Disclaimer: Wicked and all its accompanying everythings are the creation and property of Gregory Maguire. The story mentioned at the end is, regrettably, from a book of true stories.

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”Elphaba!”

She froze. Please, please, please no.

“Elphaba!” her father called again.

Dreading, she set aside her book (she couldn’t really read it yet, but it was about the stars, and the pictures were gorgeous) and dragged her feet to his office.

The Governor was ensconced in his leather chair behind a desk the size of a mountain. Elphaba was tall for a five-year-old, but it still seemed to tower over her. She stopped at a distance that allowed her to stand stolidly in front of him, glowering.

“Wipe that look off your face, girl.”

Even after all these years, that tone still hurt her. she relaxed her face about a millimeter. “Yes?”

“You know how old you are, don’t you?”

Since her mother had died Elphaba’s birthday had gone unnoticed, but Elphaba wasn’t stupid; she hadn’t lost track. “Of course.” He said nothing, so she continued. “I’m five.”

“Right. And although I’d rather keep you here to make up to your sister—” he always called it that—“according to law I have to send you to school. I could get away with letting you skip preschool, but no further.” He paused. You start tomorrow.” His face soured immediately; he didn’t like it when his daughter’s eyes glowed like that. “Now go!”

“Will I need anything?”

“Should I know? Go, before I thrash you!”

She scampered, nearly skipping. Her head whirled with happiness as she ran through all she knew about school. She wouldn’t need anything but a lunch, as far as she knew, and she’d find out about anything else--tomorrow! She went to pack a lunch.

The help was cleaning up from breakfast when she came in. They averted their eyes. Oddly, Frex had never forbidden Elphaba to use the kitchen. Maybe he was hoping she’d somehow manage to kill herself. Probably. So nobody paid any attention as Elphaba climbed around, putting together a lunch. She made some extra food, so that if anybody asked she could say it was for Nessa.

For the first time in two years, that night she went to sleep excited.

---

She woke up suddenly and completely, when the sun was still rising. She jumped out of bed immediately and ran to her dresser. She didn’t have many clothes, so it didn’t take too long to dress. It took only slightly more time to wash and brush her teeth. All said, she was ready for school nearly four hours early.

Grabbing a piece of fruit for breakfast, Elphaba climbed out onto the roof. It was her special place, where she went when nobody else was around and she wanted to think. She could see a long way in all directions, and from this angle, at this time, she could see the rising sun. She still believed in a Heaven, although she doubted there was a place for her, and up here she felt at least a bit closer to her mother. Elphaba didn’t talk to Melena, exactly—she just sort of thought of what she would tell her mother if she hadn’t killed her…. And she imagined what a mother might have answered back.

The sun was soon locked firmly in the sky and Elphaba could hear people starting to stir below, which meant that she had to go for Nessa. She got up here by opening a window and slithering up; she got down by way of the tree.

Nessarose was awake, if not full, when Elphaba reached her. Elphaba fumbled with one of the mechanisms on the crib, and the side came away on its special hinge, allowing her to remove Nessa. Elphaba cleaned and dressed her sister, and fed her. it was hard work, and slow and dirtying, but she never felt unfairly worked. It was the least she could do to make up, Elphaba thought, wincing inwardly as she buckled the tiny shoes on Nessa’s atrophied feet. Besides, she was five and reasonably self-sufficient; Nessa had only just turned two; it wasn’t like she could do much herself.

And it wasn’t like Elphaba could do anything for her mother.

In time the nurse came to take over Nessarose, and Elphaba ran to the school. And there the trouble began: The Cornelius C. Kadmius School for the Proper Edification of Esteemed Young Ladies and Gentlemen—COCK, to the older students— was not only a school catering to classes preschool though senior; it was the most exclusive and obscenely wealthy school in the area, with the result that the enormous thicket of legs bumping Elphaba around the schoolyard was particularly snooty, and particularly less inclined to helping an unaccompanied green child, even one with a rank. Eventually, though, the crowd thinned, and Elphaba was able to push her way in.

The school was a maze. Corridors went everywhere, classrooms and offices were all over, and nary a sign to show the way. She looked around with growing worry—she’d be so late!—until, not looking at where she was going, she bumped straight into somebody.

“Sorry,” she said, jumping back. The bumpee—a tall, desiccated-looking woman in an olive/snot/dust-colored suit—stared down her glasses. She jumped when she saw the green skin. “Why are you in the halls?” she demanded.

Elphaba sighed internally. “I’m in the first grade. I came alone,” she said loudly and clear. “I’m Elphaba Thropp,” she further prodded. “The gubernatorial daughter?” It was her newest phrase, always good for eliciting a response.

“Yes, yes, I know. Do you know who I am?”

“I can’t say I do.”

“I am Miss Malgen and I am the headmistress here. And you, young lady, should not be wandering.”

“I’m not wandering,” said Elphaba, “I’m trying to find out where to go.”

Miss Malgen pointed. “Room 1-04, down that way. And you’d better scarper.”

Elphaba ducked her head in thanks and scarpered, making it inside just before the second ring. There were sixteen other children in the class, and they all turned to see the new arrival who’d cut it so closely. The teacher turned too, and Elphaba immediately had a good feeling about her. The teacher looked at the register. “Elphaba?” she said.

Elphaba nodded.

“Good, I was wondering where you were.” Actually, with the reputation, she’d been wondering if the girl had been withdrawn at the last minute.

“I got lost…”

“That’s alright, it’s a big school. But you don’t have to stand there the whole year, you know. Put anything you have in that corner and sit down in any empty seat.”

There was only one empty seat—the undesirable one in the middle, front row, right in the teacher’s eye line. Elphaba took it.

The teacher introduced herself—Miss Selas—and Elphaba’s first day of school began.

---

She didn’t run home that day, though, to hug her father and tell him how much she loved school. First, he wouldn’t care, and second, it was all too likely that he’d take her out. So she walked home slowly and rehashed the day in her head. It was only the first day of school, so they hadn’t gotten that far. They’d reviewed the letters—well, they’d reviewed; Elphaba had never had the privilege of any earlier education—, had begun some work with numbers—she loved that—and had gotten the books they would be using, which as far as she was concerned was the best part.

If her father asked her if she’d made any friends, on the other hand, it would be safe to answer. Elphaba had immediately been dubbed Apple-girl when they saw that she’d had the misfortune to bring a food that matched her skin. Lunch, therefore, had been spent in a corner of the classroom, observing the social dynamics of young children. She noticed the groups they fell into: color, status, boys against girls. She was young for her grade, but she thought that she acted older than most of them.

Frex, it turned out, had some piece of business keeping him, and he did not ask about Elphaba in the least. Elphaba took the opportunity to retrieve her book about stars from the library and drag it up to her room. She thought she remembered what sounds the letters made; perhaps now she could read it.

It was harder than it seemed. Not only were most of the words not spelled like they sounded, she didn’t even know what a lot of them meant. After nearly half an hour, she’d only gotten through the first page of the introduction. It could wait, she finally decided, and after putting it in her schoolbag she went wearily to sleep.

---

The next day’s lesson cleared some things up as they learned about different sounds of letters. And there was even mention made of some silent ones. So while the rest of the children played mindless games during recess, Elphaba started to work through her book again. It was easier, this time.

A rubber ball hit her on the shoulder, and she jumped.

“Shoot the apple, Tilliam Well!” someone called, and another ball hit her in the back of the head.

It hurt, and so did the laughing, but she knew that the worst thing she could do was show any pain—and crying was completely out of the question; she hadn’t cried in public since her mother’s funeral, which she tried to blot out of her mind. She pulled a piece of grass and used it to mark her page. Then she closed the book, got up from her rock, and tried to dart away.

She was hit in the small of the back, and this time the ball didn’t bounce. She turned around—it was an apple. She gritted her teeth and bent down to pick it up and defiantly take a bite.

The entire yard cracked up, with a few shrieks of disgust from the girls. It was hard to force it down, but Elphaba swallowed the apple and even made herself take another bite. She didn’t know how much worse things might have gotten had they not then been called to come inside.

And so school continued. Elphaba’s enthusiasm didn’t decrease any, but she grew to dread recess. Lunch was spent in class, under the teacher’s supervision, but come recess she had to go out and play—or rather, read (she’d long finished her star book) while the others played at tormenting her. The only advantage was that she got free apples.

She grasped lessons quickly, earning the admiration or the teacher and the title Teacher’s Pet. Apple for the Teacher, somebody called her once, and the title stuck.

It wasn’t only the first grade; the entire lower school knew who she was and what to call her. And everybody in school, Malgen included, laughed when they heard about Apple for the Teacher.

The only one who didn’t laugh was Miss Selas, and for that alone Elphaba was grateful. Indeed, she developed what was nearly a quiet worship for her teacher, who seemed to have the answer to everything under the sun. Had Miss Selas given the order Elphaba would have followed her under a waterfall, because Miss Selas was also the only one that seemed to understand her.

In truth, the woman had been rather maltreated herself in primary school, and while she loved every child, she had a soft spot for the bullied ones. She very much liked Elphaba—the girl was smart and respectful and genuinely enjoyed learning—and after watching her in the schoolyard for several weeks she approached her as Elphaba sat on a rock staring into the distance.

“Elphaba, why aren’t you doing anything?”

“I am.”

Miss Selas looked at the kids in their groups on one side and Elphaba on the other. “What?”

“I forgot my book inside, so I am occupying myself observing the social habits of young humans.”

Miss Selas laughed, and Elphaba stiffened—maybe she’d been wrong about her. The teacher saw that she’d done something wrong and silenced herself immediately. “I’m sorry,” she said, and Elphaba’s eyebrows rose a hair. Now this was something different. “I wasn’t laughing at you. You’re just not what I expected for someone your age.”

Elphaba spread her green hands. “Of course.”

“No, not the color. You’re always reading, you pick things up so fast, and you speak like someone much older.”

“I listen to a lot of older people.”

“Still, picking up their words—that’s unusual.”

“I know I am.”

“I mean that you’re smart.”

“Too smart, I know.”

Did this girl ever hear anything good at home, Miss Selas wondered, and then decided that she didn’t want to hear the answer. She knew that the governor couldn’t stand his oldest daughter, and that Malgen was no different, as were the other children. “No—you’re just smart. As in intelligent. That’s a good thing, Elphaba. What was it you said—”

“‘Observing the social habits of young humans’.”

“That’s right. It sounded scientific, like you were describing animal behavior—”

“Of course I was.”

“Well, yes. But it sounded funny being said by a six-year-old.”

“I’m five.”

“Oh.”

Elphaba shrugged.

“Anyways, Elphaba, I’ve noticed that the other boys and girls aren’t treating you very well.”

“No one ever has,” she said matter-of-factly. “Except my mother. They’re not even the first to throw things. I just make people laugh or scream.”

“That sounds like it could be really hurtful.”

Elphaba shook her head. “You get used to it.”

“But still…would you like it if I talked to them?”

“I don’t think that would help very much. They already think I’m a teacher’s pet,” she said.

Miss Selas put her hand on Elphaba’s shoulder again, and this time Elphaba let her. “I’ll think, okay?”

“Okay.” Elphaba didn’t say any more, but gratefulness was apparent in her eyes.

Several days later the first grade class of 1-04 finished the story they were reading, and as was their habit, they discussed it and, if they had one that related, shared some personal vignette. Discussion was generally lively, with much interruption, but they all quieted down when the teacher started to speak—she may have been on Apple’s side, but she was the teacher, and very likable to boot. Miss Selas related a true story she’d read—a boy had drawn his whole class—sans one boy—into playing a joke on another boy—whenever he came in, they would all start laughing and then stop. The boy that the joke was being played on grew so hurt that one day he climbed onto the roof of the school—it also served as a playing field—and threw himself off. He hadn’t survived. It was all explained in the note he’d left….

Sixteen pale faces and one green one stared back at her with a mixture of horror and fascination.

“I know a lot of people would find this too scary for first grade, but I think you’re old enough, and besides, you’ve all read or been read books with much worse. And I think it’s important that children should know the consequences bullying can have.”

She said no more, and didn’t mention anything or anybody specific, but the point got across. Elphaba still got more laughing than she’d ever gotten at home, but it decreased after the story, and at least they stopped throwing things.

Elphaba decided that teachers were good.