“What’s in it?” he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him. Wrapping my hands in the dust cloths, I gingerly lifted the box from the back of the closet. But whatever magic had been protecting it had disappeared with the mysterious visitor, and it felt like an ordinary box this time when I touched it. It was light and small, but something thumped inside it. I lifted the flaps, and breathlessly, we looked in.

There was nothing in the box but an old notebook. I took it out and flipped through the pages. Every one of them was blank. My heart sank as I stared at the book, turning the pages over and over again as if looking at them again would make words appear. A secret, a spell—heck, even a map to Dorothy’s shoes. Nothing. I wanted to cry. All this, and for what? I’d never find the stupid shoes, even if they existed. The witches and I were stuck in Kansas forever. Dorothy was going to destroy Oz, and we had no way to stop her.

“Amy, what’s wrong?”

“I was just hoping for an answer,” I said.. Whoever the mysterious visitor had been, it had been wasting its time protecting a blank book.

“We can keep looking, Amy,” Dustin said, anxious to cheer me up. “We can—I don’t know, Topeka probably has a library. I can drive you over there if you want as long as Mad doesn’t mind watching the baby. It’s no big—”

The library door swung open again and we both nearly jumped out of our skins. “Time’s up!” Mr. Stone bellowed. “Go home, you little miscreants.” Thankfully, he stomped off without bothering to check our work. I shoved the boxes back in the closet and covered them with the banner. At the last minute I shoved the notebook into my bag. Maybe I was trying to remind myself that my mission was more hopeless than finding a needle in a haystack. We locked the library door behind us and returned the keys and our vacuum to a sullen Mr. Stone.

“I can give you a ride home,” Dustin offered.

“Thanks,” I said.

I was silent in the car, leaning my head against the glass and looking out, trying to see some beauty in the dull gray sky and flat, dusty earth. I might as well get used to it, I thought. This time, I’m here for good.

FIFTEEN

My mom and Jake were sitting side by side on the couch when I got back to her apartment, holding hands and watching the news. When I walked in they jumped apart, blushing, like I’d just caught them doing something actually scandalous. I stifled a giggle.

“Honey!” my mom exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so late. Where have you been?”

I was definitely not in the mood for conversation, but I’d already been enough of a jerk to my mom. I explained about detention, and she beamed at me. “What a mature decision to make, Amy. I’m so proud of you.” Even Jake was nodding. At least I’d done something right, even if it was for the wrong reasons.

That night, Jake cooked. He was so nice to my mom it was hard not to like him, against my better judgment. My mom had had a few boyfriends here and there—if “boyfriend” was the right word for the losers who hung around the trailer for a month or two, eating all our food and burping in front of the TV with a six-pack before disappearing again—and she had an unerring instinct for jerks, deadbeats, and creeps.

There was the guy who liked to follow me around when she wasn’t home, eyeing me in a way that made me start carrying pepper spray everywhere I went. Thankfully, he didn’t last long. There was the guy who “borrowed” a bunch of money from her and then vanished without paying her back. Amazingly, she was surprised. There was the guy I never saw sober. But Jake actually seemed nice. Maybe he even was nice, not just putting on a show until he got whatever it was he wanted. My mom turned off the TV, and we sat around her little card table and ate the casserole he’d made like we were an actual family. I kept waiting for him to say something mean to my mom, or stare at my boobs, or spout off something really sexist or racist or just gross, but he was actually . . . normal. I’d only been gone a month of my mom’s time, but it was like I had come home to a different planet.

“How was school today, Amy? It must be hard to adjust to being back after your—” He paused, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Accident,” he finished. I wondered how much my mom had told him about her theories about my disappearance. “It was fine,” I said politely. “I’m not as far behind as I thought I would be, actually. Dwight D. Eisenhower Senior High isn’t exactly Harvard.” He laughed at my dumb joke as if I’d said something incredibly funny. My mom smiled as he asked me more questions about myself. What books did I like to read? What were my favorite movies? How about favorite foods? If he was trying this hard to impress me, he must be really into my mom. I was surprised by how happy I was for her. I needed him to be this good for after. For when I was gone again. <