Before we begin . . .
Hello, everyone! I thank you very much for checking out my fanfic. Before we start into the story, I'd like to clarify a few things for everyone.
This fanfic will be based on the 1939 movie. I have not seen Wicked, and while I understand the general gist of it, this fic will not be influenced by it. It has also been quite some time since I've read L. Frank Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, so this fanfic will be based on events in the movie, for as much as I can see. I just thought I'd mention that to save any confusion!
I plan on updating quite frequently, as I hate it when fanfics get deserted. This story has been brewing in my head for several weeks, so I know where it should be going. Reviews will help me a lot to tell me if things should be changed, I really appreciate the comments! They tell me to keep going! I promise to be as punctual as humanly possible with future chapters! I will also try to watch the language I use as much as possible. I know modern day lingo tends to be an annoyance in Oz fics. I'll avoid it as much as I can.
For this particular first chapter, I apologize if it seems a lot of characters come into play. I assure you that there will not be many more in the future, just the "old faithfuls."
Thank you very much again! I hope you enjoy!
-H.C. Glennteade
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Disclaimer: I do not own, nor claim to own, the 1939 MGM film, The Wizard of Oz. This is merely a non-profit fanfic. The characters mentioned here, with the exception of Marty Ramidge, Walter Norman, and Jeremy Greene, are not mine.
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Walking down the hallway, Marty Ramidge ran a hand through his thinning hair. Soon he came to the doorway and peered in unnoticed.
Before him was a room full of children, of various shapes and sizes, squirming with anxiousness. In just a few minutes, lessons would be over for the summer. Until then, however, their attention belonged to their teacher, who was adamantly quizzing them in the meantime.
"The square root of the hypotenuse of a right triangle is equal to the sum of the square roots of the remaining two sides," Walter Norman said rising, in response to his teacher's question. Walter was the little school's oldest, and brightest, student.
"Very good, Walter," Miss Gale praised. For a brief moment, the young woman recalled a time when she had heard a similar recitation, but shook off the notion almost immediately: a place so wonderful could only have been a dream. "All right, students," she adressed, focusing once again on her pupils, "you are dismissed. I wish you and your families a wonderful, safe summer."
The girls and boys filed past her desk towards the exit, offering gleeful words of parting before filing out the door silently, suddenly aware of Mister Ramidge's presence.
"Good afternoon, Mister Ramidge," Miss Gale acknowledged the man after the children had gone, "is there something I can do for you?"
Marty smiled at the young girl. At just seventeen, she seemed young to be teaching so well. The students loved her and she was a fine teacher. That much he couldn't deny, and the truth broke his heart. He didn't want to do the deed he was sent to do, but he had to. It was his job to.
"Well, you see Miss Gale," he began, trying to select the right words, "the school board sent me here . . ." He paused uneasily, the "right words" becoming harder and harder to come by.
"It's about Jeremy Greene," he relented, becoming more straight forward.
"Yes?" The teacher asked, still not fully understanding the situation at hand.
"Well,we've taken a look at the boy's grades, and it seems he's doing quite poorly compared to the other students. I've had a discussion with his parents, and the Greenes are in agreement that, well . . . the problems lie with you, Miss Gale. Of course, it wouldn't be fair if I didn't get your side of the story, and that is exactly why I'm here."
Dorothy was stunned, to the point of being hurt. She loved all of her students dearly, and always tried to be the best teacher she could be. The young girl was sweet and helpful, and the boys and girls seemed to appreciate her. "Well," she began, "I feel that Jeremy's grades are what they are, sir, because he doesn't try. He rarely does his schoolwork and disrupts the classroom at least once a week. I try to help him as much as I can, but he doesn't seem to want it. I don't like to reprimand him, but I feel I have to when everyone's education is at stake." It was all Dorothy could say in her defense, the truth. Her heart in her stomach, she awaited Mister Ramidge's reply.
"Miss Gale . . ." He trailed off, regretting every word he was forced to speak.
"You know times are still tough in this area, for a lot of folks. One of the only reasons we're able to operate this school is through the graces of the Greenes. It may be just a little, one-room school, but it's just about the only school these children would be able to go to. I know that you know little Jeremy is Almira Gulch's nephew, and that they think without a doubt there is a correlation between his grades and that fact. Miss Gale, I don't want you to leave, and I know the children don't want you to, either, but I think for the interests of everyone involved, you'd be better off if you did. I can't imagine you wanting to risk the children losing their chance of going to school."
"Why, of course not," was all Dorothy could reply with, eyes weighted down with sadness. There was no sense in arguing. The Greenes were what kept the school afloat, and they would have their way or there would be no school at all.
"Of course, we'll keep the reason behind your departure quiet. We'll just say that a personal matter has arisen," Marty added.
"Thank you," she replied before flashing red with embarrassment at the realization that it wasn't her name the school board was trying to protect. Mister Ramidge could only smile sadly at her.
On the inside, Dorothy was broken up. She loved her students. They had helped her continue on with her life after some very difficult times: losing Aunt Em to illness three winters before, the passing of her beloved Toto, and so much more. At first, Dorothy had only taken the job as a means to help out the farm, Uncle Henry's abilities to raise more commodities for profit declining as his own health declined. Teaching, however, had proved much more rewarding. She gave her heart to her students, trying her very best for all of them, because most of them did the same for her. And now, it was all over, the young lady's best apparently not being enough.
"I'll go ahead and get my things together, then," she finally said, breaking the silence.
"Take your time," Marty tried to comfort her. Taking her time, however, was the last thing the girl wanted to do.
"You'll be better off, Dorothy," he said, suddenly informal, "it doesn't seem like it now, but it's for the best. You'll thrive elsewhere. I'm sure. Good luck to you."
With that, the two parted ways, and with heavy heart, the teacher began to pack up her belongings.
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"Leaving so soon?" Came a cackling voice from behind. Dorothy, with books in tow, looked around. A few yards down the road ahead of her was none other than Jeremy Greene, his freckled face all sorts of delighted. "Maybe now you'll feel half of the misery that you've caused me. Of course, you should have felt some when you found your dog lying there dead last year. I wanted to make sure you didn't forget what that felt like."
Dorothy stood flabbergasted as the young boy sauntered away. Feeling more hurt than she had felt in a very long time, she continued to rush towards the only haven she had left, her home.