I stared at them. “Wait, what do you mean her original shoes? Like, the ‘no place like home’ ones? Those are real, too?” I almost started laughing. What was I thinking? Of course they were real. If Oz was real, why not Dorothy’s magic silver shoes?
“The first time Dorothy came to Oz,” Glamora explained, “she didn’t want to stay for good.”
“If only she’d never returned,” Gert sighed.
“My sister, Glinda, sent her home with a pair of enchanted silver shoes—the predecessors to the pair that brought her back here a second time. Dorothy always assumed they’d been lost when she crossed the Deadly Desert, and though she tried to find them again, she was never able to.” I wasn’t sure how to explain to Glamora that all this Ozian history was a series of classic books—not to mention a hit movie—in Kansas, so I didn’t bother trying. “But what if the shoes are still here?”
“Here, like Kansas?”
“She means here here,” Mombi said. “Where Dorothy’s farm used to be.”
“Dorothy’s farm used to be in Dusty Acres?” I asked.
“Not exactly,” Glamora said. “Dorothy’s farm used to be in the exact spot where your school is sitting right now.”
“High school,” Gert prompted. She looked at me with her eyebrows raised. “Barbaric system, really. Oz’s method of apprenticeship is vastly superior.”
Were they serious? Dwight D. Eisenhower Senior High had somehow been sheltering the long-lost magic silver shoes of Oz this whole time? It was almost too much. If only Madison Pendleton had known that when she’d done her book report on The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Not that she’d have needed anything extra to get her A+. Everybody loved Madison already. Everyone, that is, except for me. “How do you even know the shoes are still magic?” I asked. “What if they don’t work anymore? What if they only go one way, from Oz back to the Other—um, back to Kansas?”
Mombi sighed. “You’re right. It’s a long shot. But it’s the only shot we have. We have to take the chance.”
“Okay,” I said, “so you guys find the shoes. Then what?”
“Amy,” Glamora said, “we’re not going to find the shoes. If you agree to help us, you are.”
“But I don’t understand how,” I argued. “I mean, my magic doesn’t work here any better than yours does. Why can’t you find them without me?”
“Because they’re in your high school,” Gert said. “It would look a little funny if three old ladies and a teenage boy showed up for class in the middle of the school year, don’t you think? Consider it an undercover mission.” She beamed. “To tell you the truth, you’re our only hope at this point. If you want to help us get back to Oz, you have to go back to high school.”
THREE
“No,” I said. “No way. Absolutely, positively, no way in hell am I going back to high school. I didn’t even want to come back to Kansas.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Mombi said.
“Well, I do. I am not a member of the Quadrant.”
“Amy,” Gert said gently. “We still need you.”
“Why don’t you just glamour yourselves?” I said, exasperated. I wanted to help them—at the very least, it would distract me from the decision I had to make. But I sure didn’t want to help them like this.
“Amy, you’ve already realized how difficult it is for us to use magic here,” Glamora said. “We’re close to where the Wizard opened the portal, so we still have some connection to Oz. But the farther we get away from Dusty Acres, the weaker we’ll probably be. We simply don’t know what effect Kansas will have on our power, and we can’t risk a long-term glamour spell.”
“You don’t need me. You can send Nox,” I said. “He can be—he can be a foreign exchange student. From, uh, France.”
Glamora cocked her head at me quizzically. “From what?”
“It’s like a—uh, it’s like Quadling Country,” I said. “But with baguettes.” The witches stared at me blankly, and the stupidity of my own idea hit me. Right. A foreign exchange student with no papers, no parents, and no passport. A foreign exchange student who had never even heard of the country he was supposedly from. Nox would last about five minutes at Dwight D. Eisenhower Senior High, dreamboat hair or no dreamboat hair.
I didn’t want to admit it any more than Mombi did, but the witches were right. Whether or not I wanted to go back to Oz myself, they didn’t have a chance of finding the shoes without me. And unless I could come up with a better plan—not that theirs was much of one—the shoes were the only chance they had.
“I can’t even get extra credit for learning magic,” I muttered. “How long have I been in Oz anyway? Everyone in Kansas probably thinks I’m dead.”
“You know time works differently here than it does in Oz,” Gert said. “As far as we can figure out, about a month of your time has passed while you were in Oz.”