"May I have this dance?"
Glinda smiled at the young man and took his hand. He beamed as he led her out to the middle of the floor. All around them, couples were spinning and swaying about. Ladies' dresses twirled and gentlemen's polished shoes clicked smartly against the hardwood. Somewhere on the far wall—the crowd was too thick for Glinda to see—the musicians her parents had hired were playing a sweet-sounding waltz. The air itself thrummed, alive with the music and chatter of over a hundred guests enjoying themselves on Lurlinemas Eve.
"You look lovely this evening," the boy said, stopping and positioning them. He held her with respect: his hand rested high on her waist, and when he pulled her an inch or so closer it was with the utmost care and gentleness. She rested her free hand on his shoulder and lifted the other, wiggling her fingers beneath his. She could feel the sweat on his palm and resisted the urge to giggle.
"You're dressed rather sharply yourself," she replied with a smile. The compliment seemed to ease his nerves, and he stepped backward, pulling her into the dance. Glinda sighed contentedly and let herself be spun around the ballroom.
She hadn't been lying—the young man was handsome. The black suit jacket helped define his broad shoulders and fit torso. He was plenty taller than her, and his sandy hair hung in his bright, turquoise eyes as he smiled down at her. The hand on her waist was strong and, after he had relaxed, steady. Every move he made around her ringed with tenderness and adoration, and Glinda felt comfortable around him.
From the moment she'd stepped into the room nearly two hours ago, she had felt eyes on her. The dress she wore had been imported from the Emerald City. It was a deep, deep green, and the bodice was woven with gold silk. The material went just high enough to connect with the sleeves that hung low on her shoulders, leaving the top part of her chest and back bare. A gold and emerald necklace hung across her collarbone, and a set of matching earrings dangled from her ears. Her hair was twisted up into some elaborate, elegant bun, with a few strands hanging down, curled behind her jaw line. She had been showered with compliments all evening and part of her—the part that missed being in the spotlight—soaked it up.
But the other part of her, surprisingly enough, didn't seem to care. She smiled genuinely and thanked whoever had admired her hair or her jewelry or her dress, but then she moved on. She knew she looked pretty tonight—she felt pretty, whenever she smiled or laughed or danced with someone. Really, that was all she needed.
When the music ended, the young man bowed slightly and kissed the back of her hand. "Thank you, Miss Galinda."
Glinda tensed, her dress suddenly hugging her chest way too tightly. "J-just Glinda, please," she stammered before remembering to smile. "And thank you."
He said goodbye and left to ask another young lady to dance. Glinda fanned herself with her hand and ducked out of the middle of the floor, wanting nothing more than a chance to breathe. Her feet carried her to an empty corner of the room, but she didn't stop there. She kept walking until she was pausing before a side door. After a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching her, she pulled it open and slipped through.
The hallway was dark, cool, and quiet. Glinda sighed in relief and continued on. She reached a hand out and let her fingers trail over the wall next to her, tracing her path away from the ballroom.
She paused for a moment, vaguely acknowledging how odd this was for her. Running from a party—especially the annual Lurlinemas Eve party her parents hosted for some of Gillikin's most high class citizens—was something Galinda Upland would never do.
But then again, she wasn't Galinda Upland. She hadn't been for quite some time.
Glinda didn't think about where she was going until she was already there, pushing open the giant library doors and letting them fall shut behind her with a gentle thud. She grabbed a sheet of paper and a pen from a nearby table and shuffled over to the large, unlit fireplace. She sank into a wide, plush chair and kicked off her heels. They landed a few feet away, bouncing off the floor with a satisfying clatter. She curled her legs up and tucked her feet beneath her. The dress puffed out slightly around her bent legs, and she ran her fingertips over the fabric, smoothing it down.
She twisted around and grabbed a book from the shelf behind her. She flattened the paper out on top of it and rolled the pen between her fingers, thinking.
Dear Elphie, she wrote at the top of the page. She bit her lip uncertainly, then pressed the pen back to the paper.
I miss you terribly.
Immediately her hand swept back and forth, crossing the words out. She scribbled them away until it would be impossible to tell what she had written, then tried again.
Lurlinemas break has been wonderful so far. So relaxing! How is life at the Colwen Grounds?
Her pen dug viciously into the paper again, scratching out her pathetic attempts at a letter. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the book harder and started once more.
I'm sitting in the library—can you picture that? Me, alone in a library? I suppose I just miss you. My parents' Lurlinemas Eve party is going on. My feet ache from dancing so much. More than a few handsome young men asked me to dance. It was fun, but one boy accidentally called me 'Galinda.' It's not his fault, of course, but it upsets me all the same. I suppose I just miss being around people who know Glinda better than they know Galinda.
Glinda growled and balled the paper up in her fist. She twisted in her seat and threw it as hard as she could into the empty hearth. The book slid from her lap and fell to the ground, but she hardly noticed. She just buried her face in her hands and focused on breathing evenly.
To be completely honest, Glinda had no idea what was wrong. Sure, she missed Elphaba, but other than that Lurlinemas break was going wonderfully. She had thought maybe it was just boredom, and the party would fix everything, but it was clear now that she had been wrong. It had started out fun, but now she was ready to collapse into her bed and be done with it all.
She lifted her head and dabbed half-heartedly at her eyes. "Oh, Oz damn it all," she muttered, reaching back and pulling the pins from her hair so that it fell in loose waves over her shoulders. She dug her fingers into her scalp and massaged away the ache of the tight bun. Her eyes slid shut and she gave up trying to fight it. Slumping back in the chair, she let her mind be overcome with thoughts of Elphaba.
She could practically picture the green girl beside her, staring in awe at the endless shelves of books that surrounded them. Her skin would glow in the silver moonlight that drifted in through the window, and her eyes would be shining the way they did when it was just the two of them. She would reach up and run those slender fingers over the dusty spines of books, muttering their titles under her breath. Perhaps she would grab one or two, pulling them out and flipping through them eagerly, reading passages out loud to Glinda. And the blonde would hang on to every word, soaking in the light that shone from Elphaba whenever she was this excited.
Glinda pressed her fingers to her temples and tried to rub away the pressure of held back tears. She imagined what Elphaba might be doing at that moment. Not celebrating, of course. In fact, she was probably holed up in her room or some other corner of the Colwen Grounds, avoiding her family. Worry tugged at her chest as she thought of Elphaba's family, particularly her father, and what could possibly be happening in the Thropp household.
But she can handle it, Glinda reminded herself. She's probably got her nose stuck in a book right now. The mental picture was all too familiar: Elphaba curled into a tight ball of gangly green limbs, clutching a book to her face, tuning out the rest of Oz as her eyes darted across the page. What would she be reading? Some old history textbook, or a life sciences paper, or maybe that old journal she carried around everywhere.
Glinda's eyes opened, but she couldn't quite see the dark library around her. Instead she saw an empty courtyard, the Gale Force and Dillamond marching away, Elphaba collapsed on the ground in front of her…
What was in that journal? She had asked once if it was Dr. Dillamond's, and Elphaba's sharp reply was all the answer she needed. But why had the old Goat left it here? Why did he want Elphaba to have it? What could she possibly do with it that he couldn't?
The journal had disappeared the last few weeks of school, when Elphaba was too busy with finals to work on anything else, and Glinda had all but forgotten about it. But now that exams were over, she was certain Elphaba was back to digging through Dillamond's notes. What she was trying to accomplish, however, was beyond the blonde. And somehow, Glinda was certain that if she asked about it, she would never find out.
Where was Dr. Dillamond now? Glinda hoped he wasn't alone, and that he had somewhere safe and warm to spend Lurlinemas. She thought about the Animal-free party taking place just a few halls away, and how not a single Animal had stepped foot in her house since she was a little girl. Her stomach twisted as she realized her home was as prejudiced as the rest of Oz.
Yet, it wasn't as if her parents had deliberately uninvited the Animals. They weren't bad people. They had just…gone along with the rest of society. Glinda rubbed her forehead and let out a breath. She had learned a lot from her time at Shiz and from Elphaba. She just hadn't realized that the knowledge would cause her to see her own home differently.
And now she felt lonelier than ever. She curled up tighter in her chair and let the cool, silent air of the library wash over her. Maybe she should go find Ama Clutch, who was probably in the kitchen or in her bedroom, sipping at a cup of hot tea and knitting away. But she couldn't even summon the energy to get up from her chair, so she settled for just staying put.
In the morning, she would put on a brave face and celebrate Lurlinemas with her family. In the morning, she would be truly grateful for her parents and her Ama and all the other parts of her rich, luxurious life. In the morning, she would go back to being the smiling, dazzling daughter her mother and father expected to see. And really, things could have been much worse.
But for tonight—as she sat alone in a room she never would have stepped foot in had it not been for the peculiar green girl she had met a few months ago—Glinda Upland didn't have to do anything but miss her Elphie.