"Elphaba, come on now, or you'll miss the train!" He bellowed from the porch into the little hovel. She was nearly late, and he would have to hurry to get her to the only train station in Ovvels.
There was a dull thud within. "Coming, Papa!" Frex watched as his oldest child ran out of the house, carrying her single suitcase.
Not for the first time, he studied her. She was clearly flustered, nervous about missing the train to University. She was grown now, he supposed. She had just turned seventeen a few weeks before. She was still tall and gawky, and hadn't filled out. She was all skin and bones. Her skin was a brighter shade than normal with the effort of running to get ready.
She looked so much like her mother it hurt. True, Melena had been a little shorter, and curvier. Her skin had been milky white and her hair had been a light shade of red. But the resemblance was remarkable. It was the eyes that always got him. Elphaba's eyes were a deep brown, like Melena's had been. She had the same strong jaw, and lips as well. He could see none of himself in his daughter. As he always did, he assured himself it was merely the girl's resemblance to her mother mixed with her unnatural coloring.
"Papa?" Elphaba tried, squirming under his gaze. "You said we were running late?"
The words jarred him back to the present. Yes, he would take the girl to the train station, she would study and work hard. Something Melena had never had to do... Something she wouldn't have had to do if she hadn't been born so odd. "Yes, c'mon." He told himself to stop comparing his dead wife and his living daughter. If Melena stayed out of his mind, looking at her Elphaba would not hurt nearly as much.