A/N: This is sort of random. Very random, actually. But funny. I think. Anyway, you've been warned. :)

Disclaimer: Not mine. 'Wicked' belongs to Gregory Maguire.


062. Spring.

Flowers

To say the least, she was annoyed. How dare she! How dare she!

"How dare you, Miss Elphaba?" she was looking rather odd, her hair all swiveled out and raged in a ball of madness. It was funny, ironically, and beautifully distressing the image displayed. "How dare you?"

"Miss Glinda," Yes, her tone suggested mockery, but only to those smart enough to notice it. To the blond, it sounded as though she was being patient. "I've tried explaining it to you, I did," the simple sight of that pink, shiny character undergoing a fury attack was enough to make her laugh beyond any possible reason. But for both their sakes (who knew what the petite blond could do when she was actually irritated?) she kept silent and quiet, stifling her laughter and hiding her smile. "Now, now, let's not get mad,"

"Not get mad?! Oh, outrageous!"

"Miss Glinda, you promised," she was getting exasperated now. After all, Glinda had promised she would do this.

"Oh, stupid promises. Fine," she sighed and walked with the comical, greenish outfit clinging to her body in such an amusing way that everyone, everyone, turned to watch the pair. On her head she wore this hat, an obvious, loathsome hat, covering the whole of her head and blond curls: it had pieces of clothes of different colors and sizes sticking out. They were petals: yes, Miss Glinda of the Upper Uplands, Miss Popularity, was dressed as a flower. A colorful, hideous flower. Not in vane: she was handing flyers, sponsoring some Ball in front of everyone. Everyone!

She was, to say the least, annoyed.

"See, Miss Glinda, promoting the Spring Dance can be entertaining, cheer up," it was evident in her voice that she was laughing now. To this, Glinda got even more furious and shot her a glance. But a promise was a promise, so she put on her best smile and did as she had to, to everyone's laughs and musings.


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