Yellow Brick War (Dorothy Must Die, #3)(29)
“But you’re just a girl,” I said, and her face creased in confusion. “You’re just a girl from Kansas. Just like me.”
“No!” she screamed, raising her hand. “I’m not like you! I’ll never be that little girl again!”
“Amy!” shouted the faraway voice. “Amy, no!” Suddenly, I knew who he was.
“Nox!” I screamed his name into my dark room, sitting bolt upright with my heart pounding. Seconds later, my mom flung open the door to my room and came running in.
“Amy? Amy, are you okay? What on earth is happening?”
It took me a long time to remember where I was. “I had a bad dream,” I whispered. My mom made a sympathetic noise, and put her arms around me, humming a snatch of a song she used to sing me to sleep with when I wasn’t much more than a baby.
“It’s okay,” she said gently. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” If I was going back to Oz, I couldn’t let myself get weak. Nobody sings you lullabies in the middle of a war.
“I’m fine,” I said gruffly. “Just go back to sleep.”
“Okay, honey,” she said softly, and turned to go, closing the door behind her. It took all the willpower I had not to call her back. I just wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. But that would have been a lie. Nothing was going to be okay again as long as Dorothy was alive.
As I fell asleep, I thought one last time about Nox. The dream had felt so real—I could have sworn I’d really heard him, as if he really was trying to help me. But I had no idea where he was, or if he wanted to help me even if he could. Mombi was gone and I had no way of contacting her. I had no idea how to get back to Oz, and no clue what to do next. This time, I was completely on my own. I felt tears dampening my pillow as I slid back into a dark and mercifully dreamless sleep.
SIXTEEN
Jake was gone the next morning, but my mom was up before I was and had made me scrambled eggs and toast. Really, really burned toast. I took a couple of triangles to be polite, and she sighed. “I’m still getting the hang of this domestic thing,” she admitted. “You don’t have to eat them.”
“The blackened part is good for you,” I reassured her, but when her back was turned I tossed my toast into the garbage.
She pressed another bag lunch into my hand as I headed for the door. “See you tonight!” she called. “I won’t be home late from work.” She paused for just a second as I opened the door. “Love you, Amy,” she said softly. I hesitated, and the door swung closed on her anxious face.
“You too,” I murmured as I walked away.
Dustin and Madison were waiting for me when I got to school. There was some part of me that almost longed for this halfway normal new life with a mom who cared about taking care of me and actual friends who weren’t Munchkins or talking monkeys. I hadn’t realized how much I had wanted this kind of normal life until I had it (sort of). But then I remembered that Dustin and Madison were only being nice to me and my mom had only gotten her act together because I’d vanished for a month. If I’d stayed in Kansas, my normal life would have kept on the same as ever: one long, crappy day after another. It was too strange to think about, and so I decided not to.
“Ready for day two of detention?” Dustin asked me as we walked toward first period. I’d left Dorothy’s journal at home, figuring it was safe under my mattress. “Maybe we’ll find something else in the library.” I was about to tell him I didn’t think that was likely when it hit me. If Baum had interviewed the real Dorothy, maybe the secret to her shoes was somewhere in his books. At the very least, I could look up the Nome King. Baum had used the real Dorothy’s memories to write his stories, even though he’d probably thought she was making everything up. If he’d described the Nome King, I might find out something that could help.
We were just passing the dusty old Dorothy diorama when Dustin stopped short. “Here comes trouble,” he said under his breath. “Mad, maybe you should get out of here.” Assistant Principal Strachan was heading straight for us, and he looked really pissed.
“I’m not going to abandon you guys,” Madison protested. Dustin Jr. started to cry.
“Miss Gumm, Mr. Cheever,” Assistant Principal Strachan said icily as he descended on us. “I have a few questions for you about the cleaning job you did yesterday afternoon.” He stressed the word cleaning with unmistakable sarcasm. “Miss Pendleton, you may go to class.”
“But—” Madison protested as the first bell rang.
“Is there a problem, Miss Pendleton?”
Madison stared him down, and for a second I thought she was actually going to fight him. When Madison’s scariness was on my side, it was pretty awesome. Even Assistant Principal Strachan looked a little intimidated. But after a tense pause, she shrugged. “Not today, sir,” she drawled, bouncing the still-crying Dustin Jr. in his baby wrap. “See you guys around,” she added, giving Dustin Sr. an ostentatious kiss on the mouth with a satisfied smack before she turned around and sauntered away, her pink-velour-clad butt swishing saucily. I had to hand it to the girl. She had attitude.
The hallway had cleared, and it was just me, Dustin, and Assistant Principal Strachan standing in front of the dusty old glass case. I cleared my throat. “Did you need something from us, sir?”