Although Elphaba continued to bolt from every room in which she found herself alone with him, Fiyero refused to give up. He visited her dorm daily, brandishing their surprisingly loveable (though invariably ugly) child and wiled away her study-time criticizing her lack of affection for it until they traded off halfway through the week. Then, just before history class on Thursday – the day after the switch, which had robbed him of his main excuse for contact – he decided that it was time for a breakthrough. He strolled in fifteen minutes late and threw himself down beside Elphaba and the baby, thereby publicly recognizing both.

Making a grab for his son, he bounced it up and down in his lap. "We still haven't named this thing," he pointed out.

"Thing," she mused. "I like it. Now go away."

"Plenty of people name their kids after their parents."

"Well, I'd rather not."

"So it doesn't look like a Frex to you? Maybe it's a Marillot."

"Are you still talking?"

Fiyero scowled, aware that everyone was watching them. Maybe, just maybe, he hadn't thought his plan all the way through. "You know what?" he said, bowling over the doubts. "You're a terrible parent. And it's confusing the hell out of me."

Elphaba quirked an eyebrow, as if tell him that she wasn't surprised and to ask why at the same time.

"Because your parents are awesome."

He resented her laugh – a curt, derisive bark – and then resented holding it against her. "Please contain your sarcasm," she said.

"I wasn't being sarcastic!" he protested.

"Oh. So then you're just delusional." Elphaba laughed again. "As in, the baby now has a terrible mother and a delusional father. Which means you're right. We're practically my family, and I'm practically my mother, and Thing is practically me."

"I don't understand why you're—"

"Like mother, like daughter, like plastic baby, as Pfannee would say."

Fiyero inhaled loudly, trying to overcome his frustration before it seeped through. "I couldn't help but notice that you were able to rip on me, your parents and yourself in one go. You have some talent."

"Not talent. Practice."

In one last valiant effort, he stroked the bald head of the baby in his lap. You're my only hope, Thing. "If I keep holding him he's going to like me better," he declared.

"I'll cope."

The exchange lapsed into nothing. Fiyero committed himself to concocting a series of icebreakers inspired by the clusters of nerds and burnouts around them – all of whom seemed to be having more fun than he was, he noted, glancing back at his despondent companion – and even ended up generating a few that he considered trying out loud. But the list was quickly rendered useless, as the professor assigned a group task and Fiyero was absorbed back into his native circle while Elphaba was obligated to roam the classroom in search of a group that would take her. While this happened, however, they left their baby unattended – a huge mistake.

All was normal at first, for group work at Shiz was much the same as it was at any other school: unproductive. These were the most intelligent adolescents in Oz and, thus, they were clever enough to realize that the best time to slack off was when they were sorted into compact discussion groups. Not even Elphaba bothered to do what was assigned. She tapped her pencil against the desk in a disjointed rhythm, watching as Avaric initiated a game of hangman on the other side of the classroom and Galinda was accused of cheating every time she guessed a correct letter.

When the professor finally dismissed them, everyone milled around as if expecting something. Fiyero, who had forgotten his notebook atop the desk he had been previously occupying, went to retrieve it and his mouth fell open. "ALRIGHT," he shouted, horrified and driven to excessive volume as a result, "WHO VANDALIZED MY BABY?"

Elphaba pushed through the circle of spectators and flushed. "REALLY, PEOPLE? COULD YOU BE ANY MORE IMMATURE?"

Someone – somehow – had coloured their baby green.

"You're not proud, Elphie?" Shenshen chimed. "So this is a learning experience! Now you know what it's like to be you and what it's like to have you. Which is worse?"

Avaric, who was passing by with the rest of the class, patted Fiyero on the back and congratulated him.

Fiyero swore at his friend. "Did you do this?"

"No, but I wish I had." Avaric shook his head, smirking in the direction of the verdant infant. "Classic."

When the classroom was mostly empty, Elphaba shouldered her bag and headed out. She was realizing that people not only meddled with her thoughts and her emotions, but made her physically ill. Her head was throbbing.

"Wait, Elphie!" Fiyero called helplessly.

She whirled around, hands on hips. "I'm done. You take it."

"I can't walk out of here with this thing!" He wouldn't even go near it. "People are going to laugh at me! Again!"

Elphaba rolled her eyes, but she relented. She picked up the baby by the head and carried it out like a barely manageable weight. "Be warned: if I keep holding him, he's going to like me better," she sneered.


A few days later the babies were returned and the reports submitted. Fiyero took Elphaba up on her offer to write the paper on behalf of both of them, so she was left to her own devices, churning out two and a half pages of articulate nonsense on the obscure joys of parenting.

By now it was nearly May and she was ready to leave, but not ready to go home. The last few months had been a brutal cycle of taking abuse and retaliating and of smoothing things over and sabotaging herself, often by accident. It was demoralizing. The most Galinda ever said was good morning and goodnight and Fiyero had all but given up on reaching out to her. Consequently, the weeks passed slowly, and with little variation – until exams were done and Elphaba found herself packing, thanking her lucky stars that at least she would have the peace of anonymity on the flight home. Earphones in; book open. It was wonderful.

But then she stepped off the plane and was hit with a wave of fresh worries. Melena had sent Frex to pick her up, which meant she was still mad, and all the way home Frex pestered her about decision-making. He took advantage of the Melena-free environment and pushed for a political science program. "If not as a major," he said, "then at least a few courses on the side. As preparation."

And when Elphaba stepped into the house, another wave was waiting – a wave named Nessarose, who immediately sprung an interrogation on her: Why have you been ignoring my calls? Why did you want me to change my application? Why did you sound so upset? Is Fiyero coming to visit?

Elphaba endured it to the best of her ability and then extricated herself on the unlikely pretense of jetlag. She ran straight to her room and cried into her pillow until she fell asleep, skipping dinner, remembering that exactly a year ago Melena had been telling her how proud she was that she had a daughter who could stand up for herself.

The next morning was not much different. Melena switched on the coffeemaker and left the room, failing to so much as hint at what Elphaba had done to offend her – the fact that she had completely disregarded Melena's teachings or the way she had shifted the blame onto Melena to deal with the aftermath? Which, Elphaba admitted to herself, had not been fair. Though she didn't see why the resulting grudge, which in itself was unlike Melena to hold, had to be drawn out for so long. Unless, of course, it was something more insidious than a grudge.

It was while Elphaba was realizing this, pondering ways of explaining the last few months to her mother, that Nessa quietly made her way into the kitchen and took up her usual spot. She wasn't quite as naïve as everyone believe her to be. "Elphaba," she said, jolting her sister, "you didn't answer any of my questions yesterday."

"Yeah, so, about that..."

"And jetlag? The flight is three hours!"

"Ugh, I was out of it, Ness. I forgot you were smarter than Shell."

Nessa studied her sister. "You're upset. You don't have to tell me why. I think I can guess," she said sagely. Her intention hadn't been to delve into Elphaba's personal life anyway, although it did intrigue her. "It's just that I didn't get a chance to say what I wanted to. Because, um, I could use a little advice. About a boy—"

Nearly choking on her coffee, Elphaba sputtered, "Please do not ask me about this. You have a mother for a reason."

"Then why do I have a sister?"

"Because once upon a time, twenty years ago, young Melena Thropp woke up one morning and forgot to take her pill," Elphaba said, mopping up the spillage. She was sure she heard Shell laughing from wherever he was eavesdropping. At least someone appreciated her wit.

"Moving on." Nessa sighed, annoyed and uncomfortable. "I don't know what to do. What I mean is – I was asked out on a date. And I don't know if I should say yes."

Putting down her cup, Elphaba contemplated the words and her interest spiked. "Do I know him?"

Shaking her head, Nessa replied, "He was in my law class last semester. We did a presentation together. I saw him at the library this weekend and he started talking to me. And then…this happened." As she remembered, there was no suppressing her grin. Prior to this, she'd never been shown much attention by the opposite gender. "I think I like him. Or I could like him. Given the chance."

"Well, that's it, you have to act on what you think," Elphaba said cautiously, sure that by helping Nessa with a relationship, she was jinxing it.

"But I don't know what I think! That's why I came to you! Obviously."

Elphaba felt so much pressure settle on her shoulders that she could have sworn she was sinking floorward. "Sage counsel from sister dearest. Um." She paused, debating. "Okay, here goes. I don't want to sound cryptic, but I want you to know the truth: some people hide things and others lie outright. It sucks. Be careful. Me, personally, right now, I'm going to say go for it, but please take it slow. Don't…uh, don't let yourself get too vulnerable too quick. And don't tell Dad. He'll hunt the poor guy down. Does that help?"

Nessa was slow to answer, but when she did she did so with a broad smile that warmed Elphaba's heart. "Yes," she said, nodding. "Yes, it does."

"Oh, Nessa, by the way," Elphaba said, touching her sister's elbow to keep her, "what's up with your university application? Have you gotten anything back yet?"

"No," Nessa replied, smile fading slightly, "I didn't end up sending it. I'm going to stick it out in high school. You?"

Elphaba shook her head. "Apparently to transfer between universities you need grades—" she broke off, laughing at herself, at the past few months of her life, "—grades that don't suck."

"Good. No, listen to me, it's good," Nessa said solemnly, taking Elphaba's hand at the sight of her disdain. "I think it's for the best that we all just stay where we are right now."


Over the course of the summer, Elphaba didn't associate much with her family members. She talked to them on occasion, but the subjects were meaningless. Good dinner. I'll be at the library. Where did you put the keys? I'll do the dishes. Moreover, no one accosted her about her dismal grades. Melena didn't criticize her wardrobe. Frex didn't even guilt her on Sundays.

And that's how it dawned on Elphaba that there was something off. Something way off.

It hadn't been until last Lurlinemas that she'd considered the fact that her parents might be unhappy, but the signs were more prominent now. She knew that there was a reserve of mind-numbing pinlobble leaves stuffed into the bottom drawer of the dresser in the master bedroom, she just couldn't bring herself to check. It was the only explanation she could think of for why Melena was taking so many naps and still looking exhausted. And Frex, more subtle in his distress, was gone right up to dinner, only returning home to spend the evening ensconced on his phone or in a religious text. He barely even spoke to Nessa.

Sensing this, Shell disappeared more often and Nessa kept the events of her library romance secret. They were unusually civil to each other, either complicit or clueless, responding inadvertently to the fact that they were stowaways on a sinking ship.

All the while, Elphaba found it hard to face Nessa and not picture her out of the wheelchair. It was a devastating train of thought, but an unavoidable one. And it pained her so much that she tried calling Galinda, to no avail, for Galinda didn't answer – which Elphaba couldn't blame her for. She could hardly stomach her own company these days. Feeling on the verge of insanity, she spent her time pacing half of her room, back and forth, over and over. But all the moving amounted to nothing. She wasn't getting anywhere.

On one of these hopeless days, when Melena was out, Elphaba ventured out of her lair and wandered around the house instead. She passed Shell's vacant room and then Nessa's, observing the mess of unread library books, and then she peeked into her parents' room. One side of the bed was neat, as if no one had been there, and the other side was extremely messy – defiantly so.

Melena's drawer, she noticed, was slightly ajar; the one she hadn't been brave enough to investigate into. She wanted to prolong her ignorance, but it bothered her to no end and she decided she had to close it. While doing so, however, she couldn't help taking a look inside. She saw the golden jewellery box that they had caught Nanny trying to pocket a few years previous and opened it. Inside were the wads of leafy green calming agents that Melena had been chewing so as to sleep through the night, initially, and then the day too.

Before she could stop herself and think it through, Elphaba prodded the package and wrapped her fingers around a leaf, popping it into her mouth. At first the bitterness nearly made her gag, then as she grew accustomed and sucked around it, she felt the tranquility take effect. Pinlobble leaves were over-the-counter, yes, but they were strong.

Spitting it out, she stumbled out of the room and back into her own, where she collapsed backwards onto her bed and stared at the ceiling until sleep overcame her. It was a nice feeling – that of not thinking thoughts, but retaining some of her coherence. She skipped dinner that night, which wasn't a rare occurrence, and woke up close to midnight, groggy and immediately conscious of her woes. It was all she could do not to sneak past her sleeping parents to stash a few more leaves in her pocket.


"Elphaba," Frex said severely, "we're not going to dance around this any longer. It's a serious issue, so concentrate." His tone was more irritating than harsh. It made Elphaba want to ignore him more, but she nodded to humour him and he continued, "We're worried that university isn't benefiting you as much as we intended it to."

All biting retorts were held back. Elphaba stifled them with a yawn. She had suffered through this conversation so many times that she knew the easiest way out was silence. But Melena had never been part of these discussions before and she wasn't pleased with Elphaba's behaviour. In fact, she hadn't been too pleased with Elphaba since her return from Shiz. "So either you're going to pick up your act or we're pulling you out," she said, point-blank.

Elphaba blinked. "Pulling me out?" she repeated loudly.

"There are other occupants in this house who needn't hear this conversation," Frex said.

"Yes," Melena agreed, venting her frustration via sarcasm, "we mustn't wake Nessa."

"So what are you saying?" Elphaba continued incredulously. "That I should drop out? Is this your way of telling me it's politics or nothing?"

"We're telling you that you can't keep putting this off. You need to decide on something soon, so we want you to start putting more thought into it. We want you to choose something that will make you happ—"

Frex cut Melena off and changed her statement midway. "We want you to choose something that will benefit you in the long-run. We want you to be successful."

"What about sorcery?" Elphaba said, aiming to provoke him. "Wouldn't that be grand? Elphaba Thropp, the world-renowned sorceress."

In accordance with her prediction, his jaw tightened, but Melena was even more scandalized. "All your potential and you'd go for the one thing that would run our reputations even further into the ground?"

Elphaba clenched her fists and stood up, herself provoked. "Our reputations?" she echoed. "Because we're all in this together, right? Yes, that's it. We're one big happy family founded on the living disappointment that is Elphaba Thropp. Well, I'm sorry that it's turned out that way." She laughed cruelly, feeling justified in her enjoyment of their stricken expressions. "And I'm even sorrier that you're running out of ways to use me to vindicate your unhappiness. I almost wish it wasn't happening. It's hard to watch – tiring, even. So, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to bed. You'll probably find a way to hold it against me for the next twenty years, but oh well. Goodnight."

On her way to her room, she stopped by Melena's for a pinlobble fix.