Hi! New story!

So, as I said in my last A/N of Motionless, this story will be a little bit different. This isn't Elphaba, Galinda, and the rest going to Shiz and stuff. This story revolves around an OC, which I know is dangerous and spawned THE WORST fanfic of all time, My Immortal. If you haven't read it, DON'T! It's awful. But I like my OC, and she is not a fill in for me. If anything, she's a fill in for Lin Manuel Miranda. Yeah, this story is kind of a love letter to both Hamilton and Wicked.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

I'm home!
Where the coffee's non-stop,
And I drop this hip-hop
In my mom and pop shop.
I'm home!
Where people come, people go.
Let me show all of these people what I know
:
There's no place like home!
And let me set the record straight!
I'm steppin' to Vanestor,
I'm gettin' a second date
.
I'm home!
Where it's a hundred in the shade,
But with patience and faith, we remain unafraid.
I'm home!
You hear that music in the air?
Take the train to the top of the world,
And I'm there.
I'm home!

I sang that last note out loud and clear with the ensemble backing me up. Then, the orchestra did its big finale, the curtain fell, and Ozma Heights ended its run in the Emerald City. I barely had enough time to share relieved/overwhelmed looks with my company mates before the curtain went up again and we had to bow. We did it altogether; I didn't like it when theater companies had the leading actors and actresses bow last. It added an unnecessary hierarchy among cast members. We all had made Ozma Heights happen, so we all deserved equal credit.

But before the curtain could close again, Rain, who played my best friend in the show (she was also kind of my best friend in real life), shouted, "Yo! Let Loya have an amplifier!"

And of course, since Rain has that kind of voice that makes people do stuff, a voice amplifier was soon in my hands. I had to freestyle. Everyone in that theater was expecting me to freestyle. Here goes nothing … "And I know how upset some of y'all are gettin'. But listen, Ozma Heights ain't closing, this is spreading! And yeah, I'm up here up lookin' grand, but one day you'll be somewhere in Munchkinland, somewhere chillin' in some theater lobby long after I retire, some little high-schooler's gonna be playin' Ozaia! I want all y'all to drive this, that little Ozian kid is gonna know what a Quoxian flag is! Wherever you all roam, remember for a time that the EC was home." Everyone cheered. Some people screamed. I dramatically dropped the amplifier onto the stage, and then headed back to the wings, my castmates in tow.

It was crazy backstage. Cato, who played my love interest Vanestor, shook my shoulders and exclaimed, "Dreams come true, bitch! You did it!"

"We all did it," I corrected him. "Man, am I gonna miss kissing you eight times a week!"

"Ah, then you're just going to have to write me into another show! I'll be waiting!"

Suddenly, Rain appeared from behind me. "Hey girlfriend, what do ya say we get into some sexy street clothes and get a few drinks?"

I groaned. "Aw, I wish I could, but I have an interview tomorrow morning, and then I gotta catch a train to Ciudad Quoxia."

"How long are you gonna be in Quox, girl?! I'mma miss you!"

"I'll be back in the fall. The Emerald City Times wants me to be a part of their 'news theatre' program, remember? And I have to come up with something to do for Lady Fabala's arts thingie. I really don't want to do anything from Heights, you know? I don't want to be a one trick pony."

Rain chuckled. "Loya, you are anything but a one trick pony. You'll come up with something. I'm counting on it."

The next morning, I was on the motion picture show Wake Up, EC. I was announced with my usual titles: "Award winning Loya Samete, creator and star of the hit musical, Ozma Heights." I was almost used to that now. I was asked the typical questions, so I yapped about growing up in Ozma Heights with immigrant parents from Quox, how my mom couldn't speak any Ozish when she first came to this country, how theatre in the EC should be more diverse … blah blah blah. But then, one of the hosts asked me, "So, now that Ozma Heights is closed, what's next for you?"

"I don't know," I answered, almost completely honestly. "But for now, I'm going to take a vacation in my homeland, Quox, and just … breathe. Respira." Two out of the three hosts smiled at my reference to Ozma Heights. But their question did make me wonder: what would I do after the news theater and the arts celebration? Well, now was not the time to worry about that. I was going to Quox, where my mom probably already had a cake made for me, and where my dad had already mostly likely bragged to his old friends about me. There really is no place like home.

My train was due to leave at eleven, and I got to the station at about nine thirty. There really was no need to go my platform yet, so I sat and waited in the lobby, content to peoplewatch. A Gilikinese woman ran so fast across the lobby that she tore her skirt. A Boar in a business suit walked by, talking loudly on his mobile phone. Two Quadling teenage boys goofed around near a statue of Lady Glinda, much to the annoyance of the adults around them. A Lioness sat down next to me, and chewed noisily on some beef.

Presently, a young man plopped down on my other side, eyes fixed on me. "I don't mean to bother you," he said. "But I think I saw you on the news this morning. You did some … play, right?"

"Musical," I clarified automatically. "But yeah, I did." I couldn't help but smile at him. He was more than a little handsome. The golden tint of his skin betrayed his Ixaan heritage, but his brown hair and blue eyes showed that he had some Ozian blood too, most likely Munchkinlander.

What he said next confirmed my suspicions. "Good on you for writing something about immigrants. My grandparents are from Ix. I'm Vanestor, by the way."

Oh my Oz, the real life Vanestor! This is too good to be true. I had named my character Vanestor after a childhood friend, but a little romantic fantasy couldn't hurt … "Well, I-I'm Loya. Loya Samete. I'm going home to Quox. I-I mean, Quox isn't really my home; I have an apartment here in the EC, but my family's from there, so it's kind of my home. That whole dilemma is kind of what my show's about." Nice work, Loya. Keeping the rambling in check.

Vanestor smiled. "Well then, I'm sorry it closed before I could see it." His smile made my insides turn to mush. But then, he suddenly noticed the clock on the wall and panicked. "Oh damn! I'm meeting a friend in fifteen clock ticks over at Tiknor. But here's my number." He wrote down his number on a napkin and handed it to me. "Call me. And have fun in Quox." He left, and it took me a few clock ticks to start breathing again. This could be the start of something wonderful.

About a half hour before my train came, I wandered over to the station bookshop, looking for a good book to read on the ride to Quox. There were a few romance novels, the complete works of Doctor Nikidik, and some mystery book involving Ozma the Bilious' diadem. None of them looked interesting. But then I noticed a book written by Lady Glinda, who had only recently handed power over to her daughter, Fabala. Apparently she had just published a memoir: A Wicked Life – the Story of Me and My Best Friend. On the cover, there was a picture of Lady Glinda in her youth and Elphaba Thropp, the forty years dead witch whose reputation was mixed, to say the least. To the Animals, she was legendary, a champion of their rights. To old sympathizers of the Wizard, she was practically Kumbrecia's spawn, a wicked witch who was evil just for the sake of being evil. And to Lady Glinda, apparently, she was a best friend. As a person whose family had only been in Oz for two generations, I really had no opinion whatsoever on Elphaba Thropp. But I supposed this book would make me form one.

Let me know what y'all think! Thanks for reading!

Cheers,

Elle Dottore