling the space between them as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward Elphaba’s house. Neither of them spoke, but there was an understanding in the silence—something unspoken, something lingering.
When they reached Elphaba’s place, Glinda put the car in park but didn’t unlock the doors right away. She looked over, finding Elphaba watching her, expression unreadable in the dim light.
"Glinda."
She paused, heart skipping. "Yeah?"
Elphaba hesitated, then just said, "Drive safe."
Glinda smiled softly. "Goodnight, Elphie."
Elphaba opened the door, stepping out into the night. She hesitated for a second longer before closing it behind her, disappearing into the shadows of her house.
And just like that—
Glinda was alone again.