ANOTHER STORY?!? I KNOW RIGHT. This is the downside of having an ADD brain. You start on one story, then:

Brain: Hey, what about this idea for a story?

Me: NO! I've already got two stories to do! Start thinking of ideas for those!

Brain: But this is a really good one! Please?!?!

Me: I said NO!!

Brain: (like Bloo) Come !!!

Me: Alright, alright!

I'm not crazy (twitch) Anyway, this is essentially MY version of the Wizard of Oz. Definitely different, but I'll be using songs and lines from the movie here and there, and the Oz here is the same Oz as in the movie. But that won't come for a while. For now, please enjoy backstory, exposition, and way more angst than I'm used to writing!

Well, I guess I should start from the very beginning. Y'know, before everything turned wrong. But before that I should introduce myself.

Hi. I'm Dorothy to my teachers, DoDo to my brother, and just plain Doe everywhere else in the world.

I've always hated my name. Dorothy. Sounds like one of those old ladies who gossips about other old ladies. That's why, early on, I requested to be called Doe. I added the e so people would pronounce it right, instead of saying "doo". As soon as I made this announcement to my family...

Wait. Let me tell you about my family first. At least what it used to be.

My parents were pretty average, I guess. They both worked (and were pretty high up in) different companies, so money was never an issue. My mom would often get stressed and irritable, but my dad was always there to lighten the mood.

He was funny in his own weird way, my dad. For example, he "moo"d when he sneezed and "ribbet"d when he burped. Really. He said he started doing it when we were little to make us laugh, and it just became a habit. He hated seeing anybody sad, and we would occasionally give him a pity laugh when he told the same joke for the millionth time.

Speaking of "we", let's talk about Kirk. He was two years older than me, so needless to say, I worshipped him. He was too cool around his friends, but always knew how to make me smile, although few understood our jokes.

To the untrained eye, it would appear we didn't like each other. Sometimes Kirk would completely stop what he was doing just to look over at me and say,

"DoDo, I hate you."

And every night, I'd wish him a good night, to which he'd respond, "Have a terrible evening."

But I understood. Kirk's not good with mushy stuff, and neither am I. We know we've got each other's backs without having to say a word.

So that's my family. Or should I say 'was'.

On my 9th birthday, a big burly police man appeared at our door. I hid behind Kirk, still wearing my 'Birthday Girl' sash from breakfast. The police officer quietly said some things to Mom, and Kirk must have heard, because I felt him suddenly stiffen.

I saw Mom grab the banister of the stairs and start shaking with audible sobs, and Kirk quickly pushed me away from the door. I screamed at him to tell me what was wrong, and I still remember exactly what he said.

"Dad's gone, Dorothy."

The room spun and my ears roared and all I could do was grab Kirk, my lifeline, and cry and cry and cry.

I barely remember the funeral-it's all a blur. Then again, everything's blurry through tear-filled eyes.

There was no one to cheer my mom up anymore. She started drinking again, but it only made her worse. She'd get angry-so angry. She hit Kirk and yelled horrible things at me. Kirk would defend me and she'd hit him some more.

But we never blamed our mom. We knew she wasn't in her right mind. We just held onto each other through it all.

And one day Mom left the house and never came back.

Later we were told she jumped off a scaffold of a nearby construction site. I didn't care. All I knew was that I was an orphan, Kirk was all I had left, and a 12 year old girl has a lot more tears stored in her little body than you would think.

So Kirk and I were shuffled from relative to relative. During that time, I didn't talk to anyone except Kirk. All my messages for other people were relayed through him. It annoyed many people, especially teachers, to no end, but I didn't care. I didn't feel anyone else was worth talking to. They just wouldn't understand-these perfectly pampered girls and 'tough' boys, with their fancy cars, complaining about homework and school dances and their annoying parents. They don't realize how lucky they are.

But Kirk knew. We were each others' best friends-we talked about anything and everything, we cried, and we even managed to laugh.

But none of these places felt like home. It was clear we were more of a burden than anything to these people. They wouldn't care if we jumped off a bridge.

Which was exactly Kirk's reasoning when he woke me up at 4 in the morning on his birthday.

"We're gettin' outta here."

"Nnn-what?" I groaned, still half-asleep.

"We're leaving. Pack your stuff." When I still didn't wake up, he pulled a big chunk of my hair. Hard.

He muffled my screams of pain and death threats with a pillow. "Geez, ya want to wake Aunt Velma?"

"Aunt Velma wouldn't hear a jet engine take off next to her face," I retorted. I glanced at the glaring red digital clock that read 4:13. "Jesus, Kirk, why'd you wake me up at this ungodly hour?"

"It's like talking to a wall," I heard Kirk mumble. He then got right in my face. "We're. Lea. Ving. Right. Now." He said this slowly, as if I were deaf.

"I got that part, thank you," I promptly shoved him out of my personal bubble. "What I meant was, why?"

"You like it here? You like that fat cat that scratches you ever day?"

I winced at the thought of Snowball. "I MEANT," I was starting to feel exasperated. "Why today of all days?"

"I'm eighteen. I don't legally need a guardian anymore. So we're gone."

"Well, isn't that nice?" I went back onto familiar ground with Kirk and I-sarcasm. "And where exactly are we going to go, Mr. Genius? We don't have a car, we don't have anywhere to go-what, are we gonna sleep in the park?"

"Don't be stupid," Kirk was packing my things for me since I wasn't making any move to. "I got an apartment."

This was news. Kirk wasn't exactly the planning type, so this was a shock, to say the least. "What?!" I sputtered."You got a-when?!"

"I've been hunting every day after school. It's not much, but it's big enough for us, and it's pretty cheap rent."

I was dumbfounded. "We're really leaving?" I asked, feeling hope rise up in me for the first time in a while.

"Good god, how many times do I have to say it before you get it through your thick little head?" He punctuated these last three words with finger jabs at my forehead.

"Don't touch me, you creep!" I pushed him off, laughing (another first).

"Better a creep than a DoDo!" Kirk laughed with me.

The apartment was small, but it was heaven to me and Kirk. He worked a few odd jobs to pay the rent. I offered to get a job too, but he'd have none of it.

"You've got school. You're goin' to college if I have to drag you there myself."

I still didn't like school, but at least I talked when needed. I also found activities around school.

One thing I liked was listening in on the chorus. I'd nab a piece of their sheet music and learn it by heart. I'd always loved singing, but didn't like singing in front of people. Still, it was nice to have new songs to hum walking down the hallway.

I'm sure humming while walking to class didn't help the rumor going around that I was crazy. Many people avoided me, and I was never in any group when groups were required for a class. But I preferred it that way-I was still fairly anti-social.

One day, while I was walking home, singing the song of the week to myself, I heard someone singing along with me.

Or, should I say, barking.

He was a little brown and black puppy-a mutt. But I thought he was the cutest, smartest dog I had ever seen. After much begging from both the dog and me, Kirk agreed to keep it, on the condition that he pick the name. He decided on Brutus. I asked him why he would give such a tiny dog (I could fit him into the crook of my arm) such a tough name.

"Exactly!" explained my brother. "He's a guy, but tiny and cute. Poor guy's probably got an inferiority complex. I thought a tough name would help him out."

I didn't exactly follow, but it was nice to see he cared.

And so Kirk and I were cautiously optimistic about our future. We still had our demons, but we were finally on our own. Nothing would tear us apart.

....Right?

5 pages…Goddamn, I really am inspired! It definitely has nothing to do with the fact that I'm in my school's production of Wizard of Oz. Nope, nothing at all. Reviews are love! 3