It was her favorite night of the year. It was the night she could hide once more and return to Oz. It was the night she could fade into the background - just another dancing swirl in a group of floating ballgowns and pretty masks. It was the night when she could be with her best friend and with her true love without either knowing she was there.
It was the night the green girl could be free.
It was another girl's favorite night of the year, too. It was her favorite, because her mask concealed the unstoppable tears. It was the night she wasn't bound down by her gold ringlets or porcelain skin. It was the night when she could pretend she was loved, but needn't pretend to be happy.
This blonde also considered the night a night of freedom.
The green girl had planned her entire outfit nights before, which was unusual for her. She had made her own mask, silver, with yellow lace around the edge. Her dress was pink, and rather ruffly, unlike her usual plain black outfits. Sequins adorned the neckline, and pink lace gloves concealed her hands. Not an inch of skin could be seen.
The blonde had also planned in advance, though this was far from odd. She had scoured the house weeks ago, searching, but not a single article of black could be found. She had then gone to the shops, hiding from any spectators that might recognize her, choosing a black gown that was much simpler and conservative than her usual extravagant gowns. The gown had traces of green throughout the top, and at the end of the sleeves and bottom of the skirt, there was some dark green lace. Her hands were clad in green gloves, and her mask was a sequined black with green accents sown in. Like the green girl, no skin could be found, but her curly hair could still be seen.
The night of the masquerade, the blonde found her stomach flip-flopping. If her husband found out... but no, Chuffrey would stay away. She dressed quickly and swept out, to the masquerade.
The blonde was quickly lost in the crowd. She turned to fetch a refreshment when she ran into a person, a woman to be exact.
"Oh! I'm sorry!" she gasped.
"Galinda?" gasped the other woman, clenching her gloves around her skirt.
"Who wants to know?" asked the blonde. She tossed her hair.
"It is you!"
"Have we met?" she asked.
"Uh, no."
"Well, it was nice to not meet you," Glinda joked, holding out her hand. When the other woman grasped it, she stole away the glove. "I knew it!"
"Glinda!" hissed the green girl. "I'm dead!" Glinda clutched the green hand, revelling in her friend's non-dead flesh.
"I dressed as you!"
"And I as you," the green woman replied. As the last stroke of midnight fell, they embraced, trying to hold on to the falsehood, trying to forget reality. Finally, they released.
"I'll never see you again," the blonde realized.
"It's okay... I have to go. Take my glove! Don't forget me!" The green woman dashed from the room, leaving the blonde alone.
So no one heard the blonde whisper, "How could I forget my Wicked Witch?"