Disclaimer: All characters and the poems used are the property of Gregory Maguire
A/N- Glad everyone liked the last chapter so much, and hopefully you'll like this one just as much, or maybe more. Please R&R!
A/N2- Snickerdoodles for my reviewers!
Cookies of cinnamon sugar wonder for:
crazy-homeschooler
MissWickedWitch
TheThroppSistersandCompany
TheWitch'sCat
TillITryIllNeverKnow
Drop Your Oboe
BreathofMidnightAir
greengirl16
ReallyUhSharp
ape975
Love you guys!
On with the fanfic!
Once the blonde was satisfied with the results of her makeover, she allowed the green to wash off all signs of it. Besides her eyebrows of course. Elphaba extracted the notebook, a blue quill, and a bottle of ink from her box. The room had been returned to its previous state, with a more organized desk though. She sat and began to write. It was a silly thing to do she thought to herself.
Dear—whatever, I'm not addressing this to anyone. This is mine and no one else should ever read it, unless they have a death wish of course. But I'm getting side tracked. Well, a quick recap of the most recent events in my life:
-I was raped…sweet Oz I actually just wrote that down, and Fiyero was tickling me. Oh, now I really feel awkward. Anyway, moving on once again.
-I killed the guy who raped me with a dagger I made magically appear, oh, and there was a squirrel that could absorb blood that came from a rock, but I killed that.
-I told Galinda, Fiyero, and Nessa what happened
-And then today they, along with Boq, gave me a birthday party. I've never had a party before in my life. I mean, I've been to one—the dance Fiyero arranged when he first arrived—but that doesn't much count either way. This notebook is from Galinda in fact, and so is this quill. I've needed new quills, but I'm not someone who can always go buy new supplies.
Overall, I'm green. Literally, not that you would care, you're just a book with blank pages. Oh Oz! I'm talking to paper, I cannot be—that—crazy, well, I could be, but I won't admit it. At least not openly and blatantly. Galinda is wondering what I'm writing so intently, and so I shall continue to ignore her. Alright then, ignoring isn't working.
She rested the quill in the ink, sighing as she faced the blonde, "What?"
"It's late and I'm tired, but I can't sleep if you have that light on." Galinda explained to her green companion.
"Alright, just a clock tick." She picked up the feather again and added a few more thoughts before retiring herself.
Galinda wants me to turn off the light once I'm done because she's tired, and frankly, so am I. So until next time notebook.
Elphaba pulled her long nightgown over her head. It was more sack than gown though. The implements were returned to the box, and the bottle in its bag was added. She shoved it under her bed beside her other wooden box, which contained the glass sphere blown for her by Turtle Heart all those years ago. They quickly fell asleep, the faintest etching of a smile on their faces.
In the morning, the green awoke much earlier than the blonde. She got her clothes for the day and entered the bathroom, locking the door behind her. But instead of dressing immediately, she looked at herself in the floor length mirror, counting all the scars. There was one on her arm that was different from the others. It was from her father throwing a glass plate at her when he was drunk one night. The plate had hit the wall and shattered into jagged pieces. One caught her in the arm, traveled from about her elbow to wrist, and dropped to the floor. She shuddered as she remembered the sharp, elongated pain. The dark blue asymmetrical dress was pulled on over a long sleeve shirt of the same shade. Her normal boots were donned in lieu of the pair from Nessa. Those she would keep for a special occasion, like going to the Emerald City perhaps.
When she stepped out, Galinda stood in her white slip rummaging through her wardrobe. Elphaba wondered if she should suggest an outfit for the blonde once again, but it would most likely end with her consenting to another makeover, so she decided against it. The small but perky woman drew out two dresses. The first a lavender shade that had a long, wide, strip of white gossamer that was sewn on at the lower back, brought around the front, crossed at the center of the chest and secured at the back of the neck in a halter-like fashion. The other was very similar to the dress she had worn to the dance, though not as poofy as there were three tiers instead of the layers of ruffles.
"Elphie, I can't decide, you pick," the blonde turned to her, holding them up.
"The pink one then," she stuck a bony finger at it in a slightly accusatory way.
"Thank you Elphie!" Galinda bubbled and quickly fastened herself inside the rose-colored dress.
After a moment's thought Elphaba withdrew the notebook and other such things from her box.
I'm sort of enjoying this journaling thing. Imagine that. Anyway, Avaric's body is in the well, but no one seems to notice he's missing. Strange, he always seemed to be among one of the names everyone knew. No matter, they'll notice soon enough. I like Fiyero. I do, I really, really do. But I can't stop thinking about what happened. Her Blonde Goodness says we need to go to class. I forgot we had classes today, silly me.
She stashed the implements in her box, picked up her book bag, and pulled her dark blue knit cap over her freshly braided jet black hair. The blonde had secured her own tresses with a wide but narrow pale pink clip of painted wood. They met Nessarose in the hall and the three made their way to Language Arts class. It was a favorite of the Thropp sisters, though not so much for Galinda.
The teacher, a woman of Gillikinese origins called Ms. Nalelle, split the class into groups of four for a discussion. She passed out sheets with nursery rhymes and poems on them to each clump of students. The poems and rhymes were ones Elphaba and Nessa remembered because they were mostly of Munchkinlander. They read:
1.
Born in the morning,
Woe without warning;
Afternoon child,
Woeful and wild;
Born in the evening;
Woe ends in grieving;
Night baby borning
Same as the morning.
2.
Boys study, girls know,
That's the way the lessons go.
Boys learn, girls forget,
That's the way of lessons yet.
Gillikinese are sharp as knives,
Munchkinlanders lead corny lives,
Glikkuns beat their ugly wives,
Winkies swarm in sticky hives.
But the Quadlings, Oh the Quadlings,
Slimy stupid curse-at-godlings,
Eat their young and bury their old
A day before their bodies get cold.
Give me an apple and I'll say it again.
3.
Sing a hymn of rectitude,
Ye forward-thinking multitude.
Advance in humble gratitude
For strictest rules of attitude.
To elevate the Common Good
In Brotherhood and Sisterhood
We celebrate authority.
Fraternity, Sorority,
United, pressing onward, we
Restrict the ills of liberty.
There is no numinosity
Like Power's generosity
In helping curb atrocity.
Bear down on the road and foil the child.
4.
Alas! For impropriety,
The guillotine of piety.
To remedy society
Indulge not to satiety
In mirth and shameless gaiety.
Choose sobering sobriety
Behave as if the deity
Approaches in its mystery,
And greet it with sonority.
Let your especial history
Be built upon sorority
Whose Virtues do exemplify,
And Social Good thus multiply.
Animals should be seen and not heard.
5.
Then hobbling like a glacier, old Kumbricia
Rubs the naked sky till it rains with blood.
She tears the skin off the sun and eats it hot.
She tucks the sickle moon in her patient purse.
She bears it out, a full-grown changeling stone.
Shard by shard she rearranges the world.
It looks the same, she says, but it is not.
It looks as they expect, but it is not.
Elphaba recognized the third and fourth from the Poetry Soiree' and they still angered her, especially the one that ended with 'Animals should be seen and not heard'. That was where the student that had painted such a slogan on Doctor Dillamond's chalk board a few months ago must have gotten it from. She and the other members of her group, Pfannee, Boq, and a Glikkun girl Elphaba hadn't noticed before named Raraynee discussed the literature they had been given. Or more Elphaba told them what she thought and the other three rolled their eyes and took notes. Galinda's group of Milla, Crope, and Shenshen wasn't having much luck either. Ms. Nalelle was no help at all, for she simply wrote questions to be answered about each poem on the board and strolled out, most likely for a coffee or tea. The groups all breathed a sigh of relief and called across the room to their friends in semi-hushed voices. A glance from Fiyero told her more than words. Around him were Nessarose, Tibbett, and another student the green girl didn't recall who was clearly a Quadling, whose name she determined to be Phlox. Quadlings were usually named after animals—such as Turtle Heart, objects—perhaps a Candle, or plants—the Phlox flower. The class ended and they filed out. Fiyero squeezed a thin green hand in his own reassuringly, bringing a tiny smile to her thin lips. Next class: History with Doctor Dillamond.
A/N- So, as I said before, hopefully you liked it. And so, please tell me in a review because mind reading through the internet isn't a good idea.