There's a part of me that doesn't really understand what I'm feeling. But when I look at her, I can't help but feel suddenly interested in everything she's doing.
Today in class, for example, she is sitting at her seat, towards the back like usual, and she is looking down at her work and fiddling with her feather pen (she is the only one to still use a feather pen), thinking of what to write. She is wearing her glasses, like she always does, and she has this concentrated look about her. Looking at her is like seeing a bit of who she is.
Suddenly she catches sight of me staring and looks straight at me, into me, and I have to cough and shift and pretend to be looking at the time. I spin back around and feel my heart beating fast. It doesn't make sense, my sudden fascination with her. I mean, yes, of course, there's the green thing, she gets plenty of stares for that, yet that isn't it. At first I had thought of her green skin as ugly, but now? I don't know. I'm so used to it. That must be what it is, right? What do they call it? Habituation? I had seen her so many times (she is my roomie, after all) that I had gotten used to her looks—maybe that's it. Maybe.
But getting used to and being drawn to are two very different things. There is an undeniable strikingness about her, the way her features angle in and out, how her nose sticks forth, how her eyebrows harden and run cross-hatched above her eyes, which look to be almost black; and then there's that endless black hair, that despite everything else, looks to be liquid soft.
After she catches me staring, I feel like groaning; I almost do, though we are taking a test, and so I go and mask it with another cough. The professor, a Goat, gives me a look. I mouth an apology, look down at my paper, and find it impossible to focus.
I've only known this girl for a few months. We speak, but it isn't enough to explain all that I'm feeling.
And what is it that I'm feeling? Well, would you believe me if I said, a crush?
Elphaba Thropp. Such a strange name. "Elphaba" sounds pretty enough, but then that "Thropp" part; it doesn't really feel like a last name, but a sound, of something hitting the floor.
I can't stop thinking about her, it's as if I've been put under a spell. That's how I'm dealing with this, you know, even though I know it isn't true—this crush, this thing that I feel, is real, and I'm scared, I am.
Today she was out again. It's the weekend. She hardly ever sleeps in (honestly, I don't think she sleeps at all) and she always likes to go to the library on the weekends, at some early hour that I do not know. It makes the dorm very quiet and very boring. I become agitated, first because I don't do too well in lonely, quiet situations (I'm a bit of an extrovert, though I am also sort of shy; but shyness doesn't necessarily mean I can stomach being alone, especially on the weekend), and second because I somehow feel rejected by her. Isn't that pathetic? Oz, I'm starting to sound like that boy, Boq. He has a massive crush on me. It's cute, I guess, but it makes me feel obligated to avoid him at all costs. Oh, Oz, does she know? Is that what this is?
I shake the thought away and get up and get ready (it's noon), and then I'm up and out looking for Boq. I need a distraction. I find him, and we sit and talk and he gushes over me, and I let him, because I need a moment away from my own thoughts. Then after an hour or so of catch up, I see her, walking across the lawn with her books, and everything that Boq says becomes very jumbled and quiet all of a sudden, as now I'm looking at her. I feel delighted, catching her like this. Boq notices where I'm looking and smiles and calls out to her, insisting that she joins us. She hears him, looks over, smiles, and begins walking over. It's too much. I feel my eyes widen and suddenly I'm scrambling to my feet, thanking Boq for his time, saying that really, I must go, and then I'm out. It looks terrible, I know, but I tell myself that really, I'd just be intruding. They're old childhood friends, and I'd just be clogging the conversation. I tell myself this and walk faster.
I don't know what I'm doing, but here I am, at the library, on a Saturday morning. I'm tired. I'm dressed wonderfully, in a blue and yellow dress and shawl (it's getting cooler), but I feel awfully drowsy. I'm sitting at one of the tables, reading something, anything, to stay awake. There aren't many students here, which I don't find shocking, and I suddenly feel very pathetic and creepy. She's sure to be here, and when she notices me, she ought to know what I'm up to. Wouldn't she? I read harder, though I also look up and around for her, and it's here that I spot her, coming out one of the book aisles, that same, concentrated look about her.
She always looks to be in her own little world.
Then she spots me.
And yet she always ends up spotting me.
Though I'm excited. I sit up straighter and pretend not to notice, looking down at my book; the words are muddled and I'm "reading" too fast, just for show, when out of the corner of my eye, I notice her walking over. I tense, but I calm myself down by pretending it's someone else, someone like Boq or Fiyero.
"Is this seat taken?"
I can't tell if she's joking or not, I'm so nervous.
"No, you can sit." My words, they come out so stiff and sharp. I want to go back and revise what I just said, but I know not to. I read my book. She sits, glancing down as she does so, and I look up to steal a look. She looks so much older than the rest of us, it's hard to explain, but at times, her face looks "wise." Then, once you really look at her, you notice how young she really is, and it comforts you. Her features, they're so dramatic, yet still there is a softness.
She isn't wearing her glasses today. I decide not to comment on it since that'd be weird.
We sit in comfortable silence. I both love and hate it.
Do something!
"So, what are you reading?" I say. I notice her looking down at this thick tome of a book. Without her glasses, she squints.
She does not look up at me.
"You know I'm not really sure. I can hardly see," and she looks up and smiles playfully. "So why do it, you may ask. Why keep reading? Well," and she props her right arm up and leans her face into her hand, "I guess I like the challenge. I guess, maybe, I like feeling like an archeologist uncovering a batch of bones and making some slow sense of it."
I blink.
"Oh." Her wit, it's hard to keep up sometimes. It's a bit ludicrous. "Well, what happened to your glasses?"
"They broke." She makes a "tsk" sound. "I'll have a new pair soon enough. Oh, and I was only joking just now. I can still see. I'm reading some old religious texts."
"Why ever would you do that?"
"I don't know. I don't even like them."
I feel a joke forming, and I go with it.
"So that squinting of yours, it isn't to see. Could it be that you're actually grimacing?"
I watch her laugh lightly at that. It makes my neck tingle. It wasn't even that funny, yet still, she laughs.
"I suppose that's it. Let's say, for all intents and purposes, that it's a little bit of both. I'm limiting the amount of nonsense that I take in." I then see her nod towards what I'm holding. "What are you reading?"
I look down at the text.
"Oh, I'm not really sure. I just pulled this off the shelf." She nods; there isn't really much to say. She goes back to reading. We sit in comfortable silence again.
Great. I blew it.
I steal some more looks at her.
Say something. This can't be it. You woke up at six for this!
"You, look really nice today."
I feel like screaming.
Elphaba looks up at me, and I notice, then, that she's blushing in the slightest. I smile at her, and she smiles back.
I go to a party, but before I do, I beg Elphaba to come along. We're friends now, and this crush, it's starting to finally die down.
She resists but I get her to come. She dresses in some dark purple dress (I mean really dark, like almost black) and she lets me do her hair. I get those tingles again but I ignore them, telling myself that it's just the pre-party jitters. I end up doing a French braid, and I can't lie, she looks captivating, sophisticated yet pretty, like always, but now even more so. She has glasses again and she wears them and looks beautiful. I tell her this, since we're so comfortable now.
"You look beautiful!" She blushes a darker green. I smile.
We head to the party; I'm in heels, she's in boots, and I begin to envy her as my feet start to burn. At the party we see everyone there; Boq, Fiyero, Shenshen, Pfannee and Milla (they aren't too nice to Elphaba, so I'm not really friends with any of them anymore, but still we remain relatively polite with one another), Crope and Tibbett, Avaric (it's his party), and a few other people I know but only in passing. I wave to them and look over and see Elphaba looking surprisingly giddy. She glides on over to Boq and Crope and Tibbett, her gang, I guess. I feel a small sting but ignore it.
We dance. I love dancing. It allows me to be "out there" without being too vulnerable, which I know doesn't make much sense, but when a person likes dancing enough they don't see it as embarrassing, they see it as electrifying. I dance with a sort of energy that makes me feel seen and good, like everyone's eyes are on me, but I don't have to answer them. I am in my own little world.
I feel a sense that I am being watched, which is to be expected, but I open my eyes and look across the room and see Elphaba staring at me, fascinated. Suddenly I am very aware of my movements, of what she's seeing, and it intimidates me; but I also like it. I dance with more purpose, more rhythm and flow, more feeling. I catch her looking, and I notice something; her body language, it's something I've never seen before. The way she's leaning forward, her legs crossed, her eyes sultry. There's a look of desire about her.
I stop dancing, my heart beating loud and fast in my ears, and I watch as she reorganizes herself. She notices it too, and I can see the bit of shame. We stare at each other. We both know.
And we both shake it off, blaming it on the environment.
Okay so I can't lie to myself, fine. I still have some sort of crush on her. Don't give me that look! I'm not used to this! Usually my crushes go away on their own, over a couple weeks. Sometimes even less. They're there to make the day more fun, to make a class more interesting, you know? I'm used to that.
Yet Elphie (her nickname), I think she's different, and I'm afraid I don't know what to do.
That look she gave, at the party, I imagined it. Embarrassing, I know, but really, I did. And so I can't really lie to myself anymore.
She's sleeping right now. Strange, right? No, not really. I'm up real late, writing in this thing. I keep looking over. She snores.
I don't have much left to say. I thought I did, but really I'm getting tired. I should be going to sleep.
Goodnight.
Today is a good day. We're having a picnic, the boys and I. Oh, and Elphaba.
I've decided this is fine. I don't really have to do anything with this crush. It doesn't even really seem to bother me. It's just kinda there. Maybe it will eventually go away, but right now, I don't really mind. Things are comfortable. She's a really good friend.
I sat next to her at the picnic. It was fine. Of course I got tingles, but I expected them, so I'm not as frazzled. There is power in knowing.
Though I could've sworn she leaned into me... Nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind nevermind.
Okay I know what you're thinking, but I can't do it anymore. I have to say something. I know I know I know, all that stuff I said, of us just being friends and this whole thing not bothering me. Well, it kinda does.
You see, it's been two months and it still has not gone away. We're on winter break, now, and she's staying on campus, and so am I because I have to get this sorted out. It'd be like agony otherwise, visiting home and having this thing just taking up all of my brain space. You won't believe what it's been doing to my stomach. Butterflies, every time she enters a room. The words "I like you" keep threatening to buzz out, I have to keep my lips locked.
I feel shallow, though I know I'm not. I do like her. I don't want her to think I'm doing her some sort of charity—I have to time this right, I have to say exactly what's on my mind, all the things that draw me to her...
Okay, here's a list I've written down, just to organize my thoughts:
1. Her smile
2. Her passion
3. Her wit (though yes, it's still sometimes hard to keep up)
4. Her energy
5. The way she walks like she's on a mission
6. Her compassion
7. She makes me feel good, smart, she doesn't belittle me
8. She sings! Did you know that? No, you didn't, I forgot to tell you
9. Her beauty (and I don't want to call it "unique beauty," though yes, it is rather unique, but I'd rather just be sincere about it—her beauty)
10. I want my list to include ten things, because ten is a satisfying number, so here it is: When I catch her looking at me, there is an almost, searing warmth about her
You're gonna kill me. I know you are. I didn't say anything over break. I just felt too nervous. I don't know!
The second term started. It's been two weeks. By this rate I'll be old and gray before I say anything. Ugggghhhhhhhh.
Avaric's having another party. We're going. My mind is racing. I did her hair again, and yes, she did lean into me, and no, I can't ignore it this time. Oh, Oz.
"Are you okay?" she turns and asks. She's wearing a red dress, and I did her hair so that two, tight skinny bits of braid wrap around her head and tie in the middle, falling in with the rest of her hair that lays down along her back. She is not wearing her glasses. She wants to look especially radiant, I can tell, and it's all so overwhelming.
"Me? I'm fine." I try saying this cheerily, I do, and I manage somewhat, but I also don't want to risk sounding fake, so I hold back. Elphaba looks at me with a bit of concern but eventually lets it go. Then, we're out.
She's wearing heels. She asked to borrow a pair. She's impossibly tall, now, and she walks like a baby deer in them. I have to keep myself from laughing.
"Whaaat?" she says. I smile and laugh some more, and I watch as her lip twitches into something of a smirk. "You know, you laugh but really, this is a whole new world for me."
"I know," I say, still giggling. She rolls her eyes. Eventually she gets the hang of it, and I can't help but watch her. Her hips, they don't sway, she's too bony. Still I'm mesmerized. I blush; I think she notices, and I feign wiping my nose.
We arrive at the party.
"Welcoooome!" It's Avaric, he's drunk. His arms are extended out towards us in a welcoming gesture, and when he sees Elphaba, I mean really sees her past that drunk gaze, he hooks his thumb around one of his belt loops, and wolf whistles. "Myyyy goodness," he says. "Who knew our little Elphie could clean up so nice? Please, oh please be my mistress, just for tonight?" He bats his eyes. I cringe.
"I'll kick you Avaric, I really will. If you keep that nonsense up I'll hit you."
"You promise?" We both grunt and make our way more into the room.
"I don't know how he does it. He's going to be the Margreave of Tenmeadows and yet he still finds a way to rent out the dingiest, slimiest, holes in the wall," I say. The place is littered with, well litter. And the walls and floor are of a dark brown color, like that of burnt chicken, and everything's sticky. The light is poor. The place is crowded. "There are never enough seats in these things." I realize just how cranky I sound, and I don't like it. Elphaba notices, too. She taps me and says,
"Hey, are you all right?" There it is again. I nod. She doesn't believe me, but she lets it go. I see the dance floor and slink myself over, away from her. She finds the others, and for now, we part ways.
A chance to breathe. I dance for a while, though it feels meaningless. I need something, a drink.
I down something sweet, feel better, and Pfannee dances on over to the bar and taps me on the shoulder, and yells in my ear. The music isn't even that loud, yet still, she yells.
"We're playing spin the bottle! The whole gang! Come join us!"
"Spin the bottle? Oh how immature."
"Oh, don't be like that. They're waaaiting!" I watch as she scoots herself back over to our group; all of them are sitting on the dusty floor, in one of the dimly lit corners, with an empty, green ale bottle placed in front of them. I notice Elphaba, nestled in between Crope and Boq. I down the rest of my drink and head over.
They see me and start to clap. I feel suddenly amusing and so I curtsy for them, before sitting down in between Fiyero and Milla. Avaric is there, eyeing Elphaba. I am inclined to slap him, but I don't. I notice Elphaba instead. She is looking right at me.
"Does everyone know the rules?" says Boq. They all murmur yes, a bit annoyedly.
"We know the rules, Boq. You're dawdling," says Shenshen.
"I actually don't know the rules." We all look towards Elphaba. "I've never played this game before." There is a slight hint of embarrassment about her, yet still she manages to remain stoic and cool, almost logical.
"Well it's really quite simple, you see. The person going spins the bottle, hence the name, and whoever it lands on they must kiss." Her eyes widen in the slightest. The others giggle. "Of course," continues Tibbett, "if you really would prefer not to kiss the person, you can get out of it by doing a dare."
"A dare?"
"Yes, a dare. Like, say... streaking!" We bat at him for that one. Enough is enough, then. Time to start the game.
Avaric goes first. He lands on Pfannee, much to his disappointment, meanwhile she's over the moon. They kiss, it's done, next person.
Shenshen spins. It lands on Crope. She makes a face (meanly), and asks, "Oh, can I do a dare, please please please!" Obviously she can, but she suddenly decides against it, afraid of what they might all pick, and goes to kiss Crope, who didn't seem to like it that much either.
"My turn!" Fiyero spins. The bottle lands on Boq. We all laugh, Fiyero blushes, a bit uncomfortably, and does a dare which involves making a fool of himself on the dance floor. It isn't too creative. We're all too anxious to spin.
Boq spins and lands on Milla. They kiss.
Then Elphaba is handed the bottle.
"Go ahead, Elphie. Spin," one of them says. We're all waiting.
She grabs the bottle, twists her green hand around, then flicks it. She keeps her eyes on it. I know because I sit there watching her, while the others look around anxiously.
I'm watching her, when suddenly, she looks up at me. I'm confused. The others go crazy. I look down and I see the bottle pointing towards me.
I sit there, dumbfounded; it's when I see Elphaba, leaning in towards me, that I am then snapped back into this existence.
She kisses me. I don't have time to be shocked. It's a bit amateurish, which I can understand, until suddenly, it isn't amateurish at all.
She pours herself into me, leaning in further and clutching the sides of my face gently, her long green fingers reaching the corners of my eyes, my ears. Her touch feels like an extra skin. I've forgotten all about the game; the others, I can hear them, but it's white noise.
I'm kissing her back. My eyes are closed. I want to open them, to look at her expression, and so I do:
Searing warmth.
I feel her smiling against my lips, and I smile back.