A/N: so yeah. As the summary says, it's my birthday! I'm 15! Well, actually, it was yesterday, but as one would find out, coming back from New York City makes you tired. But I wanted to upload something before I evaded it completely, so here you go. :) And, if you haven't already, be sure to take the poll on my profile page about Don't Forget Me. We are nearing the end of our long story, and I was wondering if it should go on. So enjoy!
Elphaba turned from side to side, trying to get a glimpse of herself in the long narrow mirror that hung from the back of the shared bathroom door. It was a faded, rusted mirror that sadly displayed a long crack down the upper left corner. Elphaba didn't mind it. She figured it was easier to see herself in the mirror if it was uglier than herself. If that was possible.
Usually, mirrors had the most pessimistic ways about beauty. They would envelope girls in their reflections, and tell them they weren't good enough or pretty enough without saying a word. But the girls would believe them, and run off and do some other futile attempt to get "prettier" by the world's standards. But what would become of them?
In all respect, Miss Thropp, you do look rightfully pretty in your own dark, twisted, wicked way. The green girl chuckled at her thoughts. Oh, yes ma'am! So beautiful in every sick disgusting way. What beautiful skin you have! So green, so permanently stuck on a seasick green! Lovely! I'm sure everyone will love to nab those jokes and pull at your long, loose hair.
And what is to stop them? Why, look at you. You will never be pretty as Galinda. Heaven sakes, Galinda. So blond and blissfully brainless that she fits so well with the stupid prince of Vikus. Let her make all the jokes. Let her be in charge. She rules over beautifully sick, disgusting girls like you, Elphaba Thropp!
She cackled, finding her way of talking to herself quite amusing, as if the mirror and she shared a dark secret. She ran a crooked finger down the side of the crack and lowered her eyes in sympathy. So old. So ugly. So rusted was the mirror hanging on the back of the door. So ugly and tired of speaking with real people, and real pariahs, and so very unreal emerald skin. Saddening, really. Not that anything else in her life wasn't.
So she stepped away. She pulled the black dress over her head, and down her body, and pulled it past her hips so that the bottom hung over her feet. She ran her slender fingers around her hair like twine, and separated the strands one by one, to all cross each other in a slow dance down her shoulder and into a braid fastened with an obsidian colored tie.
But, the hat.
Elphaba's eyes moved slowly, as if the ball was already watching her. She stepped towards the hat, perched it on her head and looked once again into the mirror.
Why, Miss Elphaba. You look beautifully disgusting. Are you something out of a horror film? Slender figure, pointed hips and eyes that could scare the most fierce of lions, all settled under your big pointed hat. Just let that Galinda get one look at you. Yes, that's the trick. Just let her look at you in her all-the-range black hat. So popular. So in.
So wicked.
Yes. Elphaba grinned then, a slow and evil grin that reached almost to her eyes. Yes. Yes indeed.