Dorothy Must Die Novella #8, Page 3

  “So we agree,” Dorothy interrupted, “school is b-o-r-i-n-g. And frankly, so is the Emerald Palace. Tin and Scare are doing really important things, but they’re not around to keep me company. The Lion is sweet, but he’s not the sharpest tack in the box, and besides, his breath is terrible. And the Munchkins are . . . short. For one thing. And so docile!” Dorothy rolled her eyes. “It’s like none of them have ever had a single original idea in their entire lives. They’re great servants, obviously, but as far as fit companions for a queen . . . Right now, there just isn’t anyone in the palace who meets that description. I’m very choosy about people I spend time with, you know. Which is why I wanted to meet you.”

  “Me?” Polly asked, vaguely pleased and flattered.

  “Yes, of course. The stories about you are absolutely legendary. How pretty you are, obviously, but also how much fun. I would absolutely love to learn how to surf. I’ve never really been swimming, so that might be a problem, but can you teach me? Or we could just wander around the islands, hang out on the beach, tease the tourists—you know, that kind of thing. We could go on little tours of Oz. Talk about boys. You know, girl stuff.”

  “I was thinking of taking a trip to the bazaars at the Fringe,” Polly offered. Dorothy was definitely not into the same kinds of things Polly was, but she seemed fun all the same. It was good to spend time with different kinds of people.

  Dorothy clapped her hands together. “That’s perfect! Just the kind of thing I’d love. Oh, Polly, it’s so good to meet a girl after my own heart! I know we’re going to be the very best of friends.”

  Polly had never had a best friend before. Or a friend at all, really. The Sprites were sweet, but they weren’t exactly friends. Ozma was family, but at the end of the day, they were two sides of the same rainbow. And Bright . . . well, friend wasn’t exactly the word for whatever Bright was. Plus, he’d vanished, and who knew if he’d return. Polly had a feeling he’d be back, but she wasn’t the type to sit around moping. If he dropped by Rainbow Falls again while she was away, it would be his loss.

  “We can leave whenever you want,” Polly said. “But first, do you want to see Rainbow Falls? We can go swimming.”

  Dorothy clapped a palm to her forehead. “I’m such a ninny! I forgot my bathing costume!”

  “I don’t know what that is,” Polly said in confusion. “Everything you need we have here, I’m sure.”

  “I’m not like you, Polly,” Dorothy said solemnly. “Where I’m from we don’t go around in the—you know. Nude. It’s just not done.”

  “You’re in Rainbow Falls now,” Polly pointed out. “You’d look weirder dressed in the water than not.”

  Dorothy frowned. “I suppose you’re right. It’s good to try out new things, after all.”

  Polly nodded, pleased. “Exactly.” Here she was, being a good influence on the interim ruler of Oz. Who could call her irresponsible now? She jumped to her feet. “Let’s go look around!”

  “I just have to change first,” Dorothy said, and then paused. Polly looked at her expectantly.

  “In private?” Dorothy clarified.

  “Oh, sure,” Polly said. “Carmine, why don’t you put Dorothy in the suite next to my own rooms. And make sure there’s plenty of food and fresh water for the dog.”

  Dorothy was gone for a surprisingly long time. Settling in, most likely, Polly thought to herself. After all, how long could it possibly take to get dressed? Why you’d need different outfits for different activities was beyond her. But everyone did things his or her own way, and she reminded herself to be open-minded.

  Finally, Dorothy reappeared. She looked exactly the same, except that her dress—just as severely cut—was a bit shorter, and the fabric seemed more summery somehow. She was carrying a parasol and a picnic hamper, out from which Toto’s head poked. “My outdoors ensemble,” Dorothy explained. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

  “Not at all,” Polly said politely. “Just let me fetch my unicorn. He’s probably asleep under the bed.”

  Dorothy looked surprised—and maybe a little eager. “You have a unicorn? Aren’t they awfully hard to tame? I’ve always wanted a unicorn.”

  “Of course I have a unicorn. Unicorn!” Polly called sweetly. “Oh, unicorn!” She waited, but no sign of Heathcliff. With a sigh, she unearthed a jar of his favorite rainbow kibble from under one of the throne room’s cushions and rattled it. In seconds, Heathcliff came bounding into the room. Toto barked furiously and then hid inside the hamper.

  “Your horn’s crooked again,” Polly chided him, retying its bow. She offered the jar to Dorothy. “Do you want to feed him? He loves these. The Sprites make them in-house. Artisanal rainbow chews.”

  Dorothy’s eyes were huge with terror. “Oh . . . that’s very sweet of you but I’m all right. I thought you said he was a unicorn?”

  “Yes, and he’s a very good unicorn,” Polly said affably. “He loves to be brushed; you can do that too if you like.”

  Dorothy shook her head wildly. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude on your . . . routine.” Toto’s barks, muffled by the hamper lid, echoed through the throne room.

  “Toto!” Dorothy hissed, rapping on the hamper. “Don’t be rude. Polly’s—unicorn—is friendly. I think.”

  “He’s only ferocious when he’s protecting me,” Polly said, scratching Heathcliff under the chin.

  “How wonderful,” Dorothy said faintly. “You must be so pleased.”

  Polly adjusted Heathcliff’s horn one more time until it stood at a more regal angle from his head. He looked up at her lovingly and licked her forearm with his raspy pink tongue.

  “I think we’re all ready!” Polly said cheerfully. “Let’s take the carpet, shall we? There’s plenty of room.”

  “The carpet?” Dorothy asked. But Polly had already snapped her fingers, and within seconds a huge tapestry woven out of thousands of different-colored threads floated into the room. Grays shaded into blues; greens transformed into yellows; oranges flared into reds and pinks. Polly was used to it, but Dorothy was dazzled by the array of shades and textures. “Wow,” she breathed. The carpet waved one corner as if it could hear her, and then formed a set of steps that led to the ground. Dorothy ascended them daintily and settled herself at the carpet’s center with Toto in her lap. Heathcliff, ignoring the stairs, leapt up with a single bound. Polly climbed up after him. Heathcliff butted her shoulder with his huge head, knocking his horn askew again.

  “You galumph,” she said to him affectionately. “Carpet, take us around Rainbow Falls, please.”

  “It talks?” Dorothy breathed in astonishment.

  “Of course it doesn’t talk,” Polly said, surprised. “It’s a carpet. It just flies.”

  “But you just— Never mind,” Dorothy said, patting Toto. Toto growled. “Hush,” she chided him as the carpet floated out an open window.

  Showing visitors the splendors of Rainbow Falls from the air was one of Polly’s favorite things to do. She had spent her entire life there and even she never tired of the rainbow bridges and gleaming clouds, the splendor of Rainbow Falls, and the cloud moat that surrounded the Crystal Palace. Rainbow Falls was one of the most beautiful places in all of Oz. Dorothy gasped in delight as a flock of sky anemones floated past them, their multicolored tentacles trailing silvery dust. The rainbow mists were especially thick today, and the rich, deep calls of cloud surfers—huge, elusive, birdlike creatures with shimmering, iridescent scales—echoed eerily through the clouds.

  “It’s beautiful,” Dorothy exclaimed. She was looking around her as if she couldn’t even begin to take everything in. “I can’t believe you live here. It’s like Hawaii except with more colors.”

  “It’s like what?” Polly asked.

  “Oh, just somewhere in the Other Place. I’ve never actually been. But I’ve seen pictures. It’s supposed to be paradise.”

  “It’s very nice here,” Polly agreed.

  “It’s more than nice,” Dorothy said. �
��I could stay here forever.”

  “What’s it like in the Other Place?” Polly asked, curious.

  “Where I’m from it’s just horrible,” Dorothy said. “Colorless grass as far as you can see, miserable weather, locusts the size of boulders, boring old farm chores. It’s nothing like Oz at all. Why, if Aunt Em and Uncle Henry hadn’t . . .” She trailed off, looking suddenly sad. “Of course, they can’t anymore,” she said quietly. “They were killed, you know. My only family.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Polly said. Fairies didn’t have family, exactly. Sure, Ozma was her cousin, but all fairies were related to one another in the same kind of general way. She had no idea what it would be like to lose a family member, but she imagined it would be hard.

  “It was a terrible accident,” Dorothy said sadly. “They never even got to see Kansas again.”

  “It happened here?” Polly asked. She vaguely remembered Ozma saying something about them when she was droning on about all things Emerald City, but as with most things Ozma told her, it must have slipped in one ear and right out the other.

  Dorothy nodded. “I don’t want to blame anyone, but Ozma could have . . . She could have helped more.”

  “It’s not like Ozma to stand aside when something bad happens,” Polly said.

  “She did this time,” Dorothy said darkly.

  “Hmm,” Polly said. She didn’t like the serious turn the conversation was taking. “That’s too bad. What should we do next?”

  But Dorothy’s blue eyes were filling with tears. “Sometimes I miss them so much! Oh, Polly, I wish you hadn’t brought this up! It’s still so hard for me to talk about.”

  “But I didn’t—” Polly tried to remember the conversation. She hadn’t said anything about Dorothy’s aunt and uncle. Had she? She didn’t think so. But she couldn’t be sure. And now poor Dorothy was horribly upset. She tried to think of what Ozma would do in this situation. Even though Dorothy seemed to have some discontented feelings toward Ozma, remedying tears was definitely something her cousin would know how to handle better than her. “There, there,” she said, patting Dorothy awkwardly on the back. Toto yipped from his basket. Heathcliff licked Dorothy’s knee and she shrieked.

  “Get him off me!”

  “Heathcliff!” Polly tried to be stern, but she knew the unicorn was only trying to help. “He means well. He can be a little enthusiastic.”

  “I’d like to rest now,” Dorothy said. Her eyes were shut tightly. She seemed entirely distraught.

  “Oh dear,” Polly said under her breath. “Carpet, please take us back to the palace.”

  As soon as the carpet dropped them off, Dorothy grabbed Toto and hurried off to her room. Polly watched her go, slightly confused. She’d heard so much about Dorothy the Witchslayer. Every citizen of Oz had; Dorothy was a legend. She’d freed Oz and its people from the grip of a terrible tyrant. She’d unmasked the Wizard as a charlatan. She’d ensured that her closest companions received extraordinary gifts.

  But whatever Polly had expected from the real-life Dorothy, this wasn’t exactly it. She seemed almost fragile. Certainly more delicate than someone who’d fearlessly taken on wicked witches and all-powerful wizards. Still, Dorothy was from the Other Place. Maybe heroines were constructed differently there.

  She tried and failed to remember what Ozma had said about her. She couldn’t remember her cousin’s words any more than she could remember how many tides had come in that morning. Lost in thought, Polly was startled back to the present by a loud rumble from Heathcliff’s stomach. She laughed, forgetting about Dorothy, and gave him a scratch behind the ears. “You’re right, it’s time for a snack,” she said. “And then let’s go back to the beach.”

  Heathcliff purred in agreement.

  FOUR

  The next morning, Polly got up early to surf. By the time she returned to the palace, the sun was high in the sky. She let her mind wander back to the night she went surfing with Bright: the moon, the warm breeze, his abs . . . She blinked out of it when she reached the shore where Dorothy had arranged herself on a picnic blanket under her parasol. Toto frolicked through the palace gardens while Dorothy clapped her hands in amusement. The whole scene was as charming as something in a painting. “Polly!” Dorothy called, catching sight of her. “I’m trying to teach Toto to fetch. But he won’t listen to a thing I say!”

  Polly smiled. Dorothy’s mood of the previous day was clearly forgotten. She must have just been tired after her long journey from the Emerald City.

  “Doesn’t he speak?”

  Dorothy looked startled. “Why would he speak?”

  “All the animals in Oz do,” Polly said.

  “Well, he’s only a dog,” Dorothy said dubiously, looking at Toto. He looked back and forth between the two of them, his tongue lolling, and then barked and ran around in a circle.

  “See?” Polly said. “He knows we’re talking about him.”

  “Maybe Oz is making him smarter,” Dorothy said, pleased. “I mean, he’s no unicorn, but . . .” Did Dorothy look like she was glowering? “Anyway, when do we leave?”

  “Leave?”

  “You said you’d take me to the Fringe. To the bazaar.”

  “Oh, right,” Polly said. She’d already forgotten about that plan, the way she forgot about most of the plans she made. Plans were nice, but doing whatever you wanted whenever you felt like it was even better. “I don’t know, in a day or two?” The sun was warm, the rainbows were beautiful, and Polly was in no hurry to go anywhere. She knelt down on Dorothy’s picnic blanket.

  “A day or two from yesterday?” Dorothy asked. “So you mean today? Wonderful! Let me just go pack. Is it very hot next to the Deadly Desert?”

  “Warmer than here,” Polly said, smiling. Dorothy certainly had a lot of energy. It was hard to keep up with her. But maybe it was good for Polly, being around someone so completely different. Dorothy was very . . . driven. She was already running inside with Toto trailing after her, yapping excitedly. Polly closed her eyes. The blooming flowers in the garden hummed with buzzlebees. Maybe she would just lie down for a few moments. Her eyelids were so heavy . . .

  “Polly!” Dorothy cried. Polly sat bolt upright, startled out of her nap. “Are you ready? I am!”

  Polly rubbed sleep out of her eyes and then did a double take. Dorothy had enlisted Carmine and several other Sprites to carry her baggage out onto the lawn. Suitcases were piled on top of one another in teetering stacks. An array of hatboxes made a listing tower. Carmine’s arms were piled high with coats, scarves, and dresses that apparently hadn’t fit in Dorothy’s luggage.

  “Are you moving somewhere?” Polly asked.

  Dorothy giggled. “No, silly, I just packed for our trip. I have to bring my royal wardrobe, don’t I? I don’t think I need these coats, though, do I? Now that I’m Queen of Oz, I have to have the exact right thing to wear at all times!”

  “I don’t think it ever gets cold near the Deadly Desert,” Polly said, still trying to assimilate the spectacle of Dorothy’s baggage.

  “Oh, goody! In that case, you can put those back in my room,” Dorothy directed Carmine. He nodded obediently and traipsed back toward the palace. “I’m surprised you aren’t packed, Polly!”

  “What would I bring?” Polly asked, genuinely surprised. She was wearing clothes. There were things to eat and drink along the way. What else could she possibly need?

  Dorothy laughed. “Well, if you ever become real royalty, you’ll see what I mean. I wasn’t always so regal. Once upon a time I only had a few dresses, and they were downright hideous! Why, even Aunt Em and Uncle Henry used to—” And then her lower lip began to quiver.

  Polly knew that look. It meant tears. Polly didn’t do tears. The only water she was interested in was out there in the Falls.

  “I’ll get the carpet!” Polly interrupted quickly. “It’s the best way to travel.”

  Dorothy brightened, her tears forgotten. “I wish I had a flying carpet of my own. Don’
t you think a queen should have her own flying carpet? In the Other Place, we have airplanes, but I never got to—”

  “Here it is now!” Polly said before Dorothy upset herself again. The poor girl was so traumatized by her recent loss she obviously couldn’t help revisiting it again and again. Polly had sort of planned on seeing the bazaars by herself—she was a fan of solo travel, nobody’s agenda but her own—but Dorothy was sweet, sort of, and so was her little dog, and she definitely needed cheering up. Distracting people was Polly’s specialty. Besides, it wasn’t like the Fringe was going anywhere. If Polly liked it, she could always go back.

  Carmine helped load Dorothy’s remaining suitcases on the carpet and, together with Toto and Heathcliff, the girls took off. The carpet made a noise of disgust at the combined weight of people, pets, and luggage, but Polly quietly told it to contain its attitude. Dorothy was a guest. If she wanted to bring along the entire Emerald City, it was up to her. Privately, Polly wondered what anyone could possibly do with that much stuff, but it was none of her business when you got down to it.

  Dorothy turned out to be an ideal tourist. Flying was the best way to see Oz, of course, from the green-and-gold-patchwork farmlands of Munchkin Country to the deep emerald of the Forest of the Beasts. Polly pointed out the queendom of the winged monkeys as they floated past and Dorothy gave a little shiver. “I didn’t have the best time with them at first,” she said. “They turned out to be helpful in the end, but poor Scare! I don’t think he’ll ever forget that ordeal.” Polly nodded politely, not entirely sure what Dorothy was talking about—and, truth be told, too lazy to ask.

  Dorothy chattered on as they flew, telling Polly about her extensive adventures in Oz—“Oh, look!” she exclaimed. “There’s the poppy field! Why, the Lion was so passed out we had to enlist a whole army of field mice, it was ridiculous!”—and commenting happily on all the places she hadn’t yet seen. It was fun, Polly thought, to see Oz through a fresh set of eyes. There were so many places Dorothy hadn’t been yet, despite all the traveling she’d done the first time she came to Oz.