A/N: Sorry my updates are so far apart. School is hectic and has thrown me into a bit of writer's block. Hopefully I'll be able to resist it long enough to flesh out a few more decent chapters.
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, alerted, and favorited this story after the last chapter.
The wind picked slightly up just then, sending Nessarose's petals floating across the garden. Elphaba watched them and wondered what it would be like to float away from all this too. Frex called them inside. His arms were behind his back. Whatever he held was causing him great distress. He sent Nessa to her room to play with her dolls, but kept the green to berate her for something.
"What is this?" he thrust a book with dark brown cover in her face.
"A book, Father," she answered simply.
"And why was this book hidden under your bed?"
"I like to read, Father."
"Is that what you've been doing instead of watching your sister? Reading books full of useless drivel?" he asked his tone accusatory.
"No, Father, of course not. I only read when we're together in our bedroom. Sometimes I read stories to Nessa if she asks." She explained.
"Fine. Go. I better not catch you reading in at any other time from when your sister is with you." He handed the book back.
"Yes, Father. I promise I won't."
"Elphaba."
"Yes, Father?"
"Nessarose and you will start school a week from today."
"Yes, Father."
In their room, the younger girl had dolls in various stages of undress strewn across her bed. Most of them were made of cloth, but there was one beautiful porcelain doll with curly golden blonde hair and blue glass eyes that looked almost real. Its name was Cerulean (Rulie for short). Her sister had told her it was silly to name something with a color, but she didn't care.
"Fabala, will you get the little trunk of Rulie's clothes?" Nessarose asked when the green girl came into the room.
Elphaba stood on the plain wooden stepstool and lifted down the doll's trunk from its place on the highest of the shelves on Nessa's side of the room. The room was not divided equally though. It was far from it. In reality, Elphaba only had claim to the spot under the window and the top drawer of the dresser. Everything else was Nessa's.
"Father told me we start school a week from today." She announced, handing over the box.
"But neither of us has had any formal schooling at all. Well, aside from you teaching yourself to read and then helping me learn." The younger pointed out.
"I think he finally realized keeping us hidden from the rest of Oz won't help anything. Besides, he hates me."
"Hate is a strong word…"
"It's true. You know that."
"Yes, I do know that, Fabala. I've always been perplexed by it though. Father will make us into something with the way he treats us in such converse ways." Nessa reasoned.
"I know no different. Everywhere we go people will view me how Father does. I'm just the green freak."
"I don't think of you as the green freak…You're my sister and I still love you."
Frex's harshly chorused 'Elphaba!' could be heard through the shut wooden door.
"Sorry, Nessa. I have to go." The verdigrisian hastily said before scrambling out of the room.
"Elphaba—there you are. Go run these errands and don't come back until you've finished every single last one of them." He shoved a paper with a list written in his neat, even script that covered the front side of the page into her hand along with a heavy purse.
"Yes, Father." She fastened her moth-eaten cloak under her sharp chin, picked up the large, shallow, oval market basket, and all but fled out the door.
As she walked along--and somewhat ignored the snide comments of those she passed—she reviewed the list. At least it wasn't long as usual. It read:
1. Food
-1/2 bushel of apples
-6 ears corn
-3 boxes salt crackers
-olives
-ham
2. Pick up Nessarose's clothes from tailor
3. Get mail from post office
4. Register Nessarose and green for school
5. School supplies
-Notebooks
-Books
Reader
Arithmetic
History
-Pencils
-Quill pens
-Ink
-Bag for Nessarose
The list was tasks her father should have done himself, but everything was pawned off onto her always. Only in the task 'Register Nessarose and green for school' was she mentioned. Even then, he listed her as simply 'green'.
"Name?" The woman at the counter in the school registrar office didn't look up.
"Elphaba Thropp. My little sister Nessarose Thropp needs to be registered as well." She said matter-of-factly.
"Why are your parents not here to fill out the form?" the tone was a droll, not much better than Frex's grating shouts.
"Our father is governor of Munchkinland. Our mother died giving birth to Nessarose." The verdigris pulled her hood off.
"Oh, yes, Thropp. I don't know why I didn't see it before—ack!" The woman nearly fell out of her chair at the sight of the unnaturally colored girl.
"What? Are my boot laces untied?" Elphaba asked dryly.
"So it's true! Old Frexspar the Godly had an offspring with a frog!" she was in tears from laughing at the child's appearance.
"My mother was not a frog! I've been like this my entire eight year life." The green girl stalked at a rapid pace from the office, the basket full of packages she had left outside forgotten.
The gray Munchkinland rain fell down with pounding furry. Lightning and thunder countered each other as she raced through the fierce storm. The pouring water distorted her view of the dirt—now mud—pathway. The ground suddenly fell away beneath her, encasing her leg up to the knee in sludge. An animal of some sort—a pig—ran past. In the distance was a man in a blood splattered apron wielding a butcher's knife and stamping the ground furiously.
"Help! Help! Help me!" it squealed when it saw Elphaba.
"You can talk?" she asked incredulously.
"I'm an Animal. Don't tell the butcher though," was the Pig's hastened reply.
"Do butchers kill Animals a lot?"
"Yes. They don't think there is a difference between us and animals--"
The man grabbed the Pig by a back leg, "Gotcha! You'll be a nice ham for someone." He noticed the abnormally colored child, "Don't talk to beasts, their stupid."
She opened her mouth to speak, but he was off before she had pulled her leg from the muck. As best as she could she wiped off the mud and continued walking home. Mid-step panic interrupted her thoughts. If she came home with nothing—well, she wouldn't put it past her Father to kill her. Long limbs stretched as she sprinted back to the school registrar office. It would be easier to tell him they wouldn't allow her to register and that he had to go do it himself than explain why she didn't have any of what she was sent out to get. With the basket held in front of her and the cloak hiding her, she trudged home unsure whether the weight on her was greater than the one she carried.
A/N: You are going to click the green button. Not 'you want to', or 'you might'. You will click the green button.
