Even good deeds by the enemy are considered a sign of particular
devilishness, meant to deceive us and the world, while our bad deeds
are necessary and justified by our noble goals which they serve.
—Erich Fromm
- Where's that from, Galinda? It looks horrible! Like an old witch's hat.
- Yeah, black's my grandmother's favorite color. I've been trying to get rid of it for years... I mean, I'd give it away to someone, but I don't hate anyone that much.
A stifled giggle.
- Sure you do!
I take it home that night. The houses in the distance are lit up with cheers and fireworks, bonfires are being lit in veridian streets, and the Emerald City looks like one huge pumpkin in the distance, shades of orange reflected on green. All this from the verandah where I sit with the old hat, alone. Everyone else has gone to celebrate. Even he only looks at me twice when I say I am resting.
I undress in my own room, and hang up the old dress I have treated like a second skin since the day they first called me Glinda the Good. It is a gorgeous thing, I have to admit even now; there are flounces and silver ribbons, lace and swaths of white silk awash in glitter. It does quite compliment my waist (slender after twenty-six years!)... and I have even gotten a diamond tiara to match. It perches on my head, steady and light. I slip it off carefully and place it next to the hat. Neither is practical, but practicality is overrated. Mine is certainly prettier. But hers sits, silent and mysterious, while my tiara is waiting, ready to be seen and flashed and displayed. My life is like that tiara. Always on display, while she could hide in the wings and thrive in the shadows.
I don't envy easily. You must know this. I don't envy many people for the simple reason that they have nothing I want. But for her, I envied.
Secretly, I wish that I was her. I wish that I had the strength to walk away from the spotlight. I wish that I had the strength to wear that hat, the grace the transform something unfashionable into something feared, the power that she commanded through the Grimmery. I wish that I could have stolen Fiyero's glance from a thousand girls alight in scarlet and gold under the Ozdust chandeliers. I wish that I had the strength to wear that hat, so dark and unfashionable, but so enigmatic and strong.