CHAPTER THREE: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MONTH

Liir awoke to a clanging in his kitchen.

He closed his eyes again, not unused to rude awakenings from his days in boarding school, until he remembered that he now lived alone.

Another clang.

He leapt out of bed, arms flailing about, looking for anything around him he could use as a makeshift weapon. He eventually opted to grab his largest chess tournament trophy and tiptoed to his bedroom door. He cautiously turned the doorknob all the way to the right so it wouldn't click and pushed it open to peek through the crack. A shadow stirred across his kitchen floor.

"Who's there?!" he called in what he hoped was a gruff voice. It came out more like a squeak.

He flung the door open and lifted the trophy only to drop it in surprise when a voice shouted, well—

"SURPRISE!"

"Ow!" Liir blurted out as the trophy's base landed hard on his foot.

"Goodness gracious. What is with all the ruckus?"

When Liir looked up from his throbbing toe to see who had invaded his kitchen, he felt silly for having been surprised in the first place. A ruffly apron was tied over her satin bustled gown, and the notable lack of tiara in her chin-length blonde curls signaled to Liir that it was a day off from work for his godmother.

"Auntie Glinda?"

"Of course Auntie Glinda! Who else?"

Glinda bounced over to greet Liir with a fond kiss to the cheek.

"I've been waiting forever for you to get your lazy butt out of bed."

"How did you get in here?"

"I gave myself a key!" Glinda said, grabbing a key from her apron pocket and jingling it. "It wasn't hard. The landlord loves me."

"Shouldn't you be using it for emergencies?"

"This is an emergency!"

Glinda scooped a dollop of something out of a bowl with her finger and booped it onto Liir's nose. He rubbed at and looked down to see a smear of green over his warm tan skin. It smelled sugary.

"Happy birthday, sweetie."

Liir finally fought off a grin over Glinda's antics.

"It's not my birthday, Auntie Glinda," Liir said. "You know that."

"Oh yes, I know. But I was thinking last night how very unfortunate it is that your birthday always gets overshadowed by Melting Day. I had a friend once whose birthday was on Lurlinemas. She hated it! Then, Liir—then I hatched a brilliant plan..."

"Uh oh."

"This year, we're not just celebrating your birthday. We're celebrating the whooooooooole month!"

Liir chuckled and wiped the frosting off of his hand. Glinda never missed an opportunity to celebrate.

"Oh the things I've got planned for us, Liir. You won't know what hit you," Glinda said. "Speaking of which…"

She bent down to grab the chess trophy.

"What were you planning to do with that, huh? Were you going to whack me with it?"

She set the trophy aside to continue slathering heaps of green frosting across an already very frosted cake. Liir wondered if there was even a cake under it at all.

"Just not used to living alone yet," Liir shrugged. "I get jumpy."

"Well, you'd better get used to it! You'll be eighteen at the end of the month. All grown up! I can't believe you're—"

A sudden sniffle caught in Glinda's throat, and she pressed her fingers to her lips.

"I can't believe you're all grown up."

"Auntie Glinda…" Liir said with a sympathetic sigh. He took a step towards her but she held up her hands.

"Don't come any closer! You'll just remind me how terribly tall you've gotten!"

Liir figured Glinda was saying so to be kind, as he had never had much to write home about in the height department. At least compared to other boys his age.

"Drat, drat, drat," Glinda continued. "I told myself I wouldn't cry today."

"You cried over a butterfly last week," Liir reminded her.

"Its wing was chipped!" Glinda said sharply. She took a deep breath and fanned her face. "Don't mind me. It's just the passage of time, you know? It gets to you…when you're as old as I am."

"What? Twenty-nine?"

"Good boy," Glinda patted his cheek. "Enough crying. Time for cake!"

"It's eight in the morning."

"Cake."

Liir knew better than to disobey.

Glinda moved the cake to Liir's small table all the while singing an operatic chorus of Happy Birthday (month) that he was certain his neighbors would appreciate. The candles slanted sideways in the wobbly mountain of frosting and Glinda performed what she referred to as 'sparkle fingers', wiggling them over the wicks until they slowly flickered to life before their eyes. Liir stared at the flame curiously and faded into his thoughts.

"Make a wish, honey."

"Huh?" Liir said, snapping out of it.

Glinda gestured expectantly to the cake.

"Make a wish."

Liir stared at the flames for a long moment. As always, he didn't think hard about what to wish for.

He wished for the same thing every year.

He blew out the eighteen candles and Glinda applauded before eagerly cutting into the cake to serve them each a slice. It turned out there was a cake underneath in a shocking shade of pink.

"See? I used my favorite color and your favorite color. They go good together, don't you think?" Glinda nodded. "I've…always thought so."

Liir observed as Glinda's smile fluttered for a moment, her eyes briefly going to a faraway place. It was a common occurrence for Auntie Glinda, one surely invisible to the untrained eye. But knowing her as well and for as long as he did, Liir had a keen eye for the mysterious moments.

"Where did you learn that trick?" Liir mimed her 'sparkle fingers'.

"That old thing? It's a Glinda original," she winked.

"Can you teach me?"

Glinda blanched.

"It won't happen again!" Liir assured quickly. "Besides, the apartment has a sprinkler system. I think."

"You know that old saying? That um…that—those who cannot..." Glinda waved her hand in a circle, the idiom on the tip of her tongue.

"Those who cannot do teach?"

"That's it! Well. I can do, but cannot teach," Glinda shrugged, raising a spoonful of frosting to her lips.

"But—"

"I cannot teach!"

"Were you born with magic, then?" Liir continued.

"Oh, no silly. I've just studied it for a very long time. Sorcery is taught, not born—"

"I was born with it."

"Yes, well you're—"

Glinda pinched her lips shut.

"I'm what?"

She giggled nervously and wagged a finger towards Liir.

"Inquisitive! You've always been inquisitive," she said, absently placing another piece of cake upon her original slice though she'd barely touched it at all. "You know, I remember a time—you were no more than five, mind you—when I took you to that big history museum downtown. There was an exhibit with a life-sized replica of The Wizard's balloon you could take a photo in, but the moment we walked into the museum…well. Your eyes got so big."

A nostalgic smile graced Glinda's lips. Liir smiled too.

"You'd just point to things and say, 'what's that?' 'What's that?' 'What's that?' all the livelong day, and you would not let it slide. You were so young, and so curious. In the end we didn't even make it to the balloon. Then when we left you just cried and cried and cried and cried. I took you so many places, carnivals, parades—but no. That boring old museum…was your favorite place to go."

Glinda rested her chin in her hands with a wistful sigh. Her eyes went away again, and her lips twitched, as if they were withholding an endnote to the story she longed to share but, for whatever reason, would not.

"Auntie Glinda…you're my godmother," Liir said delicately.

"Yes I am."

"So…someone named you as my godmother."

Glinda straightened up a bit, her body going quite still in contrast to her usual fidgets.

"Liir, honey. We've talked about this—"

"It's just—I know nothing about where I come from. Nothing about my parents."

"I've told you all there is to know about your parents."

Liir was quiet for a long time before slowly reaching across the table to take both of his godmother's hands.

"Tell me again?" he requested in a tone impossible to refuse.

Glinda sighed and patted his hands before looking to meet his eyes.

"Liir…your parents were not able to raise you. I don't know what became of them…but I know they wanted you to have a good life," Glinda said softly. "The best life you could know."

Liir had heard it, verbatim, his entire life. He knew the verbatim answer to his next question too, but he asked it anyway.

"Did you know them?"

"Well…it depends on what you mean by know."

It was all she ever said.

Liir had attended the finest boarding schools Oz had to offer. He'd never wanted for anything, he'd received a fine education, and his Auntie Glinda visited him at least twice a week when he wasn't already staying with her between school sessions. He'd never questioned her visits as a kid, he'd just accepted that Glinda, much to the envy of his peers, had taken an interest in his life.

But why?

What interest did the ruler of Oz, Glinda the Good herself, have in an orphan? He'd considered charity, she was Glinda the Good after all, and one of Glinda's dearest causes was improving the orphanage system in Oz. But while she did financially support him, their bond had always felt more significant than that. She'd never missed an outing, a holiday, a birthday. She was in the front row for every chess tournament even though she got hopelessly muddled over the rules.

Her door had been open to Liir day and night for his entire life. She was the shoulder he cried on, his biggest supporter, and his truest confidant.

So why was she lying to him?

"I mean did you know them," Liir said, his voice soft and pleading. "Did you meet them? Did you know their names? Were you frien—"

Glinda stood abruptly and crossed to Liir's kitchen counter, beginning to tidy the mess she'd made. She grabbed a wet rag and began furiously wiping a green smudge off of the counter where the coloring dye had spilled.

"Pesky green stain," she muttered to herself.

"Auntie Glinda…" Liir appealed, standing and looking at her. "Please. I know there's more to the story that you're not telling me. I'm practically eighteen. I'm an adult. Whatever it is, I can hear it."

Glinda scrubbed harder.

"Whatever it is…" Liir spoke again. "It won't change anything between us."

Glinda's shoulders slackened and she slowed her efforts until her scrubbing came to a stop. She stared down at the spot for a long moment, her distant eyes drifting further away than ever. Her lower lip trembled.

"If the landlord gives you trouble about this spot, send him to me. I'll sort it out," she said with a thick, choked voice. "I'll sort it out."

Glinda lived her life with the energy and exuberance of someone half her age and more often than not she pulled off the illusion physically too. OzBeat Magazine often asked Glinda the Good to share her secret to never aging. Some credited it to her magic, others to her enduring goodness (after all, only bad witches were ugly), while some tried to peddle products claiming that they were the ones behind Glinda's eternal youth.

Liir sometimes felt that he was the only one who could see through the cracks of Glinda's carefully curated perfection.

Well into her forties, a death sentence for the youth obsessed Emerald City, Glinda's coiffed hair occasionally betrayed a subtle silvering at the temples between her confidential colorings. The faintest smile lines graced her features. And on that day in particular, dark circles under her eyes suggested to Liir a poor night's sleep.

Glinda looked tired.

Glinda looked sad.

"I'm sorry," Liir said at once. "You did all this for me and all I do is needle you with questions…and try to whack you with a trophy."

He tacked on the last bit with a smile that suggested surrender.

"Oh," Glinda waved a dismissive hand, winding back to her usual self like a turnkey doll. "Bygones! Bygones! This month is all about you. Let's kick it off right, shall we? Let's have a celebration!"

"The Glinda way?" Liir teased.

"The Liir way. Whatever you want to do, no limits! Lunch, shopping, festivals. You could even invite along a friend, if you wish. Maybe a chum from school? You know that your friends are always welcome, Liir. Anytime."

Liir cleared his throat.

"Right, um…maybe…"

"Oh!" Glinda said, pretending like an idea had just popped into her head. "I know. Perhaps we could tour Emerald University? Hm? See how you like it? Hm?"

Liir sighed inwardly over Glinda's heavy handedness and watched as her nails drummed on a fresh stack of college brochures she must have brought in with her.

"Um…not today…" Liir said, ruffling the back of his black hair.

Glinda appeared deflated over his refusal.

"Okay…but soon, right?" Glinda hinted hopefully. "Just say the word and I'll set up some tours, yes?"

"Yes…soon. Yes."

"Emerald University doesn't seem all that great anyhow," Glinda shrugged. "Though it would be nice to have you so close. Of course I am biased towards Shiz, but in the end, it's—"

"My decision," Liir finished her sentence. "I know, Auntie Glinda, and I appreciate it, I do."

"With that big, bright brain of yours I just know they'll all be fighting over you!" Glinda said. "Just don't wait too long, you know? Enrollment has already begun—"

"What about going to the museum?" Liir changed the subject. "For today?"

Glinda groaned theatrically. "Anywhere, Liir! We can go anywhere!"

Liir shot Glinda a cheeky smile and she sighed in resignation.

"I just can't say no to you, can I?"

The museum was only two stops away by trolley but going anywhere with Glinda always made trips longer. Though the lack of tiara and wand was meant to signal to the public that the Mistress of Goodness was off duty, citizens could rarely resist keeping their distance. Glinda always tried to keep the visiting short out of respect for her time with Liir, which Liir appreciated. He was not quite the social butterfly that his godmother was. A social caterpillar, she kindly called him, but Liir disagreed. That suggested that he'd one day grow to be like her. Now on the precipice of adulthood, he was coming to realize that he'd likely never have the magic gift that his godmother had with people.

After all, when asked…Liir couldn't think of a single friend to invite along for their outing.

While Liir had patience with Glinda in her element, she too had patience while he was in his. The museum was marvelous with high walls and marble columns, and she'd let him silently read every placard without interruption. Maybe a witty remark here and there, or a gentle teasing, but she never gave the impression of boredom.

"Happy birthday month, Liir! Smile!" Glinda beamed, pulling him in to take a snapshot. She collected the polaroid from the camera before posing with Liir again. "Aaaaand the second one."

Glinda's rule was to always take two, Liir assumed so she could take her pick between the best ones.

Liir's eyes calmly scanned a brochure as they promenaded down the atrium when he heard Glinda's heels stop clicking on the floor. He looked behind to see why she'd stopped walking, but she swiftly linked her arm with his and gestured ahead.

"Ooh! The gift shop. Come along and I'll spoil you!"

"You always spoil me," Liir laughed. Glinda yanked him sharply to the left but Liir instead craned his neck towards a commotion up ahead. "What's that?"

Straight ahead was a gargantuan new exhibit with an anxious crowd queuing in front of it.

The Hall of Wickedness.

"Is that—" Liir said. "But I thought it wasn't supposed to open for a month! They must be soft launching it. Glinda, can we go?"

"Liir, darling—the gift shop, remember?"

"But I've been reading about it," Liir insisted. "It's supposed to be fascinating. They've got all sorts of artifacts that haven't ever been displayed."

"My feet are getting terribly sore—"

But Liir, ever-curious, was already striding towards the entrance leaving Glinda no choice but to trot after him.

"Liir, honey. I can just think of so many better ways of spending our time! Happier ways!"

"It's going to be too crowded on Melting Day. You know…my birthday?" Liir hinted.

"Right…right…" Glinda nodded faintly.

"Maybe I could go in alone?"

"No!"

A few people looked their way over Glinda's outburst and she quickly recovered with a smile and a breathy laugh.

"Just a tad nervous is all!" she appeased them with a humble wave. "Wickedness is an especially dreadful topic for me, as I'm sure you all can understand!"

"Oh, Glinda! You mustn't!" a passerby urged as they exited the exhibit. "It was hard enough for me to go in, but for someone as goodly as you?"

"I've a petition to get this exhibit closed!" another shouted. "I don't want my children exposed to wickedness."

Glinda held up her hands and, as always, people hushed to listen. Liir could never understand how she did that.

"I hear your concerns, dear friends. But how can we prevent wickedness in the future, if we do not learn of its past?"

"You don't have to come in," Liir tried once more. "I mean you're Glinda the Good—"

"Not today I'm not! I'm Glinda the Godmom today, remember?" Glinda said. She took a steadying breath. "Very well. I said today was all about you…and I always keep my promises."

The hall was dimly lit with high ceilings. There were placards of things on display, all of which focused heavily on a specific theme. The rise and fall of Oz's most infamous period of wickedness.

"Oh—is that the house?" Liir gaped.

As he and Glinda approached Liir realized it wasn't the original, but rather a life-sized reconstruction of a small country home. A few people were walking through the replica with awe.

"It couldn't be the original…" Glinda drummed her fingers on her cheek. "Those, however, are real."

Glinda nodded towards a glass casing that displayed a door and several grimy, splintered boards that had been preserved from the crash site.

"That's right, you were there weren't you?" Liir asked.

"After. Yes. After it fell," Glinda nodded solemnly. She caught the eyes of some onlookers. "After it fell from the star called Kansas and brought our dear savior Dorothy, that is! You read all about her in class, didn't you Liir? Why—there are the shoes she wore! Right over there."

Liir stepped over to a glass case with many people crowded around it. Eventually they were able to get closer to look upon the famous jeweled heels.

"Why would Dorothy's shoes be on display in a hall like this?" Liir frowned. "There wasn't a wicked thing about her."

"Well, it's a lesser-known fact, you see," Glinda said. "Those shoes weren't always hers…"

"I still can't believe you met her," Liir enthused. "You met Dorothy Gale."

"Met her?" Glinda laughed lightly. "Why, I'm the one who gave her those shoes, silly."

"It's hard to believe you were around for this," Liir gawked. "For all of this."

"Well believe it!"

Glinda linked her arm with Liir and gestured to a blown-up picture of herself beaming beside the Coroner who had just dubbed The Wicked Witch of the East most sincerely dead.

"Oh my, how very young I looked…" Glinda said, resting her free hand against her cheek. "I forget sometimes…how very young we were."

"You're still young," Liir said.

"And that is why you're my favorite godchild."

Glinda turned her head back towards the picture with a wistful sigh.

"You know, that was a very important day for me."

"Because The Wicked Witch of the East died?"

"No…" Glinda said, gesturing to the picture of her younger self. "Because it was on that day that I learned something very, very special was going to happen."

"What?" Liir turned to look at her.

Glinda smiled softly and opened her mouth, but her words were interrupted by a series of raucous laughter. On the side of the house people were able to stick their legs and face through holes in the wall of the crash house to pose for cheeky photos.

"How charming…" Glinda muttered.

A sudden shriek caught their attention and Liir and Glinda turned in time to see a woman swoon into her partner. They slowly stepped through a grand archway into another section of the hall where they saw what made the lady feel so faint.

A colossal, multi-story statue towered over the heads of guests in the center of the hall. Sharp teeth were bared behind an evil sneer, pointy claws gripped round a broom handle, but perhaps the most fearful feature of all was the unnaturally green skin.

The void. The darkness. Wickedness itself.

The Wicked Witch of the West.

The hall was uncannily quiet save for an occasional uneasy chuckle. Onlookers seemed not to be able to look into The Witch's eyes for long. Liir, however, stared directly up into them. Even in statue form, a palpable hatred seemed to radiate from The Witch's red eyes. A shiver ran up his spine, all at once uncomfortable…and unable to look away.

A sudden whimper broke Liir from his stupor and he turned to see Glinda with her fingers pressed to her lips.

"Auntie Glinda? Are you okay?"

Glinda unclasped her purse and pulled out a handkerchief with shaking hands.

"It's cruel," Glinda sniffled. "It's just so cruel."

She dabbed at the corner of her eyes and Liir felt a rush of guilt over bringing her in.

"It is. She was," he said, going to Glinda's side. "I'm sorry, Auntie Glinda. I shouldn't have brought you in here. I'm sure it just dragged up memories of how terrible she was."

"Oh, it's fine darling. You did nothing wrong," she assured him, her eyes darting around the hall. "Just a bit shaken, is all. And it's terribly warm!"

"Oh, here Glinda!" a woman said. "Take mine."

The woman handed Glinda a handheld paper fan the museum had been handing out to combat the hot June weather. One side advertised the official opening for the Hall of Wickedness whereas the other side bore the quote "I'M MELTING!" in big blocky letters.

"How very…" Glinda smiled at the woman. "Kind."

Liir and Glinda continued along throughout the hall. Artifacts surrounded the statue in a rounded pathway.

"Who is 'The Traitor Prince'?" Liir wondered aloud, drawn to a single display. "I've never heard of him."

"Oh—well—" Glinda hummed, catching up to Liir. "You see—"

There was a cardboard silhouette of a man's body in an old guard uniform with a burlap sack pulled over the head.

"Born to the late Marilott and Baxiana Tigelaar, Prince Fiyero Tigelaar of The Vinkus became a notable accessory to wickedness after absconding with The Wicked Witch late into her reign of terror," Liir read with a shake of his head. "Who would choose such a thing?"

"That's a question many have asked!" Glinda said. "But we really should be—"

"Perhaps the most shocking detail of the prince's story was his previous engagement to Glin…" Liir trailed off and Glinda put her hand against her forehead. "Auntie Glinda?"

"Hm?"

"You were engaged to this guy?!"

"Maybe a little bit?"

"You've never told me this!"

"Well now, let's just make a lesson out of it shall we?" Glinda said. "People…are not always what they seem."

"But—"

"Oooooh, what's that?! Looky over there."

Glinda pointed to the next display, or rather the lack of one.

"Oh, The Lost Grimmerie," Liir gasped in realization. "We learned all about this in school."

"Yes, yes. That old book," Glinda wrapped a curl around her finger. "Terribly hard to read, that thing."

"You've seen it?" Liir turned to Glinda.

"Yes! Uh—before it went missing. Obviously!" Glinda said, fanning herself with the paper fan. "You know something, Liiry? I'm in desperate need of a refreshment. Could we…"

Glinda trailed off and followed Liir's eyes as they wandered somewhere else. His head quirked to the side in curiosity.

"Liir?"

Liir didn't answer her. He began walking through the crowd, drawn towards a specific display at the far end of the hall.

"Liir, honey?" Glinda called, following after him.

Liir wove through the crowd before finally coming to a stop in front of the artifact in question.

A broom.

The Witch's broom.

Its bristles had long been burnt so only its handle and charred end remained. Liir approached the green velvet rope it rested behind as Glinda fought to catch up with him. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have dared. Liir kept his head down, rarely rebelled, and had a reverence towards the rules.

Yet, there was something. A feeling. As strange as déjà vu yet utterly unknown to him. A force. A force compelling him to reach out past the velvet rope…

"Liir!"

…and grip onto The Witch's broom.

An electric current surged up Liir's arm and his vision went blurry around the edges. Glinda yelped as thick cracks began zigzagging up the various glass displays in the hall and she rushed to Liir's side.

"Put it down, honey. Put it down."

"Hey, what's he doing?!" someone shouted.

"That kid has the broom!"

"Liir put it down!"

Liir, in his panic, turned his body towards the rest of the hall, broom in hand, and all of the glass shattered at once. Frenzied screams began echoing through the hall and Liir, snapping out of his trance, realized what he was still holding.

"I'm sorry!" Liir gasped. "I don't—I don't know why I—"

He tried to return the broom to its holster but it jerked violently in his hand as if to resist. Frightened, he dropped it. The moment the broom clattered to the floor every light in the hall went out with a sparky snap.

"Alright, sweetie. Time to go. Tiiiiiime to go," Glinda's voice said in Liir's ear.

Feeling a yank on his hand, Glinda started pulling Liir towards the exit as the emergency lights clicked on. Liir looked upwards at The Witch statue as Glinda tugged him along. Its features seemed different in the dark lighting, in the chaos. It looked like it was looking at him.

It looked like she was looking at him.

"Auntie Glinda," Liir wheezed. "What just happened?"

"Come along, dear. Hurry now."

They stepped out onto the street and Liir's jaw dropped when he saw that the lights were out in nearly every building on the block. Vendors and pedestrians shook their heads over the outage but Glinda didn't budge from her path. Glinda guided Liir to The Emerald Palace in uncharacteristic silence. Any attempts made by Liir to ask questions were promptly shut down with a shush. They ascended to Liir's palace bedroom which Glinda still kept reserved for his visits.

Now safe behind closed doors, Glinda let out a long breath.

"Well! That was a little whacky!" she giggled nervously. "I mean…what a way to start your birthday month, huh?"

"Auntie Glinda," Liir asked seriously. "How did that happen?"

"What? How should I know?" she giggled nervously. "Blasted wiring must have shorted!"

"For the whole grid?!"

"You're right, I should have people look into this at once!" Glinda nodded, angling towards the door. "I should go to my office and start a taskify force—"

"What about the glass?"

"People cut corners all the time on—"

"Auntie Glinda—"

"We really don't need to worry about—" Glinda grabbed the door knob.

"It was me."

Glinda stiffened.

"It was me—I-I did it…" Liir continued in a small voice. "I know I did…and I think you do too."

Glinda turned slowly and faced Liir with a resigned sigh.

"Yes, sweetie. I believe you did too."

"But how? I-I didn't mean to! I don't even know how it happened!"

"Well it's just like your little pyrotechnics. You're just—just—more gifted than others!"

"Glinda…why did I touch the broom?"

Glinda closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

"I knew I shouldn't do it," Liir wrung his hands nervously. "I didn't plan to do it. I just saw it and something compelled me toward it…I can't explain it!"

"Liir, I really should…" Glinda looked towards the door. "Perhaps we can discuss this at another—"

"You can't even look at me," Liir said in a small voice. "Can you?"

Glinda softened and released the doorknob immediately, turning her eyes back towards Liir.

"Oh, honey…I'm right here. I'm here and I'm looking right at you," Glinda promised, crossing over to him. She took Liir's face in her hands so that his blue eyes would meet hers. "Now tell me…what are you scared that I'll see?"

"Auntie Glinda…" Liir swallowed tightly, afraid to voice the fear out loud. "I'm not wicked…am I?"

"What?" Glinda gasped. "No! Oh, Liir honey, no."

"Then why else would I be drawn to such an evil artifact?" Liir asked, pulling away in distress. "Why else did all of that happen at the museum? Auntie Glinda. I'm different from other kids…aren't I?"

Glinda opened her mouth, but when she didn't answer right away Liir made an anxious sound and started pacing.

"You said it yourself! Sorcery is taught. If that's true…then how can I do it without meaning to? Magic may not be born but wickedness surely is, isn't it? How else does it happen?"

"Well that's a question many find confusifying—"

"What if there's something in me, Auntie Glinda?" Liir fretted. "Something bad."

Liir stopped pacing and looked towards Glinda with a pleading expression.

"But I didn't mean to do anything wrong! I didn't have any wicked intent. I promise. Please, Auntie Glinda," Liir pleaded. "You have to believe me."

"Of course I believe you. Oh, Liir!" Glinda rushed to Liir and patted his hand reassuringly. "Of course I believe you."

"But—"

"No, no. Listen to me. I am Glinda the Good, which means I am the final word in goodness. And you, Liir?" Glinda shook her head. "Why…you are the furthest thing from wicked."

Glinda delicately tapped a finger to Liir's forehead. "With your brain?" She tapped a finger over his heart. "Your heart?" She grabbed his shoulders. "Your courage? Goodness gracious. You're as good of a person as there ever was."

Liir said nothing, not altogether reassured. Glinda sighed and opened her arms.

"Come here, sweetie."

Liir stepped into Glinda's arms and she wrapped him in a long, comforting hug. Her perfume greeted his senses, but it failed to offer Liir the same soothing magic it usually did.

"It's just you and me against this wicked old world. Remember?" Glinda said, rubbing Liir's back. "If anyone wants to call you wicked they're gonna have to go through me."

She pulled away and patted Liir's face.

"Why don't you stay over at the palace tonight? Hm? We can order your favorite for dinner and go crazy on dessert. What do you say?"

"Okay…"

"Oh…" Glinda sighed. "Chin up, dear. There's no room for gloom during birthday month. Only celebration."

Without any more ado, Glinda turned on her heel and left. Liir watched her go, feeling somehow like he knew less about himself than when the day began.