No Place Like Oz by Danielle Paige Page A

intentions.”
    I nodded. I understood. I didn’t like it, but I understood.
    At that, the Scarecrow summoned for BonBon, who appeared out of nowhere as if he’d squeezed himself up out of a gap in the floorboards.
    â€œFollow me to your quarters, Miss Gale,” he said, extending a gentlemanly hand.
    â€œOne more thing,” the Scarecrow said as I scooped a now-dozing Toto into my arms. “For now, I think it’s better that you don’t tell the princess that you’ve seen Glinda at all.”
    â€œOkay.” I nodded.
    â€œAnd Dorothy: don’t mention the shoes.”

Ten
    The next morning, the Scarecrow and I stepped out of his mansion into a bright and breezy day. Every ear of corn and every wildflower glistened and sparkled in the sun, and I took a deep breath, inhaling dewy morning air. It smelled like just-baked cookies.
    When I looked closely, I saw that the air was filled with thousands of specks floating on the breeze like dandelion fuzz. The difference was that these specks were silvery and slippery, flying through the air like tiny beads of mercury from a broken thermometer.
    One of them landed gently on my face. When I crossed my eyes to get a look at it, I was shocked to see a dainty little person with butterfly wings and a wild tuft of silver hair sitting right on the tip of my nose. And without so much as a hello.
    â€œOh, don’t mind them,” the Scarecrow said. “It’s Pixie season. They can be quite irritating, but they’re harmless.”
    Just as he said it, the creature sank its sharp little teeth into my nose. I was more surprised than actually hurt, but I screamed, swatting at it and spinning around in a circle trying to get it off me.
    The Pixie jumped from my face and buzzed around my head, letting out a high-pitched staccato squeal. She was laughing at me.
    â€œEr, mostly harmless,” the Scarecrow said.
    â€œI don’t remember those things from last time,” I said, rubbing at my injury to check for blood.
    â€œThey stayed in their hives back in those days,” he explained. “They were afraid of the witches. But Ozma believes in letting them run wild, and they’ve been getting bolder and bolder. You should see what they do to my cornfields.”
    â€œI’m all for Pixies having their freedom,” I sniffed. “I’m an American, after all. But they might be a little more grateful to the girl who gave it to them, don’t you suppose?”
    â€œAll the magic in the world couldn’t give a Pixie manners,” the Scarecrow said ruefully. “If I were king, I’d do away with all of them. But Ozma is of the opinion that even Oz’s lowest creatures deserve their freedom. Pixies, Screaming Trees, even Nomes, for heaven’s sake—they’ve all flourished under the princess’s rule.”
    They might have been rude, but I couldn’t help being charmed as I watched the little things flitting through the air. “I hope they at least do pretty little spells or something,” I said. “To make up for the nastiness and biting.”
    â€œThey certainly do. If you catch one, they’ll grant you exactly one wish,” the Scarecrow said.
    â€œOh!” I exclaimed. “Then what are we waiting for?” I was about to go chasing after the Pixie who had bit me—it would serve her right!—but the Scarecrow caught me by the elbow.
    â€œDon’t bother,” he said. “You can only wish for three things and none of them are very interesting. A dried cod, a hunk of coal, or a darning kit.”
    â€œAunt Em might like a darning kit,” I said, but I quickly dropped my chase.
    That’s when I saw our carriage sitting by the Road of Yellow Brick—a vehicle that would put Henry Ford’s finest automobile to shame. It was a jeweled green sphere of glass etched with delicate swirling patterns, about as big as Uncle Henry’s toolshed,