Zen and, Chloes dad arrive at the room just as the sun melts the lacelike ice that splinter the edges of the window. Late morning and bright in contrast to their emotionless faces.

"Where's, Chloe?" I pipe to, Zen as he begins carefully placing the things from her desk into a box.
"She's coming." He half smiles tossing in a green notebook, "She had a bit of a rough start today. Morning sickness." He frowns and goes back to packing.
"Oh." I mouth. "Need help?" I stand and present my hands. Chloes dad tosses clothes still on their hangers into another box, "Could you take this box to the front door?" He hands it to me and goes back to taking clothes from the tiny closet. I tote the heavy box down the stairs, peeking over the corner of the cardboard so I don't fall, and place it carefully on the floor beside the door.
"Kat?" Chloe opens the door in front of me, she wears the same black hoodie she's worn everyday for a month. The sleeves are too long and frayed at the seam. Her fingers peek from them and hold the worn seam in loose fists.
"I'm sorry that I have to leave you." She hugs me tight. The smell of hotel bed sheets, bleached and stiff, blankets her hair like mist.
"It's okay." I promise, "You don't have to apologize to me." I rub her shoulders, I can feel that she's trembling. The joyous light that once brighten the room has turned gloomy. I ache for her.

The growing pile of moving boxes, well wishes, and clouds of sorrow brings forth a curious audience. Girls in booty shorts and tank tops, who ignore the cold to look cute step out of their dorm rooms and greet, Chloe at the doorway. None of them took the time that she's been here to really get to know her, but they can see her pain. They cram into the narrow entrance and embrace her with hugs and goodbyes.
"I'm going to miss you." A girl that I don't know pulls, Chloe into a limp armed hug. Chloe just smiles politely and pats the girls back. She looks to me and raises a brow.

I thump a shoulder up to say "I don't know, just go with it."

As the huddle grows and sways, a break between the bodies shows another girls face. She stands at her door with her arms crossed wearing a faded long sleeve tee shirt. I've seen her before. My memory of her surfaces upon zoning in on the logo playing peek-a-boo behind her folded and stiff arms. An Omega girlfriend. Zacks girlfriend. I recall seeing her around campus and at parties clinging to, Zack. I also recall her ruthless nature and all around nasty personality.

Chloe exchanges forced smiles with her campus neighbors while the icy blonde in the back of the crowd scolds her with her eyes. I stay at my friends side in case she decides to strike.
"Fiona, don't." I hear the girl standing next to her say. "Shut it." Fiona, aka, Zacks girlfriend snaps back at her. I suddenly wonder how nobody else has noticed her.

"I hope you know what you've done to my boyfriend, bitch!" Fiona says over the girls, and pushes past them to stand face to face with, Chloe.
"Excuse me?" Chloes brows crease.
"You heard me." Fiona challenges, inching closer.

I decide step in front of, Chloe, closing the gap between to two of them.
"I suggest you back off. Now." I warn her.

"No." Chloe eases me out of the way, "Let her finish." Chloes face burns pink.
Fiona smiles a lethal smirk, "Everyone knows you're a liar. I know, Avery he's my boyfriends best friend. You probably screwed him and got mad when he didn't call you back." She spits, "Now you cry rape? Very original"

Chloes face now burns scarlett as she rips her zipper down across her heaving chest to expose her neck. Gasps ripple through the foyer.
"Okay, that's enough." Chloes mother cuts in. I watch like a gaurd dog over my friend. I can't let, Fiona touch her. I just can't let it happen.

"You think I wanted this?" Chloe booms, unzips her jacket all the way down and throws it on the floor. She wears a thin black tank top underneath, "I didn't want this!" She yells into, Fionas face with tears behind her shaking words.

Fiona stands her witchy ground, "He's an Omega. He likes it rough." Her wicked laugh's cut short by, Chloes fist crashing hard into her mouth. "Bitch." Chloe whispers, towering over, Fionas fallen body. My heart sings with pride as I fight back my smile while hauling her away to hike up the stairs to our room. Only one single girl rushes to, Fionas side. The rest stand frozen and shocked. Whether they were stunned at her many bruises, and healing throat or her mighty left hook; they didn't speak.

"You shouldn't have done that, Clo." Her mother worries in at the top of the stairs. I cover, Chloe with her jacket I grabbed off the floor before rushing away from the cat fight.
"Your mom's right." I tell her, "You should've let me hit her instead, this will only fuel the fire." Chloe faintly shakes her head in response. We stalk to the room and quickly shut the door.

"What's going on?" Chloes dad notices our flustered appearance. I sit with, Chloe on her bed and rub the middle of her back to calm her.
"Your daughter was in sort of a cat fight downstairs with a snotty girl." Her mother answers, grabbing a box from the floor.
"What?" Zen rushes to us and sits on her other side, "Are you okay?" I watch his eyes fall into her and I suddenly wish someone would one day look at me that way. Part of me wonders if I should leave the room and give them space, but I stay and milk my last day as her dorm mate.

"I'm fine." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear with her fingertips, "I can't believe she said that."
"Said what?" Zen looks to me, but I dodge it.
"Do you want to take a walk?" I ask her. She nods slowly staring forward at nothing. "Sure, I could use some air."
I stand and take her hand. Zen and her parents look worried, "Don't worry I'll protect her." I assure them, although I think she could very well knock someone out given the force of her punch.

The front entrance has cleared when we make our way out the door and take off on the sidewalk. I want to say something, anything that would make her feel better. I think back to the day I met her, and ache to see that girl again.

"What's on your mind?" I fill the silence with a stupid question. She stops walking and sits on an iron bench outside the math building. I join her, paying little attention to the gawking eyes that pass us.
"I just want this to be over." She admits. The folded envelope in my pocket makes a crumpled sound as I shift in my seat. "Oh," I pull it from my pocket, "Elkin wanted me to give this to you." She rips it open and pulls from it a folded letter.
"What is it?"
"It's an invitation. . . to add my work to his art show. It says he starts collecting a year in advance."
"That's good right?" I chirp. Chloe shoves the letter back in the envelope. "I'm leaving, Kat. Today." She sulks.

We sit on the cold hard bench for a while longer without talking, just watching. We watch the sidewalk crowd, each students legs wisp in long speedy strides to class.
"I have good news." I offer. Chloe straightens her back an inch and turns her head to face me, "Really?" She asks, half excited.
"I get to be, Elphaba. Well, for one night at least."
"That's...awesome, Kat." She smiles and takes my hand, "You'll be amazing up there."
"There's more." I wince, "I met a guy. A cute, funny guy." Chloe squeezes my hand.
"Good." She declares, "Maybe he'll be good company when I leave. I'm happy for you." Her smile is warm and honest.

I shoot a text to, Jack and let him know where we are. It takes a mere ten minutes for him to make it from the coffee house to our bench. Jacks face beams sunshine as he plops down on the freezing metal. His red hair blazing in the sun.
"What happened to your hand?" He refers to, Chloes swollen knuckles.
"She pulled a Jack on, Zacks girlfriend." I smile, she rolls her eyes and smiles too. Jacks chest jumps once with a huffy laugh.
"Really?" His breath fogs, "Well I don't see a mark on you. Must've been a knock out." Chloe shakes her head, "I'm sure it will be on the news." She says.
"Either way, I bet she deserved it." Jack stands, he holds a to-go cup. Steam simmers from the drinking slit of the lid.
"This is for you." He hands it to her, "I didn't want you to leave without having my coffee one more time." His gesture is sweet, and it instantly shifts her mood.
"Thank you, Jack." She stands to hug him before he leaves back to the busy coffee shop. Watching possibly their last encounter is bitter sweet. It's frigid sitting outside, we fail to fight it and carry on back to the dorms. Our feet take patient steps down the filthy sidewalk in no hurry. Steam boils from a grate in the pavement in the distance. I wish I had taken time to show her the city. Spent just one day away from my own selfishness to present the endless promise of mystery that the city offers.

The girls dorm comes closer and closer. From afar we can see her parents and, Zen loading her things into a silver SUV. Zen hoists a box into the open hatch and then closes it. They stand waiting at the car, her mother holds a white scarf folded over her arm. Before her family can haul her away forever I take, Chloe into a tight hug.
"I'll see you at the trial." She sniffs into my hair close to my ear.
"Be safe." I reply, and release her, falling into a teary mess. I've always hated crying in front of anyone. She smiles with her mouth closed while, Zen guides her to the car door. "I'll call you." She says stopping at the open door. I nod once, and she gets in after, Zen. The SUV rolls slowly into traffic, I watch until the silver car is too tiny to see anymore.

                                                                                        .**********

A short two days have flown by, and I still can't believe she's gone.
"Spread your fingers." A chubby black haired woman instructs me, as she blots emerald green body makeup on my hands. A storm rumbles in my stomach, the nervous tension in my body has had me on lock since daybreak. My chance has come to shine. To show the city what I've got. I keep my fingers spread wide and glance to the television. Chloe hasn't called since I watched her parents car fade away. If only you were here tonight, I think while watching her on the news.

More than a dozen reporters, and cameras flash over her as she walks as fast as she can up a paved walkway. It's dark there, her blonde hair blinding with each assaulting flash. Zen escorts her with a guiding arm strongly around her to sheild from the reporters, who shove their puffy microphones close to her face.
   "Chloe! Are you still pregnant?' An unseen woman yells and extends her mic, but she ignores it and hurries into a house, creating a barricade with a red door. Her home I assume.

   'Kat?" The makeup artist snaps her fingers in front of my face to release me from a trance. "Yeah?" I shutter to reality, "Sorry." I mutter, craning my neck allowing the artist to now blot my neck and face to match my green witch hands.
   "It's okay." Bubble gum pops inside her mouth. The sweet scent of cotton candy wafts from her open mouth. "You knew her right? The girl on the news... everyone's talking about it." She pops again. Her mousy voice piercing my ears. I'm baffled by her blunt question. I decide to ignore it, and enjoy my night without thinking about campus.

Backstage, beyond the closed curtain and in my dressing room it vibrates with electricity. People buzzing like bees, speaking into head sets attached to their heads, all focus their attention on me. I knew tonight would be glorious, and it hasn't failed me yet. Warm blood tingles my cheeks from the busy fuzzy feeling of the room.
   "Miss Kat?" A guy in a baseball hat asks from the open door.
   "Yes?" I turn to him giggling. Barely a teenager, strands of coiled sandy curls hang from around the black cap, boasting a radiant rose in the center.
   "These are for you." He blushes at the sight of my painted skin, beaming and emerald. He extends his arms from the door and places a vase filled with red roses on a table beside the door. "The security guy said I couldn't come in or else I'd hand them to you personally." The boy cracks an embarrassed smile, "Good night, and good luck." He bends at the hip, covers his chest with his right hand, and bows formally. I sit in my makeup chair speechless at the way the boy had just treated me; like I matter, like I'm famous.

My hair whips turning to the makeup artist, Nancy I think is her name. The night has been frantic, too busy to remember anyones name. I smile too wide, opening my eyes to the size of tea cups. I'm not supposed to  touch anything to my skin for thirty minutes until the paint dries completely. She stops blotting my fingers, "What?" She cocks her head, "Okay, fine. Don't say I never did anything for ya." She brings the vase closer and places it in front of me on the vanity lit by dozens of bulbs.
   "Just your fingertips." She reminds me.

The roses are beautiful, dark red, subtle splashes of babys breathe kiss at the outer circle. I go directly for the tiny envelope placed in the middle of the bouquet on a plastic stick. I carefully open the paper flap with the tips of my fingers, leaving partial green prints on the card.
      "Well?" The makeup artist asks with her hands firmly resting at her wide hips. "It's. . .Nothing." I smile, and lie holding the teeny card.

In romantic loopy swirling hand writing it reads:

      I'll continue to ask you out until the last rose dies.
                                                                                           Tyler
I keep the card in my hands, sit back into the chair, and stare at the flowers.
   "Hey!" The artist woman leans in close to adore the roses, "One of these flowers is fake!" She huffs out an annoying laugh, "Can't find good florists anymore." She tisks her gum popping mouth.

When it's time to head to the stage I tuck the card under the vase and give them one last look before leaving the room, followed by a herd of stage hands. My cell phone dings in my sweaty hands, glowing in the dark behind the curtain.
They're inside now.
The text message reads.

Earlier in the day today, I had the pleasure of having a driver for the day provided by my agent. The driver, Mr. Gordy, a middle aged man in a sleek coat and tie picked me up from the dorms. I felt like a princess as he held my fingers gently and helped me into the car. We drove off in the black town car, leaving behind us the confused girls of the dorm that had watched the scene go down. The leather seats had been polished to shine. My dress, a designer knock off that cost me two term papers stood no chance. As the car turned down a street I started to slide, the silky navy blue fabric held no grip against the leather. Luckily the blacked out window that divided the front and back seat was there to save me from embarrassment. I regained my balance, holding tight to the seat when the dividing window slowly hummed down.
   "Is there anyone you'd like for me to retrieve for the show?" Mr. Gordys british accent had just the right amount of  sophistication to make a girl feel royal.
   "Yes." I told him, watching out the window feeling dazed. The car pulled to the curb outside the theater entrance. Mr. Gordy hustled to my door and opened it smoothly. I had seen the bannering lights of the theater dozens of times, but today felt like I had seen them for the first time; magical.
   "Is everything alright, madam?" He squinted
   "I'm more than alright," my face glowed as I held the length of my dress away from the shining wet sidewalk, gawking at my name in lights above me on the theater marquee, "This is the address." I handed him a small piece of paper with my scribbled writing on it.
   "Very well." He smiled to me before watching my enter the theater.

A stage hand informs me that the show will start in five minutes. Every nerve in my body reacts, sizzling with excitement. I give a few bounces on my toes to get my wits about me. The enormous curtain slowly opens up to reveal the enchanting set on stage. I fall into the scenes like butter melting into toasted bread, seamless and without a quiver of fear. Each scene bursting from within me and floating by. Music booms with bass throughout the crowd as I fall into perfect harmony with my scenes counterpart, Glenda. An usher catches my attention. He guides my parents to their seats in the front row. I didn't expect them to come, the show is almost over.

My mothers face looks lazy, unsurprised, and bored as she watches me beside my father who mimics her.
Part of me starts to fade in my voice, a microscopic faulter while I take steps back into a darkened space of the stage. I look back to their faces just as people in black clothes, unseen by the audience connect an endless river of black fabric around my body. A harness underneath my black dress pulls slightly to let me know it's almost time. My heart explodes with warmth along with my voice. I have to show them, this is it. I think, gripping the broom stick in my hand tight.
My voice travels, growing and growing until my diaphram is at its edge; stronger than it's ever been as my feet leave the stage. I lift higher into the air, building my voice as I dangle in the air from wire. The final high note, lengthy and impossible blows past my lips effortlessly with my arms stretching wide.

It's the moment every performer dreams of. An inspiring performace that sets your name in stone to the business. When my feet touch back to solid ground I shoot a fast look to my parents. For a second I wonder if my adrenaline has fueled a hallucination. Both of my parents stand at attention, their hands look like a birds wings as they applaud. The boucing lights on stage sway across their faces, and I spot the smallest hint of a shimmering twinkle fall down my mothers cheek. Something I thought I'd never see from my parents. Pride.