Chapter 2
“Elphie, tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.” They were lying in bed, Galinda’s left arm looped in with Elphaba’s right, her right hand holding her green upper arm and her chin resting on Elphaba’s shoulder.
This setup had become second nature by now, both girls having allowed the other full access to their personal space. Elphaba sometimes wondered if there was any inch of her body she wouldn’t allow Galinda to touch.
Elphaba took a breath, racking her brain for something to tell Galinda that she hadn’t already. They’d played this game so many times.
But only half a beat later, Galinda said impatiently, “Okay, fine, I’ll go first. I can roll my tongue.” She rolled her tongue out at Elphaba, then squealed.
Elphaba smiled down affectionately at Galinda and her pink tongue. While it annoyed her to no end when they first met, Galinda’s confidence that she was The Most Specialocious and Uniquest Person amused the green witch now.
But she couldn’t help it — Elphaba rolled her tongue out at Galinda, too.
Galinda gasped in horror that she wasn’t the only one, then tried covering it by feigning offense.
Then Galinda indignantly rolled her tongue out further at Elphaba. The girls burst out laughing.
“Why haven’t you told anyone that?” Elphaba asked between breathless laughs.
Galinda shrugged, and said, “I always thought it was somewhat… undignifiable, I suppose. Something a proper lady would never have figured out she could do.”
Elphaba, her laughter slowing, replied, “Well, I’m glad you showed me.”
“Your turn,” Galinda said, her eyebrows raising slightly, expectantly. “Something no one else knows. Go ahead.”
Elphaba opened and closed her mouth, as if she had something to say and changed her mind at the last minute.
“Okay, here’s one: my nanny, Dulcibear, taught me how to read. The governor’s house is usually assigned a tutor, for the governor’s children. But every time one arrived, they’d take one look at me and claim I couldn’t be taught. We went through six tutors before Dulcibear decided to just teach me herself.”
“But Elphaba,” Galinda said, her eyebrows coming together in confusion. “You’re the smartmost girl in our year. Maybe even in all of Shiz.”
At that, Elphaba beamed. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Dulcibear sounds really wonderful.”
“She was.” Elphaba spoke reverently. She looked… sad.
Galinda held on a little tighter, and Elphaba returned the gesture with a squeeze of her own.
—
“Elphie, tell me a secret.”
Elphaba tried to think of one, even knowing that Galinda would beat her to it.
“Fine, I’ll go first.”
Tonight they were sitting on their balcony, backs pressed against the wall. They were close enough that even gossamer couldn’t fit between their skin.
“I’ve never had a friend like you,” Galinda whispered.
“I’ve never had a friend,” Elphaba replied with her typical self-deprecatifying humor.
They laughed, their smiles never reaching their eyes. Galinda wanted to allow Elphaba to deflect the real hurt, to cover it up with jokes as if it didn’t bother her.
After the fake laughter died down a little, Galinda gathered up the courage to ask, “...did you want one? A friend?”
She spoke in a soft, delicate voice, as if Elphaba was fragile. Elphaba’s first instinct was defensiveness; she wanted to say something hurtful to Galinda just to convey that she wasn’t fragile, she was fierce, and she could hurt you worse than the world could hurt her.
But instead, Elphaba decided to be honest.
“...yes.”
There it was: the real secret. They both knew it.
“Oh, Elphie. You deserved one.” Galinda’s fingers fluttered over Elphaba’s, not committing to holding her hand but not able to refrain from touching her.
Elphaba looked down at the other girl, smiling a sad smile. Galinda’s free hand grazed the green witch’s cheek, even though no tears were there. “Children can be so cruel.” She paused, reflecting, then removed her hand from Elphaba’s face and looked down at her bare feet. “I suppose people can be so cruel.”
Galinda was surprisingly quick to apologize for most things, as long as she was humble enough to realize it was actually her wrongdoing. But the shame of how she treated Elphaba before the Ozdust was too great for her to even mention it, let alone apologize. Elphaba understood this, somehow. The apology wasn’t in spoken words, but the way Galinda treated her now; like someone who was important, treasured, admired, believed in. That was more than enough for Elphaba to have forgiven her.
Galinda finally looked into Elphaba’s eyes and took a big breath. She exhaled deeply, as if trying to purge any negative emotion from her soul.
“Well,” she continued. “That doesn’t matter any more. You have me.” She nudged Elphaba’s shoulder, then she whispered directly in her ear, “We don’t need anyone else.” As if that was the real secret.
—
“Elphie, tell me a secret.”
They were lying side by side in the bed, their arms touching, Elphaba’s hand resting on top of Galinda’s upturned one. Galinda’s thumb traced the ridges of Elphaba’s pinky ring absentmindedly.
Elphaba, at this point, had started waiting for Galinda to answer first whenever they played this game. When she looked to Galinda, she was surprised to find Galinda looking back at her, expectant.
“Oh!” she said, surprised. “You…want me to…go first?”
Galinda raised her eyebrows and tilted her head as if that were painfully obvious and Elphaba was being purposefully obtuseous.
Elphaba went along with it.
“Okay. Let’s see…” Her eyes lit up a little when she thought of one. “When we were little, Nessarose got into the kitchens before a dinner party my father was hosting for the Governor’s staff. She couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6.” She looked up at the ceiling, nostalgic, with a tender smile on her face.
“She had pulled down an entire tray of tarts.” Elphaba laughed before becoming somber again. “My father, of course, didn’t believe Nessa was even capable of it. I was there in the room, so of course he was about to blame me for it anyway, so I…told him it was me.” She ended her story in a defeated tone.
Galinda was staring at her, rapt and smiling. Elphaba still hadn’t grown accustomed to someone caring so much about what she said. She smiled back genuinely at Galinda.
“It was worth it, though, to see Nessa eat all those tarts. She was covered in icing sugar and so happy.”
Galinda joined in Elphaba’s quiet, almost reverent, laughter. She enjoyed hearing stories of Elphaba’s childhood, especially the good ones.
They were still staring up at the ceiling, hands touching. Galinda shared her secret in a very quiet whisper, almost impossible to hear.
“I don’t want to marry Fiyero.”
Elphaba turned her head so she could look at Galinda; Galinda slowly did the same. “Then don’t,” she said with her toothy grin.
Galinda raised her eyebrows and half-smiled, as if Elphaba is much too naive to understand anything. Then she looked back up at the ceiling.
They sat in silence for a few additional moments, Elphaba unable to look away from Galinda. Galinda never took her hand away from Elphaba’s; lazy patterns went up & down her long fingers, occasionally wrapped around her ring before going back up toward her wrist.
Then, finally, Galinda spoke again, in a far-away voice.
“My parents were – are – perfect together. They both got top marks at Shiz, went on to have very successful careers: my father a politician, my mother a solicitor. They’re beautiful, smart, funny, popular,” she looked at Elphaba now, to emphasize the last word as an inside joke between them. “And of course, they had me.” She slid the fingers of her free hand along her collarbone, but visibly held back from tossing her hair for emphasis.
Elphaba’s eyebrows furrowed and she shook her head slightly, not comprehending what this had to do with Fiyero.
Galinda realized she’d have to spell it out for the girl. She continued, looking morose and hopeless. She was still whispering.
“Fiyero and I are perfect together, too. My friends, my parents, their friends, everyone… would be thrillified if I married Prince Fiyero. We deserve each other. They're all expecting it of me.”
She finished speaking, her eyes boring into Elphaba’s, desperate and pleading.
Elphaba shifted in the bed, moving to her side to fully face Galinda. She intertwined the fingers of their clasped hands. Galinda followed suit, resting her free hand in between them.
A single tear gathered at the corner of her eye, threatening to spill across the bridge of her nose and onto her pillow. Elphaba wiped the tear away with the pad of her thumb, then left her hand there on her cheek.
“I’m sorry, I’m being silly.” Galinda tried to laugh it off in her high, perfect voice.
“No,” Elphaba told her. “No, it’s not silly.”
They held each other’s stare, Elphaba’s thumb gently rubbing Galinda’s cheek; Galinda’s thumb still gliding against Elphaba’s hand.
“Galinda, if you don’t want to marry him, maybe he isn’t… as perfect as you think.”
Galinda gently rolled her eyes, leaving them looking down, obviously not believing her.
Elphaba brushed her long fingers down her friend’s cheek until they rested under her chin. She forced Galinda’s face up slightly so Galinda would have to look at her.
“What you deserve is to marry the person you want, not the person everyone else wants for you.”
Galinda made a choked guttural noise, and her face became distorted as she began truly sobbing, Elphaba’s hand holding her head up.
Elphaba thought then that she might be the only person who’s ever seen Galinda ugly cry — not that it was ugly. Galinda could never be ugly. It was real and raw and showed who Galinda truly was. Elphaba thought how lucky she was to get to see it.
Tears continued to stream down Galinda’s face as she cried quietly but violently.
Elphaba never let go of her gaze or her chin. She allowed Galinda to cry, open and abandonful, not letting her look away or hide. Somehow, Elphaba knew that’s what Galinda needed right now: to be seen in her ugliest, least perfect, most disgustingified state, and still be loved for it.
It was so vulnerable and intimate, it took everything Elphaba had to keep looking, to stay present with her friend and not shy away from it.
Galinda kept crying, spilling out all her sadness for Elphaba to see. Elphaba couldn’t help it anymore — she closed her eyes, pulled Galinda’s face closer, and kissed her forehead.
Still clasping hands, Elphaba wrapped her other arm over Galinda’s shoulders and pulled her close to her chest. Galinda let out a loud, strangled, undignifiable gargle. She rested her arm between them, buried her face further into Elphaba’s bosom, and cried and cried, streams of tears trickling down Elphaba’s chest.
Elphaba rubbed circles on her back. “Shhh, shhh, it’ll be okay, shhh,” she crooned in Galinda’s ear, the way Dulcibear always did, when the other children were gone and only their biting remarks remained, and Elphaba was free to show her sadness in the safety of her nanny’s embrace. When she didn’t have to pretend to be strong or thick-skinned or that the children’s cutting words didn’t slice right through her heart.
She kissed the top of Galinda’s blonde head and whispered assurances until Galinda’s sobs slowed and quieted. Soon only a few occasional hiccups interrupted her labored breathing, and eventually her breathing completely steadied and Elphaba knew she had fallen asleep.
If Fiyero doesn’t deserve you, thought Elphaba, I don’t know who would.
She kept rubbing Galinda’s back until Elphaba herself drifted to sleep.
—
“Elphie, tell me a secret.”
They had just returned to their dorm from breakfast and were gathering their books for lessons.
“Fine, I’ll go first, again. I really disliked the scones they served for breakfast this morning.”