Yellow Brick War (Dorothy Must Die, #3)(21)

“Which part?”

“Amy, this story is insane. Your house gets wiped out by a tornado. You disappear for a month. You come back and tell everyone you were in the hospital, which is clearly not true, and now you’re obsessed with proving that a character in a cheesy old movie was a real person?”

“I . . . Well, yeah,” I said. “I mean, I’ll do it by myself. I understand if you don’t want to help me.”

“Help you do what, exactly?” Madison asked patiently, like I had the brain development of Dustin Jr.

“Find Dorothy’s sho—find, uh, more evidence that Dorothy existed,” I said lamely. “You know, like . . . I couldn’t even find the rest of the article. But I know there has to be some kind of . . . I don’t know, newspaper collection or something. Her farm was where the high school is now. I mean, there has to be more about her.”

“How do you know Dorothy’s supposedly real farm was in the same place as the high school?” Madison asked.

“I, uh . . . ,” I faltered. “I just, um, guessed.” They were both looking at me like I had grown an extra head. “Come on, you guys, if we can prove Dorothy existed, we’ll be completely famous. On TV. Interviews and stuff. You name it.” Madison was starting to look intrigued instead of suspicious. “Anyway, I thought maybe I could start by trying to find the whole Baum article and, uh, starting from there.”

“Why don’t you just go to the library?” Dustin asked.

“The library?”

“Flat Hill’s historical archive is in the library at the high school,” he pointed out. “I had detention one time and they made me dust back there.”

“Oh my god, Dustin, you’re a genius,” I breathed. Of course. It was so obvious. Here I was, worrying about magic, when all I needed was to find an old newspaper.

“He’s okay,” Madison said, patting him on the shoulder.

“The only thing is, they keep the really old stuff locked up, and you have to have special permission to get back there,” Dustin added. “I think you have to be writing a paper about it or something.” My heart sank. Great, just what I needed. Everything I needed was locked up in some dusty old room no one really cared about, and I couldn’t even break in using magic.

“Maybe I could sneak into school at night,” I said.

“Wow, you are really serious about this,” Madison said. “Why don’t you just get detention?”

“What?”

“If that’s how Dustin got back there, it’ll probably work for you, too,” Madison said reasonably. “We can get detention, too, if you want company,” she added, holding Dustin Jr. aloft with a wicked gleam in her eye. “Pissing off Strachan is like my new full-time job. Dustin can pee on his desk or something.”

“No way,” Dustin said.

“I meant the baby.”

“I know you meant the baby. I mean no way can you piss off Strachan, Mad. He’s itching for an excuse to throw you out of school. But if you want help looking, Amy, I can go with you. I just have to show up late for class a couple of times.”

Madison stuck out her glossy lower lip in a fake pout. “You’re so boring,” she sighed.

“Strachan would love to throw me out, too,” I mused. “I have to figure out a way to get in trouble without actually getting in trouble.”

“Don’t you have detention already? Like, technically?” Madison asked, batting her eyelashes. “I seem to remember a certain hallway fight with a defenseless pregnant chick.”

“Of course,” I said, practically slapping my forehead with the heel of my hand. “I’ll just tell him I feel bad getting out of my suspension. You’re totally brilliant, Madison.”

“I know,” she said airily, polishing off her sundae and eyeballing the dish like she was ready to order another. How was she so fit? “Breastfeeding,” she said, answering my unasked question. “Plus, carrying this little sucker around all day is a total workout. I’m in the best shape of my life.”

“If I watch you eat any more ice cream, I’m going to puke,” Dustin said firmly, pushing the plate away. Dustin Jr. woke up and wailed aloud as if in protest. Heads turned as Madison tried unsuccessfully to shush him. “We better get home,” Dustin said to me. “But I’ll see you tomorrow in the clink.” He grinned, and I wanted to hug them both. For the first time since I’d gotten back to Kansas, I had a plan.

“See you tomorrow,” I said.





TWELVE


I let myself into my mom’s apartment building. The hallway was dim and quiet. Someone’s cat slunk past me—probably the source of the cat-pee smell in the hallway. My mom was home, and the apartment was full of delicious cooking smells. A guy I didn’t recognize was sitting on the couch.

“Hi,” he said, jumping to his feet eagerly as I walked in. “You must be Amy. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Jake.” He held out one hand and I stared at him for a second before realizing he meant for me to shake it.

“Uh, hi,” I said. He was pretty handsome, in a farmer kind of way—he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, but his stubble gave him a rugged, manly look instead of a scruffy one. He was wearing a T-shirt that revealed tan, muscled arms, and jeans that were clean but far from new. He took off his John Deere baseball cap as he shook my hand.