A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed so far! I wanted to drop a hint for the pen pal pin riddle because I never would have guessed it myself. The numbers are two numbers put together. For #1123 the numbers are 11 and 23. For #6144 the numbers are 6 and 144. They correlate to both the musical and the book. I'll reveal the answer with the next chapter!
Content Advisory: Unsupportive/Toxic Parenting, Phobia Induced Panic, Self-deprecating thoughts
✉ Chapter Two: A Different School of Thought ✉
Elphaba's relationship with the Thropp Manor's mailbox had done a complete one-eighty. What had once been a chore was now a pleasant source of suspense as she checked for updates from her stranger. His letters, which had been sporadic at first, now reliably arrived at least once a week. Sometimes more.
While they still knew little to none about the other's identity, their initial awkwardness was a thing of the past as their letters grew more conversational. Elphaba rather enjoyed their banter and would occasionally reread his letters when she was bored. He had a charmingly casual writing style and his penmanship was improving no thanks to his insipid (a word Elphaba taught him) tutor.
Their writing relationship was strictly lighthearted…until the day it wasn't. Elphaba hadn't meant to pry, but her inquisitive nature never rested. So, in one of her letters she asked him about one of her favorite topics: college.
His response had not been what she'd expected.
Dear Stranger,
Yeah, I've tried college…thank Oz I'm done with all that.
I've attended quite a few schools, actually, and I'm proud to report that I was kicked out of all of them.
College is nothing but a bunch of try-hards and know-it-all professors trying to convince you that life has some 'deeper meaning' to it. I know better, though. Nothing in life matters, except for maybe knowing nothing matters. I'm just glad I learned that before wasting any more time.
I do miss the parties, though. The parties and the girls.
Signed, Stranger
An audible, offended sound escaped Elphaba's throat as her eyes flitted over the insufferable letter. Try-hards? Know-it-alls?! What kind of frivolous, obnoxious, shallow–
Elphaba forcefully yanked open her desk and leered down at the packets she'd stashed at the bottom of her drawer.
Locklimb University. Emerald University. Shiz University. They were all among the many acceptance letters from schools she'd applied to in secret. Bitterness rose within her as she recalled the sleepless nights she'd spent obsessively editing and reediting dozens of application essays, the likes of which were glowingly received. Elphaba could have her pick of any school in Oz…were she free to do what she wished.
Elphaba's father would not send her to college. She'd asked him—more times than was wise, she'd asked him. She'd promised to secure full rides, to take accelerated courses, she even, in a desperate moment, offered to attend a private Unionist college in Munchkinland. However, unlike the schools themselves, he denied her every time. She knew why, of course. In her father's eyes, Elphaba's worth did not exceed the services she provided–chiefly, caring for Nessarose. Wherever Nessarose went Elphaba went, and wherever Nessarose stayed…Elphaba stayed.
Elphaba vindictively shifted her eyes towards the open letter on her desk. Then there was him. Her pen pal who, for whatever reason, had been afforded the privilege of attending not one—but multiple colleges. Acting on a hotheaded impulse, as she often did, Elphaba snatched herself a fresh sheet of stationary. Her hand worked faster than her mind, and before she knew it, she'd transferred her rage to paper in a scathing tirade.
Dear Stranger,
To say that I loathe your philosophy would be an understatement.
Your opinion is tone deaf, offensive, and in poor taste! How can you hold such a flippant view on higher education?! Do you know how many people would kill to be in your position? It sounds like you've been given unlimited opportunities but have failed to do anything useful with them! It sounds like you didn't even try!
I'm sorry that you think that college is so far beneath you, but maybe some of us are different! Maybe some of us actually want to do something worthwhile! Maybe not all of us dance through life with a cavalier, nihilistic attitude such as yours. So, congratulations on being "free" from college. I hope you're happy.
Signed, Stranger
P.S. I'm sure the girls miss you very much INDEED!
Elphaba addressed, sealed, and stamped her diatribe before promptly going downstairs to slap it on the stack of outgoing mail. When she returned to her bedroom, her overhead light swung slightly as she slammed the door behind her. Elphaba's fingers twitched and tingled as she began to pace.
She'd used too many exclamation points, but she didn't care. She'd signed it so hard it scratched through the paper, but she didn't care. She hadn't held back, but she didn't care. The only thing she cared about was how much he didn't—care!
SNAP.
The overhead light abruptly exploded and went out, blanketing her attic bedroom in near complete darkness. The sudden, debilitating ache of panic that overtook Elphaba was nothing new to her, but its fearful familiarity did nothing to ease her distress. Her breath came in sharp, quick gasps as she shakily lowered herself to her hands and knees and frantically crawled towards her bed. She wrenched the bottom drawer out of her nightstand and groped blindly for her emergency matches. The small of her back tingled as her body tremored with chills and it took her shaky hands multiple tries to successfully strike a match. Elphaba moaned in relief as the flame caught the wick of her candle and eased light back into the room.
She held the candlestick in both hands and closed her eyes as she focused on her breath.
"In through the nose…" she coached herself in a weak voice, forcing herself to inhale deeply and exhale through her lips. "Out through the mouth."
Why was it always the lights?
Elphaba slowly opened her eyes and stared across the room. The flickering candle cast chilling shadows upon the desk where she'd written her venomous letter. She'd done it again. Her temper had gotten the better of her, and as Father had told her time and time again…nothing good came from her temper.
After a fitful night's sleep, Elphaba awoke with second thoughts. Despite her resentment over his letter, which was still great, she decided that she didn't want to spoil…whatever this was. She could craft a less honest but more palatable response later. Elphaba walked downstairs and immediately went to the foyer to pull the letter, only to find that the stack of mail was empty.
"Nessa?" Elphaba called into the sitting room where her sister was lounging. "Have you seen the outgoing mail?"
"Oh, yes. I gave it to the postman when he came."
Elphaba paled. "You did?"
"Mmhmm!" Nessarose confirmed innocently. "That's alright, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes…" Elphaba sighed, pressing her palm firmly against her forehead. "That's just about right."
It was nice while it lasted.
Trips to the mailbox became an anxious affair yet again, but Elphaba's dread began to wane as weeks passed with no reply. That is, until a day in early June when she was stunned to find an envelope patiently waiting for her. She swallowed nervously. She had already accepted that he would not be writing back. After all, who would? Surely by now he'd stopped thinking about her letter.
She tore it free.
Dear Stranger,
I haven't stopped thinking about your letter.
Damn.
I wasn't going to write back. The last thing I need is someone I don't even know lecturing me about my life, okay?
It wasn't even my choice to go to all of those colleges. My parents forced me into it. And do you want to know something pathetic? I did try. I tried really hard at my first school and still flunked out. So what's the point? My parents and tutor already know that I'm stupid. I may be 'cavalier' and 'nihilistic' (both words I had to look up, by the way), but at least I don't look foolish anymore.
I'm just writing back to tell you that you were wrong. I do want to do something worthwhile with my life. I just don't know what yet…and I don't know how.
Anyway, my letter clearly touched a nerve. Even though I don't think I deserve to be yelled at in letter form–I am sorry for offending you. For what it's worth, I liked writing you. Sorry for spilling all of that out but I had to get it off my chest. But seeing as you probably won't respond…it is what it is.
Signed, Stranger
"Damn it!"
Elphaba covered her face with the letter and let out a long, guilty scream. Why couldn't he just get mad at her? Tell her to shove it? That would be much easier to respond to than whatever that was! She hunched over her desk and burrowed her face into her crossed arms. When it came to expressing emotion, Elphaba was a novice. She coped with her troubles by keeping them to herself until they inevitably spilled out in a ruinous magical catastrophe. It was a perfect system that worked perfectly. Why did her pen pal have to respond with—what? Vulnerability?! Heinous.
Elphaba slowly lifted her head and frowned at his letter, slowly dragging her finger along a specific line. I am sorry for offending you. For what it's worth, I liked writing you. No one ever apologized to Elphaba. She had never made it to a point where apologies and vulnerability were necessary to preserve a relationship. She wasn't sure she'd be any good at it…but didn't she owe it to him to try?
Didn't she owe it to herself?
Dear Stranger,
You're right that you touched a nerve, but I took it too far. I tend to do that. For that…
Elphaba hesitated, took a deep breath, and manually urged her hand to write the words: I am sorry.
I cannot relate to your disdain for school, but parents telling you where you can or cannot go? That I get. I've always wanted to go to college, desperately. I've been accepted into many schools, but my situation is complicated. My father is—
Elphaba chewed on her pen as she searched for the right word.
—strict. He will not allow me to attend college, at least not on my own terms. Ever since I was little I've had this feeling in my gut that I could do something great. Something big. Like you, I'm not sure what it is yet, but I've always felt that college would be the first step to my finding out. I suppose I can appreciate the irony of our situation. You didn't want to go to college but had to. I want to go to college but can't. Our circumstances are exactly opposite…yet somehow the same.
In the questionnaire I told you that I wasn't afraid of anything. That was a lie. I'm afraid that I'll never leave my hometown. I'm afraid that I'll never amount to anything. Furthermore, as a gesture of goodwill…I'll tell you something that I've never told anyone before.
I am a grown woman who is afraid of the dark. How's that for pathetic?
Signed, Stranger
P.S. I may not know you well but I do know one thing. You're not stupid. If you were…you wouldn't be so unhappy.
The next week, Nessarose and Elphaba sat in their sitting room with two bulky harps. Elphaba languidly dragged her fingers along the strings to create a strange, yet somehow still pretty, melody. Nessarose's brow was furrowed into a concentrated pout as she tensely plucked her strings. Every couple of minutes she'd sigh loudly and rustle her sheet music. Nessarose rarely vocalized what was going on in her head and rather opted to huff and puff until Elphaba finally asked her what the matter was.
"Everything alright over there?" Elphaba finally humored her.
"I hate the harp!" Nessarose declared, forcefully dragging her fingers over the strings to create a dissonant sound.
"New skills are always difficult at first, but if you stick with it—"
"You just started and still managed to make a pretty sound come out of one of these horrid things!" Nessarose said jealously. "You're always better at things than I am! Calligraphy, scrapbooking, candle making—"
"I'm not even reading the sheet music."
"That's right, because you don't care!"
Elphaba's eyebrows shot up and she set her harp down. "Excuse me?"
"I spend so much time thinking up things for us to do together! What have you ever done for me?!"
Elphaba stood with a wild, disbelieving laugh. "Besides everything you've ever asked of me since the day you were born? I take up a new pastime every week, I brush your hair one hundred strokes every night, I cook for you, I clean for you, and do you ever hear me complain!?"
"Well—" Nessarose shrunk back, not used to being on the receiving end of her sister's fury.
"Nessarose, have you ever stopped to think—have you ever once stopped to notice that what I want, what my plans are, what my dreams are…have never mattered in this house?"
"Elphaba…"
"It's alright, Nessa," Elphaba sighed and rubbed her eyes. "But the next time you think up some new way to distract yourself from how stifling this place is? Leave me out of it."
There was a noise from outside and Elphaba spotted the mail being delivered through the window.
"Excuse me."
Elphaba turned her back and left her sister behind with her head high and her spirit low. She trudged numbly towards her destination, her heart aching to be validated by one person in particular.
As if he had known exactly when she'd need a letter most, Elphaba sighed in relief to find a fresh envelope from her stranger on top of the stack. Withdrawing to her room to avoid the fallout that was sure to follow from Nessarose, she tore his words free.
Dear Stranger,
Your situation sucks. I don't know how else to put it. But you're obviously too smart not to go to college so there has got to be a way. Weird how we both want what the other has. Maybe we can set up an elaborate scheme to switch places. I doubt my parents would notice.
Your last letter has got me thinking (which is unusual for me) about what I want to do with my life. I don't know what to do with this feeling yet, but I guess I'll figure something out. It isn't easy for me to share my thoughts with people, like my real thoughts. I usually just pretend I don't have any. So, why does it feel so easy to write my thoughts to you? Do you feel that way too?
Listen, whatever happens, I believe that you can do something great. Then when you do, look back on this letter and remember that I'd said so all along.
We've got a good thing going here and I don't want to mess with that, but addressing you as Stranger doesn't feel right anymore. I may not know who you are, but you do not feel like a stranger. That's why I think we should make up nicknames to know each other by (or code names if that sounds cooler).
From now on, if you'd like, you can call me Yero.
Signed, Yero
"Yero…" Elphaba introduced the name to her lips, and in doing so, spoke him into existence.
Dear Yero,
You can call me Fae.
✉Fun Fact: My decision to give Elphaba nyctophobia (fear of the dark) was inspired by the following quote in L. Frank Baum's "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz":
"She watched Dorothy carefully, to see if she ever took off her shoes, thinking she might steal them. But the child was so proud of her pretty shoes that she never took them off except at night and when she took her bath. The Witch was too much afraid of the dark to dare go in Dorothy's room at night to take the shoes…"
