AN. If you follow me on any social media (links on my profile page) you might have seen I'm sharing some of my favourite reviews I'm getting for this fic. A little promotion thing!
And yes, I am posting this every three days instead of 2. I just wanted to spread it out a bit more to give people time to read and review.
Chapter 4
On Wednesday morning, Elphaba positively flew out of her dorm room, dragging a barely awake Nessa along to find the closest copy of the Gazette.
Nessa rubbed her eyes tiredly as her sister impatiently flicked through the pages. She jumped as Elphaba uttered a sound which could almost be described as a squeal- which was a very un-Elphaba like sound.
"It's here! Look! My article! I'm a published writer!" she exclaimed, shoving the paper in Nessa's face.
Nessa took the paper from her and found the article in question, a smile lighting up her face as she took in her sister's name on the by-line.
"Fabala, that's amazing. Really. Congratulotions."
"Did you read the article? What do you think?" Elphaba demanded.
Nessa chuckled. "I haven't read it yet. I'm barely awake. Can we get some coffee? I'll read it over breakfast," she promised.
Elphaba agreed and wheeled her sister towards the dining hall, where she got them both coffee and a muffin. Of course, she didn't touch hers but nervously tapped her fingers on the table as she watched Nessa read. Nessa wasn't put off by it.
"It's a really good article, Elphaba," she said sincerely, putting the paper down. "You should send it to Papa and Ima. They'd love to see it, I'm sure."
Elphaba smiled. "Thanks, Nessie. Maybe I will."
Nessa looked at her in exasperation. "No, maybe. Do it."
"Ok, ok. I'll do it," Elphaba agreed. "I'll write home tonight and include a copy."
She sighed, glancing around the dining hall. There were a few other students reading the paper and she felt a nervous thrill rush through her, wondering if anyone else would read her article, or just skip it.
"You have your writing class today, don't you?" Nessa asked her, handing her back the paper.
Elphaba's face lit up. "Yeah. Five o'clock."
She was taking a Creative Writing class this semester, strictly for fun. She was excited, but it was also the class she was the most nervous about. It would be her longest class, going for two hours.
"I don't see why you're nervous," Nessa said. "You've been writing forever."
Elphaba grimaced. "I know, but… what if it turns out I'm not any good?"
Nessa stared at her sister incredulously. "Elphaba, don't be ridiculous."
"I'm not," Elphaba protested. "And I'm not fishing for compliments or anything. It's just a fact. No one's ever seen my writing, except for Papa and Ima. And they're hardly unbiased. This class is being taught by an actual published author. What if he thinks I'm terrible?"
"Elphaba, you're a wonderful writer. Look at this article," Nessa argued.
Elphaba shook her head. "That's different. All I had to do was present the facts. Writing fiction is different. You have to make people feel things. And that's not easy and it's hard to measure in terms of a skill."
Nessa was sympathetic. "I don't think that's limited only to fiction. Look at your article- you made me feel interest in the Astronomy club. That's something, isn't it?"
Elphaba chuckled.
"I just don't want this class to ruin my love for it, if that makes sense," she said quietly.
"I think you're going to love the chance to talk about writing with other people who love writing as much as you do," Nessa said gently.
Elphaba sighed. "If anyone's willing to talk to me at all," she said glumly.
Her other classes and a quick stop by the newspaper office seemed to pass by in a blur that day. As the clocked ticked on towards five o'clock, Elphaba's nervous anticipation grew and she felt almost ill as she found the classroom and slipped into a seat in the front row, some fifteen minutes early.
The class was held in one of the smaller classrooms, and it was empty when Elphaba arrived. She pulled out her notepad and pen from her bag and slipped on her reading glasses, flicking through the subject outline once more.
This subject offers a practical introduction to creative writing through the three key genres of poetry, prose (fiction and non-fiction) and scriptwriting (radio and stage), the outline promised.
Elphaba had read plenty of poetry and plays over the years but writing them was another story. But the subject also promised to help them develop their writing, editing and critical skills, and that, Elphaba was looking forward to.
Students slowly began to enter the room, no one that Elphaba knew, not that that meant much. It seemed to be mostly girls, all of whom faltered in the doorway when they saw Elphaba sitting in the front row.
The teacher entered the room two minutes before class started, and Elphaba saw a few of the girls perk up. She wondered how many of them had picked the subject because they found him attractive. He was by far the youngest teacher on staff Elphaba was aware of, and she supposed he was fairly attractive.
He'd published a novel which, while not a bestseller, had done well; and had written and produced three successful plays. Elphaba had seen his most recent play the year before and had thought it was wonderful.
"Good evening," he greeted them. "Welcome to Introduction to Creative Writing. I'm Dr Farley."
Elphaba swore the girl sitting two rows behind her uttered an audible, dreamy sigh.
"Over this semester," Dr Farley addressed them, "You will be introduced to a wide range of texts. You will be given the opportunity to workshop your writing in class and read, critique and edit your classmate's work. By the end of the semester, you'll have produced a portfolio of work, and this is what you will be graded on. Are there any questions so far?"
The class was silent.
Dr Farley nodded. "Alright. First of all, I want to go around the room. Say your name and what format you usually write in. Let's start with you," he nodded to Elphaba.
Elphaba sat up straighter. "I'm Elphaba," she introduced herself, only looking at the teacher and not her classmates. "I- I've mostly written short stories, but I've been working on something longer the last few years… on and off."
Dr Farley nodded and pointed to the person closest to her.
"You, miss?"
Of the twelve students, most seemed to write short stories or novels. There were three playwrights and a poet, but all the rest were novelists.
Dr Farley spoke to them for twenty minutes on what he called "the rules of good writing" and then sat down at his desk.
"You all had to submit a piece of writing when you applied to this class. Obviously, you showed some talent, otherwise you would not be here tonight. But you had the chance to draft and edit that. I want to see what you can do in an hour. I will collect them at the end of the lesson and in our next class, a peer will read it and offer critique. Constructive critique. I want you to write about a powerful memory. Your time starts now."
Elphaba bit her lip as she stared at the blank page facing her. A powerful memory… what memory did she have that was good enough to make a good story?
Her classmates didn't seem to have the difficulty she was having in thinking of ideas, they were all scribbling away and Elphaba felt a momentary burst of panic rise in her chest as she looked around the room. And then it came to her. The first time she'd ever visited the Emerald City, for her tenth birthday. It was the first birthday Elphaba had ever festivated, and one of her most cherished memories. If she could re-create that feeling of magic and wonder she'd felt the first time she'd seen the emerald skyline, even a shadow of it, maybe she'd feel like she belonged in the class.
Once she lost herself in her memories, Elphaba quite forgot about the time limit and she actually jumped when Dr Farley announced their time was up and he would begin collecting papers.
"Thank you, Miss Elphaba," he said as he accepted her pages. "Have a good evening."
"Thank you, sir," she said and packed away her things as her classmates hurried out the door.
A wave of exhaustion washed over her the moment she left the classroom. She hadn't had dinner yet- she'd been too anxious beforehand to eat; but she could have happily crawled into bed then and there, regardless of her empty stomach. But at the same time, her fingers practically itched to keep writing. It was like a muscle that had just been stretched and was eager to keep going, but Elphaba knew her dorm room wasn't the place to do it.
Elphaba checked the time as she passed the large clock in the courtyard. It was only seven o'clock, the library would be open for another two hours. That was more than enough time to get some solid writing done. If she was lucky, she might even finish the chapter she was working on tonight.
She hurried up to her dorm room. Her roommate was sitting at her desk, working on something Elphaba assumed was school work. She glanced over her shoulder when Elphaba entered, glared at her and then returned to her work. Elphaba ignored her and retrieved the chest from under her bed. It was unlocked, and Elphaba paused for a moment. She normally made sure to lock the chest when she was finished working on it, but she had no memory of whether it had been locked the last time she saw it.
Mindful of her precious window of time and inspiration, Elphaba shook her head, retrieved her notebooks and then made for the library. All without a word to the other girl.
Writing in the library wasn't completely ideal. Elphaba didn't like writing in such an open space, it left her feeling very exposed and unsettled. But she had barely gotten to work on her novel at all since arriving at Shiz, and it was such a relief to be inspired and to want to write that the words simply poured out of her and she felt she could have written her greatest work while standing in the middle of a crowded room under a spotlight right then.
Her pen dashed across the page frantically, and she was utterly at ease as she scribbled away. It was one of those glorious writing sessions when she was able to forget the world around her and the very passing of time and so she jumped a mile as a bell rang out.
"It's nine o'clock. The library is closing," a voice rang out. "Please leave and return to your dorms."
Elphaba glanced over and saw the librarian walking through the stacks to shuffle people towards the doors. She hadn't really had a run in with the librarian yet, but the stories around campus about her were almost as bad as the ones about the Headmistress.
"Stay on her good side," had been Ottah's only advice to Elphaba and Nessa.
Elphaba intended to do just that, so she was careful not to dawdle in following instructions.
She paused and scribbled a note to herself in the margin, so she would- hopefully- remember her train of thought when she picked it back up and then quickly shoved her notebooks and supplies back into her bag.
Elphaba returned her eyeglasses to their case and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. A pleasant tiredness filled her limbs, as though she'd just emerged from a warm bath. It was the kind of ache that only came from a good writing session and she knew she'd sleep well tonight.
She started to head out of the study area towards the main doors, her mind still on her characters and their world. Sometimes when a writing session was interrupted before she came to a natural break in the story or got stuck, it was like trying to remember the details of a vivid dream after waking. That is, almost impossible. Elphaba so lost in her thoughts that she jumped again when a loud thud brought her firmly back to reality.
She looked around and saw nothing, so she shook it off and kept walking. More sounds of movement made her pause again, and she peered cautiously down the next aisle and saw a boy scrambling to pick up a pile of books from the floor.
Elphaba hesitated, sighed and then slowly walked over to him.
"Can I help?"
The boy looked up and froze. Elphaba thought she recognised the boy from orientation. He'd been one of the ones cowering in fear from her, if she remembered correctly.
For a moment, Elphaba thought he'd be frozen forever. And then he swallowed hard and squeaked out, "Th-thank you."
Elphaba knelt down and grabbed some of the books closest to her. They were all law and economic textbooks.
"Are you studying Law or Economics?" she asked him, trying to make conversation and perhaps trying to prove she wasn't quite as terrifying as she appeared to be.
She didn't think she'd seen him in her law class.
The boy looked startled. "Er, Ec-Economics," he mumbled. "Finance."
"And you're looking at taxation laws?" Elphaba observed, rather impressed.
The boy reddened as they rose to their feet with the books in their arms. "No. But I've been trying to understand them. For research."
Elphaba placed the books on a nearby cart to be re-shelved and they headed for the door.
"I have to write an article for the paper," the boy contributed, following in Elphaba's wake. "To follow the Munchkinland Governor campaign, you know? But I don't understand the tax laws to know what each candidate is saying about it."
Elphaba faltered in her steps and glanced at him. "You're covering the election?"
The boy looked miserable as he nodded. "Yeah. I don't even know why I got the story. I should have joined up as a photographer. I at least know how to take a photo."
Elphaba was silent, her mind working furiously.
"I- I could help?" she spoke almost unconsciously.
The boy looked surprised. "Really? You understand it all?"
"I should hope so, considering I'm the Governor's daughter," Elphaba said dryly.
She made a point of trying to understand all her father's policies. Not to mention, this election would be the first she could legally vote in.
Her companion turned red again. "Oh, right."
Elphaba paused, took a deep breath and then offered her hand to him. "Elphaba Thropp."
He eyed it warily, swallowed hard and then tentatively shook her hand. "Boq. Boq Underhill."
He let go of her hand very quickly and Elphaba lowered hers slowly. She watched his hand surreptitiously, but he didn't make a move to wipe it on his side, which was something at least. It would not have been the first time it had happened.
"From Munchkinland?" Elphaba guessed.
He nodded. "Y-yes, ma'am. Nest Hardings."
It was the same region as Colwen Grounds, so they were practically neighbours.
"Ma'am?" Elphaba repeated, her eyebrows high. "Well, I guess that's better than 'green freak'," she added, mostly to herself.
Then she sighed. "Look, if you want some help, I'll be in the Gazette office tomorrow afternoon. Two o'clock."
"You're on the paper too?"
"For now," Elphaba said tiredly. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight. And thank you," Boq called after her quietly as she headed in the direction of Crage Hall.
Elphaba wasn't sure if he'd actually come. In fact, she would have been willing to bet that he wouldn't show.
Yet the following afternoon as she sat at her desk, there came the sound of someone nervously clearing their throat and she looked up to see Boq standing there nervously.
"Hi," he said awkwardly. "I was wondering. Would you still mind-"
Elphaba shook her head, cutting him off. "Grab a seat," she invited him.
She then spent the next forty minutes walking him through it all, until he had enough to write his article.
"Could I get a quote from you? For the article?" Boq asked as they were wrapping up.
"I don't think my father would want me commenting on his policies to the press," Elphaba replied.
"Didn't you just-?"
"All I gave you were the facts. You have to let the readers make up their own mind about which candidate is right."
Boq looked at the notes he'd taken, looking rather lost. "Right."
"You don't want to be a reporter, do you?" she asked him.
"Not really," he admitted.
"Then why join the paper?"
Boq reddened. "I, er… I thought it would be good to meet… people."
Elphaba eyed him sceptically. It didn't seem like the whole story.
"Right."
Boq got up and started to walk away, before turning back. "Thank you."
Elphaba smiled faintly. "You're welcome."
Elphaba stayed for another fifteen minutes, until the newsroom suddenly erupted in noise. Her head jerked up, thinking something exciting must have happened. Breaking news, perhaps.
But when she peered around the corner to see into the centre of the newsroom, she saw the blonde girl from orientation with her posse surrounding Rais.
Elphaba had since remembered her name- Galinda. She was in her History class which she'd had that morning, and she had taken umbrage with Dr Dillamond over the mispronunciation of her name. One of her followers was Milla, in Elphaba's Creative Writing class. The other two girls were also in her History class, but she couldn't remember their names.
Elphaba rolled her eyes, watching the blonde bat her eyelashes at Rais and wrap a curl around her fingers. She'd read the rest of the paper that morning in between classes, including Galinda's article that Rais had mentioned.
Her "opinion piece" on the "injustice" of the university dress code hadn't been the most thrillifying thing Elphaba had even read, but from what she could tell, it was getting people talking.
Elphaba's own piece on the Astronomy club… not so much. At least that she'd heard. But as far as she'd figured during her research, the Astronomy club only consisted of about four people. Not exactly a huge audience.
Elphaba packed up her things to leave, deciding the noise the girls were making wasn't worth avoiding her dorm room. As she headed out, she passed Boq, who was standing around near Rais's desk.
"Good luck with the article," she said to him, but he didn't appear to hear her.
He was staring across the room at something, and when Elphaba followed his line of sight, found Galinda Upland right in the middle of it. Elphaba rolled her eyes again.
"Good way to meet people, my ass," she muttered and left the room.
AN. And now we have Boq! How are we liking the paper stuff so far? Fun Fact: this was something I put in the story and then got so far, and realised just how important it was to the story as a whole, as if I'd planned it that way the whole time (I had not).
One thing I haven't mentioned so far- there's a lot of bits in this fic that could have been scenes but I didn't write because it would slow the story down, especially as we go further into the story. Deleted scenes, if you will. If there's something mentioned that is not a scene and you think you'd like to read about it, let me know in a review and I may just do it. I'll try and mention examples as they come up, if I remember.