On the next Saturday afternoon, a week after the shopping day and with the dance still two weeks away, I sat at the kitchen table huddled over my checkbook, staring at the amounts of money that had gone out of my account, and the smaller-than-expected amount I had left.

Rachel sat down beside me. “Has this been an expensive time?”

I nodded, closing the checkbook and putting it back in my bag. Then I remembered something. “I forgot to tell you that I won’t be coming home the night of the dance. The girls are all sleeping over at Valerie’s house.”

Rachel seemed to be mulling that over. “Well, it’s not exactly in keeping with our promise to your parents that you’d be home by midnight.”

“I know,” I said quickly. “But at home I sleep at friends’ houses all the time, and my parents don’t mind.” Rachel still seemed doubtful. “I guess it’s okay,” she said. “I trust you to keep a good head on your shoulders.” I wasn’t sure why Rachel seemed concerned about the sleepover, but I was relieved that she wouldn’t keep me from going.

Just then the doorbell rang, and I jumped up to get it. Josh was waiting on the stoop. He smiled when he saw me, waving a DVD. “Okay,” he said, walking in and heading toward the family room, “I think you’ve gone long enough without seeing The Wizard of Oz.”

I sat on the couch and waited while Josh put the DVD in the slot and turned on the TV. Within minutes I was in another place, caught up in the life of the girl and her dog who had blown away from their gray Kansas farm to a world with color and music and magical adventures. Curled next to Josh, I laughed at the exploits of the fearful lion and the brainless scarecrow and the tin man who didn’t have a heart. I cringed at the evil of the green-faced witch, and was filled with disappointment when the wizard turned out to be a phony. Rachel joined us, humming along with the songs and occasionally saying a line along with a character. When Sam and the children came back from their outing, Ben and Janie climbed onto the couch with us, their high voices joining in with the singing. Sam perched on the end of the couch and added his voice to what now had become a sing-along. Apparently, I was the only one who didn’t know the movie by heart.

At the end, when Dorothy was back in her drab clothes on her gray farm, Josh and Sam and Rachel and the children all chanted together, ‘Oh, Auntie Em, there’s no place like home.’”

Everyone clapped and cheered, and I joined in, buoyed by the sense that everyone here shared this movie, that it was a part of their lives. “How do you all know this so well?” I asked.

“Before DVDs it used to be on TV once a year,” said Rachel. “It was always a celebration, that day. My cousins would come over and we’d order pizza and watch it together.”

“Now we can watch it anytime we want,” said Josh. “It’s the one movie everybody’s seen.”

It was one of those moments when I could have felt like an outsider. I chose not to. “Well, you’ve finally met someone who’d never seen The Wizard of Oz.”

“Yeah,” said Josh. “Now you’re one of us.” I smiled, but there was one thought I couldn’t get out of my mind. Why did Dorothy want to leave Oz and go back to Kansas?

That night, Josh and I went out to dinner at a place that he called a “sports bar.” Television sets were perched high on the walls around the restaurant, each turned to a different sporting event. Josh’s eyes kept darting around from the baseball game on one TV to the football game on another. I felt like I had to work hard for his attention.

I tapped on the table. “Remember me?”

“Sorry,” he said, slowly lowering his eyes from one of the TV screens and facing me. “It’s the play-offs.”

The waiter brought our cheeseburgers and fries, and refilled our Cokes. When he left, I looked back at Josh, only to see that he was glancing down at his cell phone cradled in the palm of his hand, his thumb moving back and forth over the buttons.

“What?” I asked.

“The party’s moving to Greg’s house tonight. I just got a text from him.”

He poured ketchup on his cheeseburger, and I waited. He looked up. “You’ll get to meet a few people from our Homecoming group at the party tonight.”

“Good,” I said, happy that we were having a conversation. “Tell me about them.”

But Josh’s eyes were downturned again. He smiled at his cell phone.

“What?” I asked again.

“Nothing. Just something funny Oscar texted me.”

“So, who’s going to be there tonight?”

“Ashley, Chelsea, Michael, Oscar. They’re excited to meet you.”

His eyes slid down to the table, where he had set his cell phone beside his plate. He reached for it and tapped a few more keys with his thumb.

I cleared my throat. “I didn’t know that you and Valerie used to be a couple.”

He looked up from his phone, a blank expression on his face. “That was random. Yeah, we went out for a few months sophomore year. Why?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just that you never mentioned it to me.”

He tapped a few more buttons on his phone and looked back at me. “I didn’t think it was important.” He paused. “Have you ever had a boyfriend before me?”

I hesitated. “Sort of.”

“Daniel?” he asked. “The guy who made you that wood carving on your nightstand?”

I looked at him, startled. “How did you…?”

“Valerie told me. By the way, in case you haven’t already figured it out, she’s not good at keeping secrets.”

“Well, it wasn’t a secret,” I said. “I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. Daniel and I weren’t exactly courting.”

“It’s no big deal,” said Josh. “I didn’t expect that I was your first boyfriend. I know you had a life before you came here. And I had one too.”

“Fair enough,” I said, feeling a little foolish. I took another bite of my cheeseburger and looked back at Josh. He was staring down at his cell phone.

“How many people are actually out to dinner with us?” I asked, anger rising in my voice.

Josh’s eyes returned to mine. “I’m sorry.” He slid his phone into his pocket. “So, what do you want to talk about?” he asked.

I couldn’t help myself. “Why did you and Valerie break up?”

Josh groaned. “Really? This is what you want to talk about?”

I nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll admit something. This is the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. Before I met you, I would be with someone for maybe a few weeks. Then I’d find something wrong with her.”

“What kinds of things were wrong?” I asked, trying to hide my eagerness.

“Mostly, I had this feeling that the girls were all interchangeable. I know they weren’t, really, but that’s how it seemed. I guess I was always looking for something distinctive in the girl I was with, something that set her apart. And I never found it.” He paused and looked at me, his grin inching upward. “Until now.”

I looked down, feeling self-conscious and pleased.

“Your turn,” he said. “I came clean, now you have to.”

He was right. If I wanted to know about his other relationships, it was only fair that he know about mine. I took a breath. “There was really only one boy. Daniel. We hadn’t gotten to courting yet, but if I had stayed at home, we’d probably be together by now.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s what we call ‘Good Amish.’ He follows the rules, doesn’t feel rebellious, like I did.” I thought for a moment. “He’s the one you’d go to if you needed help. He’d always be there for you.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Sometimes. We know each other pretty well, so I always felt easy around him.”

“But you didn’t feel ‘easy’ around me?”

“Not in the beginning,” I said. “I was always worried about saying the wrong thing. Like when I thought you worked at a fruit stand. Or when I told you I liked Billy Joel. Or when I asked you to take me to The Sound of Music.” We both laughed.

Josh smiled. “Well, I’m glad you’re comfortable now.” I nodded. Then he asked, “Does Daniel know about us?”

I swallowed and shook my head. I was beginning to think this conversation was a bad idea.

Josh tapped his spoon on the table. “Maybe you should tell him, so he has the freedom to see someone else.” I fiddled with the wrapper of my straw, trying to find an answer. Josh leaned forward. “So what’s your plan here? Are you going to leave that poor guy on the hook?” Then he sat back and dropped the spoon on the table. It made a clattery sound. “Or am I on the hook until you go back to him?”

“No one’s ‘on the hook,’” I said quickly, shaking my head at the odd expression. “You’re my boyfriend. I’ll send Daniel a letter and tell him about us. He deserves to know.”