Abby in Oz
Page 3
The Munchkins lead us off the yellow brick road and onto a gray brick road. As we walk, I notice that the bright colors of the grass and flowers and bridges gradually fade away until there’s nothing but gray. It’s like a rainbow freezie that’s had all its juice sucked out, leaving just gray ice. Even the sky has turned gray, but that might be because the sun is setting.
Up ahead, I see a castle come into view. Like everything else, it’s charcoal gray. That must be the witch’s castle. Which means we’re almost to the dungeon.
Oh, no.
When we reach the gray stone door of the castle, the blue-mustached Munchkin opens the door and orders us all to step inside.
“Can’t you just let us go?” I ask the Munchkin. “You can tell the witch we ran away!”
“Are you kidding me?” the Munchkin says. “She’s watching us from her window! And besides, we have no choice but to carry out her wishes. As long as she’s alive, anyway.”
“If only your tree house had landed on her,” another Munchkin says. “That would have helped a lot.”
No kidding.
We follow the blue-mustached Munchkin down a long flight of curving stone steps. Once we’re at the bottom, the Munchkin closes the door behind us. We hear it lock.
Crumbs.
Frankie, Penny, Robin, Dorothy, and I all look at one another in silence. We’re in a room with a cement floor and two benches.
But there’s another door in the wall! Yay! A way out?
I open it.
No. A small toilet.
Oh, well. At least there’s that.
“I wish we could text or call someone for help,” Robin says, patting her hoodie pockets. “I left my phone back in my bedroom.”
“I have my phone!” Penny says, taking her cell phone out of her back pocket. Then she frowns. “But no service.”
I check the time on Penny’s phone. Seven P.M. It makes sense that it’s seven P.M. here in Oz. But when we were back in Robin’s tree house, it was only about two P.M. Penny’s phone must have adjusted for the time in Oz.
Time always passes differently in books and stories than it does back home. I have a watch that tracks the correct time back in Smithville, but I forgot to wear it today.
It feels like we’ve been here in Oz for about an hour, but an hour here could be three hours at home. You never know. Robin’s parents could be totally freaking out right now. They could be calling my parents and Frankie’s parents and Penny’s parents. Or they might not even realize we’re gone. Hopefully not that much time has passed back home yet.
I set Prince down and he sniffs at the floor. But Dorothy keeps Toto tight in her arms.
“My aunt and uncle are going to be really worried,” she says. “I want to go home!”
“I want to explore Oz,” Penny says. “Which I definitely can’t do from a dungeon.”
And I want to get everyone safely out of here before Gluck finds us. And before our parents notice we’re missing (along with an entire tree house).
“Frankie?” I say, turning to my friend. She’s leaning against the wall and scowling. “We need to know what happens next in the book.”
“Who cares what happens?” Penny says, throwing up her hands. “We messed it up. It’s not happening anymore!”
“It’s still helpful to know,” I say. “Trust me. I am the expert in this situation.”
“I’ve been into just as many books as you have,” Penny tells me.
“That’s ridiculous,” I reply. “You have only been in one. I’ve gone into a dozen fairy tales without you!”
“Fairy tales,” she says. “Not books. We’ve both only been inside one book. Right?”
My shoulders stiffen. Sure, maybe she’s right, technically. But still.
“Guys?” Robin says. “Can you stop fighting?”
I sigh. “Sorry,” I say. I turn back to Frankie. “Can you please fill us in on what happens next? We left off when Dorothy —?”
“Dorothy?” Dorothy asks.
“Dotty,” I say quickly, “saw the witch and her shoes under the house.”
“And then everyone sings!” Penny says.
“In the movie everyone sings,” Frankie says. “There’s no singing in the book. But that’s when the Good Witch of the South, Glinda, shows up. She’s nice. She thanks Dotty for killing the evil witch.”
“Oh, right,” I say. “Glinda! We didn’t meet her! I wonder why she didn’t come.”
Frankie’s eyebrows scrunch together. “In the book, the Munchkins send for her after Dotty kills the witch. So since the witch never died, they never sent for her.”
“Aha.” Foiled again.
“Anyway,” Frankie continues, “Glinda is the one who gives Dotty the witch’s silver slippers. She tells Dotty to follow the yellow brick road to the Emerald City to ask the Wizard of Oz to send Dotty home. And along the way Dotty meets a scarecrow who wants a brain, a tin man who wants a heart, and a lion who wants courage. Hoping to get these things from the Wizard, they all head to the Emerald City together.”
“Do they actually get there?” Robin asks.
Frankie nods. “It takes a while, but yes. When they arrive in the Emerald City, they ask to see the Wizard. He finally agrees to meet with them one by one. He changes shape for each of them. For Dotty, the Wizard is a big head. For the Lion, he’s a terrifying beast. For the Tin Man, he’s a beautiful fairy. And for the Scarecrow, he’s a big ball of fire. The Wizard tells each of them that to get what he or she wants, they must kill the Wicked Witch of the West.”
Dorothy flinches. “This story sounds scary,” she says.
“It’s a little scary,” I admit.
“Wait,” Robin says. “I thought you said Dotty’s house landed on the witch and killed her?”
“It did,” I answer. “But that was the Wicked Witch of the EAST. Now they have to kill her sister — the Wicked Witch of the WEST.”
“So violent,” Robin says, shivering.
Dorothy crosses her arms. “This story is starting to freak me out.”
“Nobody WANTS to kill the witches,” I explain. “It’s an accident both times. Dotty kills the second witch when she throws a bucket of water on her and melts her. She had no idea that water killed witches.”
“True,” Frankie says. “So then the whole group goes back to the Emerald City to tell the Wizard they killed the witch,” she continues. “But the Wizard pretty much ignores them. And then Dotty realizes that he’s just a fake! He’s not really a wizard! He’s just a regular person from the Midwest like she is. He’s been pretending to have magical powers all that time because he arrived in Oz in a hot-air balloon that crashed and everyone thought he came from the sky. He’s just a ventriloquist with really good disguises.”
“What’s a ventriloquist?” Robin asks.
“Someone who can make their voice sound like it’s coming from somewhere else,” Frankie explains.
“So there’s nothing magical about the Wizard at all,” I add. “It’s the same in the movie.”
Frankie nods. “The Wizard feels bad for pretending. Since the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion still want their wishes granted, he pretends to give the Scarecrow a brain, the Tin Man a heart, and the Lion courage. He tells them he’ll make them a hot-air balloon to take Dotty home, but the balloon flies off with the Wizard in it. So Dotty visits Glinda the good witch, and Glinda tells Dotty that the silver shoes she was wearing the whole time are magical — all she has to do is tap them together three times and then they’ll take her anywhere she wants to go in three steps. And so that’s what she does. Dotty says a teary good-bye to her new friends and then takes her steps and suddenly she’s back in Kansas with her aunt and uncle, who are excited to see her.”
“There’s no place like home,” I say, remembering the movie with a smile.
Dorothy blinks a bunch of times. “I agree. But … Dotty lives with her aunt and uncle in Kansas? I live with my aunt and uncle in Kansas!”
“Wow
, what a coincidence,” I say quickly.
We have to get Dotty — I mean Dorothy — home. We have to get us home. But HOW are we going to get out of here? I crane my neck. I can see windows letting in a little light, but they’re very high up, probably at ground level.
I hate dungeons. I really do.
Grr-ruff! Toto growls at Prince.
Grr-ruff! Prince barks back.
“Your dog isn’t very nice,” Dorothy says, patting Toto.
“Um, your dog growled first,” I say.
I wonder if Robin will still want a dog of her own after being locked in a dungeon with two cranky ones.
Dorothy sighs. “Poor Toto just wants to go home. Like I do.”
“We know,” Frankie snaps. “We want to go home, too, Dorothy. You’re not the only one trapped in here.”
Robin and I give each other a look. Frankie has been cranky today too. What is up with her?
Dorothy’s eyes fill with tears. “There has to be a way out,” she says. “We can’t be stuck here forever!”
“Do you know what the worst part is?” Penny asks, crossing her arms. “I only have one more piece of gum in my pocket. Since we don’t know how long we’re going to be here, I don’t know if I should chew it now or save it.”
“Yeah, that’s a real dilemma,” Frankie says, rolling her eyes.
A cold blast of air suddenly fills the dungeon. What is that? The windows aren’t open. If they were, we could sneak out.
“Is there a ghost in the story?” Robin asks, wrapping her arms around herself.
“No,” Frankie says, her teeth chattering.
My teeth chatter, too, and I sneeze again. Ugh. This freezing temperature can’t be good for me if I’m getting sick.
Then the cold air is gone as quickly as it came. That was weird. Broken air vent?
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s brainstorm. Clearly we need to get the witch’s silver shoes. Once we have them, we can use them to go home. Right?” I look at Frankie.
She nods. “That makes sense to me.”
“But how do we get the shoes?” Penny asks. “Since they’re otherwise occupied.”
“Do you mean they’re on the witch’s feet?” Robin asks.
Frankie rolls her eyes again. “Of course that’s what she meant.”
Robin blushes.
I give Frankie a what-is-going-on-with-you? look, but she ignores me and says, “Anyway, the answer is clear.”
It is?
“It is?” Penny asks.
“Yes,” Frankie says. “Remember how Dorothy accidentally threw water on the witch and killed her?”
“I did?” Dorothy asks. “No, I didn’t! I thought Dotty threw water on the mean witch?”
“OMG, Dorothy, there is no Dotty!” Frankie yells. “There is a book — no, a whole series written about you and what happens to you in Oz, and that’s what we’re talking about, okay?”
“Frankie!” I cry. “We can’t say stuff like that! It messes up the stories!”
“The story is already pretty messed up,” she points out.
True.
Dorothy’s lower lip quivers. “But … but … what does that mean? I’m just a character in a book?”
Crumbs.
“Does that mean I’m not even real?” She looks down at her little black dog. “That Toto isn’t even real?”
“Exactly,” Frankie says, just as I say, “It’s complicated.”
Robin puts her arm around Dorothy. “She feels real,” she says. She tickles Dorothy’s waist. Dorothy laughs.
“See? She even laughed,” Robin says.
“She’s real enough,” I say, and turn back to Frankie. “Can you stop freaking out the characters and just tell us your plan to get us the silver shoes?”
Frankie shrugs. “It’s so obvious. We dump a glass of water on the witch’s head. Then we take the shoes off her feet.”
We all gasp.
“You want us to kill someone?” Robin exclaims.
It does seem a little extreme.
“Abby, you said you wanted to keep the story intact,” Frankie says. “And that’s what Dorothy did in the story. She killed both witches! So why shouldn’t she do it now?”
Frankie has a point, but it still feels wrong. “The house landing on the witch was an accident,” I say. “So was throwing water on the witch. Well, Dorothy threw the water at the witch on purpose, but she had no idea it would make her melt.”
“I guess,” Frankie says.
“Let’s just focus on getting the magic shoes,” Penny says.
“Don’t even bother,” a voice says. And we all freeze.
I look at Frankie, Robin, Penny, and Dorothy. That wasn’t any of their voices.
It didn’t sound like the witch’s voice, either. But it did come from the other side of the dungeon door.
There’s a small window in the door, and when I look through, I see a skinny Munchkin girl in a blue dress and pointy purple shoes. She has long curly blue hair and blue lip gloss. At least she’s not carrying a spear.
“Oh, hi,” I say. “We didn’t know you were there!”
“Sorry,” the Munchkin says, waving. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. Or be all negative. But it’s hard to be positive when you constantly have to do things against your better judgment.”
“What do you mean?” Robin asks, coming to stand beside me.
“All us Munchkins are magically enslaved by the wicked witch,” she explains. “We hate her. But we have to do what she says even though we don’t want to.”
Right.
“That must be hard,” I say.
“It is!” she says with a nod, her curly hair bouncing on her shoulders. “I’m Orly. The dungeon guard. And I really feel bad about you girls — and dogs — being locked down here.”
“I’m Abby,” I say. “And this is Robin, Frankie, and Penny. And that’s Dorothy in the blue-and-white dress. Oh, and this is Prince,” I say, giving Prince’s paw a little wave. “And that dog in Dorothy’s arms is Toto.”
Toto barks.
“Orly?” Robin asks through the door. “Since the witch isn’t here, maybe you can just open the door with your key and let us out? Dorothy really wants to go home. We all do.”
Orly shakes her head. “Wish I could,” she says. “But you’ll have to come up with a plan that doesn’t include me.”
“I have an idea,” Penny says, coming over to the door, too. “We wait until the witch falls asleep and then swipe her magic silver shoes.”
“Impossible,” Orly says. “The witch sleeps in them!”
Oh. Of course she does.
“How about when she’s taking a shower?” Robin asks.
“Water makes her melt,” I say. “She probably doesn’t shower.”
“She definitely doesn’t shower,” Orly says. “She is super stinky.”
“Ew!” Penny exclaims, holding her nose. “That sounds even worse than a smelly dog.”
“Dogs are not smelly,” I protest.
Ruff! Prince barks, as if in agreement. Ruff, ruff!
Penny sighs. She kicks off one of her sneakers and wiggles her big toe. “I think I’m getting a blister.”
Toto whimpers.
“Aww, Toto, it’s okay,” Dorothy coos to him. “We’ll be home soon. And we’ll run around the prairie and have all sorts of fun and play fetch!”
As soon as Dorothy says “fetch,” Toto springs out of her arms. He and Prince both make a run for Penny’s loose shoe. Prince grabs it in his mouth and charges back across the room.
“Hey! Stop that, mutt!” Penny cries to Prince.
“Sorry,” I say. “Dorothy said ‘fetch.’”
“He better give me back my shoe,” Penny says. She hops over to Prince, holding her bare foot off the ground. “Bad dog! Bad dog!”
“He didn’t know,” I say. “Prince, drop the shoe.”
Prince drops it and Penny picks it up. “Ew. It’s wet. My fancy new sneaker!”
It
’s just a shoe. It’s not like it has magic powers or anything. Unless …
“Penny!” I exclaim. “You have fancy new sneakers!”
“Yes,” she says. “I do. Correction, I have fancy new sneakers that are now covered in dog slobber.”
I ignore the comment. “What if we convinced the witch that your sneakers are magical? That they are even more magical than her silver slippers? And then somehow get her to trade her shoes with yours?”
“I don’t want to give up my new shoes!” Penny protests, putting the slobbery shoe back on.
“It’s a good plan,” Frankie says.
Penny sticks out her feet, showing her shoes off to everyone. “I guess they’d be worth trading for ruby slippers … and I can always get another pair of these. Ruby slippers are one in a million.”
“Silver slippers,” I correct.
“Why do they call them slippers?” Robin asks. “They’re not bunny slippers.”
“I think it’s just another word for shoes,” I explain hastily. “And we need them to get us out of here.”
“Yay, I’m getting the magic slippers!” Penny exclaims.
“Dorothy is,” I say.
“It doesn’t have to be Dorothy,” Penny says. “Any of us could wear the slippers.”
I roll my eyes. “But Dorothy is the one who ends up with the shoes in the story.”
“But I’ll be the one giving up my shoes,” Penny says.
We can argue technicalities later.
I look out the door window again. “Orly, could you summon the witch for us?”
Orly shakes her head. “She always ignores us Munchkins when we ask to see her.” Her eyes light up. “But I know how you can do it.”
“How?” I ask.
“Remember how cold it got in here before?” Orly says.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Well, every so often, the witch will spy on you down here in the dungeon using her magic ball. If it gets really cold in here, that’s how you know she’s watching!”
“So how does that help us?” Robin asks.
“When you know the witch is watching,” Orly says, “start talking about how magical and special Penny’s shoes are. She’ll want them. Trust me, she’ll want them.”
“Perfect,” I say.
“Not really,” Frankie says. “Wouldn’t she realize that if Penny’s shoes were really magical, we’d be out of here by now?”