|photo by Jake Ingle from Unsplash|
There are benches every few yards along the grey stone wall that separates Fifth Avenue from Central Park. I find a semi-vacant one in front of a tree that's still mostly green. But there are soggy, brown and yellow leaves under my feet and the damp air is cool enough to leave goose bumps on exposed skin between my skirt and knee socks.
A meat-scented gust of wind draws my attention to the food trucks and I think of Conner and I eating hotdogs in the park. Then it's like my thoughts are skipping through memories like a rock over water: Conner in front of the soda machine, wanting to protect me from Paige. Me getting flustered when I straightened his tie—and the countless tie-straightening moments that followed, because it's not like I stopped. The disapproving look he gave me this morning when I walked into school with Chase. And finally the Chemistry Lab, the reason I couldn't stay at the penthouse and can't convince myself to walk back to school.
What the hell was that?
Ha. It felt a lot like chemistry.
But that doesn't mean anything. Conner's a great guy. He's sweet and cute and it's perfectly natural for friends to have a little what-if moment now and then. It's nothing more than curiosity. He's in love with Paige and I have Glenn. And these Oz coincidences are...
Not as easy to justify.
I type out a text to Megan: Do you believe that things happen for a reason?
The read receipt pops right up. But then nothing.
Glenn's not the only person I've heard regurgitate those worn-out words, but it's always sounded like a platitude to me. That's why it was so easy to ignore him. But this feels...different.
A spot of sunlight warms my shoulder. I walk to the park entrance, where there's a break in the trees, because I want more of that glorious heat. I tilt my head back, eyes closed, and imagine myself in a wide open field. Not easy with all the Big City noises—and smells—reminding me that I'm here. In Oz. And I should be heading back to the Emerald City for my next class.
The crosswalk signal says wait, but there's a lull in the traffic and the native New-Yorkers are going for it. I take a step to follow, but stop dead when the girl in front of me lets go of her father's hand to point at the sky.
There's a half-rainbow hovering in the general direction of Zachary Academy.
Are you freaking kidding me?
My phone buzzes. Megan: I don't have time for an existential convo. If you have an actual problem, name it.
Okay, miss bossy britches. You asked for it. I type: My name is Dorothea. I live with my Aunt Emily. And because of a tornado, I'm going to a school that's called Oscar Zachary (note the initials). My new friends are: Conner AKA Scarecrow. Chase TINsley AKA "the heartless It boy." And Paige LYONS, who is agoraphobic.
My phone rings. "Sorry to bother you," I tell her. "But..."
"Mother of shit."
"Exactly. Conner and I just figured it all out and I'm more than a little freaked out right now—I'm questioning everything. It's hard to brush this off as a coincidence, right? It's too much, too many. There's got to be a reason. Isn't that what your mom would say? Something I'm supposed to learn or do?"
"Maybe. But right now—while you're so freaked out—is not the time to try and figure that out. Let it sit with you for a few days."
"What if this is about Paige?" I ask. "Remember how I told you Conner is way smarter than everyone gives him credit for? And just today, Chase gave me a drawing he made for me. It's just like in the movie! The Scarecrow always had a brain, the Tin Man already had a heart—and Paige is brave but I don't think she realizes it. Maybe I have to help her with that before I can come home."
"Have you been smoking crack?"
"Be serious—and why are you whispering? Who's with you?"
"I'm in the girl's bathroom at Haddock High right now, but I was helping your mom clean her classroom. The school got a lot more damage than they first realized."
"Crap. Sorry you got roped into that."
"I volunteered. She's giving me extra credit in English Lit. And I am serious, Thea. What happened to the girl who lives and dies by logic? I mean, yeah, there's some crazy shit going on up there, but you are not living a Wizard of Oz retelling."
"Oh—I forgot about the wizard. It's our headmistress! That's why the entire school is green—and you know that animal on the school's crest? It's a flying monkey! But that doesn't really make sense now that I think about it. The monkeys belong to the..." Oh my god. "Do you think my mother could be the Wicked Witch?"
"Is Conner there with you? I need to talk to someone who's sound of mind."
"Ha ha. And no, I'm by myself—sort of hiding—because after Conner and I figured all of this out, we had...a moment."
Megan goes quiet. Then she sighs and says, "Details, girl. Come on."
"It was stupid. Conner said something that made me think of the Oz movie—the goodbye scene between Dorothy and the Scarecrow. Then he looked at my mouth, and if his phone wouldn't have gone off...I don't know."
"You would've let him kiss you?"
"I honestly do not know."
"The lack of a definite no is—at the very least—a maybe."
"True. Does that make me a horrible human being?"
"No, but it does make Glenn a little bit right."
Shit.
The half-rainbow is gone and crosswalk signal says go and I'm going to miss a quiz if I don't get back to school.
"Are you processing or giving me the silent treatment?" Megan asks.
And the smile in her voice makes me miss her so much.
"Neither," I say, walking. "But I'm not mad. You make a valid point."
"Good. Then let me also point out that guilt is a terrible reason to become someone's friend."
"Paige and I are already friends."
Megan gives me the "Mm hm" of doubt.
"We could be if I worked a little harder at it."
"I thought you were there for the math."
"Do you seriously not think there's anything to all of this Oz...ness?"
"I already told you what I think. Let it sit over the weekend. Take a fresh look on Monday."
* * *
Conner and I leave sixth period together as usual. We stop by my locker, which we share for the most part now because his is on the fourth floor. We walk side by side down the main staircase. The silence is new for us. It's uncomfortable.
I pause on the first floor landing, where normally we part because Conner has swim practice in the Olympic size pool in the basement. He shakes his head, hooks his arm through mine and pulls me through the entrance hall, out into afternoon air that's even cooler and breezier than it was when I escaped at lunch. He escorts me across the intersection like a dutiful boy scout, and then releases me.
"No practice?" I ask. The answer is obvious, but somebody needs to break the ice.
"Half the team's already left for the three-day weekend."
"Oh, yeah. Right."
We continue along the tree-lined sidewalk in silence: Conner, uncharacteristically interested in a small herd of passing taxis. Me, reliving—yet again—the moment in the chemistry room.
It wasn't real. That's my final decision. Conner and I were just caught up in Dorothy-Scarecrow nostalgia. And it's a very good thing that Paige called before we did something we both would've regretted.
"I took your advice," he says when we turn right on Seventy-sixth street.
"Um..." My brain can't access a memory of me giving Conner advice. "What?"
He puts a hand on my arm and stops us both from walking. My stomach does the elevator dip.
"I went to the library after you left. Paige looked like she'd been crying. She would never admit it but I think she thought you and I were hooking up."
He lets the words hang out there—for maybe a second. But it feels longer, because his eyes are seriously intense.
"At first, I was just pissed, you know? Because Paige has been telling me to ask you out. But then I thought about..."
He looks at the sky, drawing a quick breath, and when his eyes come back down I find someplace, anywhere else for mine.
"I thought about our conversation at the park," he finishes like he's accepting some crappy consolation prize. "So I followed your advice. I kissed her."
Conner kissed Paige.
Because I told him it might just be incredible.
"That's good," I say—because he's waiting for me to say something. And that's what I should say, because he and Paige make a really cute couple. And I'm happy for them.
Really, I am.
"Good isn't the word I would use," he says, raking his fingers through his hair. "She didn't push me away or anything, but she didn't kiss me back. When it was over, she acted like nothing happened. But when I got up to go to fourth period, she asked me to come over for dinner on Saturday."
"Oh, so you have a date?"
The realization spawns a tight, uncomfortable twinge in my chest.
Conner shrugs. "I've been to dinner at the Lyons' house a hundred times. It's never felt like a date."
"Do you want it to be?"
There's a moment, a flash of emotion in Conner's eyes that comes across as a definitive no. But it's gone so fast, I decide I imagined it because it's better that way. Less complicated.
"What are you doing this weekend?" he asks, his mood drastically elevated.
Going to an oyster roast at The Point.
That's what I would be doing if I were in Haddock. I'd be standing beside Megan with my red Solo cup, watching Glenn and his friends build a roasting platform over an open fire using concrete blocks and a piece of sheet metal.
"Hey," Conner says, calling me out of the memory. "Those must be some plans."
"No." I shake my head. "No plans. Not in this town."
He nods—and then his forehead crinkles like maybe he really does understand how much I miss Virginia. How much I miss Glenn.
"We should hang out," he says. "I could show you the finer points of the not so fine parts of the city."
Conner grins, proud of his play on words—suddenly so very much like the boy I met on my first day of school here. And yeah, spending the day in the city with that Conner would be so much fun.
My phone buzzes. It's Paige—talk about a coincidence. The text says: Do you want to come to my house for dinner on Saturday?
Well that answers the date question—at least from Paige's perspective.
I glance at Conner, giving him the give-me-a-moment finger. I'm significantly less freaked out now—Megan was right to question my sanity. The Oz coincidences are just that, coincidences. They are not a message from the Universe. I am still the girl who lives and dies by logic.
But I did tell Conner I'd work harder on my friendship with Paige and I still think that's a good idea—maybe I can even talk some sense into the girl.
Yes, I'm sure I can. I type a reply to her invitation: Busy Saturday, but I'd love some girl-time. How about Sunday?
"Sorry," I tell Conner—after I make myself press send. "And hey, when I said no about having plans, what I should've said is I don't know. I should really check with my aunt first."
"Yeah, okay." There's zero enthusiasm in the response. And he walks to the subway entrance like he's being chased by flying monkeys.
I don't try to keep up, half-hoping he'll get caught up in the crowd, herded on down the stairs and I won't have to see the disappointment on his face. But of course, Conner waits for me.
"So you'll text me?" he asks, but his flat tone says he already knows my answer.
I'll be texting a polite excuse to decline. Because the last thing this Dorothy and her Scarecrow need is time alone.
* * *
I recognize the designer suitcase in the foyer because I'm usually the lucky person who drags it up the stairs when Aunt Emily comes to Virginia—and I am beyond thrilled to learn that my aunt has plans for the weekend. I get the penthouse to myself. I'll have uninterrupted time to relax and study.
And time to talk myself into the idea of switching my allegiance from Conner to Paige.
"Oh there you are," Emily says—sashaying into the hallway dressed for Leisure. "Hurry along and pack." She shoos me away with a flick of her wrist. "Chase is picking us up in twenty minutes."
I have at least five legitimate questions. The only thing that comes out of my mouth is, "Why?"
"We're spending the weekend in the Hamptons with the Tinsleys."
"But I—I have plans."
"Cancel them, darling."
"But—"
"Really, Thea. We don't have time to argue." She makes the shooing motion again and No-No jumps in half circles and yips, like he's expecting a treat. "I need to get out of the city," she says, scooping him up. "I think you, of all people, would approve of a little fresh air."
My mom has told me on more than one occasion that their family visits to the Hamptons kept her sane when she lived here. She said sometimes, if she walked on the beach early enough, she could go for an entire hour without seeing another human being.
I could definitely use a dose of fresh ocean air. And this is the perfect excuse to say no to Conner's tour. But I'm still hoping Paige will accept my invitation. "When would we be coming back?" I ask.
"I'm coming home with Jesminda on Monday, but I've no doubt you could charm Chase into bringing you back sooner."
No, no, Auntie Em. "Isn't there a train or something?"
She looks at me like I just asked her to sleep on a bench in Grand Central Station. "McMillans do not ride trains."
I return her gaze of outrage. I am not a McMillan. "I think I'll pass."
"No, Thea. You will not pass. Jesminda is one of your sponsors, and my best friend. Pack. Your. Bags."