Dorothy Must Die
Page 103
“Thank you,” she said, her voice all sugary sweet. “I’m so happy you could all make it here tonight to help me celebrate this wonderful occasion.”
A Munchkin in a bright-orange tuxedo standing in front of me turned to his companion, a squat, monkish man wearing a patterned kimono and a tentacle-like braid, and whispered, “What is the occasion anyway?”
“She just wanted to have a party,” the other replied.
I’d assumed this was some Oz holiday I didn’t know about. But all this work had just been for a whim.
Meanwhile, Dorothy draped a hand across her forehead.
“As many of you know, the last week has been a difficult one for me. One of my closest confidantes was revealed to be a wicked, nasty traitor, and as you can imagine, I was quite devastated. But I’m overjoyed to say that it’s all been sorted out, and things are better than ever. Now, before we get back to our dancing, I’d like to introduce a very special guest who I’m so thrilled to have here.”
The ballroom grew silent and we heard a rustling from the back of the room. A low murmur rippled through the crowd as it parted to make way for the new arrival. Who could Dorothy be talking about?
Then I saw her, lurching forward in jerky, awkward movements and barely balancing a serving tray full of drinks. Her face was bruised and swollen and her green maid’s uniform was splattered with blood. Where her eyes should have been there were instead just two empty, blackened sockets. Her mouth was hanging open as if it had been frozen in mid-scream.
“Unfortunately there was a bit of a mishap during her interrogation,” Dorothy said, “but luckily the Scarecrow was clever enough to reanimate her corpse so that she could be here tonight. Deceased or not, I wouldn’t want my favorite servant to miss the most fabulous party Oz has ever seen.”
It was Jellia.
The Munchkin in front of me dropped his glass. It didn’t shatter but was instead swallowed into the night sky beneath our feet. I assumed, around the room, other glasses were slipping soundlessly from other shocked hands.
I barely managed to steady my serving tray.
No one seemed to know what to do as Jellia limped forward—everyone’s face seemed to bear the same look of horrified confusion. Even Sindra had stopped dead in her tracks to stare, tears reflecting in her eyes.
“Well, have a drink!” Dorothy urged us all. “Go on. It would disappoint me so much if you didn’t.” Her voice was cheery, but there was something in her eyes, something tantamount to a dare.
The giant frog in the three-piece suit looked hesitantly at Jellia, then back at Dorothy, and finally plucked a glass of pink champagne from the tray.
“Here’s to loyalty,” Dorothy said. Slowly turning in a circle so she could see everyone in the room, she raised an empty glass as if to toast. Everyone followed suit, raising their glasses, too.
“To loyalty!” they cried out. This time, it didn’t sound so enthusiastic, but Dorothy didn’t seem to care.
Suddenly the lights went out. For the briefest moment it was pitch-black. A flapping noise came from overhead, like bats soaring from a cave, and then the room lit back up, now bathed in a dim, warm glow. Several winged monkeys swooped slowly above us, each one with a sparkling chandelier harnessed to its midsection by a dangling chain.
“Now let’s get this party started!” Dorothy howled. She let out a jubilant whoop, and dance music began to blast. Dorothy began to shimmy and shake, and soon the rest of the room was dancing, too.
Jellia continued her march around the room, tottering back and forth, stiff-legged, her empty eye sockets collecting stray pieces of glitter. Everyone she passed reluctantly helped themselves to a drink. It became a secondary sort of dance, watching guests anxiously shift around the room to keep clear of Jellia’s path.
I tasted blood. I’d bitten down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from screaming out loud. I couldn’t believe I’d ever hesitated at the idea of killing Dorothy. Watching Jellia stagger around the room, a mockery of life, it took everything in me not to rush Dorothy right then.
“Ah, Astrid, long time no see.”
The Scarecrow stood next to me, his scratchy hand coming to rest lightly on the small of my back. I’d been so distracted giving Dorothy murder-eyes, I hadn’t noticed him approach. He plucked a flute of champagne from my tray, but didn’t drink it. I wondered if it would soak right through him.
“Aren’t these little gatherings just dreadful?” he asked me idly, his button eyes tracking a pair of fast-dancing Munchkins. “A tremendous waste of resources.”
I didn’t think I could look him in the face, knowing what he’d done to Maude and now Jellia, and not give everything away with my uncensored anger and disgust. I looked down at my feet and hoped it came off as demure.
“I think it’s lovely,” I replied through gritted teeth.
“Yes, well, you would,” he sniffed. “I’ll be ready to resume our nightly meetings soon, dear. I look forward to them.”
I suppressed a shudder.
“I have to go,” I said, and before he could reply, I shouldered my tray and started circulating through the party.
I noticed Glinda seated alone at one of the back tables. She wore a puffy, frilly gown, her red hair pulled into a tight bun and topped with a tall, cylindrical crown. Sindra approached her with a tray of drinks and the so-called good witch waved her off, not interested. Glinda never took her eyes off Dorothy, her expression mired in boredom, looking like one of those parents that begrudgingly attends a school play and then texts the entire way through it.
A Munchkin in a bright-orange tuxedo standing in front of me turned to his companion, a squat, monkish man wearing a patterned kimono and a tentacle-like braid, and whispered, “What is the occasion anyway?”
“She just wanted to have a party,” the other replied.
I’d assumed this was some Oz holiday I didn’t know about. But all this work had just been for a whim.
Meanwhile, Dorothy draped a hand across her forehead.
“As many of you know, the last week has been a difficult one for me. One of my closest confidantes was revealed to be a wicked, nasty traitor, and as you can imagine, I was quite devastated. But I’m overjoyed to say that it’s all been sorted out, and things are better than ever. Now, before we get back to our dancing, I’d like to introduce a very special guest who I’m so thrilled to have here.”
The ballroom grew silent and we heard a rustling from the back of the room. A low murmur rippled through the crowd as it parted to make way for the new arrival. Who could Dorothy be talking about?
Then I saw her, lurching forward in jerky, awkward movements and barely balancing a serving tray full of drinks. Her face was bruised and swollen and her green maid’s uniform was splattered with blood. Where her eyes should have been there were instead just two empty, blackened sockets. Her mouth was hanging open as if it had been frozen in mid-scream.
“Unfortunately there was a bit of a mishap during her interrogation,” Dorothy said, “but luckily the Scarecrow was clever enough to reanimate her corpse so that she could be here tonight. Deceased or not, I wouldn’t want my favorite servant to miss the most fabulous party Oz has ever seen.”
It was Jellia.
The Munchkin in front of me dropped his glass. It didn’t shatter but was instead swallowed into the night sky beneath our feet. I assumed, around the room, other glasses were slipping soundlessly from other shocked hands.
I barely managed to steady my serving tray.
No one seemed to know what to do as Jellia limped forward—everyone’s face seemed to bear the same look of horrified confusion. Even Sindra had stopped dead in her tracks to stare, tears reflecting in her eyes.
“Well, have a drink!” Dorothy urged us all. “Go on. It would disappoint me so much if you didn’t.” Her voice was cheery, but there was something in her eyes, something tantamount to a dare.
The giant frog in the three-piece suit looked hesitantly at Jellia, then back at Dorothy, and finally plucked a glass of pink champagne from the tray.
“Here’s to loyalty,” Dorothy said. Slowly turning in a circle so she could see everyone in the room, she raised an empty glass as if to toast. Everyone followed suit, raising their glasses, too.
“To loyalty!” they cried out. This time, it didn’t sound so enthusiastic, but Dorothy didn’t seem to care.
Suddenly the lights went out. For the briefest moment it was pitch-black. A flapping noise came from overhead, like bats soaring from a cave, and then the room lit back up, now bathed in a dim, warm glow. Several winged monkeys swooped slowly above us, each one with a sparkling chandelier harnessed to its midsection by a dangling chain.
“Now let’s get this party started!” Dorothy howled. She let out a jubilant whoop, and dance music began to blast. Dorothy began to shimmy and shake, and soon the rest of the room was dancing, too.
Jellia continued her march around the room, tottering back and forth, stiff-legged, her empty eye sockets collecting stray pieces of glitter. Everyone she passed reluctantly helped themselves to a drink. It became a secondary sort of dance, watching guests anxiously shift around the room to keep clear of Jellia’s path.
I tasted blood. I’d bitten down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep myself from screaming out loud. I couldn’t believe I’d ever hesitated at the idea of killing Dorothy. Watching Jellia stagger around the room, a mockery of life, it took everything in me not to rush Dorothy right then.
“Ah, Astrid, long time no see.”
The Scarecrow stood next to me, his scratchy hand coming to rest lightly on the small of my back. I’d been so distracted giving Dorothy murder-eyes, I hadn’t noticed him approach. He plucked a flute of champagne from my tray, but didn’t drink it. I wondered if it would soak right through him.
“Aren’t these little gatherings just dreadful?” he asked me idly, his button eyes tracking a pair of fast-dancing Munchkins. “A tremendous waste of resources.”
I didn’t think I could look him in the face, knowing what he’d done to Maude and now Jellia, and not give everything away with my uncensored anger and disgust. I looked down at my feet and hoped it came off as demure.
“I think it’s lovely,” I replied through gritted teeth.
“Yes, well, you would,” he sniffed. “I’ll be ready to resume our nightly meetings soon, dear. I look forward to them.”
I suppressed a shudder.
“I have to go,” I said, and before he could reply, I shouldered my tray and started circulating through the party.
I noticed Glinda seated alone at one of the back tables. She wore a puffy, frilly gown, her red hair pulled into a tight bun and topped with a tall, cylindrical crown. Sindra approached her with a tray of drinks and the so-called good witch waved her off, not interested. Glinda never took her eyes off Dorothy, her expression mired in boredom, looking like one of those parents that begrudgingly attends a school play and then texts the entire way through it.
