Goodbye Yellow Brick Road ✔︎

41 | Dorothy Loves Scarecrow 4-ever

|photo by Obed Hernandez from Unsplash|

The day I find out my calculus professor at Virginia Tech is going to be Cecil M. Best, Ph.D., author of Fundamentals Of Trigonometry—the textbook scary Professor Bernard referred to as The Beast—I make a decision to believe in fate.

That night I ask Glenn to meet me on the dock. We hang our feet in the water and stare at the marsh grass until I break the silence. "I know we're not officially a couple. But you haven't seen anyone since I've been home and I get the feeling you're waiting for me and I just...I think you should stop."

"Okay."

I look at him and he nods his head once. "You were expecting this," I say.

"Yep."

"I'm sorry. I know I haven't been—"

"I'm not sorry for the last six months, Thea. Not for any of it." He brings my hand up to his lips. This is how he kisses me goodbye. "Who knows? Maybe by the time you graduate, we'll be ready for the future we planned all those years ago."

"Well. Actually..." I give him a smile and squeeze his hand. "I'm trying something new—sort of a take-it-one-day-at-a-time thing. I need a little more life experience before I can make a life-plan."

* * *

Five days later, I'm organizing my half of the tiny dorm room closet. But mostly I'm waiting for Amanda to come back from walking her parents out to the parking lot—the only way she could get them out of our room so we can go celebrate our independence.

It's taking forever.

I grab my phone out of my purse and plop down on the twin bed. Megan answers on the second ring. "Have you met your roommate yet?" I ask.

"Yes, we hung out last night in this bohemian kind of coffee-slash-book-exchange place on the strip. She's artsy. I didn't think I'd like her when I saw the way she dresses, but we clicked, you know?"

"Yeah. That's great," I say. "But for the record, I'm jealous."

"Don't be. It's unnecessary. And pathetic."

"So. Did you go to the, um...?"

"I made an appointment at the campus counseling center," she says. "They didn't have an opening until the first of September—but that's good. Gives me a little more time to get used to the idea."

"Yeah," I agree, because Megan would tell me to piss off if I told her I'm proud of her for taking this step.

"Oh my god! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!"

"Who is that?" Megan asks. "She sounds like your aunt's Chihuahua."

"That's Amanda. She's out in the hallway having some kind of fit."

"Would you please induct that girl into the Mother-of-shit club?"

"I'll get right on it," I say. And then my roommate throws open the door, squealing a string of words I can't decipher. When she realizes she's not getting the message across she jumps up and down and points to the door.

"What's her problem?" Megan asks as I scoot to the edge of my bed.

"I don't know. I'm—mother of shit!"

There's a piece of paper taped to our door with a heart, drawn in green highlighter, encompassing the words: Scarecrow loves Dorothy.

"It says over at the bottom," Amanda squeals. "Hurryhurryhurry! Readitreaditreadit!"

I describe it to Megan as I peel the paper off the door, step out into the hallway and look both ways.

"I already checked," Amanda says. "He's not here."

And she would know. Amanda stares at the State Championship picture almost as much as I do. She loves my story about Zachary, was extremely disappointed that I didn't wear the Dorothy dress to the prom and has made me swear that one day, I'll introduce her to Chase.

"Ohmygod, Thea, you're kil-ling me. Read it!" Amanda says, pretty much in sync with Megan.

I turn the page over and smile. Conner wrote me a story:

The Choice

It was no accident The Scarecrow was there that day. He had placed himself strategically, had the information he needed. He had a plan. It was never his intention to catch Dorothy—or to be caught by her. He was merely a guide, an instrument in the hands of providence.

Perhaps it was this very attitude, this certainty of self that beget his undoing. And maybe Dorothy had offended as well. For surely one who attaches herself so securely to an outcome must be tempting fate.

The Scarecrow surrendered to the choice, to the punishment. He kept his promise. He tried. He earned his freedom with a clear conscience. And he earned a choice of his own: go west and forget, or go south and hope.

My cell number is the same. I'm in Brodle Hall (In case you "accidentally" deleted it.).

"Conner is here, Megan. He's here! I have to hang up so I can call him."

"Hell yes. Go. But call me back. Today, okay?"

"I will. I promise."

I end the call, find Conner's number and type: Dorothy Loves Scarecrow 4-ever.

Five-seconds later, my phone rings.

The end.