Chapter 31
Glinda didn’t sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at her phone, the dim glow of the screen making her eyes ache.
Three missed calls. Seven texts.
Nothing back. Nothing.
She tried again.
Elphie, please.
I just need to talk to you.
The message delivered. It stayed unread.
Glinda exhaled shakily, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. Her head felt too full, her chest too tight, her throat raw from the fury, the panic, the regret.
She had never felt like this before.
This wasn’t a normal fight. This wasn’t something she could fix with a smile or a joke.
This was Elphaba shutting her out completely.
And it felt like being split in half.
Elphaba, on the other hand, didn’t even look at her phone.
She kept it face-down on her nightstand, unread messages piling up as she lay motionless on her bed.
She wasn’t even sure how she got home. She barely remembered anything after the party.
Just that Glinda had been there.
Just that she had been drunk, hurting, unraveling—and Glinda had still let Avaric touch her.
Elphaba felt sick.
Nessa had scolded her the moment she walked through the door, but she barely heard it. Shell had hovered nearby, wide-eyed with worry.
None of it mattered.
Not when she could still hear Glinda’s voice in her head.
You’ve never been loved at all.
Elphaba shut her eyes.
She needed distance.
She needed to breathe.
Glinda had never been this hungover without drinking a drop of alcohol.
She sat stiffly in the booth, stirring her coffee, barely tasting it.
Across from her, Crope and Tibbett exchanged nervous glances. Boq looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Fiyero just sighed.
“So.” Tibbett tapped his fork against his plate. “Are we gonna talk about last night?”
Glinda swallowed. “What’s there to talk about?”
Boq frowned. “Glinda—”
“She won’t answer me.” Glinda’s voice was thin, brittle. “She won’t even read my messages.”
Crope sighed, leaning forward. “You have to give her time.”
“I don’t want to give her time,” Glinda snapped, immediately regretting how sharp it sounded. “I—I just want her to talk to me. I need to explain.”
Fiyero tilted his head. “Explain what, exactly?”
Glinda faltered. “That it wasn’t—it’s not what she thinks.”
Tibbett raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”
Glinda’s stomach twisted.
“Look,” Boq said gently. “We all saw it. Avaric is a dick, but if you really didn’t want that to happen, you would have—”
“Do you think I wanted it?” Glinda’s voice rose unexpectedly.
The boys all went silent.
Glinda inhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her temple. “I just—I panicked. And now she’s—I don’t know.”
“She’s hurting.” Crope’s voice was softer now. “So are you.”
Glinda gritted her teeth. “Yeah. Well. That doesn’t help me now, does it?”
Fiyero sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You have to let her process it. If you push her before she’s ready—”
“I can’t wait,” Glinda whispered. Her hands clenched around her coffee cup. “I can’t.”
The boys shared another look.
“She’ll come around,” Boq said, even if he didn’t sound fully convinced. “She has to.”
Glinda stared down at the table, heart pounding.
But she wasn’t sure if that was true.
And it terrified her.
Elphaba sat at the kitchen table, barely touching her tea, tuning out everything around her.
Nessa had been watching her carefully all morning. Shell, too. But neither of them had asked.
Until now.
“You look like shit.”
Elphaba snorted. “Thanks, Shell.”
Her brother shrugged. “Just saying. You barely slept, you’re sulking, and you haven’t checked your phone once. That’s gotta be a record.”
Elphaba ignored him.
Nessa folded her hands. “Is this about Glinda?”
Elphaba’s jaw clenched.
Nessa took that as a yes. “She called four times.”
Elphaba finally looked up. “You answered?”
Nessa sighed. “No. But I heard it.”
Shell frowned. “Are you actually gonna ignore her forever?”
Elphaba exhaled sharply. “I don’t know.”
Shell hesitated. “Do you want to?”
Elphaba didn’t answer.
She didn’t know that either.
Frex suddenly walked in, pausing when he saw her slouched over the table. He eyed her for a moment before sighing dramatically.
“You know,” he said, with his usual self-righteous tone, “if you’re feeling this low, maybe you should come to church. Might do you some good.”
Elphaba lifted her head just enough to shoot him a glare. “I’d rather set myself on fire.”
Frex sighed, shaking his head. “One day, Fabala—”
“Not today.” Elphaba cut him off, dropping her forehead back onto her crossed arms. “Not ever.”
Shell stifled a laugh, Nessa rolled her eyes, and Frex just muttered something about damnationbefore walking off.
Elphaba sighed.
Church. Right. That’d fix everything.
Monday morning, and Glinda had never felt so on edge.
The second she stepped into the school, she knew.
People were staring. Whispering. Some barely even trying to hide it.
Her stomach twisted.
Pfannee and Shenshen were already waiting by their lockers, eyes alight with intrigue. Milla stood just behind them, arms crossed, smirking.
“You’re late,” Pfannee drawled, linking arms with her. “And apparently, you’ve been busy.”
Glinda’s pulse spiked. “What?”
Shenshen smirked, tilting her head. “You haven’t heard?”
Glinda forced a light laugh. “Obviously not, since you’re both being dramatic about it.”
Pfannee grinned. “Well. Let’s just say everyone’s wondering exactly how close you and Thropp got at the party.”
Glinda froze.
Her breath caught in her throat, but she covered it immediately, rolling her eyes. “Oh, Oz. That’s ridiculous.”
Shenshen feigned a pout. “Is it?”
Glinda forced herself to laugh again, though it sounded hollow. “Of course! I mean—come on. Elphaba?” She waved a dismissive hand. “That’s just… dumb.”
Pfannee’s grin didn’t falter, but her voice dropped lower, sharper. “Well, it better be dumb, Glinda. Because if it’s not—if it turns out you really are some kind of dyke—” she leaned in, eyes glittering with something cruel, “you’ll lose everything.”
Shenshen giggled beside her. “Your spot as captain, your status, your future.”
Milla chimed in, “Not to mention your reputation.”
Glinda’s breath hitched. Her hands clenched at her sides.
“I—”
Pfannee smiled, sickly sweet. “So, tell us. Should we be worried?”
Glinda swallowed hard, throat tight.
“No,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Of course not.”
Pfannee beamed. “Good.”
Shenshen patted her arm. “Because, really, Glinda. We’re just looking out for you.”
Glinda nodded, numb, before turning on her heel and practically fleeing to first period.
Elphaba had heard it, too.
She had barely made it two steps into school before Crope and Tibbett descended.
“Do you know what they’re saying?” Tibbett asked, eyes wide with amusement.
Elphaba adjusted her bag, sighing. “Let me guess. That I sacrificed a goat in the middle of the party?”
Crope smirked. “Close. Apparently, you and Glinda are lovers.”
Elphaba blinked.
Then she laughed.
A sharp, humorless thing. “Oh, for Oz’s sake.”
Tibbett shrugged. “Honestly, I think people want it to be true.”
Elphaba shook her head. “Well, they’re out of luck.”
But even as she said it, her chest tightened.
She hadn’t seen Glinda yet. Hadn’t looked at her since the party.
And now—
Now, the entire school was talking.
Larena Upland heard about it before lunch.
The first call came from a concerned parent.
The second, from a faculty member.
By noon, she was furious.
Sitting in her pristine office, she dialed her daughter’s number, lips pressed in a thin line.
It rang twice before Glinda picked up. “Momsie?”
Larena exhaled sharply. “What the hell am I hearing about you and that Thropp girl?”
Glinda went cold.
Her grip on the phone tightened, but she forced her voice to stay light. “Oh, Oz. That? It’s nothing.”
“Then why is everyone talking about it?”
Glinda swallowed. “Because people like gossip?”
Larena wasn’t convinced. “Come straight home after school.”
“Momsie, I—”
“Straight home, Glinda.”
The line clicked dead.
Glinda stared at her phone, heart hammering.
And for the first time, she realized—
This wasn’t just school drama anymore.
This was so much worse.
Glinda was barely holding it together.
Everywhere she went, people were whispering. Pointing. Staring. Some smirked. Some giggled behind their hands. Some just looked at her like they were waiting for something to happen.
Like they already knew the outcome of whatever game she was playing.
Like they had already decided for her.
By the time the final bell rang, her chest was so tight it felt like she could barely breathe. Her hands shook as she gripped the steering wheel on the way home. Her mother was going to kill her.