Chapter 30
Elphaba didn’t look at her. Not once.
Not in the halls, not in study hall, not even in class when Glinda knew she had to be watching, had to be listening. Nothing.
It was like she had been erased.
And Avaric noticed.
“Looks like you got dumped,” he mused, slinging an arm over Glinda’s shoulders as they walked toward the gym.
Glinda shrugged him off immediately, but the damage was done—Elphaba was right there, standing by the lockers, and she saw it.
Saw him touch her again.
Saw Glinda hesitate.
And this time, Avaric didn’t stop there.
Before Glinda could react, he leaned in and kissed her.
It was brief, just a brush of lips, but it was enough.
Enough for Glinda to freeze in horror.
Enough for Elphaba’s entire body to go rigid before she turned on her heel and walked away, her shoulders stiff, her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles went white.
Glinda barely heard Avaric’s smug chuckle over the roaring in her ears. By the time she shoved him off her, it was too late.
Elphaba was gone.
Elphaba wasn’t planning on going to the game. Obviously.
But the boys had other ideas.
“Come on,” Tibbett groaned, throwing himself dramatically onto her bed. “You almost never come to school events.”
“Correct,” Elphaba muttered, flipping through the book in her hands. “Because I have self-respect.”
Boq rolled his eyes. “It’s Glinda’s game.”
Elphaba stiffened. They noticed.
“She’d want you there,” Crope added, watching her too closely. “You know that.”
Elphaba’s jaw tightened. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Then, of course, Nessa had to get involved.
“Elphaba,” her voice cut through the room, sharp and expectant. She didn’t even look up from where she was fixing her nails at her desk. “You should go.”
Elphaba exhaled slowly. “Why?”
“Because if you don’t,” Nessa said simply, “you’ll regret it.”
The boys all stared at her, waiting, knowing she had no good reason to say no.
And maybe Nessa was right.
Or maybe she would regret it.
Glinda should have been focused. She had never struggled to perform under pressure before.
But today, her mind was elsewhere.
The routine started, her body moving on autopilot. She had done this a hundred times.
But then they went into the stunt sequence, and something felt off.
Her base’s grip was solid, but her own balance was just slightly wrong.
The moment she was in the air, she knew. Too
much weight on one side. A fraction too slow.
The world tilted.
For one terrifying second, she was falling.
Her stomach lurched, the crowd gasped—but then arms caught her.
She didn’t hit the mat.
But the shake in her hands told her how close she had come.
She barely had time to breathe before they moved into the next transition. She forced herself forward, ignoring the way her pulse pounded in her ears.
And then—her eyes flickered toward the stands.
Elphaba.
She was there, watching.
And for just a split second, Glinda caught it—pure, unfiltered worry.
It was gone just as fast. Elphaba’s face smoothed out, her arms crossed tightly. Unreadable.
Glinda felt something crack in her chest.
Glinda knew exactly where she’d find her.
Not in the middle of the chaos, not surrounded by people.
No—Elphaba would be alone.
And Glinda was right.
She found her in the backyard, leaning against the railing of the porch, a half-empty drink in one hand, the other braced on the wood.
Boq stood beside her, arms crossed, talking low. He stopped when he saw Glinda.
Elphaba didn’t turn. Didn’t acknowledge her at all.
Glinda swallowed, stepping forward. “Elphie—”
Elphaba’s laugh was quiet, sharp.
“Oh, look.” She took another slow drink, and Glinda realized with a sickening jolt just how drunk she was.
Elphaba’s movements were looser than usual, almost sluggish, her words slightly slurred. She wasn’t just drinking—she was gone.
Glinda’s stomach twisted.
“Elphaba, how much have you had?” she asked carefully, stepping closer.
Elphaba exhaled through her nose, barely looking at her. “Enough.”
Boq cleared his throat, glancing between them. “I’m gonna—uh—go inside.”
Elphaba rolled her eyes. “That’s probably wise.”
Boq hesitated for a second longer before disappearing into the house, leaving them alone.
Glinda took another step closer. “Can we—can we talk?”
“Talk about what?” she asked, voice flat. “The part where you let Avaric kiss you? Or the part where you didn’t push him away fast enough?”
Glinda’s heart twisted.
“That’s not fair.”
Elphaba tilted her head, taking another sip. “No? Then explain it to me, princess.”
Glinda swallowed hard. “I—”
Elphaba’s jaw clenched. “You can’t, can you?”
The words hit like a slap. ”Can you?”
Glinda knew this wasn’t going to end well.
But she couldn’t just walk away.
“Elphaba,” she tried again, voice softer. “Please—”
Elphaba downed the rest of her drink, setting the empty cup down on the porch railing with a dull thud. Her hands gripped the wood, her knuckles white. She stood stiffly, her weight shifting slightly as if trying to ground herself.
“Don’t.”
Glinda swallowed. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t act like you care.” Elphaba’s voice was low, sharp. “Not now. Not when it’s convenient for you.”
Glinda flinched. She took a hesitant step forward. “That’s not fair—”
Elphaba let out a cold laugh, turning to finally look at her fully. Her eyes were red-rimmed, streaked with faint burn marks down her cheeks—she had been crying.
Glinda’s stomach plummeted.
“Isn’t it?” Elphaba took a slow step closer, standing just a foot away. “You sure seemed fine earlier, letting him put his hands on you.”
Glinda felt her pulse thunder in her throat. “I didn’t—he—”
“You didn’t stop him.”
“I shoved him off!”
“But not fast enough!”
The words cut deep, and Glinda recoiled, her breath catching. Her hand trembled at her side, fingers curling into a tight fist.
Elphaba exhaled sharply, shaking her head, jaw clenched tight. “You let him touch you, Glinda. You let him kiss you. And you know what kind of person he is.”
Glinda’s chest ached, because she knew Elphaba was right. She had hesitated. Not because she’d wanted it, but because… because what?
Because she was scared?
Because she was still trying to pretend?
“Elphie, I—”
“Don’t call me that.”
Glinda stopped dead.
Elphaba’s expression was set in stone, her green skin darkened by the dim porch lights. Her braids hung messily around her shoulders, evidence of how many times she’d probably run her hands through them.
Glinda’s voice wavered. “Elphaba, please, I—I was scared.”
Elphaba let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Yeah? Of what?”
Glinda hesitated.
And that was enough.
Elphaba’s face twisted, something breaking behind her eyes. “You are a coward.”
Glinda snapped.
“You don’t get it!” she shouted, stepping forward, her whole body trembling with frustration. “You don’t live in my world, Elphaba! You don’t know what it’s like!”
Elphaba’s eyes flashed. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I supposed to feel bad for you?” She let out a bitter laugh.“You’re rich, you’re beautiful, you have everything, and you’re terrified of what? Losing a little popularity?”
Glinda’s breathing was ragged. “It’s not that simple—”
“It is that simple!” Elphaba cut her off. “You care more about what they think than you do about me.”
Glinda’s heart twisted, violently. “That’s not true—”
“Then prove it.”
The challenge hung between them, thick and suffocating.
Glinda opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Because she didn’t know how.
Elphaba’s throat bobbed. And then, quieter, like a final blow:
“I’d rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I’m not.”
And Glinda couldn’t hold it in anymore. Couldn’t stop herself from saying the words she would immediately regret.
“Maybe that’s easy for you—you’ve never been loved at all.”
Silence.
Elphaba went completely still.
And Glinda—Oh, Oz, what had she done?
Elphaba blinked once, slowly. Her face betrayed nothing.
Then, she let out a quiet, breathless laugh—a horrible, broken sound.
“Wow,” she murmured. “There it is.”
Glinda’s chest constricted so tightly she could barely breathe. “Elphaba—”
But Elphaba was already stepping past her. Already leaving.
Glinda reacted without thinking.
She grabbed Elphaba’s wrist. “Wait!”
Elphaba ripped away from her touch.
Glinda’s stomach dropped. She stepped forward again, desperate now. “Elphaba, please—”
Elphaba turned sharply, and the look on her face was pure devastation.
“I don’t want to hear it, Glinda.”
“But I didn’t mean—”
“You did.”
Elphaba’s voice wasn’t angry anymore. It was exhausted.
And that was somehow worse.
Glinda wanted to beg, to fix it, to take it all back— but Elphaba was already walking away again, disappearing through the back gate.
This time, Glinda didn’t stop her.
She just stood there, watching her go.
Glinda barely had time to breathe.
Elphaba was gone. Really gone.
And the moment she disappeared through the back gate, the weight of it hit her full force.
Her pulse pounded, her chest heaved, her hands shook—she felt like she was standing on the edge of something, and if she didn’t do something, say something, hit something, she was going to explode.
So she went inside, pushing past people without really seeing them, barely making it through the kitchen before Avaric’s smug voice cut through the noise.
“Wow. That was tragic.”
Glinda whirled around so fast she nearly knocked over a table.
Avaric was leaning against the counter, drink in hand, his other arm draped lazily around some girl’s waist. He looked utterly self-satisfied.
“You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?” he mused, swirling his drink as if he wasn’t actively walking into imminent danger. “Or should I just assume she finally realized you’re way more trouble than you’re worth?”
Glinda’s entire body went still.
Her fists curled. Her jaw clenched. Her head was still spinning from Elphaba, from everything, and now this.
She saw red.
Avaric laughed, completely oblivious to the absolute catastrophe about to befall him. “I mean, I get it. You must be exhausting. Always so high-strung, so—”
“I am going to ruin your life.”
The words came out low and lethal, meant for only him to hear.
Avaric paused, his smirk faltering for just a fraction of a second. “Oh, come on, don’t be so dramatic, sweetheart—”
Glinda’s voice rose—loud enough for the entire kitchen to hear.
“Oh, you wanna talk about exhausting? You wanna talk about tragic?” Her laugh was sharp and cruel.“You know what’s really tragic, Avaric? How you cry after sex.”
Silence.
The entire kitchen went dead quiet.
Avaric’s smirk disappeared. His face dropped.
“You—what the—”
“Oh, wait,” Glinda gasped, hand to her chest, eyes wide in mock realization. “Not just cry. Sobs. Like, full body, ugly, incoherent sobbing. It’s honestly heartbreaking.”
Avaric’s eyes bulged. “What the fuck—”
“Almost as heartbreaking as how,” she continued, tone dripping with condescension, “you have to apologize after because, and I quote, ‘it doesn’t happen for me very often.’”
Tibbett choked on his drink.
Crope full-on gasped.
Boq’s mouth was wide open in horror.
Even Pfannee and Shenshen looked floored, exchanging glances with barely concealed amusement.
Someone in the crowd whistled. Someone else muttered Oh, Ozdamn.
Avaric, for the first time in his entire life, was speechless.
Glinda took a slow step forward, getting in his space, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper.
“If you ever use me to make yourself feel bigger again,” she said, “I will make sure you never recover from it.”
Avaric just stared.
His mouth opened. Closed.
Nothing came out.
Good.
Glinda turned on her heel and walked away without another word.
And the entire party watched her go.
Elphaba stumbled down the sidewalk, her head pounding, her stomach rolling.
She could barely feel her hands. Her face was hot. Her skin burned.
She had to get out of here.
But she didn’t know where to go.
So she sat down on the curb.
The cold pavement bit through her jeans, but she barely noticed.
She sat there for a long time, elbows on her knees, head in her hands. The distant buzz of the party barely reached her ears.
Her chest ached. Her breath was uneven.
She didn’t know how long she stayed like that.
But eventually—
A car pulled up beside her.
“Elphaba.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Oz, not now.
“Elphaba, get in.”
She forced herself to look.
Boq. Leaning out of the driver’s seat, his face tight with concern.
And sitting in the passenger seat, watching her just as closely—Fiyero.
Elphaba groaned. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” Boq shot back. “We’ve been looking for you for an hour.”
Elphaba winced. Had she really been out here that long?
“Come on, Elphie,” Fiyero added, voice softer.
Elphaba wanted to argue.
But she was tired. So tired.
And when she wavered slightly on her feet, Fiyero just sighed, got out of the car, and opened the back door for her, putting a hand around her waist and helping her inside.
“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” he said, not unkindly.
Elphaba exhaled sharply, but didn’t fight it.
She climbed into the back seat, leaning her head against the window.
No one spoke.
And for the first time all night, she let her eyes slip shut.