That was it. The journal ended there. The rest of the pages were blank. Nothing about her shoes, her return to Kansas, or anything that had happened in Oz. If there was any more writing hidden there, Mombi’s spell hadn’t revealed it. I sighed and closed the diary. All I’d discovered was that Dorothy was real—which I really, definitely already knew—and that someone had wanted to hide that fact. Someone with a lot of power. Someone who I was pretty sure wasn’t on my side. I hid Dorothy’s journal under my mattress and closed my eyes. I’d figure something else out in the morning. But for now, I was exhausted.
I tossed and turned for a while on my narrow bed, and when I finally fell asleep, I dreamed terrible dreams, reliving some of the worst moments I’d had in Oz. The spell I’d used to permanently separate Pete and Ozma while Ozma screamed in pain. Beheading the Lion, the fountain of his blood spurting all over me. Polychrome’s broken body. And in the background, Dorothy cackled away, mocking my inability to defeat her, her red shoes pulsing with that awful light.
Everything else faded away, and then I faced her alone on an open, dusty plain that looked strangely familiar. Gray-green lightning struck the barren earth around us, and thunder boomed in the distance. Dorothy’s eyes were crazy, and a hot wind whipped her checked dress and blew dust in my eyes until I could barely see. I reached deep within myself to find the magic to fight her, but there was nothing there. She laughed as she watched me struggle, and then snapped her fingers. Helpless, I watched swirling darkness gather itself over her open palm. She raised one hand to fling it toward me, and I threw up my arms as if that would somehow protect me. I could hear someone shouting my name, but faintly, as if he was far away. Someone familiar. Someone who could protect me. Dorothy advanced toward me, shrieking with laughter, and I knew she was about to kill me.
“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.