Chapter Four: Magic Fingers

As I round the corner of Shiz's PE center where we meet for Sorcery lessons, I catch sight of my roommate leaning up against the red brick of the building. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of her. My keen Galinda sense tells me that something's off… She looks pretty as ever, relaxed, even poised. But she's not wearing the outfit that I chose for her last night!

One of her long, plain navy-blue skirts is paired with a long-sleeved, peasant-style blouse. It's a billowy shade of cream which drapes perfectly over her slender figure. It absolutely cannot be hers. In fact, I know it isn't hers, because I've rummigated through her closet! The rummigating was of course followed by a moral debate with myself as to whether burning most of her outfits would be doing her a kindness. But fire and I don't really get along so well… Yes, there's a story there. No, I'm not sharing.

For once, Elphie isn't reading, but she might as well be for the far off look in her eyes. She's staring at some distant trees or the sky or something. I wonder how bad her vision really is without her glasses, because she doesn't see me until I'm right in front of her.

"And just who else are you borrowing clothes from?" I demand, pressing my palms to the wall on either side of her so she's effectively caged between my outstretched arms.

"My secret," she grins, looking totally unphased. "Do you approve?"

Upon closer inspection, I can see dark blue flowers embroidered along the modest neckline of the blouse. It's really quite pretty. I've avoided suggesting anything quite so feminine to her because of my certainty that she'd balk. Yet, she's accepted this top so readily from someone else. Totally. Not. Fair!

"It doesn't matter if I approve!" I say, dropping my arms and leaning in closer. A person unbeknownst to me is meddling with my friend, for reasons that are just as unbeknownstiary. Today, it's a peasant shirt. Tomorrow, it could be a bright orange jumper. The whole thing screams sabotage, and she's walking right into it!

"Elphie," I all-but-whisper, "it might seem like a nice gesture, but you don't know who you can trust around here! Some people might have ulterior motivates. Please just tell me it wasn't Pfannee. If she's courting you for some sick little game, Oz help me, I'll wring her pretty neck!"

"Paranoid, aren't we?" Elphie laughs, laying a hand on my shoulder. "Especially of one's own friends. What's gotten into you, Galinda?" I can't have it; I just can't! Even if this person really means well, no one else is allowed to dress my Elphie. No one else is allowed to dress her so incredibly well!

I pout, which is really the only acceptable response to that question.

"Fine, fine, I'll go ahead and ruin the mystique if it will ease your mind. Besides, we can't have you strangling dear sweet Pfannee. I borrowed the shirt from Nessa. My idea, actually. No ulterior motives." She smiles, holding up her hands in mock surrender.

"You did? You actually… picked this out?" Now that I think of it, I recall that the more-irritating Thropp has a fondness for this particular style of garment. I sigh with relief.

"Yes, I did. You see, I wanted to surprise you by proving that I can, in fact, dress myself if I feel moved to."

"Oh, Elphie! You dressed up for me?" I smile at her, feeling a little bit mushy.

"That, and the top you set out last night was a little short on me," she says. "Now, I'm sure you'd be positively delighted by the sight of an exposed green midriff, but I doubt the rest of the student population would be quite so thrilled. I suppose I can model the outfit for you in private, if you're terribly disappointed," she winks.

"I'm sorry, but sometimes I forget the fact that you're eight feet tall!" I protest, blushing at the later part of her comment.

"Says the one who wants to put me in heels."

"Speaking of shoes…" I crouch down to inspect her feet and sigh. She's not wearing her usual boots, but the shoes are big and clunky and black. When is she going to learn that you can't wear black with navy! Two neutrals in one outfit is a major no-no! "I guess you couldn't get everything right," I say sadly, "But still, it was a valiant effort. Now, I have a surprise for you!"

I reach in my purse and hand her the muffin I procured this morning, smiling big.

"What…is this?" she asks, unwrapping it from its paper sheathment.

"Tasty!" I respond. "Go on, eat it."

"Galinda, I'm not very hungry…"

I break off a piece of muffiny goodness in my fingers, moving it toward her mouth in spirally gesticulations. "Open up Elphie, here comes the dirigible!" I tease. She scrunches her nose and keeps her lips firmly shut as I try to thrust the muffin-piece between them. As luck would have it, this is the moment when Madame Morrible decides to come walking around the corner.

"Okay then," clucks the headmistress, shaking her head at our little scene. "Shall we get started with important things?"

I drop the crumb to the ground and Elphie quickly tucks the muffin away in her satchel, looking just as mortified as I am as we follow our Sorcery professor into the empty gymnasium.


Sorcery lessons have been, well, shaky at best. Today, Morrible informs us, we'll be working on levitation spells. "A request from the Wizard, himself," she grins. "Miss Elphaba, he is very interested in your progress." My roommate brightens visibly at the mention of the Wizard. Morrible hands us each a sheet of funny words jotted in her flowery script.

"Based upon your respective abilities, I will be giving each of you an object with which to learn the spell," she says. She sets a saucer in front of me. Well, that looks easy enough.

"Percival!" she shouts into the hallway, briskly clapping her hands, "Bring it in!" In response, the burly maintenance man with far too much appreciation for my legs enters the room carrying a large wrought iron bench. She expects Elphie to levitate that?

"Miss Elphaba, here is your challenge," Morrible grins. "I'm sure you will be up to it. This bench weighs a hundred pounds. Percival here is two-hundred-and-seventy-pounds. Actually, Miss Galinda, why don't you sit down too? That puts us at what, five hundred in all?" As if my jaw wasn't already far enough on the floor.

"Excuse me? Excuuuse me?" I demand. Morrible is estimating at least ten pounds in the wrong direction! The headmistress puts her hands on her hips and looks down her nose at me, obviously pleased with herself. Elphie shoots me a look, pressing her finger to her lips. The girl who is always making a scene doesn't want me to make a scene. Ha!

But she's right. I've wanted to study Sorcery far too badly to get kicked out for disrespecting my already-reluctant teacher. I scrunch my face at Elphie to convey my distaste and sit down on the bench, as far from Percival as I possibly can. That man smells funny.

"Now Elphaba," says Morrible, kneeling beside her favorite student, "Balance is very important. We don't want to go dropping these two, now do we?" Morrible grins evilly in my direction. I imagine the bench tilting and Percival falling on top of me or the bench smashing into my skull.

"Madame Morrible, that's dangerous!" I say, standing back up.

"So little faith my students have in me," Morrible says with a dramatic sigh. "Do you really think that if Elphaba faltered, I wouldn't catch you? You might not be one of Shiz's brightest stars, academically speaking. But I am well aware of the weight that the Upland name carries." Oh no, she did not just emphisate that word! This woman is calling me fat! She's one to speak, seeing as she's the size of a small cow! Deep breaths, Galinda, deep breaths. Don't give her a reaction…

"If I were let anything happen to your pretty blonde head, I'd have quite the PR nightmare on my hands!" She laughs.

"Besides, even if you don't trust old Morrible, don't you trust your friend?"

The headmistress gives me a sharp glance and I feel guilty. I look over to Elphie who is kneeling on the floor, deep in concentration, as she reads the spell silently to herself. But she takes a moment to look up and meet my eye. She doesn't look at all hurt by my…mistrust?

"I've got this," she mouths. And I actually believe her. Kind of. A little bit. I sit back down, but I grip tightly to the arm of the bench, just in case. Percival leans back, relaxed, like he sits on levitating benches every day. Or he's used to falling on his head.

"We're going to take it slowly," says Morrible. "Just a few inches at a time. Read the first paragraph please, Miss Elphaba."

I have never seen someone look so intense as Elphie looks when she's performing magic. If her reading face is faraway, her magic face is otherworldly. It gives me the chills. With her hands hovering over the text of the spell, my roommate starts chanting slowly. I feel the air grow heavy around us as if a lightening storm is impending.

I remember our first day at Shiz when Elphie managed to call Nessarose's wheelchair to her through the swarm of students. It was an outburst of raw, crazy energy. It's apparent that with practice and focus that energy is becoming a force to be rectified with. The hair stands on the back of my neck and I feel a little jolt. Surely enough, the bench is lifting slowly upward. It tilts just slightly to the right, but before anything can happen, Elphie raises her hand and we are steadied. We are hovering about two feet in the air.

Elphie chants louder and faster, and we are rising and rising. We rise until Percival's head is just inches from the high ceiling. I know if that ceiling wasn't there, Elphie could lift us all the way to the moon. Elphie, my little rag doll, who nearly sobbed in response to my touch, but was soft and yielding beneath the gentle ministrations of my hands. Elphie, who took up so little space in her bed beside me last night. Elphie, who apparently can't feed and can only sort of clothe herself.

Now my safety depends on her. If she really wanted to, she could conjugate her powers to send our bench hurtling into a wall. She could snap me in half like a twig, and frankly I'm surprised that she didn't during our first weeks here at Shiz. I treated her so badly that I surely deserved it. But now, the green girl I once loathed is holding me gently and steadily in midair. I believe her; she's got this.

"Good," says Morrible, "Now lets hone your endurance. Keep it steady until I say otherwise."

Before I started Sorcery lessons, Shenshen and I used to come to the gym to watch the boys run laps and lift weights in their sweaty little shorts. I've never lifted weights, but I would guess that holding them up is harder than the act of lifting itself. And so it seems with levitation. As Elphie continues her chant, damp beads form on her forehead, which becomes increasingly scrunchy as the moments wear on. But as hard as it must be, she never stops. She never wavers. She never lets me fall. I think Percival is snoring, but I don't want to look at him.

After what seems like an eternity, Morrible gives Elphie the cue to let us down and slowly, we return to Earth. I expect to be jarred on impact, but the landing is smooth. Once we're firmly on the ground, Percival grunts and leaps from his seat. With a quick look at my breasts, he hoists the bench up over his shoulder again and leaves the room. Good riddance!

Madame Morrible is far from the most excitable woman I've seen, but she shrieks with delight at Elphie's feat. Elphie tries to stand, but loses her balance and falls back to her knees.

"Stay put for a few minutes, my dear," the headmistress coos in a sickeningly syrupy voice. She places a hand on my roommate's shoulder. "You've exerted yourself and you need some time to recover. You won't always be so weak after casting a spell, but casting at this magnitude is still new to you, after all." Black strands of hair cling to Elphie's forehead and I badly want to fix them. Much to my distress, that's exactly what Morrible does. I'm even more distressed that it doesn't seem to bother Elphie in the least.

After much fussing over her exhausted student, Morrible finally turns to me. "Now Miss Galinda, you may play with your saucer. Try not to break it, would you?"

I feel a stab of anger that I try to ignore. I will show her what I can do! I pull my wand from my purse. Holding it in my right hand and the spell in my left, I begin to read. "Archo…plabberlatily nascious? Variskibbalyrapt?"

"It's a spell, not a question," Morrible says, rolling her eyes.

"Archoplabberlaritynacious," I say again, waving the wand. "Archoplabberlarity nascious. Variskibbalyrapt."

I try slowing it down, letting it roll off my tongue. When Elphie chanted it sounded almost musical. But coming from me, it sounds like nonsense. I raise my hands over the dish and imagine it rising, but nothing happens. Elphie is watching me with concern; Morrible is watching with amusement. I remember her words on the night at the Ozdust: "It is my personal opinion that you don't have what it takes. I hope you prove me wrong, but I doubt you will." My focus is slipping. My hands are shaking.

"Archoplabberlarity nascious. Variskibbalyrapt. Archoplabberlarity nascious. Variskibbalyrapt. Oz damn it all!" I exclaim in exasperation. Morrible is right; I don't have what it takes. I just barely made it here on my Elphie's coattails, and now that I'm here, I can't perform. There isn't a magical bone in this little Gillikinese body.

Before anyone can stop me, I drop the sheet of paper in my hands and bolt from the gymnasium. I think I can hear Morrible laughing behind me.


I run and run, away from the PE building, to the spot in the woods where I had my picnic with Fiyero. I throw the wand to the ground then throw myself to my knees, not caring at all that the grass will stain my stockings. I beat my fists on the hard earth and rip up handfuls of grass for a few minutes before the anger finally gives way to desperate sobs. I fold myself up into a ball as they wrack through my entire body.

Barely a moment passes before I feel a soft hand come to rest on the center of my back. "Leave me alone!" I whimper, sobbing harder. But the hand stays firmly planted and absolutely still. I am too ashamed to look at its owner. I see navy blue fabric resting in the grass beside me. I'm surprised that Elphie came instead of staying with Morrible to gloatate about her magical expertise. But Elphie isn't one to gloatate. That's me.

"Galinda?" she finally speaks. "I need to show you something."

Hesitantly, I look up at my friend through teary eyes, afraid of what I might see. She brings both of her green hands up in front of her nose, wiggling them at me like catfish whiskers. "This is my squid face," she deadpans.

And I laugh in spite of everything because it's just so ridiculous. Or rather, I try to laugh, but it comes out as an awful sputtering sound because my airways are so logged with snot and tears. Elphie claps me hard on the back. "I'm sorry!" she says worriedly as I cough, "I wasn't trying to kill you. I just wanted you to feel better."

Finally, I manage to take a few good breaths. "Elphie!" I smile, "You have a personality! And who, dare I ask, did you borrow it from?" She pretends to pout, but only for a second.

"Why did you run away?" she asks me.

"Morrible thinks I'm a joke, and what's worse, she's right!" I say. The tears are already threatening to rise again.

"You didn't even give yourself a chance to cast the spell, Galinda. You gave up way too quickly," Elphie says.

"I don't know what else I could have done, with her watching, just waiting for me to fail! I couldn't even concentrate. Not after that displayment of yours. Elphaba, you're amazing. You did the impossible and I can't even lift a measly saucer."

"I've had more practice than you, Galinda," Elphie says, "I've been taking lessons since the beginning of the semester."

"But you could do… things… before that!" I protest, "Like what you did with Nessa's wheelchair! Even then, on our first day, I was jealous of you! That was part of why I hated you. You were so green, and so badly dressed, but you were just so good. If it was the two of us vying for the chance to study Sorcery, I never had a chance." I feel my lower lip quiver.

"There's something you need to understand about me and magic, my sweet. For most of my life these powers have been unwelcome and completely exhausting to me. Don't think for a moment that my father fussed over my supposed talents the way that Madame Morrible does. His reaction was quite the contrary, especially when I got angry and objects would start flying around the house. Once or twice, the maids were knocked unconscious by cookware. And there was the time the chandelier almost fell on Nessa…"

I want to laugh, because I rather wish the chandelier would have fallen on the ever-so-grateful Thropp, but I stop myself when Elphie reaches up and touches her face as if recalling the sting of a slap. She closes her eyes, retreating a little bit into herself.

"You've seen how students treat me here," she says, dark eyelashes twitching. "You can imagine how much worse it was in Primary school. There was one Munchkin girl who was especially horrid. She purposely dropped her lunch tray on me. She yanked chunks out of my hair during class. Seriously, Galinda, I had bald spots…" I shudder at the thought of any harm befalling that gorgeous black hair.

"She put a dead rat in my satchel," Elphie continues, "Oz knows how she got the thing. And one day, when I got up to use the washroom, she scribbled nasty words all over the pages of the book that I was reading. Things that were so violent and vulgar I still can't believe any eleven-year-old would be capable of them… That's when I finally snapped. I didn't raise my voice; I didn't lift a finger to her. She just fell to the floor and started spasming in some awful sort of seizure. I stood there and watched her writhe until they took her away to the dispensary. It gave me nightmares later; oh Oz, it looked so painful…"

Her eyes are still closed. It frightens me. "Elphie, I feel so awful! I can't believe I was so awful to you. I can't believe I put you through that torment all over again…" I want to reach out and touch her, but I don't feel like I even deserve to, so I play with my sleeves instead.

She opens her eyes and looks at me. "Galinda, dearest, I'm not telling you all this to make you feel guilty. Your antics toward me were really quite benign, even verging on endearing. And getting you all riled up was great fun. Still is," she grins and I relax a bit. "I just want you to understand that my innate magic has been more of a curse than a gift, and learning to control it has been the hardest thing I've ever done. Much harder than levitating a bench with a very large man perched on one end, and a tiny little girl on the other."

"Not so tiny, according to Morrible," I grumble.

Elphie shrugs. "The supposed weight that the Upland name carries is all in your brassiere."

"Elphie!" I blush and it's probably endearing, too.

"But Galinda, listen to me," she says. "Where I was going before you totally derailed my train of thought is that, magically, you may actually be at an advantage. You're going to be building your powers from the ground up, instead of trying to harness a cyclone. You're the opposite of me in that respect; perhaps Morrible thinks you need more emotional provocation in order to properly channel your magic, whereas I need decidedly less. Actually, I'm certain that's what she thinks, which is why she's trying to stir you up. She's really not a mean person. She's been very kind to me. I think she's just working under the assumption that it's a push you need…"

"Well, you sound so certain," I say despondently, "about building powers from the ground up. But Elphie, what if there's nothing to build with? What if I'm just completely unmagical? Forgive me for being so blunt, but Morrible's 'approach' hasn't accomplished shit."

"First of all, I don't think that anyone is inherently…unmagical. I think that there is magic in everyone, latent perhaps, but still accessible. Also, if I may be so bold, I think Morrible's approach for you is wrong. Well-intentioned, but wrong nonetheless. You're already plenty full of fire and really, those flames don't need fanning. I think you require a sort of guidance that's a little more gentle…"

"Gentle how?" I ask. Elphie smiles.

"Let me see those magic fingers of yours," she says, reaching for my fidgety hands, "the ones that can turn a green girl pretty."

She smiles as she takes my clenched fist between her palms and carefully pries it apart. She unfolds my fingers, one at a time, stroking them with her own, extending them. Her fingertips make light zigzags across my palm before she repeats the process with my other hand. It feels good. Really good. I close my eyes and sigh.

"I have faith in what these fingers can do," Elphie whispers. She looks so confidential in me that I want to start crying again. She starts searching around for something in the grass, finally lifting up a smooth oval stone. I see that she means for me to levitate it, though right now I'd be perfectly content just to have my hands massaged.

"That's heavier than the saucer," I protest weakly as she places the stone in the palm of my right hand and folds my fingers back over it.

"It has a good, even weight to it," she says. "Close your eyes now and just concentrate on the way it feels. Don't worry about levitating. Don't think about Morrible or anything else. Concentrate on this rock. Galinda, you aren't concentrating, are you? Your nose is twitching."

"I'm sorry!" I whine. "I'm trying."

"Deep breaths, Galinda, in and out. Focus on breathing, then focus on the rock. Good, that's better, now set it down…"

"I don't have the paper, with the spell…" I say.

"Forget the words. Sometimes, they just get in the way," she tells me. "Hold your hands open, like this. No, no. Don't look at me! Keep your eyes closed. The less distraction, the better! I know I'm distracting…" She arranges my hands, palms facing down, about two feet above the stone. I want to whimper when she takes her hands away. I'm terrified that I'll let her down.

"Just remember the way it felt in your hands. You can still feel it, even though it's there on the ground?" I nod but I am not really sure. "Now feel the energy that's around it."

"I can't, Elphie."

"Yes, you can," she closes her hands over top of mine. "Do you feel that crackly, bristly feeling?"

"Yes," I say hesitantly. I feel something like static, but I can't help but think that it's coming from her.

She takes her hands away again. "Focus on that," she says, "keep feeling it. Do you feel it getting stronger?" Slowly but surely, I do. It isn't her after all. Unless she's done something to me.

"Now, imagine that energy coiling tightly around the rock. Take that energy and pull it, with your fingers. No, don't actually move your fingers, just draw it to you. Pull it up."

I concentrate as hard as I can. I visualize the rock coming up off the ground, the cords of energy that connect it to my hands growing shorter.

"Yes, keep going," she whispers, then after another second, "Open your eyes, my sweet."

I cry out in shock at the sight of the rock hovering above the ground beneath my hands. Instantaneously, my concentration is broken and it falls. But the fact remains that I did it. I really did it. I'm stunned.

"You did it Galinda!" Elphie squeals. Squeals? Does Elphie… squeal? Apparently, and not just when she's being tickled. Wonders never cease.

She throws her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. It's a good hug: warm and solid. This is the first time she's initiated a hug on her own instead just of half-heartedly returning one of mine. I am so emotional that I start sobbing again into her shoulder. It's not that I'm not happy; I'm just overwhelmed. She scritches the back of my neck soothingly as I nuzzle against her. I slowly become less whelmed and wound.

She makes me feel so safe. I lift my face to press a kiss to her cheek and she blushes dark green, turning her face slightly away from mine. Another display of affection that she's just not used to, I guess.

"You know," she says, trying to sound cocky but failing miserably, "I had hoped my first kiss would be far more romantic!"

"Oh, Elphie, that's not a kiss!" I giggle. "I can give you a real kiss if you'd like."

"Pardon?" Her eyebrows shoot up in alarm and I feel her grip loosen on me.

"I've taught girls how to kiss before," I say, proudly. And I have. Not at Shiz, but plenty of times in Secondary school. I do so enjoy being an authority on something. And I'd kiss my roommate in a heartbeat; I'm not afraid of the green anymore. "I can't promise it would be romantic," I say, "but I can promise it would be good. Probably better than any boy will ever give you. In fact, it might just ruin you for kissing."

I've never seen her move so fast. She's up on her feet in an instant, dusting herself off, looking at anything and everything but me. I feel… hurt, though I don't know why it should matter. I'm about to huff that she wouldn't be able to handle me anyway, but she speaks first.

"What you propose is quite unnecessary," she says softly, "I've survived nineteen years without kisses, and I'm sure I will survive a great many more."

It's hard to stay offended when she's being so Ozdamned bleak. It's absolutely maddening. She says she wants to be wanted, then she says she can't handle peoples' emotions, then it's back to "woe is me, no one will ever want to kiss me" again when I offered to do just that! I guess I don't count. I'm just me. It's really not a stretch to imagine a boy wanting to be with her. I've never seen her show a whiff of interest in anyone, though.

She reaches down, offering me her hand, and pulls me up off the ground. "I'm starting to rub off on you," she jokes, pointing at the green smears on my stockings. "You'll probably want to change those before you go meet those conniving little friends of yours for dinner."

"Why don't we ever eat dinner together?" I ask.

"If I recall correctly, your delicate nose is quite opposed to the smell of kippered herring," she grins. "Besides, I can't give you the same rousing conversations about shoes and jewelry and whatever it is that your happy little brigade discusses. Besides, I really need to get going, I have a date…"

"WHAT?" I grab her arm.

"…with some Anthropological journals that I reserved at the library. Don't get so excited, Galinda!"

"Fine, fine! Have a good time with your stupid books," I smile. "But I know you're out of herring, and you better eat that muffin."

She leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, and raises an eyebrow. "Or else what?" she asks, in a direct challenge.

"Or else…" I lean in and try to tickle her. She takes a step backwards. "There's more where that came from," I smile. "Now off with you, you vulgar green creature." I swat her arm.

She starts walking away, throwing a glance back over her shoulder at me as I stoop down to pick up my wand from the grass.

She's smiling a lot lately. I would hope that could be attributed to me. I peel off my greenified stockings, roll them up and stick them in my handbag.


"So Morrible brings out a teacup, and I say, 'ha, don't insult me!'"

"Oh, you would, Galinda!" Shenshen laughs. She, along with Pfannee, Milla, and poor lost-looking little Aliss are all listening raptly to my story.

"Then she goes and gets this rock, and it's huge. Like, it must have been a good twenty pounds!"

"I bet it was a pebble!" Pfannee exclaims. I swat her arm.

"Wait," grins Shenshen, "She didn't tell us if she actually levitated it, or just dropped it on her foot!" I threaten to stab her with my fork.

"Well, as you can see, I don't require the use of crutches at the present moment…" I start to say.

"I'm sure she levitated it, and she did it with perfect style and grace," a voice interjects from behind me. I turn around to see Biq. How long has he been eavesdropping?

"Isn't the little peoples' table over there?" Pfannee asks, pointing to the other side of the room.

"Hey Galinda, can you levitate a munchkin?" pipes Shenshen.

"Oh, I think that certain parts of him are levitating just fine on their own," Pfannee grins. Milla laughs. Aliss looks embarrassed.

"Little parts," Shenshen adds with a sneer.

"You know what? I hate you all!" Biq announces, storming off with his tray of meatloaf.

"Oh dear!" Milla chimes as Pfannee and Shenshen break out into peels of laughter. I try to look appropriately amused, but I think of the mean little girl yanking out chunks of a younger Elphie's hair and I shudder. Except for the Munchkin thing, that little girl might as well have been one of my friends.

Biq might be irritatingly irritating, which in fact makes him quite perfect for Nessarose, but he doesn't deserve to be abused by a pack of Gillikinese girls with too much time on their hands. I slide down a bit in my seat, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. How does that saying go, if you're not part of the solution…

"So, did you levitate the rock?" Aliss asks innocently. I think I like her more right now than anyone else sitting at this table, and I think I might just have to slip her some of my secret acne remedy when Pfannee isn't looking.

"You better believe it!" I grin. "All the way up to the ceiling of the gym! You should have seen the look on Morrible's face…"

Why am I sitting here lying to these people, making myself out to sound better than I am? Certainly that's not the way to be a part of the solution, either. I bite my lip.

"Well, who do we have here?" asks Shenshen with a bit of a smirk.

I look up to see Fiyero approaching with a silly grin and a bouquet of yellow flowers. The flowers look like they were plucked from the garden right outside the cafeteria. Clumps of dirt are still hanging from the roots, and dirt is all over his hands. Real smooth, Fiyero, real smooth…

"Hi Fiyero," Pfannee practically purrs. I shoot an icy glare in her direction. My Winkie prince thrusts the flowers toward me.

"How, umm, thoughtful of you," I say, using a napkin to take the flowers from him. I hold them as far away from my dress as possible.

"Galinda, I ran into Elphaba in the library," Fiyero says. "She said you had a rough day, and that I ought to check on you. Something about sorcery lessons…"

"Oh," I laugh nervously, "You know Elphaba. Always taking things the wrong way…"

"Fiyero, do sit down, we'd love to hear Galinda's roommate's account of her rough day," says Shenshen.

"Actually, it is a beautiful evening," I say, getting out of my seat. "I think my boyfriend and I are going to go take a walk." I loop my arm through Fiyero's and artfully flick the bouquet so that a clump of dirt lands in Shenshen's soup. I pretend not to notice anything as she scoffs.

"Galinda, you just barely got here!" Pfannee whines.

"I'm sorry ladies," I say, "but I think I have some more levitating to do. You never know when these sort of things are going to, well, come up and when the need arises we really must adapt, don't you say?" With a giggle and a quick shimmy of my hips, I drag Fiyero out of the cafeteria.


"You know, I really don't understand female-speak," Fiyero says as we walk out into the warm, clear evening. "Somehow, I think there was more to that interaction with your friends than meets the eye, but damned if I know what any of it meant. Are you actually going to levitate something?"

I grab his shoulders, ignoring the question. Caught off-guard, he stumbles back into the wall. "Tell me what she told you," I say.

"All I know is that our lovely headmistress has been getting to you, your roommate was concerned and thought that you could use some cheering up," he says. "Anyway, your dashing boyfriend is here, so cheer up, Galindly-Windly."

"Galindly-Windly this!" I exclain, wanting to throttle him for being so patronizing. Instead, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his nose. The poor clueless boy has no idea, after all, how bad he almost made me look in front of my friends. I start walking toward the gardens and he trails behind me like a lost puppy.

"I levitated a rock," I tell him, plainly. No exaggeration or embellishmentation this time.

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" he asks me.

"Elphie levitated a bench. With me and the maintenance man sitting on it."

"Oh," he says, stopping in his tracks. Apparently, he can't think and walk at the same time. After a moment of looking lost in thoughtful contemplation, he says, "You're still prettier than her," and we start moving again.

"That's all that Galinda Upland has going for her, isn't it?" I sigh bitterly. He reaches out and takes my hand with his dirty hand. Uck. I am touching dirt!

"No, that's not the full extent of her greatness, not by far," he smiles. "Galinda Upland is good with people. She knows exactly what they need, whether it is the gentle intrusiveness to bring a green roommate out of her misanthropic shell, or a swift kick in the rear to make a lazy boyfriend go to class. She doesn't need sorcery to make anyone do her bidding. All she has to do is smile and flutter her eyelashes. I think the Wizard needs to be afraid, because she could have all of Oz in the palm of her hand."

Who cares about the dirt? I curl against my boyfriend's chest and he puts his arms around me.

"She also kisses very, very well," he grins, leaning in toward me expectantly. Our lips meet, but only for a second before I pull away.

"Well," I say hesitantly, "there's a secret to good kissing."

"And that is what?" he asks me.

"Subtlety," I say. "One needn't always be rough, on the lips or anywhere else. Sometimes, one needs to have a more, well, gentle approach, wouldn't you say?"

"You're doing that female-speak thing again," he sighs.

I grab his collar and pull him in toward me. "A little less of this," I say, nuzzling into the crook of his throat and biting down hard on the skin. He yelps. I pull back and flutter my eyelashes.


"She arched her back and cried out as his rough hands stroked the delicate petals of her… flower." This is how my roommate greets me when I return to our room.

She is leaning back in her desk chair, legs propped up on her bed, looking very self-satisfied as she reads aloud from my copy of Warrior of Vinkus. I've read the same words time and time again; I know them inside-out. I've traced over the print on the page lovingly with my fingertips. But to hear them spoken by Elphie, in a purposefully monotonous voice, is really… strange.

"Galena struggled internally against his touch," she continues, dryly with little inflection.

"She kept speaking of her fiancée in Gillikin and how he must be terribly worried and how they really should not continue any farther. But of course Throg didn't understand her. All he knew is that her body was screaming out for him, so he continued in his explorations. When she thought she could take no more, he unsheathed his manly dagger and plunged it deep into her waiting center." She closes the book and sets it down in her lap, glancing at me over the tops of her glasses.

"Such a brilliant work of literature, my sweet. I can clearly see how empty my life has been without it." She's trying to embarrass me, but she won't.

"Oh, please, Elphie, don't tell me that your panties aren't at least a little bit damp," I giggle. My remark has the intended effect: her eyes go wide, her jaw drops and the cocky grin is completely erased from her face.

"Even in an entirely hypothetical world in which I might plausibly have that sort of reaction to anything, it certainly would not be such badly-written tripe," she stammers. I smile, crossing over to her side of the room, and she puts up her arms as if to defend herself. From what? Panty inspection? I giggle, flopping down on her bed.

"Elphie, do you know what goes the best with smut?"

"Do I want to know?" she asks in response.

"Chocolate chip cookies!" I beam, producing one from my purse. She accepts it, looking almost relieved. I smile to see an empty muffin wrapper sitting on her desk.

She still has her boots on and doesn't seem to care that they're making contact with her sheets. This won't do. I unbuckle one of them, sliding her foot out of it. She looks at me like I've gone crazy. I repeat the process with the other. "Elphie," I grin, as I roll down one of her thick stockings, "I'm touching your socks." I let it drop to the floor.

"Well, that's only appropriate, seeing as you've already violated me in every other possible way," she laughs.

"Thank you for sending me my Warrior of Vinkus," I say sincerely as I lift two naked green feet into my lap. "Can I paint your toenails? Pretty please?"

Cue fluttering eyelashes. She might not be as thick as Fiyero, but she melts just as easily.

"Yes," she says, "On one condition. And that is that we promise never to discuss the state of my panties again."


Next Up: There will be no Chapter 5. Just the word "panties," copied and pasted over and over again until I've achieved my usual 6000+ words. Kidding! Or am I?