Students were beginning to trickle back onto the campus at Shiz.

The prospect of facing her classmates again was daunting, and doubts were starting to creep back in, but Glinda was determined not to lock herself away again. So when the last free day before classes arrived, she dragged herself out of Elphaba's bed and got dressed to meet the boys for breakfast at the café. She slipped into her most comfortable dress and even put on a touch of makeup. Maybe if she looked the part, no one would realize she was faking it.

The café was full of familiar faces, as well as a few new ones, but it only took her a few seconds to find the group of boys sitting in their usual corner. Fiyero pushed a plate toward her as she sat down. Glinda's eyes widened as she saw the pastry.

"It was the last one, and some first year boy was eyeing it. Those are your favorite, right?"

She smiled. Perhaps she could do this after all.

They spent the day out around campus, enjoying the sun and the last hours of freedom before classes began again. Crope and Tibbett brought blankets. Boq and Fiyero brought a basket full of food for everyone.

And Glinda, unfortunately, brought trouble.

"We can leave," Boq muttered as a familiar group approached them.

"I'll have to deal with it eventually," Glinda said, though she brought her knees to her chest and kept her gaze down.

"Good afternoon, Glinda," Pfannee called. "Or did you change your name again?"

Fiyero scooted closer to the blonde, but she just looked up at the group that had surrounded them.

"Hello Pfannee. Milla, Shenshen. How was your summer break?"

"Good," Milla said with a smirk. "How was yours? Are you still mourning over the vegetable?"

Glinda had no response to that, so she just looked down again, fingers picking at the end of her dress. The boys were saying something, but she couldn't really hear it anymore.

"Fine, whatever, we're leaving," she heard Pfannee eventually say. "See you in class, Glinda."

Glinda scowled as the other girls walked away. Fiyero put a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged him off.

"I'm fine," she said quietly.

"I thought they backed off last semester," Boq said, glaring at their retreating backs.

"They did…for a while." Glinda closed her eyes. "But when she left…"

Crope lifted his head from Tibbett's lap and crawled closer to her. "Don't worry, Glinda," he said. "We're right here with you. We won't let you face them alone."

To their credit, the boys kept their word. As classes began at Shiz and the students jumped back into the routine of the semester, Glinda found herself clinging to her friends more than ever. They would meet for breakfast every morning—a fact which secretly delighted the boys, since it meant she was eating regularly again—and head off to classes. Glinda had most of her classes with at least one of them, but she also frequently saw Pfannee or Milla or Shenshen throughout the day. And, by some cruel twist of fate, or perhaps just the cruelness of her headmistress, she had her history class with all three of them, Professor Nikidik, and none of the boys.

The history teacher had only gotten worse over the summer. His eyes caught Glinda's when she walked into his classroom on the first day. He didn't speak to her as she took her usual seat at the back of the room, but his smirk as he looked at the empty chair next to her said it all. Glinda pulled her notebook out of her bag and stared down at it, counting down until the hour was over.

There was only one thing worse than her history class, and that was the two hour sorcery seminar with Madame Morrible right afterward.

It wasn't just that Morrible's eyes gleamed dangerously when she looked at her. It wasn't just that the headmistress wore a triumphant, arrogant smile every time their eyes met. It wasn't just that Morrible was the biggest reason Elphaba had disappeared months ago. As if that wasn't bad enough, Glinda's magic was declining.

It was subtle. She would mix up incantations or forget a particular hand motion—simple mistakes that didn't do any harm. She told herself she was just distracted. The semester was already wearing down on her, and it wasn't even the end of the first week. Surely it was just her exhaustion.

But Morrible wouldn't allow her any excuses. In fact, she pushed her harder than ever. If Glinda wasn't dragging herself through the motions, then she was brimming with frustration. She would leave the class hot and weary and torn between embarrassment and anger.

The days immediately blurred together, and by the time the first week ended Glinda felt as though an entire month had gone by.

Still, it was surprisingly easy to fall back into the semester. The daily routine was numbing, but it forced her to get up and do something with her day. Wake up, go to class, eat something, do homework, go to sleep. It wasn't much, and there were many days when the idea of getting out of bed sent her hiding back under the covers, but she pulled herself together and went through the motions anyway. She was managing.

The end of her second week came around. Glinda walked into her sorcery seminar already dreaming about going back to her room and curling up in Elphaba's bed.

She warmed up with a few minor spells before focusing on their assignment for the day. They were supposed to be learning to cast dual spells, but the amount of concentration required was more than Glinda could summon. She started with her pink-tinged flames, letting them flicker above her palm. When those were steady, she raised her other hand and stretched her fingers toward the book on the desk in front of her, attempting to lift it. But every time she managed to move the book, the flames went out. And when she conjured the flames again, the book would drop to the desk. Once—when Morrible was, thank Oz, looking the other way—the book burst into flames as it was floating in mid-air. Glinda yelped and yanked her hands back. The book clattered onto the desk unharmed, but she switched to a different spell after that.

When Morrible finally called out for them to pack their things, Glinda sighed in relief and began gathering her books. She was stopped, however, by a voice close behind her.

"Miss Glinda."

She stiffened, still bent over her bag. "Madame Morrible."

"I was wondering if I could talk to you in my office."

The back of Glinda's neck prickled as she stood and pulled the strap of her bag over her shoulder. She kept her eyes on her shoes. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all, my dear. But this is important."

Glinda swallowed. The last of her classmates were trickling out the door, leaving her alone. Morrible placed a hand on her shoulder. There was a flicker of panic, unexpectedly sharp against the miserable state she'd been dragging through, but it was all too clear that she had no choice, so she simply nodded and let the headmistress lead her out of the room and deeper into the sorcery building.

Morrible's office was nearly the size of a classroom and lined with endless shelves of books and scrolls. There were a few picture frames on the walls—photographs of the campus, or the Emerald City, and even one of the headmistress shaking the hand of a short, balding man who Glinda didn't recognize. A large stone fireplace took up the majority of one side of the room. There was nothing but ash in it at the moment, but Glinda could only see flames, a burning journal, and Elphaba's face as she returned, grey and shaking, to their room.

"Sit." Morrible nudged her toward a small wooden chair before taking her own seat at a desk that stood near the center of the room.

Glinda rubbed her palms against her skirt. "Why am I here, Madame?"

"Miss Glinda, I believe I asked you to sit."

Even after two hours of sorcery practice, Glinda felt the energy roll through her. She trembled as she stepped forward and ever so carefully took her seat. She couldn't quite meet Morrible's eyes, but she still saw the smirk. Glinda's cheeks burned and her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress.

"As I'm sure you know, Miss Glinda, second year students at Shiz are required to choose a specialty in order to further their education. This way you can begin taking classes that are more suited toward your field of study."

Glinda shifted in her seat. She knew what Morrible was expecting her to say, and a year ago, she would have said it. But a specialty in sorcery no longer seemed appealing—especially not when it meant spending most of her time in Morrible's classroom.

"Miss Glinda?"

"Architecture," she said suddenly. Glinda blinked as soon as the word came out, but she thought of the buildings scribbled into the margins of her notebooks, and the math equations that came so naturally she could solve them quicker than Elphaba, and the book whose spine she had long since worn out, which still reminded her of the green girl who had brought it back from the library and offered it, shyly, to her. Glinda sat up a little straighter. "I want to study architecture."

Morrible paused. The smirk had faded from her face, replaced by something impassive, and Glinda had the feeling she was going to have to fight for this.

"That is…unusual," said the headmistress, folding her hands on top of her desk. "I was sure you were going to pursue sorcery. It is, after all, your best subject."

Glinda felt her neck heat up, but she spoke calmly. "Not quite, Madame. Mathematics was my best subject last year. Surely you remember that I struggled quite a bit in your class, especially at the beginning of the year."

"Yes, but once you moved past that you showed remarkable talent." Morrible's eyes had narrowed, but Glinda only sat taller. "I think you would be wasting that if you were to choose another specialty."

"I wish to study architecture," Glinda protested. "I—"

"As your sorcery teacher, I must insist that you at least give this matter some thought."

"But—"

"I cannot allow you to make a rash decision simply because you've made a few foolish mistakes in class this year."

"That's not why—"

"And even more importantly," the headmistress said, leaning forward. "I will not let you throw away a career in sorcery simply because of your feelings for an overly zealous green girl."

There it was. A wave of energy passed through her again as anger coiled tight inside her chest. Even now, with Dillamond's research destroyed and Elphaba gone from the school, Morrible was still controlling her. How many times had she been warned not to trust this woman? Yet here she was, unable to escape.

Morrible glanced around as the air began to shimmer around them. "Your lack of control is almost insulting, Miss Glinda, and it only goes to show that a specialty in sorcery is your best option."

Glinda opened her mouth to respond—or maybe to just summon a ball of fire and be done with this—but Morrible turned away and reached for a stack of papers. "Just think about it, my dear. I'll see you next week."

Glinda stood stiffly and left before Morrible could say another word. Some terrible part of her hoped to run into Pfannee or Avaric on the way back to Crage Hall, but she met no one.

By the time she made it back to her room the magic was practically boiling beneath her skin. Every hair on her body was on end and she could hear the air vibrating around her. She threw her bag off to the side and stood in the middle of the room, holding her hand palm up in front of her.

Her brow furrowed as she focused on the center of her palm. Her hands were rougher than they had been a year ago, the skin scraped and calloused from months of casting spells. Glinda felt it prickle and heat up. She let out a noise of frustration, forced more magic to her palm, and finally released the energy pouring through her. The flames burst to life above her hand, crackling and snarling and stretching up until they flickered against the ceiling. They spread wider, fighting Glinda's control, and for a brief moment she feared she would let go and destroy the whole room.

She gulped and brought her second hand up to join the other one. The fire shrank back down, but magic still coursed through her, begging to be let loose. She took a deep breath, exhaled, then flexed her fingers.

The flames pulled back, contracting into a ball about the size of her head. They flashed a deep, deep magenta, and Glinda pulled the fire in even more. Power was rushing to her fingertips, pouring itself into the flames. Suddenly the spell flared white, burning into her vision.

Glinda cried out and turned her head away. She felt her cheeks and forehead beginning to sting. All of her energy was pouring through her, releasing into the fire or just into the air that hummed around her. Or maybe her ears were just ringing. She began to tremble again, this time from exhaustion, but the spell clung to her. Her hands and forearms burned. Her eyes screwed shut against the light. With one last burst of energy, Glinda tugged her hands away.

The spell released in a sweltering gust of wind, shoving her back against the wall. Clothes and papers rustled and the window banged open. Then the room fell silent.

Glinda held still and waited for the pounding in her ears to fade away. Slowly, she opened an eye to peer around the room. When nothing seemed to be on fire, she opened her other eye and started to climb to her feet. The skin on her arms was bright pink and stung fiercely, but nothing else was damaged.

She stumbled over to Elphaba's bed, completely drained. She didn't know what just happened. Right now, she didn't even want to know.

There was a jar of burn cream, the kind Elphaba used, in her bag. She should grab it, because the pain on her arms was bringing tears to her eyes, but it was in the middle of the room. It seemed so far away…

"Elphie," she whispered, collapsing onto the pillow. When had she closed her eyes? She didn't remember. "I need you here, Elphie. Please…come back."

"Where have you been?" Boq asked the following Monday. "We didn't see you all weekend."

"I had homework," Glinda mumbled.

"It's the second week of classes."

She ignored him and took her usual seat beside Fiyero. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the two boys arguing silently, eyes flashing and hands moving, but before either of them could address her again their teacher had entered and the class fell into the rustle of books and journals being pulled out of bags.

Glinda sank down until her head was resting on the crook of her elbow. She lost herself to the clicking of chalk against the board at the front of the room and the scratching of her pencil against her notebook. Not a single word of the lecture registered with her, but she copied down the notes and didn't really have to think about much else.

The class passed slowly, finally ending when the bell across campus tolled the hour. Glinda slid her things back into her bag and heaved herself up from her chair. Fiyero stood as well and Boq was clearly trying to catch her gaze, but before any of them could so much as open their mouths another boy was there, leaning across the table to get Glinda's attention.

"What do you want, Avaric?" she asked. Avaric grinned and looked over his shoulder.

"Weird, isn't it?" he asked. "Class seems much more boring now without the green bean."

"Shove off, Avaric," Fiyero muttered. He stepped back to let Glinda pass in front of him and urged her out of the classroom. She closed her eyes and let Fiyero's hand on her back lead her. She focused on breathing through her nose and pushing back the trickle of magic that ran through her. She couldn't freak out again. Not like the other night.

After the amount of energy the fire spell had cost her, she was lucky she made it out unharmed. As it was, she had collapsed and stayed asleep until halfway through the next morning, when she woke up fully dressed on top of Elphaba's covers. After digging through her bag and grabbing the old jar of burn cream to put on her arms, she had kicked off her shoes, changed into different clothes, and crawled back into bed. The cream on her arms smelled like Elphaba. She had drifted off again until the next day, when she really had stayed in the room with her homework.

The three of them managed to ditch Avaric. Fiyero let go of her and Boq fell into step beside them as they made their way toward the main square.

Glinda slowed down when she felt the Munchkin's eyes on her. "What is it, Boq?"

"N-nothing," he said. His cheeks reddened. "It's just, you were gone all weekend, and we—"

She sighed. "I told you. I was just working in my room."

"For the entire weekend, Glinda? Really?"

"Do you think I'm lying?"

"Come on, you two. Relax."

Glinda scowled at Fiyero before turning back to Boq. "Why would I lie to you about this?"

The Munchkin shifted his weight. "I never said…all I'm saying is we're worried about you."

She felt her face grow hot. "You don't need to protect me," she all but hissed.

"You're the one that said we needed to take care of each other!" Boq stepped forward, reaching for her, but she pushed his hand away. Her stomach twisted as the hurt crossed his face, but she hefted her bag on her shoulder and stormed off.

First Morrible, and now Boq. She didn't want to be looked after. She didn't want to be told what to do. She just wanted to be left alone.

"Glinda—"

"Leave me alone!" she said, spinning around to face Fiyero. He stopped short and held his hands up. His eyes widened and darted between her face and her hands. "What?" she demanded.

"Y-you…" He looked down at her hands again. Glinda followed his gaze and realized her fists were glowing slightly. She shook them out and took a deep breath. Fiyero took a cautious step closer. "Boq didn't mean…I mean…"

"I'm not going to shatter," she said. She wasn't entirely sure it was true, but she swallowed hard and went on. "You guys don't need to protect me."

"That's what friends are for." He gave her a shaky smile, but it quickly faded. "We're not trying to be controlling, I promise."

Glinda lowered her eyes. "It feels like you've done nothing but take care of me, ever since…"

"You're not a burden, if that's what you're wondering."

She looked up, surprised, but Fiyero just gave her a small, sad smile. "You're not. And you're not the only one who's struggling. We're worried about her, too."

Glinda let out a shaky breath. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to snap at Boq. After that trip to town, I thought we were okay, but…oh, Oz, I'm so sorry."

Fiyero sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, things aren't going to get better because you have one good day. All of us are hurting, and all of us are trying to help each other. It's…it's a mess."

"Yeah."

"We're worried about Elphaba, but we can't do anything to help her. So we worry even more about you, because we can try to help you. It's like…it's kind of like we owe it to her. And I think…for Boq…I think he feels guilty."

"Guilty?"

"I mean, obviously he's hurt. After you, he was the closest to her. But there's also guilt—just a little bit. I think he feels like…maybe he could have tried harder, done something to protect the research. He could have done something more to make it so that Elphaba wouldn't leave."

Glinda shook her head. "No," she whispered. "There's nothing he could have done. Nothing would have changed her mind."

"I know that. And I think, deep down, Boq does too. But he still feels guilty, and he's trying to make it up to her by protecting you…if that makes any sense. It's just…it's what Elphaba would have wanted."

Glinda's face hardened. It was exactly what she had told Boq, but somehow it still hurt. "Elphaba also wanted to leave us all behind. She wanted us to forget about her."

"Glinda…"

"I'll apologize to Boq for snapping at him."

"Glinda—"

"See you later, Fiyero."

She brushed past him and headed to the dorm, not stopping until she had locked herself in her room and crawled back into Elphaba's bed. It didn't matter that she still had history class that day. It didn't matter that the sun was shining through her window. She shouldn't be snapping at her friends. She shouldn't be cutting herself off from everyone. She had promised herself she wouldn't do this. But nothing felt right—nothing had felt right since the beginning of summer.

Whenever something wasn't right she used to be able to go to Elphaba's arms, and then everything would be okay, because she would be home. But now…now, this stupid empty bed was the closest thing she had to home, and she wasn't planning on leaving it again for the rest of the day.