The Effects of Gravity 28/?, by ainsleyaisling
Title: The Effects of Gravity 28/?
Author: ainsleyaisling
Rating: PG-13
'Verse: Musical AU; some details from bookverse
Pairings for Story Overall: Glinda/Fiyero, Elphaba/Fiyero, Glinda/Elphaba
Summary: Glinda's mother shares some interesting theories, and it's back to Shiz.
Disclaimer: Wicked belongs mostly to Gregory Maguire, and musicalverse belongs to Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, and possibly Universal.
Notes: Previous section can be found here. This story is winding down, hard as that may be to believe. :) There will be a few more sections, and then we'll jump to the sequel, which will take place in the Emerald City with everyone all grown-up-ish.
~~Glinda~~
The maid looked apologetic as she gently shook Glinda's arm, but growing up in a home with numerous servants Glinda had enough experience being woken by all sorts of different people. She sat up right away and asked, "Does my mother want me?"
The maid nodded. "Yes, miss. You may want to dress quickly; it took me a minute to find you."
"Sorry about that." Glinda thought too late about lowering her voice; she glanced down and saw Elphaba already beginning to stir. "Please tell her I'll be right down."
"Will you need help dressing?"
"No, thank you." Without looking Glinda laid a hand on Elphaba's shoulder to reassure her that nothing was wrong. "I've gotten used to doing it myself at school," she added with a smile.
When the maid had left Elphaba pushed herself to a sitting position and asked, "Anything wrong?" She was holding herself stiffly and looked rather more at the bed than at Glinda - Glinda figured she must be tired from being woken in the middle of the night by her dreams.
"My mother wants me, that's all," Glinda said. "It's probably just about getting ready to go back to school. She had mentioned a trip into town to get some things I needed." Elphaba nodded slowly, and Glinda asked, "Did you sleep all right, after you woke up?"
It took a moment, but very slowly Elphaba nodded again. "I think so," she said. Her voice was a bit rough and scratched. "I don't think I dreamt anymore."
"I guess that's good." Glinda gave her another little pat and climbed reluctantly out of the bed. "Take your time, I'll just go see what my mother wants."
She dressed quickly, taking as much time as necessary and no more to ensure that her skirt was unwrinkled and her hair would draw no commentary. Generally she didn't stint in her appearance even in her own parents' home, but when summoned like this she still felt a bit like the little girl who would tear through the house at top speed to find out what her mother wanted.
Her mother was in the parlor holding a teacup as if she thought it might bite her. Glinda completely forgot about pleasantries and asked, "Is something wrong?"
Her mother frowned and held out the cup. "Does this smell odd to you?"
"Odd how?" Glinda asked as she reached out for the teacup.
"Just - strange. Like bleach, or mechanical oil, or something of that nature."
Glinda brought the cup near to her face and sniffed hesitantly, but it just smelled like - tea. "It doesn't smell odd to me," she said. "Do you think something is wrong with it?"
"I don't know." Her mother accepted the cup from Glinda and held it neatly over its saucer to take a cautious sip. Almost immediately she put it down again. "It tastes so bitter. I wonder what that cook can have been thinking."
Glinda took an empty cup from the tray and poured some tea for herself, ignoring the pile of saucers and bringing it straight to her lips regardless of the fact that it burned her. It tasted perfectly ordinary. She looked down into her mother's expectant face and said, "I'm sorry, it tastes exactly the same as usual to me." Suddenly her skin prickled and she asked, "Do you think there's something in yours that shouldn't be?" Her experiences with the Wizard and Morrible were making her see conspiracy around every corner.
Her mother shook her head. "I poured mine from that same teapot. If it tastes all right to you then it must be all right. Sit down, anyway, dear, and we'll talk about our shopping trip. And take a saucer."
Glinda automatically slid a saucer under the cup in her hand and balanced them both on her lap, although the heat seeped through her thin skirt and quickly became uncomfortable. "Yes," she said. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get down. The maid couldn't find me at first; I was in with Elphaba."
"So she said. The maid, not Elphaba," Glinda's mother clarified. "Well, we'll - oh, never mind. I thought perhaps you might write up a list of any of the easier things you need, anything you don't need to choose for yourself, and we could send Ronitt along with it this morning. That should make our trip easier, get the smaller things out of the way. Better send her with Elphaba's list as well, if she needs anything bought."
Glinda nodded. "I don't know if she does, I'll ask her. I think she may have gotten all those kinds of things in Shiz last year. She certainly didn't arrive with much luggage."
Her mother clucked a little and gave her tea a dubious look before attempting another sip. "It's strange," she said, once she had swallowed, "- goodness, that really does taste peculiar - it's strange that the Governor of Munchkinland should have so little help - we keep five servants in the house at most and yet they manage to ensure that you're looked after."
Glinda didn't really think for a second that her mother didn't understand the situation, but she said, "Well, Nessarose is really their priority, you know. And her father's."
"Is it because she's crippled?"
"Partly. Possibly. Mostly it's because she's not green."
"And that I just don't understand, I mean, a green child is an oddity, certainly, but it's not as if it were her fault. If anything it must be the parents' fault in the first place, mustn't it? Children don't turn green by themselves."
Glinda glanced toward the door, but no one was approaching. "Maybe he thinks it is his fault," she said. "And he's ashamed."
"That is what some men would do, isn't it," her mother said, shaking her head. "Blame the victim because they're embarrassed of something they've done. I suppose there'd be no good in his blaming the mother, as she's already gone."
Glinda bit her lip against revealing Elphaba's first secret, that her mother had died and Nessa had been crippled because of her father's effort to ensure his second child wouldn't be green like the first. Instead she said, "There's not much good in his blaming Elphaba, either."
"No, of course not." Her mother set her tea aside finally, having apparently given up on it, and asked, "Have you thought any more about coming home for the festival, dear?"
Glinda rested her own tea carefully in her lap and pressed the palm of one shaking hand against her thigh. She'd thought about it for a long time while she was falling asleep, and decided Elphaba was right - she could say no, at least in little steps. Or maybe Elphaba hadn't said exactly that, but it was close enough. "I think," she said, keeping her voice light, "I think I'd rather stay at school than leave for a visit in the middle of the term. I only managed to start doing better in my classes by the end of this year, and I don't want to risk falling behind."
"Are you sure?"
Glinda nodded.
"Well, all right. We certainly won't make you come home if you don't want to."
"You know it isn't that I don't want to come home -"
"I know." Her mother offered her a warm smile. "And there will be other opportunities, of course."
"Other opportunities to visit home?"
"To meet Sir whatever-his-name-is. Or anyone else that you like."
"Oh." Glinda lifted her tea to her lips to cover her frown. "Of course."
"Galinda." Her mother's smile didn't waver, but it seemed to grow a bit tighter. "You do know - getting married, finding someone to marry, is just - something that must be done. A part of life, like losing your baby teeth or getting old and dying."
Glinda grimaced. "Isn't it like any nicer parts of life than that?"
Her mother laughed. "Of course. I only mean to say - well, darling, some people fall in love and want very much to get married, and others . . . do it because it's what is done. Do you understand?"
"Not - really." She took another sip of tea while she thought. "You're reminding me that everyone gets married? I know that. If they can find someone to marry them, I guess."
"That's not exactly what I mean." Now her mother's smile did grow a bit crooked. "I meant - Galinda - some people are not inclined to marry, they have . . . inclinations in another direction. You understand what I'm saying?"
Glinda frowned down at her tea, thinking. "You mean like maunts?"
"Not exactly. I mean . . . there are women in the world - people, men too - who would prefer not to marry, not for religious reasons, but because they would prefer . . . to remain in the company of their own sex. You understand now?"
"Sort of?" Glinda shook her head. "Not actually, no."
"I mean, women whose romantic inclinations are not for men, dear," her mother said, with the tone of someone finally forced to be blunt. "And, for that matter, men whose romantic inclinations are not for women."
"Oh. You should have said that in the first place. That I know about."
Her mother's expression didn't change. "Really?"
Glinda felt herself blushing unreasonably, as if her mother had asked for details of what she and Fiyero had gotten up to in abandoned classrooms after hours. "Well, not know. But I mean, there are two girls in our class. And there are rumors about some of the boys."
"There are always rumors, in these cases," her mother said, in a voice that portended something although Glinda didn't know what. "Anyway, dear, I only wanted to say - some of these women don't ever marry, but - the ones who want to rise in society, the ones who know what's expected of them . . . they know that they sometimes have to do things they don't want to do."
"Oh." Glinda felt her brow smooth out with her realization. "Oh. But that's - I mean, that's not -"
"There are always arrangements that can be made, dear," her mother said, smoothly interrupting. "The world doesn't have to know everything we do."
"The - Mother!" Glinda's shock and fluster was taken over entirely by her horror at what her mother appeared to be suggesting.
"I'm just trying to help, darling," her mother replied, shifting a little uncomfortably in her chair. "Marriage is not a life sentence. Obviously it's preferable if we go into it happily, but for some it's just another thing that must be done. And - you understand I'm not recommending that married people have other . . . well, other partners, dear, but in some cases - particularly in a situation such as I've been describing, where obviously there would be no danger of a child resulting -" She finally appeared to notice Glinda's expression, and said, "I don't mean to be so blunt. But I see no other way to put your mind at rest, if what you're worried about is -"
"I wasn't," Glinda interrupted quickly, desperately.
"Well. If you were. You've always known what was expected of you, Galinda."
"Yes," Glinda said. "I have."
"And you've always found some way of getting what you wanted anyway."
Glinda didn't know whether to laugh or scream. "I suppose," she said, with a hysterical sort of choke.
"Well then." Her mother smiled, a tense, pained smile, and somehow Glinda felt it had nothing to do with their conversation. "Why don't you go and find Elphaba. I think I'm going to take a walk; I'm feeling a little ill."
Glinda's eyes flickered involuntarily toward the tea. "Are you sure -"
"It's not the tea, dear. You said it was fine. I haven't been feeling the best all morning, anyway." Her mother's tone brooked no further argument, and the nod she gave Glinda was quite final. "Go on."
Glinda had to keep herself from fleeing the parlor as if the devil were after her. When she ran into Elphaba in the hall she must have looked positively wild, because Elphaba was clearly startled. "What's wrong?" she asked, holding out her hands to stop Glinda from crashing into her.
"Nothing. I don't know." She shook her head helplessly. "My mother was just -" But she found it was impossible to tell Elphaba what they had been discussing, just as impossible as telling her that half the campus apparently believed the same thing her mother did. With no conscious thought other than that she needed to be supported, she let herself fall forward and rest her head on Elphaba's shoulder. "To be honest, I'm extremely confused."
"Oh." Elphaba was slow and stiff in reacting, but eventually her arms came up to encircle Glinda and pat her gingerly on the back. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"I don't think so, no."
"All right."
The fantastic thing about Elphaba was that sometimes Glinda just couldn't faze her.
~~Elphaba~~
She didn't remember it being nearly this hot on Opening Day last year. She remembered being deeply uncomfortable standing with her father and Nessa on the edge of the crowd in her awkward uniform with its unfamiliar binding jacket, but it certainly hadn't been because she was too warm. This year's new students, however, were wilting like so many red-faced weeds as Madame Greyling tried to speak to them. The older students, which Elphaba had barely noticed last year in her anxiety to size up her classmates, felt no similar constraints to wear their uniforms properly. Glinda, who never felt terribly constrained to wear hers correctly in the first place, had shed her jacket halfway from Gillikin when the air began to grow heavier, and by the time they had walked halfway from the train station to the campus Elphaba had given up and removed hers, wincing only a little bit at the idea of displaying bare green arms to the rest of the world.
Even so sweat threatened to roll into her eyes as they stood waiting for the porters to deliver their luggage from the station. Glinda was putting on a vaguely brave front, but her color was high and her eyes glassy. When the porters did arrive, Elphaba insisted that they take Glinda's things, along with Glinda, straight up to their room so that her roommate could rest. Glinda offered a token protest, but Elphaba sent her off with an admonishment to open up the windows and air the room out, so that it would be cooler when she came up.
Standing alone outside the dormitory, watching over her trunk and trying to think about not sweating, she felt particularly exposed and vulnerable. She had forgotten that a new crop of first-years meant a whole new class who had never seen her before, who were giving her a wide berth as they began to come in and look for their rooms, who were whispering and asking older students who was -
"Elphaba."
She jumped at the sound of her name and spun around, hand clutched to her chest. Fiyero looked chagrined. He also looked perfectly cool. She supposed things were warmer in the grasslands. "I'm sorry," she said. "I thought - come to think of it, I don't know what I thought. After all, anyone who was going to harass me would be unlikely to use my name."
He looked even more chagrined at that, and she regretted her moment of irony. "Well," he said. "How have you been? You look . . ." His eyes on her made her flush even more than she must have been doing already; she remembered her informal dress and fought the urge to find something to cover her shoulders with. She gave a half-laugh and covered her discomfort as best she could.
"Warm?" she finished.
He laughed. "Good. You look good. And warm."
"You don't," she said almost petulantly. Then, a beat too late, hastily added, "Don't look warm, I mean. You look . . . fine." She winced as he laughed again.
"You'll inflate my ego," he said.
Well. This she could handle; this was almost comfortable. "I didn't think that was possible."
"I'm wounded."
"I don't think you are, actually."
Fiyero rubbed one arm across his forehead and said, "I don't remember it being this warm last year, anyway."
"You weren't here this time last year," she pointed out.
"Oh. Right. I was in the North." He grinned at her. "My parents are still stunned I haven't been expelled from this school yet."
"Well, there's still plenty of time."
He laughed and twisted to look around. "You haven't been abandoned?"
"Glinda went up to our room already with the porters," she explained. "I'm just waiting for help." She motioned behind her to her trunk, sitting on the ground.
"Oh," he said. "Well -"
"Fiyero!" A student Elphaba knew only slightly - one of the more popular boys from their class, the type she had avoided whenever possible all year on account of their never-ending supply of fresh green jokes - paused as he was walking by. Elphaba looked at the ground and thought very hard about disappearing.
"Ralin." Fiyero turned and offered a smile, and the boy clapped Fiyero on the shoulder.
"Glad to see you back," he said. "I suppose we'll be in political science together again? Oh -" he glanced over Fiyero's shoulder - "hello, Elphaba. Good summer?" Without waiting for her reply, and without appearing to notice her shock, he went on, "Interesting about the professor, isn't it? Wonder what she did to get the sack. Well anyway, have to run - my sister's a first-year you know, have to show her around. See you both."
He was already several steps away by the time Fiyero turned around and said, grinning, "He doesn't tend to let many other people get a word in edgewise. Not at all like anyone else I know, of course."
"He -" Elphaba coughed, and searched for something safe to say. She certainly couldn't go gasping to Fiyero about the fact that someone new had actually spoken to her in a friendly way, had actually called her by her name, had managed not to sneer or joke or . . . "What did he mean about your professor?" she asked finally, her voice sounding as if something had stopped up her throat.
"Oh. I meant to tell you." Fiyero leaned closer to her and dropped his voice. "We had a letter last week, everyone who's studying political science. Professor Roka's gone, fired. They didn't give any reason, just told us all we'd have a new advisor this year."
"Professor Roka? The one we saw -"
"That one. Do you think it has something to do with . . . everything?"
"I don't know what to think," Elphaba said. Her brain seemed to function slowly in all this heat; it was as wilted as the rest of her. "We don't know who she was working for, and without knowing that we can't know who would have wanted her gone, or all the possible reasons . . ." She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead, thinking.
"Elphaba." Fiyero's hand on her elbow was almost uncomfortably warm. "You'll die out here, let me help you up to your room."
She dropped her hand and stared. "You can't be serious."
"Of course I am, you know how long it's going to take those porters with Glinda's things." He looked around a moment and then waved as Madame Greyling came near. "Madame . . ."
"Fiyero, really," Elphaba tried to interrupt, but he ignored her.
"Mr. Tiggular," the headmistress said, with a bit of a smile over his shoulder for Elphaba. "Can I help you?"
"I can just take a moment and help Elphaba with her trunk, can't I?" he asked in his most charming fashion. "I won't be half a minute. The porters are all busy and we can't keep her out here in all this sun all afternoon."
The headmistress frowned. "Well . . ."
"Thank you," Fiyero said confidently, regardless of the fact that no answer had been given yet. "There are so many people in and out today, it's completely respectable." He ducked around Elphaba and picked up her trunk with seeming ease, and headed for the propped-open door of the girls' dormitory. There seemed little else for Elphaba to do but mutter a hurried thanks to Madame Greyling, who still looked slightly confused, and rush to catch up with him.
"It's the same room, isn't it?" he asked as he edged through the doorway.
"Yes, but for goodness' sake let me lead," she hissed, slipping past him. "You're not supposed to have been here before."
"Good point." He was quiet the rest of the way up the stairs, probably out of a need to conserve his breath, but by the time they reached her room and he had dropped the trunk on the floor outside the door, he was ready to gasp, "Is that completely filled with books?"
"Only about halfway." Her smile softened when she saw his face. "Thank you for the help. You really didn't have to."
"I -" He got no further before the door opened, and Glinda's head peered into the hall.
"Fiyero!" she exclaimed. "What are you -"
"I carried Elphaba's trunk." He pointed to it as evidence.
"Oh. That was . . ." Glinda caught sight of Elphaba and seemed to lose her train of thought. "Oh Elphie, I'm sorry this is taking so long. I left you out there positively forever."
"It's all right." Elphaba gestured just as lamely toward her trunk. "Fiyero helped."
"I heard."
Awkwardly Elphaba turned to Fiyero and gestured toward the stairs. "You don't want to get in trouble . . ."
"Yeah, I should . . ." He gave Glinda a little wave. "It's good to see you, Glinda. We'll talk later - at dinner, maybe?"
"We should be there," Glinda replied, her gesture including both herself and Elphaba.
"Thanks again," Elphaba said. "For the help."
He nodded and took a quick look around them at the other girls - many of them staring at the novelty of a boy, and not just any boy, in the middle of their hallway - and said, "Another year, eh?"
Elphaba looked over at Glinda, who was smiling at both of them. "Another year," she echoed.
Author: ainsleyaisling
Rating: PG-13
'Verse: Musical AU; some details from bookverse
Pairings for Story Overall: Glinda/Fiyero, Elphaba/Fiyero, Glinda/Elphaba
Summary: Glinda's mother shares some interesting theories, and it's back to Shiz.
Disclaimer: Wicked belongs mostly to Gregory Maguire, and musicalverse belongs to Stephen Schwartz, Winnie Holzman, and possibly Universal.
Notes: Previous section can be found here. This story is winding down, hard as that may be to believe. :) There will be a few more sections, and then we'll jump to the sequel, which will take place in the Emerald City with everyone all grown-up-ish.
~~Glinda~~
The maid looked apologetic as she gently shook Glinda's arm, but growing up in a home with numerous servants Glinda had enough experience being woken by all sorts of different people. She sat up right away and asked, "Does my mother want me?"
The maid nodded. "Yes, miss. You may want to dress quickly; it took me a minute to find you."
"Sorry about that." Glinda thought too late about lowering her voice; she glanced down and saw Elphaba already beginning to stir. "Please tell her I'll be right down."
"Will you need help dressing?"
"No, thank you." Without looking Glinda laid a hand on Elphaba's shoulder to reassure her that nothing was wrong. "I've gotten used to doing it myself at school," she added with a smile.
When the maid had left Elphaba pushed herself to a sitting position and asked, "Anything wrong?" She was holding herself stiffly and looked rather more at the bed than at Glinda - Glinda figured she must be tired from being woken in the middle of the night by her dreams.
"My mother wants me, that's all," Glinda said. "It's probably just about getting ready to go back to school. She had mentioned a trip into town to get some things I needed." Elphaba nodded slowly, and Glinda asked, "Did you sleep all right, after you woke up?"
It took a moment, but very slowly Elphaba nodded again. "I think so," she said. Her voice was a bit rough and scratched. "I don't think I dreamt anymore."
"I guess that's good." Glinda gave her another little pat and climbed reluctantly out of the bed. "Take your time, I'll just go see what my mother wants."
She dressed quickly, taking as much time as necessary and no more to ensure that her skirt was unwrinkled and her hair would draw no commentary. Generally she didn't stint in her appearance even in her own parents' home, but when summoned like this she still felt a bit like the little girl who would tear through the house at top speed to find out what her mother wanted.
Her mother was in the parlor holding a teacup as if she thought it might bite her. Glinda completely forgot about pleasantries and asked, "Is something wrong?"
Her mother frowned and held out the cup. "Does this smell odd to you?"
"Odd how?" Glinda asked as she reached out for the teacup.
"Just - strange. Like bleach, or mechanical oil, or something of that nature."
Glinda brought the cup near to her face and sniffed hesitantly, but it just smelled like - tea. "It doesn't smell odd to me," she said. "Do you think something is wrong with it?"
"I don't know." Her mother accepted the cup from Glinda and held it neatly over its saucer to take a cautious sip. Almost immediately she put it down again. "It tastes so bitter. I wonder what that cook can have been thinking."
Glinda took an empty cup from the tray and poured some tea for herself, ignoring the pile of saucers and bringing it straight to her lips regardless of the fact that it burned her. It tasted perfectly ordinary. She looked down into her mother's expectant face and said, "I'm sorry, it tastes exactly the same as usual to me." Suddenly her skin prickled and she asked, "Do you think there's something in yours that shouldn't be?" Her experiences with the Wizard and Morrible were making her see conspiracy around every corner.
Her mother shook her head. "I poured mine from that same teapot. If it tastes all right to you then it must be all right. Sit down, anyway, dear, and we'll talk about our shopping trip. And take a saucer."
Glinda automatically slid a saucer under the cup in her hand and balanced them both on her lap, although the heat seeped through her thin skirt and quickly became uncomfortable. "Yes," she said. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get down. The maid couldn't find me at first; I was in with Elphaba."
"So she said. The maid, not Elphaba," Glinda's mother clarified. "Well, we'll - oh, never mind. I thought perhaps you might write up a list of any of the easier things you need, anything you don't need to choose for yourself, and we could send Ronitt along with it this morning. That should make our trip easier, get the smaller things out of the way. Better send her with Elphaba's list as well, if she needs anything bought."
Glinda nodded. "I don't know if she does, I'll ask her. I think she may have gotten all those kinds of things in Shiz last year. She certainly didn't arrive with much luggage."
Her mother clucked a little and gave her tea a dubious look before attempting another sip. "It's strange," she said, once she had swallowed, "- goodness, that really does taste peculiar - it's strange that the Governor of Munchkinland should have so little help - we keep five servants in the house at most and yet they manage to ensure that you're looked after."
Glinda didn't really think for a second that her mother didn't understand the situation, but she said, "Well, Nessarose is really their priority, you know. And her father's."
"Is it because she's crippled?"
"Partly. Possibly. Mostly it's because she's not green."
"And that I just don't understand, I mean, a green child is an oddity, certainly, but it's not as if it were her fault. If anything it must be the parents' fault in the first place, mustn't it? Children don't turn green by themselves."
Glinda glanced toward the door, but no one was approaching. "Maybe he thinks it is his fault," she said. "And he's ashamed."
"That is what some men would do, isn't it," her mother said, shaking her head. "Blame the victim because they're embarrassed of something they've done. I suppose there'd be no good in his blaming the mother, as she's already gone."
Glinda bit her lip against revealing Elphaba's first secret, that her mother had died and Nessa had been crippled because of her father's effort to ensure his second child wouldn't be green like the first. Instead she said, "There's not much good in his blaming Elphaba, either."
"No, of course not." Her mother set her tea aside finally, having apparently given up on it, and asked, "Have you thought any more about coming home for the festival, dear?"
Glinda rested her own tea carefully in her lap and pressed the palm of one shaking hand against her thigh. She'd thought about it for a long time while she was falling asleep, and decided Elphaba was right - she could say no, at least in little steps. Or maybe Elphaba hadn't said exactly that, but it was close enough. "I think," she said, keeping her voice light, "I think I'd rather stay at school than leave for a visit in the middle of the term. I only managed to start doing better in my classes by the end of this year, and I don't want to risk falling behind."
"Are you sure?"
Glinda nodded.
"Well, all right. We certainly won't make you come home if you don't want to."
"You know it isn't that I don't want to come home -"
"I know." Her mother offered her a warm smile. "And there will be other opportunities, of course."
"Other opportunities to visit home?"
"To meet Sir whatever-his-name-is. Or anyone else that you like."
"Oh." Glinda lifted her tea to her lips to cover her frown. "Of course."
"Galinda." Her mother's smile didn't waver, but it seemed to grow a bit tighter. "You do know - getting married, finding someone to marry, is just - something that must be done. A part of life, like losing your baby teeth or getting old and dying."
Glinda grimaced. "Isn't it like any nicer parts of life than that?"
Her mother laughed. "Of course. I only mean to say - well, darling, some people fall in love and want very much to get married, and others . . . do it because it's what is done. Do you understand?"
"Not - really." She took another sip of tea while she thought. "You're reminding me that everyone gets married? I know that. If they can find someone to marry them, I guess."
"That's not exactly what I mean." Now her mother's smile did grow a bit crooked. "I meant - Galinda - some people are not inclined to marry, they have . . . inclinations in another direction. You understand what I'm saying?"
Glinda frowned down at her tea, thinking. "You mean like maunts?"
"Not exactly. I mean . . . there are women in the world - people, men too - who would prefer not to marry, not for religious reasons, but because they would prefer . . . to remain in the company of their own sex. You understand now?"
"Sort of?" Glinda shook her head. "Not actually, no."
"I mean, women whose romantic inclinations are not for men, dear," her mother said, with the tone of someone finally forced to be blunt. "And, for that matter, men whose romantic inclinations are not for women."
"Oh. You should have said that in the first place. That I know about."
Her mother's expression didn't change. "Really?"
Glinda felt herself blushing unreasonably, as if her mother had asked for details of what she and Fiyero had gotten up to in abandoned classrooms after hours. "Well, not know. But I mean, there are two girls in our class. And there are rumors about some of the boys."
"There are always rumors, in these cases," her mother said, in a voice that portended something although Glinda didn't know what. "Anyway, dear, I only wanted to say - some of these women don't ever marry, but - the ones who want to rise in society, the ones who know what's expected of them . . . they know that they sometimes have to do things they don't want to do."
"Oh." Glinda felt her brow smooth out with her realization. "Oh. But that's - I mean, that's not -"
"There are always arrangements that can be made, dear," her mother said, smoothly interrupting. "The world doesn't have to know everything we do."
"The - Mother!" Glinda's shock and fluster was taken over entirely by her horror at what her mother appeared to be suggesting.
"I'm just trying to help, darling," her mother replied, shifting a little uncomfortably in her chair. "Marriage is not a life sentence. Obviously it's preferable if we go into it happily, but for some it's just another thing that must be done. And - you understand I'm not recommending that married people have other . . . well, other partners, dear, but in some cases - particularly in a situation such as I've been describing, where obviously there would be no danger of a child resulting -" She finally appeared to notice Glinda's expression, and said, "I don't mean to be so blunt. But I see no other way to put your mind at rest, if what you're worried about is -"
"I wasn't," Glinda interrupted quickly, desperately.
"Well. If you were. You've always known what was expected of you, Galinda."
"Yes," Glinda said. "I have."
"And you've always found some way of getting what you wanted anyway."
Glinda didn't know whether to laugh or scream. "I suppose," she said, with a hysterical sort of choke.
"Well then." Her mother smiled, a tense, pained smile, and somehow Glinda felt it had nothing to do with their conversation. "Why don't you go and find Elphaba. I think I'm going to take a walk; I'm feeling a little ill."
Glinda's eyes flickered involuntarily toward the tea. "Are you sure -"
"It's not the tea, dear. You said it was fine. I haven't been feeling the best all morning, anyway." Her mother's tone brooked no further argument, and the nod she gave Glinda was quite final. "Go on."
Glinda had to keep herself from fleeing the parlor as if the devil were after her. When she ran into Elphaba in the hall she must have looked positively wild, because Elphaba was clearly startled. "What's wrong?" she asked, holding out her hands to stop Glinda from crashing into her.
"Nothing. I don't know." She shook her head helplessly. "My mother was just -" But she found it was impossible to tell Elphaba what they had been discussing, just as impossible as telling her that half the campus apparently believed the same thing her mother did. With no conscious thought other than that she needed to be supported, she let herself fall forward and rest her head on Elphaba's shoulder. "To be honest, I'm extremely confused."
"Oh." Elphaba was slow and stiff in reacting, but eventually her arms came up to encircle Glinda and pat her gingerly on the back. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"I don't think so, no."
"All right."
The fantastic thing about Elphaba was that sometimes Glinda just couldn't faze her.
~~Elphaba~~
She didn't remember it being nearly this hot on Opening Day last year. She remembered being deeply uncomfortable standing with her father and Nessa on the edge of the crowd in her awkward uniform with its unfamiliar binding jacket, but it certainly hadn't been because she was too warm. This year's new students, however, were wilting like so many red-faced weeds as Madame Greyling tried to speak to them. The older students, which Elphaba had barely noticed last year in her anxiety to size up her classmates, felt no similar constraints to wear their uniforms properly. Glinda, who never felt terribly constrained to wear hers correctly in the first place, had shed her jacket halfway from Gillikin when the air began to grow heavier, and by the time they had walked halfway from the train station to the campus Elphaba had given up and removed hers, wincing only a little bit at the idea of displaying bare green arms to the rest of the world.
Even so sweat threatened to roll into her eyes as they stood waiting for the porters to deliver their luggage from the station. Glinda was putting on a vaguely brave front, but her color was high and her eyes glassy. When the porters did arrive, Elphaba insisted that they take Glinda's things, along with Glinda, straight up to their room so that her roommate could rest. Glinda offered a token protest, but Elphaba sent her off with an admonishment to open up the windows and air the room out, so that it would be cooler when she came up.
Standing alone outside the dormitory, watching over her trunk and trying to think about not sweating, she felt particularly exposed and vulnerable. She had forgotten that a new crop of first-years meant a whole new class who had never seen her before, who were giving her a wide berth as they began to come in and look for their rooms, who were whispering and asking older students who was -
"Elphaba."
She jumped at the sound of her name and spun around, hand clutched to her chest. Fiyero looked chagrined. He also looked perfectly cool. She supposed things were warmer in the grasslands. "I'm sorry," she said. "I thought - come to think of it, I don't know what I thought. After all, anyone who was going to harass me would be unlikely to use my name."
He looked even more chagrined at that, and she regretted her moment of irony. "Well," he said. "How have you been? You look . . ." His eyes on her made her flush even more than she must have been doing already; she remembered her informal dress and fought the urge to find something to cover her shoulders with. She gave a half-laugh and covered her discomfort as best she could.
"Warm?" she finished.
He laughed. "Good. You look good. And warm."
"You don't," she said almost petulantly. Then, a beat too late, hastily added, "Don't look warm, I mean. You look . . . fine." She winced as he laughed again.
"You'll inflate my ego," he said.
Well. This she could handle; this was almost comfortable. "I didn't think that was possible."
"I'm wounded."
"I don't think you are, actually."
Fiyero rubbed one arm across his forehead and said, "I don't remember it being this warm last year, anyway."
"You weren't here this time last year," she pointed out.
"Oh. Right. I was in the North." He grinned at her. "My parents are still stunned I haven't been expelled from this school yet."
"Well, there's still plenty of time."
He laughed and twisted to look around. "You haven't been abandoned?"
"Glinda went up to our room already with the porters," she explained. "I'm just waiting for help." She motioned behind her to her trunk, sitting on the ground.
"Oh," he said. "Well -"
"Fiyero!" A student Elphaba knew only slightly - one of the more popular boys from their class, the type she had avoided whenever possible all year on account of their never-ending supply of fresh green jokes - paused as he was walking by. Elphaba looked at the ground and thought very hard about disappearing.
"Ralin." Fiyero turned and offered a smile, and the boy clapped Fiyero on the shoulder.
"Glad to see you back," he said. "I suppose we'll be in political science together again? Oh -" he glanced over Fiyero's shoulder - "hello, Elphaba. Good summer?" Without waiting for her reply, and without appearing to notice her shock, he went on, "Interesting about the professor, isn't it? Wonder what she did to get the sack. Well anyway, have to run - my sister's a first-year you know, have to show her around. See you both."
He was already several steps away by the time Fiyero turned around and said, grinning, "He doesn't tend to let many other people get a word in edgewise. Not at all like anyone else I know, of course."
"He -" Elphaba coughed, and searched for something safe to say. She certainly couldn't go gasping to Fiyero about the fact that someone new had actually spoken to her in a friendly way, had actually called her by her name, had managed not to sneer or joke or . . . "What did he mean about your professor?" she asked finally, her voice sounding as if something had stopped up her throat.
"Oh. I meant to tell you." Fiyero leaned closer to her and dropped his voice. "We had a letter last week, everyone who's studying political science. Professor Roka's gone, fired. They didn't give any reason, just told us all we'd have a new advisor this year."
"Professor Roka? The one we saw -"
"That one. Do you think it has something to do with . . . everything?"
"I don't know what to think," Elphaba said. Her brain seemed to function slowly in all this heat; it was as wilted as the rest of her. "We don't know who she was working for, and without knowing that we can't know who would have wanted her gone, or all the possible reasons . . ." She pressed the back of her hand against her forehead, thinking.
"Elphaba." Fiyero's hand on her elbow was almost uncomfortably warm. "You'll die out here, let me help you up to your room."
She dropped her hand and stared. "You can't be serious."
"Of course I am, you know how long it's going to take those porters with Glinda's things." He looked around a moment and then waved as Madame Greyling came near. "Madame . . ."
"Fiyero, really," Elphaba tried to interrupt, but he ignored her.
"Mr. Tiggular," the headmistress said, with a bit of a smile over his shoulder for Elphaba. "Can I help you?"
"I can just take a moment and help Elphaba with her trunk, can't I?" he asked in his most charming fashion. "I won't be half a minute. The porters are all busy and we can't keep her out here in all this sun all afternoon."
The headmistress frowned. "Well . . ."
"Thank you," Fiyero said confidently, regardless of the fact that no answer had been given yet. "There are so many people in and out today, it's completely respectable." He ducked around Elphaba and picked up her trunk with seeming ease, and headed for the propped-open door of the girls' dormitory. There seemed little else for Elphaba to do but mutter a hurried thanks to Madame Greyling, who still looked slightly confused, and rush to catch up with him.
"It's the same room, isn't it?" he asked as he edged through the doorway.
"Yes, but for goodness' sake let me lead," she hissed, slipping past him. "You're not supposed to have been here before."
"Good point." He was quiet the rest of the way up the stairs, probably out of a need to conserve his breath, but by the time they reached her room and he had dropped the trunk on the floor outside the door, he was ready to gasp, "Is that completely filled with books?"
"Only about halfway." Her smile softened when she saw his face. "Thank you for the help. You really didn't have to."
"I -" He got no further before the door opened, and Glinda's head peered into the hall.
"Fiyero!" she exclaimed. "What are you -"
"I carried Elphaba's trunk." He pointed to it as evidence.
"Oh. That was . . ." Glinda caught sight of Elphaba and seemed to lose her train of thought. "Oh Elphie, I'm sorry this is taking so long. I left you out there positively forever."
"It's all right." Elphaba gestured just as lamely toward her trunk. "Fiyero helped."
"I heard."
Awkwardly Elphaba turned to Fiyero and gestured toward the stairs. "You don't want to get in trouble . . ."
"Yeah, I should . . ." He gave Glinda a little wave. "It's good to see you, Glinda. We'll talk later - at dinner, maybe?"
"We should be there," Glinda replied, her gesture including both herself and Elphaba.
"Thanks again," Elphaba said. "For the help."
He nodded and took a quick look around them at the other girls - many of them staring at the novelty of a boy, and not just any boy, in the middle of their hallway - and said, "Another year, eh?"
Elphaba looked over at Glinda, who was smiling at both of them. "Another year," she echoed.