I own nothing.
Glinda arrived and I handed her a sheet of paper. "Something you should know about me, my friend," I whispered, hugging her. She nodded and after I died, she opened the paper—on it was a note and a song.
"Dear Glinda, I am sorry I never told you—my biggest secret. I want you to know what I've really wanted—besides being accepted—was, um, read the attached paper. I'm not sure what else to say. Except I'm sorry and I wish it didn't have to end this way. Just remember that I'll be always watching out for you. Once in a while, when you really miss me, just look to the Western Sky to find me. Elphie. P.S. Here's the song. 'I need a place where I can go, where I can whisper what I know, where I can whisper who I like and where I go to see them. I need a place where I can hide where no one sees my life inside, and I can make my plans and write them down so I can read them, a place where I can bid my heart be still and it will find me, a place where I can go when I am lost and there I'll find me. I need a place to spend the day, where no one says to go or stay, where I can take my pen and draw the girl I mean to be.'"
Glinda folded up the note and when she had the time, she rewrote the song, memorizing the words.
