If my hands could hold them you'd see

I'd take all these secrets in me

And I'd move and mold them to be

Something I'd set free

Sara Bareilles, "Let the Rain"

Prom committee started meeting, once a week after school in Morrible's classroom. Morrible herself was almost never there, and when she was she hardly paid them any attention. Pfannee led their meetings, and they always stayed later than they meant to because everyone was gossiping or talking over each other.

But it wasn't all bad. Now that she was working on prom stuff with them, Pfannee and Shenshen had stopped fighting her for her attention—a trade Glinda would take every time, because it meant she got days like these: spending study hall in the band room, sitting beside Elphaba at the piano, listening to Boq teach himself his contest solo.

It was Friday afternoon, and she didn't have homework. At least, that was what she kept telling herself. Sure, there were things she needed to do. But none of them were important enough to do now, so she flipped through the music book someone had left on the piano, playing a line or so of each song before moving on.

"Did you ever think about becoming a professional musician?" Fiyero asked. He had arranged four chairs in a row and was lying across them, holding a poetry book above his head. Glinda turned the page again.

"Not really," she said. "I got bored with it in middle school."

"What if you did want to? What would your parents have said?"

Glinda shrugged. What would your parents say? She'd been asking herself that a lot lately.

There was a sudden squeak, and they all turned to look at Boq, who was scowling at his music stand.

"I don't think that was right," Elphaba said. Boq glared at her.

"Shut up, Elphie. Glinda, can you play an F for me? No, an octave higher."

Glinda did, holding it down while Boq tried to hit it. He squeaked again, narrowed his eyes, shook his head, then played his way up to it and managed it.

"I hate this piece," he said after he got it.

"I thought you loved this piece."

Boq sighed. "I do. But right now I hate it." He picked up a pencil and wrote something down, then went back to playing.

Glinda watched him for a moment. She shook her head a little and looked at the piece open on the piano. She knew this one. Her hands went to the keys, her fingers finding the opening cords out of some ingrained memory. She played a line or so, then stopped again, staring down at her hands.

What would her parents say? They'd thrown a fit over her quitting piano. It was the most involvement she'd seen from them in years. But they accepted it, now. She had told them it just wasn't what she wanted anymore, and they learned to live with that.

They really seemed to like Elphaba, too. That had to count for something, right? Or would they change their minds completely once—

Elphaba's knee bumped into hers. "You okay?"

Glinda blinked. "Yeah?"

"You looked spaced out." Elphaba gave her a half-smile. "What are you thinking?"

Glinda's fingers flexed over the keys. She dropped them to her lap. "I'm thinking…" She glanced around the room. Boq was still playing, focusing hard on his music. Fiyero was buried in his book. "I think I want to come out to my parents."

It took Elphaba by surprise. The book she had been reading slipped from her hands and landed on the floor with a clatter that caught the boys' attention. Glinda looked at each of them, then back at Elphaba.

"Boys," Glinda said as she stood up from the bench, "if you'll excuse us."

She grabbed the fallen book and Elphaba's hand and tugged her along into the closet at the end of the room and shut the door behind them. It was a mess in here. Glinda had to nudge a black case out of the way just to make room for both of them to stand next to each other. She looked around, taking in the neatly hung uniforms and the chaos of drum sets and instrument cases. And still, Elphaba said nothing.

Glinda raised an eyebrow. "Words, Elphie."

"Sorry, I—are you sure?"

Glinda bit her lip. "You think I shouldn't?"

"No, I—I just—" Elphaba shook her head. She closed her eyes and took a breath. "What I think doesn't matter. I just want you to be comfortable."

"Yeah, that's not going to happen no matter what."

Elphaba gave a short laugh. "Fair enough. How long have you been thinking about this?"

"Not that long." Glinda held out her hand, and Elphaba took it without hesitation. "Since we had dinner at my house."

She watched the understanding cross Elphaba's face. "Because of how they reacted?"

"Yeah. They…they were so cool about it, you know? They like you."

"I'm charming."

Glinda giggled. "If you say so."

"Hey!"

"But, I mean, they were fine with you being there. And they've never, I mean, I've never heard them say anything bad about…" Glinda trailed off. She didn't realize she was frowning until Elphaba's hand was against her face, her thumb smoothing out the wrinkles in her forehead.

"You always say they're really good people," Elphaba offered. "Maybe it applies here, too?"

"So, you think it's a good idea?"

Elphaba searched her face. Glinda just stood there, watching her eyes move back and forth, trying to see the answer before Elphaba said it.

"I think…if you want to do it, then yes. Absolutely."

Glinda nodded. "I do. I think." She laughed, and it came out shakier than she was expecting. "Oh my god, I'm going to come out to them. This is such a bad idea."

"Hey." Elphaba stepped closer, and Glinda felt her arms wrap around her. "Come on. It could be the best conversation you've ever had with them."

"You so don't believe that."

"Okay, maybe not. Maybe it'll be absolutely terrible. But then you'll know."

Glinda nodded, her forehead rubbing against Elphaba's collar. "Right. And it won't matter, because either way I barely see them, so who cares what they think?"

"That's the spirit." She could hear the smirk in Elphaba's voice. But then it faded and she asked, sincerely, "When are you thinking of doing it?"

Glinda pulled back enough to look at her again, though their arms stayed around each other. "Honestly? I've been putting it off all week. Every time they come home, I tell myself I'm going to do it. But then…"

"It's stressful," Elphaba said.

"But I want to do it." Glinda shrugged. "They're out of town this weekend, or else I would."

Elphaba squeezed her hip. "Well, whenever you do tell them, I'll be here."

"Here? In the band closet?" Glinda grinned, standing on her toes and kissing Elphaba's cheek when she scowled. "Kidding. I know. Thank you, Elphie."

"That's the last time I try to be sincere with you."

"No it's not," Glinda said, kissing her again, this time on the corner of her mouth.

Elphaba nodded. "You're right. Probably not."

/

Glinda didn't see her parents that weekend—not until Sunday night, when they returned home with takeout and a pair of earrings they had bought her in the Emerald City—but she still grew antsier every day. She thought about telling them that night, but her mother was talking about how well her newest intern was doing, and her father was smiling at Glinda and telling her that was the kind of person she'd be in a couple years, he just knew it, so she nodded along and ate her food quietly.

She even saw her parents more than usual in the week that followed. Her father was drinking coffee in the kitchen before she left for school, or they all ate together because her mother invited a coworker over for dinner, or both her parents were curled up on the couch, watching a movie on the night Glinda was up late doing homework.

That last one had been too intimate for her to bear. They weren't even doing anything, just sitting with each other, but something about it made her ache. She had turned around and crept back up the stairs, forgetting about whatever she had originally gone down for.

She didn't think it was going to be a big deal—she would either tell them, or she wouldn't—but at this point it was driving her insane. It was almost a relief when their weekly prom committee meeting came around. Glinda was glad to put her attention toward something meaningless.

They were quieter today. Everyone had split up to work on their various jobs. A group of girls were huddled around a computer, looking at one of those t-shirt designing websites. Every once in a while they called out a question about colors or font. A couple tables over, someone was figuring the math for all the orders they had to make: tickets, invitations, flowers. She looked stressed and kept hitting clear on her calculator. Glinda resisted the urge to take over.

She was sitting at her own table, a pencil in her hand. Everything they had so far was spread out in front of her: a sample picture of the invitations, photos from past proms, ideas they'd found on the internet, and even a rough design for the prom committee shirts they were ordering.

None of it was all that useful. She'd sketched out a few ideas for the backdrop, but she couldn't find it in herself to commit to any of them. It didn't help that Shenshen was next to her, watching eagerly every time Glinda put her pencil to the page.

"I still like that one," she said, pointing to a corner of the paper that Glinda had half-heartedly scribbled out.

"It's too complicated," Glinda said, again. "Even if we manage to make it, it won't look good in the photos."

"Also it'll clash with my dress," Pfannee called from her own table. She was scrolling through her phone, but Glinda had no idea what she was working on. Probably nothing.

"I can't believe you already have a dress," one of the other girls said. "My mom makes me wait until everyone starts re-selling theirs."

"Ew, who wants a re-sold dress?"

"But you can get really good deals!"

"Yeah, for a dress someone's already worn to prom."

Glinda got another idea. She drew an outline, scribbling in notes about colors and details. It wouldn't be too hard to make, and she could include the slogan Pfannee wanted and—

Shenshen leaned forward. "Ooh, I like that one, too!"

Two other girls heard her and hurried over. They crowded around, casting a shadow over the paper, and Glinda gave up. She set her pencil down and leaned back so they could see better.

"That's so cool, Glinda!"

"I can't believe you can draw like that."

"Yeah, how do you do that? I can barely draw stick figures."

Across the room, Pfannee started scowling at her phone. Glinda forced a smile. Take them, she wanted to tell her. I don't care. Sure, it was nice, being able to work on art in front of her friends. But they were so annoying. This wasn't anywhere near her best work! Why did they all have to freak out so much?

But she just smiled and let Shenshen grab the page and show it around the room. Even Pfannee looked impressed when she saw it, which Glinda supposed she should take as a victory.

"It's good," Pfannee said as Shenshen handed the page back to Glinda, "but we should have all the other details down before we make a decision."

Glinda shrugged and slid the paper into the folder she had set aside for prom stuff.

"Okay, everyone," said one of the girls designing the shirts, "we think we got it."

Everyone moved to huddle around her computer, and Glinda breathed a little deeper, glad to be out of the spotlight again.

They didn't stay much longer. Once they had all seen the shirt design, they placed the order and collected money from everyone. That seemed to be everyone's cue to start tucking away papers and pulling car keys out of their backpacks. Glinda followed suit, checking her phone when no one was looking and sending a text to Elphaba.

"Glinda, come on," Pfannee called from the doorway. "Let's get out of here."

Glinda stuck her phone in her back pocket and followed her and Shenshen out. She listened to them talk all the way down the hall and through the front doors, and then she waved and gave them a cheery goodbye before splitting off to head to her own car. As soon as they were no longer next to her, she checked her phone again.

1 new message from Elphaba Thropp

Sweet. Any plans for the night?

Glinda smiled. You mean other than the big pile of homework?

Oh come on, it wasn't that bad, Elphaba wrote. Glinda rolled her eyes.

Nerd

You caught me

She got into her car and turned it on, shivering while she waited for the air and seat to warm up. To be fair, Elphaba was right. She didn't have that much to do. But she should probably actually do the history reading. And eventually she was going to have to look for a poem to read for Morrible's class.

Yet, none of that was what was really stressing her out.

I think I want to do it tonight, she typed. Her finger hovered over the send button, but only for a moment.

Elphaba started typing back immediately. Then she stopped. Then she started again.

Not that I don't have faith in you, but are you sure about this?

Glinda nearly laughed. Not particularly lol

Glinda.

I want to, she said. Then, all in a rush, she wrote, I want to tell someone. I want someone to know. I'm tired of being a secret. Like, yeah, the boys all know, but I never had to tell them. I want to be able to tell someone, you know?

She hit send without re-reading it, not wanting to give herself the chance to delete it all. She waited, staring at her screen until it went black, but Elphaba didn't start typing again. Glinda put her phone in the cup holder and put the car in drive.

When she got home ten minutes later, she had three messages from Elphaba.

I understand

Then, That's how I felt when I came out to Boq. And you're right, it can be really helpful.

Then, Just don't force yourself, okay? There's no pressure.

Glinda shook her head. That's just it. If I don't force myself, I'll never do it.

It took Elphaba a while to respond. Glinda watched the typing icon appear and disappear four times before she gave up, clicking off her phone and heading inside. She was curled up in bed with a mug of hot chocolate and her math textbook by the time Elphaba answered.

As long as you're doing it for yourself.

Glinda set her mug aside. Of course she was doing it for herself—Elphaba would never ask her to do otherwise. But suddenly, she knew it was more than that. She wanted to come out to someone, but she also wanted someone to know about Elphaba. Elphaba, who said things like this, things that made her want to melt and cry and never stop smiling.

Elphaba was typing again. And let me know how it goes, okay?

Glinda sniffed and smiled. Of course, she sent. Then, 3

Her parents came home a little while after Glinda had made herself dinner. She was sitting with her homework in the living room, ready for them, but her voice vanished as soon as they walked in the door.

"Hi, honey," her mother said, for once not on the phone. She dropped a grocery bag on the counter and started putting stuff away. "You ate already, right?"

Glinda swallowed. "Yeah. A bit ago."

"Oh, good. Your father and I grabbed a bite on the way home. We thought it was a little late, otherwise we would've gotten you something."

"No, it's okay." Maybe she could do this. "Where is Dad?"

"Out in the car. He got an email as we pulled into the garage. Why, what's up?"

Glinda shook her head. "Just curious."

Finished in the kitchen, her mother gave a little wave and crossed through the living room. Her father walked in a moment later, but he just took off his shoes and followed her mother into their bedroom.

Glinda let herself sink further into the couch. Had she just missed her chance?

She wished Ama Clutch were here.

That thought took her by surprise. Sure, she missed her ama sometimes, but it had always felt childish. Like a kid relying on an imaginary friend. Glinda shook her head. Right now, she didn't care. She did want Ama Clutch here. Something told her that the old woman would, somehow, already know.

Glinda could picture it so clearly. She would walk into the living room and sit on the couch next to Ama. She'd watch her knit for a while, and Ama Clutch would just wait, letting the silence sit between them until Glinda was comfortable enough to simply open her mouth and tell her.

Glinda picked up her phone, then let it fall to her lap again. She didn't have her old caretaker's number—why would she? And even if she did, what would happen? They hadn't seen each other in years. Besides, to Ama Clutch, Glinda was just a job. Why should she care? Would she even remember Glinda?

It was all nonsense, anyway. She didn't need Ama Clutch. Even if her parents were awful about it—they wouldn't be, would they?—they weren't around enough to have any effect one way or the other. She pushed herself to her feet and shoved her phone in her pocket. She could do this. She was going to do this.

She could hear her parents' voices from outside their cracked bedroom door. There was something off about this, about lingering in the hall and listening in. She couldn't remember the last time she was inside her parents' room. She was never even down here at this time of day.

Get it over with, she told herself. Slowly, carefully, she raised her hand and knocked.

"Come in," her mother's voice called. Glinda could hear a smile in it, as if she'd just been laughing at something. But when she eased the door open and took a step forward, the smile vanished. Her parents stared at her, almost as if they'd been expecting someone else.

"Glinda, dear, is something wrong?"

"No," Glinda said quickly. She leaned against the door, then stood straight again when her mother gave her a disapproving look. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"Well, what is it?"

"I, um. I wanted to talk to you guys. About something." Glinda's arms were crossed in front of her chest. She dug her nails into the skin above her elbow. Did her father actually look impatient, or was she just imagining things? "About me."

"Something with school?" her father asked.

Glinda shook her head. "No. My grades are fine. School's fine."

"College?" asked her mother. She smiled a little. "Because it's never too early to start looking at universities."

"No. I mean, you're right, but that's not it."

Her parents looked at each other. They looked at each other, and they didn't say a word, but somehow they understood what the other was saying. Glinda felt her eyes burn. They had never ever looked at her like that.

"I'm gay."

It left her without permission, without thought. She had meant to be calm. Composed. She had half-memorized a timeline of crushes she'd had, and a list of reasons why she and Avaric were a horrible couple, sexuality aside. She had figured the best approach was to act like she was giving a business pitch. Maybe then they'd take her seriously.

Instead, she had just blurted it out, a little too loud. All she could hear was her own voice, resonating between the three of them. She realized that was the first time she'd said the words.

She couldn't read her parents' expressions. Were they perfectly okay with it, or did they want to throw her out of the house? She supposed she could go live with one of the boys. Boq's family was so sweet, although that house was already pretty full. Fiyero's host parents were cool, too, and were clearly fine with just taking in a child. She didn't know if she could live with Crope or Tibbett. She might feel like she was third-wheeling all the time.

"Sweetie." Her mother carefully pronounced each syllable, stretching them out just a little. "How long have you thought this?"

Glinda swallowed. "A few months."

Her mother nodded. Her father cleared his throat.

"What brought this on?" he asked, also speaking carefully. "Is it—is there anyone…special?"

"Elphie." Once again, it came out without permission. But this time it was something sweet and quiet. Glinda shook herself. "Elphaba. I—she—Elphaba."

It was like she couldn't say anything else. Her parents glanced at each other.

"But she's not the only reason," Glinda said quickly. "I was starting to figure out before we…"

"Well," her mother said, still looking at her father. "We're glad you told us."

Glinda nodded, but it wasn't enough. "You…are you disappointed?"

Now they looked at her. "Of course not," her mom said. "Why would we be disappointed?"

She sagged, leaning against the doorway again, but this time her mother didn't scold her.

"I'll admit, I'm a little surprised," said her father. "But we love you just the same."

"Come here, honey." Her mom held her arms out. Breathless, Glinda barely managed to stumble over to the bed. Her mother hugged her, and her father put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, and for a moment Glinda felt like the picture perfect family.

"Now," her father said when they parted. His face was stern. "This does mean that she's no longer allowed here when we're not around."

"Of course," Glinda said, nodding as if it mattered at all. "We weren't doing anything, the other night."

"Does anyone else know?" her mother asked.

"Some of my friends do," she said. As if her parents would be the first to hear about anything. Then she softened again. "Not all of them, though."

She thought she saw a flicker of relief cross her mother's face.

"You're a smart girl," her father said, and her mother leaned into him. "I'm sure we don't have to tell you that you should be careful with this. You'll know who you should and shouldn't tell."

Glinda gave them a weak smile. She felt off again, and she knew she should be at least a little annoyed. But they hadn't kicked her out. They hadn't yelled. They hadn't done anything remotely bad. Her mother had hugged her. She was too overjoyed to feel anything else.

Back in her room a few minutes later, Glinda had her phone to her ear, giving Elphaba a play by play.

"Glinda," Elphaba said, and she could hear the smile in her voice, "that's so amazing."

"I can't believe I did it," Glinda said breathlessly. "I did it. It's over."

A moment of quiet fell over them. Glinda repeated the words in her head. It's over.

"Well," said Elphaba. "This part is. Are you relieved?"

"So relieved. You know, for a second I was worried I'd have to run away and live with Crope."

Elphaba snorted. "Oh?"

"Yeah. But then I realized I'd have to third-wheel all the time, and I was so not up for that."

"You'd love Crope's parents, though. They're so weird."

Glinda giggled. "Really? But Crope's so normal!"

"Funny," Elphaba said. There was a pause, and then, "So everything went okay? They didn't say anything…"

"Anything what?"

"I don't know. Just—they were completely okay?"

Glinda stretched her legs out. She had her favorite fuzzy socks on. She twisted her feet a little, watching them carefully.

"I think they want to keep it a secret," she said finally. "They were asking about who I've told."

Elphaba was quiet. Glinda decided she didn't want to hear what she had to say—not tonight. Not when she still felt so victorious.

"It's not the worst thing," she said quickly. "In fact, it's like the least worst thing possible."

"I think the least worse thing would be wholeheartedly accepting you for who you are."

"Okay, yeah, sure, but…" Glinda shook her head. "Look, I know it sucks, and I know I'll have to deal with that eventually, but for right now. I mean, I just came out to my parents. And they didn't treat me any different. That's something to celebrate, right?"

For a moment, Elphaba said nothing. But Glinda listened hard, taking in every little noise from the other end of the line. She swore, she could hear Elphaba softening.

"You're right," she said. "I'm so happy for you."

"Even if this means you can't come over anymore?"

"Well, darn. We have no possible way to work around that, do we? Your parents are so overprotective and vigilant."

"Hush," Glinda said. "I came out to my parents."

"Yes you did."

"I've never come out to anyone before."

"Oh, so you don't count kissing me on the back porch at that party?"

"I didn't know I was gay then, doesn't count." Glinda couldn't stop grinning. "Elphie. I'm gay."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Really? When?"

Elphaba laughed. "You loser."

"I'm not a loser, I'm a winner."

And tonight, she really, truly felt like she was.