Title: Flying Free (formerly known as Wicked Swim Team or WST for short)
Rating: T for infrequent-but-occasionally-nasty language, tame sexuality, and disturbing themes (homophobia, violence, drowning, and other sundry unpleasantness, none condoned)
Pairing: Fiyero/Elphaba, eventually. Follows canon pairings.
Notes: Thanks for the feedack and the subscribing, y'all! I hope you enjoy the next chapter, in which we get to meet Elphaba and she gets to meet... well, you can probably take a guess.
Flying Free
Chapter One: Be Nice
"Nessie, always remember that you've overcome challenges that no one else on this team or any other will ever understand. You have so much to be proud of – and I hope you know exactly how proud I am of you."
Frex looked at Nessarose with shining eyes, hands on her shoulders as he smiled down at her. It was the kind of smile that made everyone who wasn't receiving it feel like they were doing something wrong. Abruptly, his gaze snapped to Elphaba, hardening along with his tone as he added, "Elphaba. Be nice."
"I could swim instead of being nice, you know."
Frex took a carefully-measured breath. "I am in no mood for your mouth today," he said without shifting his gaze from where it had once again settled adoringly on his favorite daughter. "Nessie? Are you okay?"
The change in the tone probably would have been shocking, Elphaba guessed, if she hadn't heard it since before she was old enough to remember hearing it. As it was, she had, so it had never drawn a reaction from her in all her years of memory. It just was, like gravity and the law of thermodynamics and Earth's orbit. The planets rotate around the sun. Frex rotates around Nessarose. It just was.
Nessa answered him with a smile of her own, one that didn't quite reach her eyes as she glanced nervously at Elphaba, who pretended to be very interested in the door to the aquatics center.
"Thanks, Papa," Nessa mumbled. She was speaking with her neck slumped over and chin against her chest again. Elphaba wished she wouldn't do that, but Nessa had perfected the art of pity and had learned quickly that it tended to get her what she wanted. Though Elphaba wasn't exactly sure what she wanted, this time. Nessa had been talking about Shiz's swim team ever since Frex had informed them that they were moving again. She already had what she wanted. It didn't make sense.
"Come on, baby," Frex said, petting Nessa's hair. "It'll be fine. If it isn't, I'll take care of it, alright?"
"I guess." Nessa sighed. That obviously hadn't been what she was worried about, but Elphaba wasn't sure what was. She allowed herself to wonder about it for a long moment before deciding that it didn't matter. If it interfered with watching Nessa, she'd deal with it then.
"That's my girl. Have a great time, alright? This is a new team – it's a great opportunity for you. For both of you," he added, with an obligatory half-nod at Elphaba.
It wasn't that Father didn't know how Elphaba felt about the 'opportunity' of meeting new people on new swim teams at new schools in new towns. He just didn't care. She should probably have accepted it by now, if only for her own sanity. But she hadn't. The little recording of Father's voice in her head, honed from years of practice, commented harshly that her inability to accept the inevitable was just one more way she had of "bringing this on herself."
"Opportunity to do what?" she heard herself demanding, the words fire-hot in her mouth. "Spend the entire season convincing them that I'm not some kind of demon, and just when some of them are finally willing to look at me, we're moving again to – "
"Be nice, Elphaba."
She stiffened at the sharp edge of warning in the tone, not because it frightened her – she was long past the ability to be frightened or surprised by anything her father said or did – but because she knew that he was about four words away from introducing them to the team himself. He'd only done that once, five years ago when Elphaba was twelve and Nessa was nine, but that once was too many times. Frexhad the impressive ability to create even more rumors and questions and lingering stares under the guise of trying to eliminate them.
Frex glared at her for a moment longer, testing, and she forced herself to just meet his gaze neutrally, listening to her breathing and keeping it even and steady as if she were on the first lap of a mile. He finally gave it up with a stiff shake of his head and a sharp nod at Nessa, and Elphaba walked to her sister's side without a word, waiting for her to say goodbye to Frex and then to lead her up the sidewalk to the pool. She scanned the dilapidated sign above the door to the building. Westside Aquatics. Innocuous enough.
She felt Frex's eyes on her back, watching to be sure that she held the door open for Nessa. Nessa didn't need doors held for her and Elphaba didn't need reminders to do it, but Elphaba knew this game and knew all the rules and knew what happened if she didn't play by them.
She was almost relieved when the double doors closed behind them and the familiar stench of chlorine, heat and poor air circulation hit her like a physical force.
"Oh my god, what is that?"
Almost.
She wasn't sure which one of the three boys leaning lazily against the front desk had said it, but it didn't matter. They'd all say it sooner or later.
"Dude, what the hell. It's green."
"That's gross. That's so gross."
"Hey, artichoke! Farmer's Market's not till Saturday, you know, and you're way early for Halloween."
Nessa caught Elphaba's gaze, a strange look on her face that Elphaba couldn't identify. Her best guess was caught somewhere between fear of leaving Elphaba's side and the need to not be ridiculed by association. It was hit or miss whether that happened at any particular team. Usually miss. Nessa was perfectly capable of distinguishing herself from Elphaba without looking insensitive for it.
Shrugging, Elphaba turned to face the boys and deadpanned, "Nice to meet you, too."
"Ohhh, it talks! Impressive! But can it swim?"
"It's green – frogs can swim. I dunno. Wouldn't count on it, but maybe."
A muscle in Elphaba's neck twitched. "Or maybe you can mind your own business before I make you, and – "
Nessa's fingernails found Elphaba's wrist and dug in. "Be nice, remember?" she murmured, catching her eyes with a meaningful look.
Elphaba hesitated, then sighed and stalked away from the idiots at the desk as Nessa followed. Mind swirling with anger, she tried to focus on getting a better look at the pool instead of the morons that infested it.
The pool was half-hidden behind a tall row of bleachers. The boys kept talking after her as she walked, of course, but none of the exclamations even made the top fifty most original things someone had said about her, and in any case, she didn't much care what they said as long as Nessa was okay. And she seemed to be, apart from the heavy please-don't-embarrass-me looks she kept shooting Elphaba.
It was larger than had seemed possible from the outside, Olympic-sized, though currently divided down the middle with a removable bridge to make two pools of one. Short course, then. Long course would have been better for Nessa; she didn't like turns and said her arm made them difficult. The starting blocks were on the low side but looked newer than the rest of the pool, probably a recent renovation. A diving well hung off the last lane of the competition pool, a middle and high board at the end. Other than that, it was unadorned, just the pool flanked on either side by tall rows of bleachers, like trees in a forest. The equipment wasn't new or fancy, but it worked. Their last pool had had a gym and a daycare and too many flashy gadgets that drew customers, and she hadn't liked it. It had meant more people and more stares. This was better, plain and unembellished. This way, she knew what to expect. Maybe here she could just focus on swimming and taking care of Nessa.
Elphaba suspected that the locker rooms were behind the desk where the boys had been – the boys who were currently following behind Elphaba and Nessa saying something about witches. She didn't need to change, but Nessa had come from a shopping trip with Frex for 'back-to-school clothes.'
"Hey, cast a spell on us!" demanded one of the boys, his voice rich with laughter.
"Witches aren't green," his friend said, rolling his eyes.
"Sure they are," the other countered. "She's missing the warts, though."
"I'm sure she's got warts. We just haven't looked hard enough."
"Nessa, go change," Elphaba said, removing the smaller of the two gym bags from her shoulder and placing it carefully over Nessa's good one. It wasn't heavy – Elphaba kept anything difficult to carry in her own bag – but Frex liked Nessa to avoid carrying anything if possible. Even so, he'd rather Nessa carry her bag than be harassed on Elphaba's behalf.
Nessa's eyes darted from the boys to Elphaba. "But – "
"Just go," Elphaba hissed, and then her sister flashed a nervous smile at their crowd of onlookers and headed for the locker rooms.
Breathing a small sigh of relief when they didn't turn their venom on Nessa, Elphaba faced the boys again and noticed in dismay that they were now accompanied by a few girls as well. There were four of them, three flanking the fourth adoringly, who stood several inches shorter than Elphaba with wavy blond hair pulled away from her face in some complicated swirl completely inappropriate for one about to jump in a pool. She had on a ruffled pink tennis skirt that barely covered her upper thighs, pink flip flops with heels, and a bright white suit that looked custom made. A monogrammed custom-made suit, assuming her name began with a 'G,' which was stitched on at the hip in bright pink.
"Eww, don't talk to her!" the blond girl demanded in a squeaky voice. If chewing on tin foil had a sound, it would be that squeak. "It might be contagulous!"
"Just wanted to see if she had any warts."
"See, Shenshen, I told you it was a 'she'!" said the blond girl triumphantly, turning up her nose at one of her posse. The one next to her snickered. The chastened one, Shenshen, rolled her eyes.
"Well, to be fair," the boy said. "I haven't checked yet."
"Ewww!"
"Relax, Galinda," the boy drawled. "None of us are that desperate to find out."
The blond one – Galinda, what a name – flipped her hair and made a little hmph noise. "Well, don't." Her eyes brightened with false sincerity as they landed on Elphaba, and she took a few cautious – very cautious – half-steps forward, raising one finger as if contemplating tapping her on the shoulder and thinking better of it.
"Excuse me," Galinda said cheerfully in that awful voice, somehow even worse when directed at Elphaba. "But you're in my lane."
Elphaba glanced at the starting blocks. Number four. The fast lane. Of course. "I wasn't aware that you owned it," she said, not backing away. This was stupid. She'd just ended up here because the boys had cornered her, not because she wanted this lane. Elphaba didn't even like swimming in lane four. She had enough people staring at her.
"Well, now you are," Galinda sniffed. "And as I'm sure you can see, I need a lot of space for my things, so if you'd please move – "
A cough that wasn't exactly loud but forceful enough that everyone turned to look for the source cut Galinda off, and a woman wearing burgundy shorts and an orange poncho with more tassels than would ever be needed five feet from a large body of water swept onto the deck, a small office door slamming loudly behind her. She had thin, puckered lips painted the color of an overripe apple, too much mascara, and sunken cheeks that reminded Elphaba wildly of a goldfish, and her tassels made a little hissing noise when she walked – or floated, or sashayed, or something. Whatever it was, 'walking' didn't cover it.
"And how nice to see everyone making themselves at home on the first day of another wonderful season of Shiz swimming!" the woman announced in a grand voice. It wasn't loud, but she didn't need a microphone to earn attention. The snickers died down, a few kids filtered in from outside, and several others who'd been loitering by the bleachers ambled over to the starting blocks until a mostly-quiet half-circle formed around her. Even Elphaba's tormentors were silent – for now.
"For the few of you who might not know me, I am Head Coach Morrible. Coach Morrible will be fine. Coach will suffice. Horrible Morrible is appropriate only for those of you who wish to spend the afternoon doing pushups and running the perimeter of the aquatics center," she added with a pointed look at some of the boys, earning a few poorly-suppressed snickers. "Now, we have an excellent roster this year and a… definish chance at taking yet another state title – if you'll kindly remember our respectable-but-far-from-ideal second place at last year's meet. We have the potential to turn that into a first place this season. But this will not happen without serious commitment, and I expect it from each one of you. Is that understood?"
A chorus of mumbled "yes, Coach"s answered her, and Coach Morrible smiled as she adjusted one of the tassels on her poncho.
"I want to also remind you that you are all expected to participate in team chores. This means that if I see anyone failing to arrive early or stay late to help with meet set-up and take-down, or if you should make the unfortunate decision to neglect your turn to put in lanelines, you will find yourself regretting it. Is that understood?"
At that, Galinda abandoned her attempt at brushing her hair – Elphaba chose not to think about the lunacy of brushing hair before swim practice – and raised her hand, fingers outstretched and open.
"Excuse me, Coach Morrible, but I thought my father had already exempted me from chores. Didn't you get my note? I sent – "
Giving no sign of having heard, Coach Morrible continued, "And before I lose your attention entirely, we have two notable additions to our team – and, indeed, to our school – this year. Miss Nessarose Thropp – "
And as she said the words, Nessa rushed out from behind the bleachers, breathing a little heavy, her gym bag clutched in her hand and wearing a pair of gym shorts over her suit.
"Ah, there you are, dear," Coach Morrible said with a kind smile, as Elphaba had known she would. Frex had contacted the school weeks before they moved and informed them of Nessa's "situation," and everyone knew to treat her carefully.
This was answered with a murmur of less-than-enthusiastic welcome, but no one commented on Nessa's arm. Probably because it seemed practically commonplace compared to Elphaba's skin, which was the way Elphaba liked it because that was the way Frex liked it.
Nessa offered a shy smile that Elphaba knew to be carefully practiced and then ducked her head into the now-impressive crowd of swimmers, stopping next to Elphaba, the bag falling at her feet. Elphaba bent to pick up the strap.
" – And her sister, Elphaba," Coach Morrible added, in that stiffly-polite tone that people took when they were trying very hard to pretend not to notice the green.
A few snickers peppered the crowd. Elphaba heard one of the boys from earlier whisper, "A.K.A., Witch of Westside," earning him several sharp giggles from his minions. Coach Morrible ignored both the snickers and Galinda's hand, which was now waving a little more desperately.
"Now, as you all know we have many expectations of our swimmers here, new and old, so I thought it best that –"
Apparently unable to stand it any longer, Galinda stepped in front of Shenshen and up to Coach Morrible, practically vibrating with the need to speak. Releasing a calming sigh, Galinda took a slow breath and raised her hand again, prim and expectant, like someone claiming a prestigious award at a pageant. "Excuse me, Coach Morrible, but I really must speak to you – "
"Ah, Upland. Excellent. Thank you for volunteering to introduce the Thropp girls to life at Shiz."
Elphaba didn't allow herself any satisfaction at Galinda's yelp of horror, mostly because every logical impulse she possessed reminded her fiercely that this new development was just as bad for her as it was for the nightmare in pink.