Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Written: 2010. Rewritten: 2015. Found: 2019.- Licia

To say the first two weeks of school went smoothly would be an out-and-out lie, and I don't lie. The basic rundown of my first two weeks went along the lines of this:

I discovered my new roommate's name is Glinda- well, really Galinda, but she's hated that name from the time she was a kid and removed the extra 'a' just to spite her parents- and she's from somewhere up North in Gillikin. Apparently, she's very distantly related to Gillikinese royalty, which is funny, considering I basically am royalty. She also has a disgusting obsession with pink and an exceedingly unhealthy shoe habit.

She's in half my classes, and talks incessantly, which is how I discovered everything previously mentioned before. She insists she's only at Shiz to nab a wealthy husband, which is rich, coming from someone who thinks being the daughter of a lowly lord is rich. If she wanted to ever see rich, she should stop by Colwen Grounds, or visit the Vinkun royal family. Like I said, I'm basically royalty, and Colwen Grounds is no small manor. It's a sprawling mansion on acres of acres of land; the Thropps are the wealthiest family in all of Munchkinland, and while we don't flaunt it, it's known by basically everyone.

I've discovered that I'm the brunt of most everyone's jokes; nothing new, but it sure gets old, no matter how many years pass or how new the people are to you. I've also discovered that I've got an eye for art, which is no surprise. I've been drawing since I was old enough to pick up a pencil or a piece of charcoal, but apparently- according to the art professors- I'm really good. Good enough that I could make a career out of it, if I wished.

Sounds pretty smooth so far, doesn't it? Not quite.

Glinda and I tried talking Madame Morrible into letting us change roommates, but the old fish wouldn't budge on the matter, so we're stuck with each other. Unfortunately. The blonde's got a nasty streak, and if she's trying her hardest to piss me off, it's working. Especially considering I threw two pairs of her shoes into the fireplace last week, and the blonde bimbo retaliated by shredding my sketchbook to pieces. We've reached a stalemate, which is perfectly fine with me. A tiny part of me hopes she suffocates in her sleep from all her overly-pink bedding; and then the rest of me remembers that if that happens, I'll be seeing her for the rest of my life, and I can't have that happen. I can barely tolerate her in life; I'd kill her in death.

Speaking of them- I've met six of them since arriving at Shiz. An older couple, who apparently were killed in a car crash outside the gates in the twenties, a soldier from the seventeen hundreds who was captured by a tribe and scalped, a young woman who committed suicide in the canal that cuts through the campus- and earned its name because of the countless suicides that have taken place in it over the years- after she thought her beloved was cheating on her, the young man who was not cheating on her, and followed her in death by way of the canal, and a little girl who drowned in the forties after the ice of the canal broke beneath her feet while she was skating. Mama stays by my side, and seems to act as a mediator between me and them, and while I'm grateful, all I really want is for them to leave me alone.

On, I guess, a lighter note, I discovered the school cafe- named The Tangled Heart. It quickly became my normal hangout when not in class or when I'm trying to escape my bitch of a roommate. So it's the fourth week into classes, when I slip into the cafe and make a beeline for the counter. A fireplace roars not far away, warming the whole room, and I ignore the whispers of the other students that follow me like the ghosts that make their presences known.

The barista looks up; I'm not ashamed to admit he's a young man that completely intrigues me, for both the wrong and right reasons. He's got the bluest eyes I've ever seen, and a mop of light brown hair, the color of fresh-baked bread that falls slightly into his eyes. He can't be much older than me- maybe by a year or two, but not much. I'm not sure if he takes classes at Shiz or just works the cafe, but I can definitely say I'm intrigued. As soon as I reach the counter, he grins at me; a cheeky, lopsided smile that shows off the dimples in his cheeks. "Your usual?"

I can't help but narrow my gaze. "How do you know I have a usual?"

A soft snort of derision greets me as he straightens and punches it into the register. "Because you're here all the time, when you don't have class. Most of my customers are regulars; other college students like you. You work here long enough, you get to know what they like, what they always buy." He hands me back my change and moves to work on my drink; I follow, stopping by the pick-up counter, watching him. Something's off about him, but I can't put my finger on it.

"You don't go here, do you?"

He chuckles, and briefly stops the espresso machine. "I do, actually."

"I've never seen you in class."

"Well, what classes are you taking?"

I quickly list off my schedule, and he smirks. "I don't take those courses. I'm not a first year. I'm a third year."

I can feel my eyebrows raise, and I toss my head, feeling the knotted, dangling earrings I put in that morning swing lightly against my jawline. The ring of my helix piercing falls back against my ear, and I wrinkle my nose, reaching up to make sure the small black diamond stud is still in my nose, though I needn't have worried. The piercing's been there since I was fourteen, just as the others have been, just as the tattoos I have that cover the scars on my back have been. Just because I had no control of my own body my entire childhood, didn't mean I wouldn't take control back once I was old enough. Not that any of the changes I made stopped what was happening. Only my coming to Shiz fully stopped it, and even now, I can't bear to hope. "A third year?" He nods. "What are you studying?"

"Business and History, with concentrations in Vinkun History and Mythology, and Foreign Affairs, respectfully. A strong ruler can't know how to prepare for the future without learning from the past- not just of their country, but others as well- after all." He blushed.

"A double major, double minor?"

He nodded. "You could say find such topics... fascinating." Without another word, he capped my drink and set it before me. "My parents would have preferred I drop the History major, but it's necessary in my eyes." He leaned against the counter, folding his arms before him. I could see a glimmer of something beneath the collar of his shirt, and quickly glanced up at him. "We all come from somewhere, and each culture has their own beliefs and traditions. They're as ingrained in us as a tattoo on the skin is." He shrugged. "I don't want to be just part of the royal family; I want to be so much more, and contribute so much more to the world than my parents want me to."

"You're... you're the... the prince..." I felt my eyes widen, and he chuckled, a soft, throaty sound that made my heart flutter traitorously in my chest. I'd heard rumors that there was a member of the Vinkun royal family on campus, but attributed it to being just that- rumors. And now, here I stood, before the very man my classmates gossiped about- the supposed playboy prince, who was telling me how he was a double in both major and minor and wanted to do more for the world. He didn't seem very playboy to me.

"Guilty as charged." He replied, raising a hand, which he then held out to me. "Crown Prince Fiyero Trism Tigelaar of the Vinkus, at your service. Please, call me Fiyero."

I took his hand, shaking firmly, feeling myself relax at his touch. "Nice to meet you, Yero. Elphaba, Thropp Third Descending."

It was his turn for his eyes to widen in surprise. "The Thropp Third Descending? I wasn't aware I was in the presence of Munchkinland royalty. Forgive me, Your Highness." He gave a little mock bow, and I blushed, reaching out for my cup.

"Neither was I." I replied, picking it up and saluting him quickly. He smiled softly, straightening after several minutes. As I lowered my cup after taking a sip, my gaze lit on something written on the cardboard sleeve. I raised an eyebrow, glancing back at him.

"Give me a call sometime. I have a feeling we'll get along quite well together." And with a quick nod in my direction, he returned to work. With the cafe getting busy, I took that as my opportunity to slip out, making for the library, my rucksack over my shoulder. Being careful of the written message, I glanced at it again, feeling a blush begin to color my cheeks.

As I slipped into a chair by the fireplace and set the cup down, I couldn't help but entertain the suggestion. It would give me a reprieve from Mama and the others, if I was already occupied by something other than schoolwork. And we could get to know each other, maybe even become friends. After all, it was a phone call, a cup of coffee, maybe dinner, at most. Stimulating conversation, with someone new. And Mama would have to keep her distance, no matter how she protested.

I picked up the cup, being careful of the message, and took a sip, a tiny thrill tugging at my heart. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea, after all. Mama would be forced to keep her distance, even if only for a few hours, and I, for probably the first time in my life, could be a normal girl.