Disclaimer: I just spent a few hours reading copyright books even Elphie couldn't comprehend, and I'm now 100% positive none of this belongs to me. I'm not even sure my cat belongs to me anymore.
It was three days since I stole the warning poster. Elphie still hadn't come—hadn't even sent a note. I had trouble admitting it to myself, but I was . . . scared. What if Elphie was hurt? What if she was dead? I needed to know, and I couldn't find out. The worry was driving me crazy. In fact, I was about to do something truly crazy.
I was going to the bookstore. I'd never—willingly—set foot inside a University bookstore before. I purchased books under duress just before the semester began and I was usually expelled before exhausted students filed in to exchange their used books for a pittance.
There was a whole shelf for notebooks and sketchbooks, in the very back, behind the frighteningly thick textbooks no one—except Elphie—ever really read. I selected the biggest sketchbook, bigger than the textbook I'd tucked my first Elphie poster in, big enough to hide a multitude of posters.
There was a second poster tacked to the bulletin board now, and whoever was in charge of those horrificifying propaganda rags had a camera and better luck than I did. Underneath more blasphemous words was a snapshot of Elphie curled on a dorm bed. It was clear someone—Glinda—had taken the time to beautify my Elphie for that photo: she was wearing a hint of makeup and her hair was free from its usual braid (curse her for being only a picture! I wanted to run my fingers through that hair and never stop). Elphie wasn't exactly posing for the camera but she wasn't hiding either. She was breathtaking.
I tucked a copy of the second poster into my newly purchased sketchbook.
Instinct screamed that I should run back to my dorm, lock the door, and hide my new photo of Elphie. Instead, I took a leisurely detour and stopped to chat with a few fellow students so it didn't look too suspicious if Prince Fiyero Tiggular were caught in an art supply closet, staring at the different types of glue. As far as I knew, I'd never taken an art course . . . and I was pretty sure no one had ever explained the use of so many glue types.
I read the bottles—well, the first bottle—and found that it was useful for gluing paper, wood, and glass. I took it. I only needed to glue paper.
Back in my dorm, I carefully glued both posters of Elphie to the first sketchbook page; I almost cut away the disgusticifying words and left only the pictures of my beautiful Elphaba, but I decided to leave everything intact. Maybe someday I'd show it to her, tell her how much I missed her and how much it hurt when she didn't come back for me. For now, I tucked it under my bed.
A/N
Akasharogue: Thanks :) I wasn't sure I was going to continue this, but then I logged into my e-mail this morning, found your review, and wrote. I don't know where it's going, but I hope to find out.
Squint: Also, thank you. I think I've let my writing get a little rusty; it's been over a year since I wrote anything besides academic papers. Just for this moment, I'm actually enjoying the plot bunnies. It feels good to write again.