Dorothy Must Die
Page 68
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At first, I couldn’t figure out what it was. Then it dawned on me. This was the Tin Woodman’s bed. He slept standing up.
The whole place gave me the creeps. On the other hand, at least we weren’t cleaning the Scarecrow’s room—that would have been terrifying—not to mention it would take all week.
Hannah shot me a sidelong look and lowered her voice. “You know using magic would be wasteful, Astrid. Dorothy needs it, every drop. Besides, doing the work the old-fashioned way is comforting to Dorothy. It reminds her of how she used to clean the farm back in the Other Place.”
“You don’t need to lecture me about comforting Dorothy,” I replied quickly. “It’s my whole reason for being here.”
Hannah smiled at me and I smiled back, hoping to match her cheerily vacant quality.
“I’m so glad our slaving away makes Dorothy feel better,” I muttered, pretty sure Hannah wasn’t the type to detect sarcasm.
“It really does!” Hannah exclaimed. “It reminds her how far she’s come.”
The soap we were using had a lemony, peachy smell. I wondered if this was the soap that her auntie Em used to use back in Kansas, before the tornado whisked her away. What could have happened to turn that sweet, innocent farm girl into this magic-hoarding fascist?
I wasn’t going to get any useful assassination tips out of a frightened airhead like Hannah, so I decided to poke around and see if there was any way I could get her to give up some information about Pete. Even posing as Astrid, I figured tracking down the only other anti-Dorothy person I knew of might be helpful, and surely servants cozying up wouldn’t raise any red flags. Not that I wanted to cozy up with Pete.
“Have you seen that boy around with the crazy green eyes?” I asked casually. “I wonder when he takes his break.”
Hannah looked up at me, surprised.
“Who? You mean one of the guards?”
“No, I think he’s a gardener.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Astrid,” she said.
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You know any fraternization is strictly forbidden.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to figure out a way to cover my mistake. Before I could, Hannah leaned in close enough to whisper.
“I let Bryce—you know, the baker I was telling you about?—sneak into my room the other night,” she whispered. “But don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to get punished for Smuttiness again.”
“I promise I won’t,” I whispered back.
“I’ll keep an eye out for your boy, too,” Hannah said. “But I haven’t seen anyone with eyes like that.”
I leaned in close to the floor, trying to scrub away a particularly stubborn piece of dirt. Who was Pete?
After we finished the Tin Woodman’s suite, we were allowed a fifteen-minute break in the servants’ mess hall. For a snack, Jellia brought out an array of stale muffin bottoms. Apparently, Dorothy ate only the tops.
While the other girls ate with a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs”—I guess muffin butts were a treat around here—I took a moment to study the postings on the mess hall walls. There were a ton of brightly colored signs about proper cleaning techniques and uniform maintenance, but also a color-coded schedule of palace personnel. I tried to memorize it, particularly the times when the guards changed shift. Knowing when there could be gaps in Dorothy’s protection would definitely come in handy. The big wild cards were the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman. They weren’t in the habit of posting their schedules anywhere, even though I knew they were always somewhere in the palace. The Lion, too, was rumored to be around.
The idea of seeing the Lion again, after what he’d done to Gert, made me sick.
But it wasn’t my job to be sick. It was my job to get past them, and I’d have my hands full enough with that as it was. One thing at a time. First, get a read on Dorothy’s comings and goings, then—
“Are you not eating, dear?”
It was Jellia. She’d sidled up next to me without my noticing.
“I will,” I replied quickly, waving at the fluorescent step-by-step guide to mopping. “Just feeling like I could use a refresher. I want to stay sharp for Dorothy.”
Jellia nodded approvingly and handed me a muffin butt wrapped in a napkin.
“Good girl,” she said. “Just remember to keep your strength up. It’s important.”
Jellia wasn’t kidding around. By the end of that first day I was so exhausted, I collapsed immediately onto my tiny bed. What’d felt stiff and lumpy the night before now seemed to my aching body like the most comfortable spot in all of Oz. The calluses on Astrid’s hands hadn’t prepared me for how intense a full day of nonstop cleaning could be.
I made it through. One full day posing as a maid, and no one seemed suspicious. Well, except for Ozma, but I hadn’t seen her around at all that day. And Dorothy’s guards didn’t come knocking down my door, which meant Ozma had kept her mouth shut. That was a relief.
Better yet, I didn’t see any more of the Scarecrow’s brains after that terrifying first night. Rumor was he’d locked himself up in his laboratory—wherever that was no one seemed to know—hard at work on some project. In the meantime, we maids were instructed to leave his daily hay bale delivery outside his bedroom door. Secret science experiments were obviously ominous and something I should look into, but I was mostly just relieved the Scarecrow didn’t have time for his creepy dalliances with Astrid. Through the night, the bell next to my bed remained mercifully silent.
The whole place gave me the creeps. On the other hand, at least we weren’t cleaning the Scarecrow’s room—that would have been terrifying—not to mention it would take all week.
Hannah shot me a sidelong look and lowered her voice. “You know using magic would be wasteful, Astrid. Dorothy needs it, every drop. Besides, doing the work the old-fashioned way is comforting to Dorothy. It reminds her of how she used to clean the farm back in the Other Place.”
“You don’t need to lecture me about comforting Dorothy,” I replied quickly. “It’s my whole reason for being here.”
Hannah smiled at me and I smiled back, hoping to match her cheerily vacant quality.
“I’m so glad our slaving away makes Dorothy feel better,” I muttered, pretty sure Hannah wasn’t the type to detect sarcasm.
“It really does!” Hannah exclaimed. “It reminds her how far she’s come.”
The soap we were using had a lemony, peachy smell. I wondered if this was the soap that her auntie Em used to use back in Kansas, before the tornado whisked her away. What could have happened to turn that sweet, innocent farm girl into this magic-hoarding fascist?
I wasn’t going to get any useful assassination tips out of a frightened airhead like Hannah, so I decided to poke around and see if there was any way I could get her to give up some information about Pete. Even posing as Astrid, I figured tracking down the only other anti-Dorothy person I knew of might be helpful, and surely servants cozying up wouldn’t raise any red flags. Not that I wanted to cozy up with Pete.
“Have you seen that boy around with the crazy green eyes?” I asked casually. “I wonder when he takes his break.”
Hannah looked up at me, surprised.
“Who? You mean one of the guards?”
“No, I think he’s a gardener.”
“Oh, don’t be silly, Astrid,” she said.
I blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You know any fraternization is strictly forbidden.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to figure out a way to cover my mistake. Before I could, Hannah leaned in close enough to whisper.
“I let Bryce—you know, the baker I was telling you about?—sneak into my room the other night,” she whispered. “But don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to get punished for Smuttiness again.”
“I promise I won’t,” I whispered back.
“I’ll keep an eye out for your boy, too,” Hannah said. “But I haven’t seen anyone with eyes like that.”
I leaned in close to the floor, trying to scrub away a particularly stubborn piece of dirt. Who was Pete?
After we finished the Tin Woodman’s suite, we were allowed a fifteen-minute break in the servants’ mess hall. For a snack, Jellia brought out an array of stale muffin bottoms. Apparently, Dorothy ate only the tops.
While the other girls ate with a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs”—I guess muffin butts were a treat around here—I took a moment to study the postings on the mess hall walls. There were a ton of brightly colored signs about proper cleaning techniques and uniform maintenance, but also a color-coded schedule of palace personnel. I tried to memorize it, particularly the times when the guards changed shift. Knowing when there could be gaps in Dorothy’s protection would definitely come in handy. The big wild cards were the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman. They weren’t in the habit of posting their schedules anywhere, even though I knew they were always somewhere in the palace. The Lion, too, was rumored to be around.
The idea of seeing the Lion again, after what he’d done to Gert, made me sick.
But it wasn’t my job to be sick. It was my job to get past them, and I’d have my hands full enough with that as it was. One thing at a time. First, get a read on Dorothy’s comings and goings, then—
“Are you not eating, dear?”
It was Jellia. She’d sidled up next to me without my noticing.
“I will,” I replied quickly, waving at the fluorescent step-by-step guide to mopping. “Just feeling like I could use a refresher. I want to stay sharp for Dorothy.”
Jellia nodded approvingly and handed me a muffin butt wrapped in a napkin.
“Good girl,” she said. “Just remember to keep your strength up. It’s important.”
Jellia wasn’t kidding around. By the end of that first day I was so exhausted, I collapsed immediately onto my tiny bed. What’d felt stiff and lumpy the night before now seemed to my aching body like the most comfortable spot in all of Oz. The calluses on Astrid’s hands hadn’t prepared me for how intense a full day of nonstop cleaning could be.
I made it through. One full day posing as a maid, and no one seemed suspicious. Well, except for Ozma, but I hadn’t seen her around at all that day. And Dorothy’s guards didn’t come knocking down my door, which meant Ozma had kept her mouth shut. That was a relief.
Better yet, I didn’t see any more of the Scarecrow’s brains after that terrifying first night. Rumor was he’d locked himself up in his laboratory—wherever that was no one seemed to know—hard at work on some project. In the meantime, we maids were instructed to leave his daily hay bale delivery outside his bedroom door. Secret science experiments were obviously ominous and something I should look into, but I was mostly just relieved the Scarecrow didn’t have time for his creepy dalliances with Astrid. Through the night, the bell next to my bed remained mercifully silent.
