Episode 1 – We’re Not in Kansas Anymore
‘Why am I here?’ I wondered for about the hundredth time. This was supposed to be my gap year, not my first semester of college. I had planned to be backpacking through Europe right now. Instead, I was painting backdrops for the University Theater production of The Wizard of Oz.
The short answer is, I still don’t have enough money saved up to make the trip. The longer answer is, Mom and Dad urged me to enroll in one semester, which they would pay for. Meanwhile, I continued to sell my magic potions and sock away every cent I could. So, my trip would have to wait until next year. Even witches have to make a living.
My potion business did well at the Farmers Market in town and at my Mom’s novelty shop, Strange Magic. Nothing weird about that.
My cousin Scarlett convinced me to take this Theater class, which I was seriously starting to regret. I never wanted to be an actress. Thankfully, I didn’t have to. I had the less than glamorous assignment of working on the sets with Dusty Brown, the Props Coordinator. He was a senior and a big flirt. He was a good-looking guy, tall and lean in a blue plaid flannel shirt, but I was not interested. For one thing, I was done with ‘bad boys.’ For another thing, he smelled a bit like cigarettes. No thank you.
“Here, Jade. Let me help you,” Dusty said in his southern drawl. He brushed a lock of blond hair away from his face and got up from the floor to stand behind me. He reached up to fold his hand around mine to physically ‘show me’ how to paint the gates of Oz. As if that was necessary. “So, you need long, gentle strokes like this,” he whispered into my ear.
I flinched and extricated myself from him. “I think I know how to paint,” I said with annoyance. Maybe that kind of smooth move worked on other freshmen girls but I think it’s creepy.
Luckily, my cousin Scarlett came backstage at that moment and slapped her script down on the nearby table. She had the part of Glinda the Good Witch. Typecasting? Maybe so.
She huffed. “This script is just like the movie, word for word,” she complained. “I wish we were doing Wicked.”
“That would have been awesome,” Dusty agreed. “So, do you need me to run lines with you?”
Obviously, Dusty had moved on from me to Scarlett, after all, she was taller and prettier than I was. Fine by me. He could be her problem now. Scarlett was one year older but also a Freshman and my best friend. I went back to painting.
Scarlett shook her head and rolled her eyes. “No, I literally have all my lines memorized. There aren’t that many.” She took a sip from her water bottle on the table.
“So, you two are cousins?” Dusty asked. “I can see the resemblance.”
I turned toward them. “Really? Because we both have red hair?” I asked with just a hint of sarcasm. Everyone in my family has red hair. Some of us, myself included, have freckles too.
Dusty looked from Scarlett to me and started to speak. Whatever he was going to say was interrupted when our Theater Professor, Ms. Shaw, came over.
She was in a tizzy, with her gray hair slipping out of her loosely tied bun. “Oh no. This isn’t nearly sparkly enough. I thought we got glitter paint.” She examined the paint can on the table near me. “It says glitter paint.” She grimaced and set the paint can down with a clunk. “We can’t afford to buy more paint. I’m stretching the budget as it is.”
I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to fix things. “I think, when we let it dry, it will look better,” I said.
“This is only the first coat,” Dusty added.
Ms. Shaw took a swig of her vitamin water. “Opening night is in less than a week. We’re never going to be ready.” She threw up her hands, one of them still clutching her water bottle.
“We’ll be ready,” Scarlett said, patting Ms. Shaw’s shoulder reassuringly. “I know all my lines by heart.”
Ms. Shaw massaged her forehead like she had a headache. “Well, you seem to be the only one. Gail can’t remember her lines to save her life. Then we’ve got the munchkins to contend with and now the Emerald City will be this drab, lifeless green.” She shook her head.
Dusty went over to her and patted her shoulder as well. “It’s going to be okay, Mrs. Shaw.”
Ms. Shaw pursed her lips in annoyance. “It’s Ms. Shaw, Mizz not Missus, or Professor Shaw, but never Missus. There is no Mr. Shaw. I don’t know why you kids always want to give me an imaginary husband.”
While she was distracted with Dusty and Scarlett, I reached into my backpack on the floor and wrapped my fingers around my magic wand. I never went anywhere without it, just in case. I closed my eyes and whispered a little incantation. Instantly, the gates of Oz sparkled like stars in the sky. I pulled my hand back out and kept on painting like nothing had happened.
I glanced up and saw Scarlett giving me a look that said, That’s cheating.
I shrugged and stepped back, admiring my work.
Ms. Shaw was still fussing about the budget or some such thing.
Scarlett cleared her throat. “Maybe, if we back up a little bit, the backdrops will look better,” she said as she guided Ms. Shaw a few steps back.
When they turned to look, Ms. Shaw gasped. “Well, that’s incredible. How did that happen?" Her mouth hung open for a moment. “It looks amazing.” She walked up to where I was and gingerly tapped a finger against the surface. “It’s already dry.”
Dusty examined the surface and scratched his head, a line forming between his eyes.
I shrugged again. “Must be quick drying paint. I guess there’s no need to do a second coat.” I set the brush down on some newspapers spread on the floor.
“Great, now you can move on to the forest backdrops,” she said. She seemed to relax a little. “Dusty, can you bring those out for Jade?”
“Which ones?” Dusty asked as he ran his hand through his hair. “There are a lot of forests.”
Ms. Shaw sighed and set her water bottle down on the table. “I’ll show you,” she said, leading him off stage.
“Not more backdrops,” I groaned, rolling my eyes.
“You can’t use magic on all of them,” Scarlett said, “people would get suspicious.”
Perhaps I should explain that Scarlett and I are witches. We come from a big, extended family of witches and wizards. To be clear, witches are people too. We work hard to keep our magic a secret from the world at large. We also have jobs, run businesses, buy groceries, and go to school, all the regular stuff.
Ms. Shaw and Dusty returned. He was dragging along another backdrop for me.
“Jade is just very efficient,” Ms. Shaw said to him with an air of satisfaction. “That’s one problem dealt with. Now I need to go and call the elementary school choir director to see when we can get those munchkins in for a rehearsal.” She walked away muttering to herself, “Why did I agree to work with little children?”
Scarlett nodded her head knowingly. “Very efficient, huh? What you are is lazy.”
Dusty propped the backdrop against the back wall. “Here you go, Jade. You’ll have to use a different green for these, less sparkly.” He waved his fingers like jazz hands to indicate sparkles. “I’m stepping outside for a minute. I’ve got to take out the trash,” he said as he walked away, without taking any of the trash with him.
“Where’s he really going?” I asked.
Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Probably a smoke break.”
“Gross,” I said, scrunching up my nose.
Then we heard the voice of Gail, in her role as Dorothy. She was onstage rehearsing with my good friend Fletcher. He was playing the Scarecrow, a perfect part for him as he was tall and gangly.
We heard her say, “Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Canada anymore.”
Scarlett looked at me and laughed. “I’ve got to see this,” she said and went upstage to watch.
I stayed behind and began looking for the can of brown paint. I could still hear the rehearsal going on.
“No, the line is not Canada” Russell the Tin Man shouted from the side. “It’s Kansas. How do you not know this? It’s one of the most famous lines in movie history.” He sounded agitated. Rusell was not only the Tin Man but also the assistant director. He was a tall, trim young black man in his senior year.
I found the brown paint can among the others on the nearby table and began shaking it up. First, I would have to go clean the brush.
“Sorry, sorry,” I heard Gail saying. “I just never watched the movie when I was a kid. My Dad said it was too scary for my little brother, what with all the flying monkeys.”
“It’s fine,” Fletcher said amiably. “Let’s just start over.”
I went across to the hallway and into the small bathroom. I held the paintbrush under the running water, watching all the green paint swirl down the drain. Once the water ran clear, I turned off the faucet and took a few paper towels from the dispenser.
As I was coming out of the bathroom, I heard muffled voices from the stage. I was hoping the rehearsal wouldn’t go long. I walked down the hall a few steps. Then, I heard a very loud thunk. It seemed to shake the floor. The muffled voices stopped for a moment and then I heard a scream. It was Scarlett. I dropped my brush and ran to the stage.
Everyone was gathered around Gail, lying on the floor. A large spotlight was on top of her. Only her legs were visible.
I came forward. “Oh my gosh, what happened?” I asked.
Everyone was eerily silent for a moment.
Fletcher looked at me, wide eyed. “The light fixture just fell,” he said, pointing up.
I looked up at the catwalk and thought I could see a shadow up above. It moved away so quickly I wasn’t sure who or what it was. “Is someone up there?”
Everyone looked up.
“I don’t see anyone,” Russell said.
“Is she … is Gail okay?” Scarlett said, quietly. She had tears in her eyes.
We looked down at Gail. A pool of blood was seeping out across the floor. She was crushed under the heavy spotlight rigging. Her head and torso were completely under it.
“Let’s try to get this thing off her,” I said. I tried to lift the rigging off her, but it was too heavy.
Fletcher called out to some of the others. “Come, help me with this.”
Russell and a few other members of the cast and crew came forward, carefully avoiding the blood on the floor. We each grabbed a part of the light rigging and managed to move it off to the side.
Then we saw. Gail’s skull was crushed. She lay lifeless on the stage floor. A pool of blood was growing larger around her head and shoulders, settling in her dark brown hair, and staining her blue tie dyed boho dress. She definitely wasn’t in Kansas and now she never would be.
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