It was a panoramic view of the city that none of them had ever seen before.
When Dad opened the door to the Grand Plaza suite, he was sure that they had the wrong place.
“Is this really for us?”
It was like nothing they’d ever seen and definitely like nowhere they’d ever been.
“I’d say so,” Mom answered as they all carefully stepped into the suite, clustered together like penguins in a snowstorm. It was almost as big as their entire home in Yungabilla. There were four bedrooms with king-size beds, a kitchen stocked with food, and a spa tub the size of a small pool.
Boo stood in front of a huge TV screen on the wall. “I’m worried that if I take another step, I’ll wake up.”
On the table was a bowl of lollipops. This time Nanna Flo didn’t even ask before she dropped a handful of them into her bag. “In case we get hungry later.”
When Dad opened the curtains, the Wimples once again found themselves staring in awe, unable to move or speak. Sydney Harbor spread out before them under a cloudless sky. For a moment, India wondered if the view was a giant painting.
Dad slid the balcony door open and the Wimples stepped outside and stood in the breeze.
“It’s like being on top of the world,” Boo said.
And it was. For the Wimples at least. They’d never been anywhere so high or so grand.
Dad pointed out all the famous landmarks. “There’s the Harbor Bridge and the Royal Botanic Gardens and—”
“Luna Park!” Boo pointed at the famous laughing clown face that looked as if it were smiling just for them.
“Thank you, Dad,” India said.
“Why are you thanking me?”
“If you hadn’t convinced your friends to dress up in costumes, we wouldn’t be here.”
“I was just doing the time-honored fatherly duty of embarrassing myself and my friends for the sake of my kids. I’ll do it again too, whenever you need me.”
“Nah, I think I’m good now.”
Boo coughed, his chest tight with the effort.
Mom swept to his side. “Are you feeling OK?”
“Just a little tired.” He coughed again.
The Wimples knew it was more than being “just a little tired.” Boo was pale and had the smallest whistling sound in his breath. It was a sound India had heard since she was a kid, and it frightened her more than any other.
“Let’s get you inside, champ.” Dad carried Boo back into the suite and propped him up on the couch while Mom, India, and Nanna Flo grabbed his asthma kit, pillows, and blankets.
“How’s that?” India fluffed his pillows.
“Good.”
She heard it again: his whistling breath. The tiniest noise that could fade away… or lead to a full-blown flare-up.
Mom pressed one puff of medication into the inhaler, and the Wimples silently counted each of his four breaths.
“Nice work.” Mom spoke calmly. “You’re doing well.”
Dad said nothing and was almost as pale as Boo.
Boo once explained to India that asthma was like someone squeezing his chest with two large hands and sometimes, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make them stop.
Mom gave Boo another dose from the inhaler. He breathed in. Four breaths.
The Wimples listened and counted. One…two…three…four.
Boo’s breath sounded like the wind whistling through an empty house.
This was when the Wimples’ nerves would sharpen. If Boo didn’t get better in the next few moments, they’d have to call an ambulance.
Another puff. Another four breaths.
India felt as if her own chest was being squeezed.
She saw Dad reach for his phone. He had emergency on speed dial.
Mom squeezed one last puff. “That’s it, Boo,” she said gently. “Nice, slow breaths.”
One…two…three…four. Then it happened.
Boo’s breathing finally became easier and the whistling faded.
“I’m OK.” Boo knew only to say it when he could feel his lungs filling up again, and the Wimples’ fear began to ease.
“Just as we knew you’d be.” Dad slipped his phone back in his pocket.
Nanna Flo noticed the time. “India, your meeting’s about to start.”
India’s heart was still racing from Boo’s flare-up. “Maybe I’ll skip it.”
“Fiddlesticks! Byron said they’ll have important information about the competition.”
“I’d rather stay here with you.”
The Wimples knew she meant in case anything else happens to Boo, so it was Boo who piped up next: “You have to go, so you can tell me all about it.”
At times, Boo’s asthma flare-ups meant there were things he missed out on—like day trips or the country fair—so the deal was, whenever this happened, India had to go and report back on everything she’d seen and done.
“OK,” India reluctantly agreed, “but I won’t be long.”
India didn’t move and Dad knew she was nervous. “Why don’t I go with you?”
Nanna Flo put her hand on Dad’s shoulder. “You heard Byron. The meeting is only for contestants. Plus, it will give India a chance to meet the other kids. You’ll be fine on your own, won’t you, dear?”
“Sure.” India nodded, now even more anxious at having to leave Boo and mingle with strangers. Every part of her wanted to stay, but instead she said, “I’ll be fine,” and dragged her feet to the door.
16
Daunting
(adjective):
Intimidating, fearsome, even a little frightening.
It was a daunting task that left her feeling unsettled.
But India wasn’t fine.
That’s right, she’d fibbed, but by now you know this happens with the Wimples, especially when they’re trying not to hurt or disappoint anyone.
As the elevator traveled down from the top floor, her heart tripped in her chest and her breathing was shallow and fast, as if she’d just finished a race. A really long one.
When the elevator came to a stop with a ping, the doors opened on Rajish and his parents.
Just act normal, India warned herself.
Rajish and his mom smiled and said hello as they stepped inside.
His dad followed, his head buried in the spelling book. “Erroneous.”
Rajish began spelling straightaway. “E-r-r-o-n-e-o-u-s.”
“Correct. And how about—”
“Oh, leave the boy be,” Rajish’s mother said. “I think we’ve had enough for now.”
Rajish gave India an apologetic shrug.
“And I think it’s wise to keep practicing.”
“Maybe being wise is overrated.”
“How is being wise ever overrated?” his dad cried.
“When it gets in the way of what is important.”
“What is important is our son’s future, which will be brilliant if we keep practicing!” Rajish’s father raised his spindly finger. “I am only speaking the truth.”
The elevator came to a stop with another ping, and the doors opened onto the busy hotel lobby.
Rajish’s parents kept arguing as all three left.
But India didn’t move.
There were so many people.
Her stomach lurched as if she were hurtling down a roller coaster. She grabbed the handrail to steady herself. She was about to press the button to take her back to their room, but she couldn’t. She’d made a deal.
“Come on,” she said to herself. “Do it for Boo.”
The Grand Ballroom was bigger than the lobby and filled with even more strangers.
There must have been hundreds of kids. They were everywhere, all milling around in groups or standing at the back of the room near tables filled with
sandwiches and fruit cups.
India’s chest felt tight. She wondered if this was how Boo felt when he had a flare-up. She took a deep breath, wore an extra-wide smile to hide how scared she was, and made her way to the sign-in table.
After India was given her name tag, she moved to a corner of the room and tried to pin it on her sweater, but her fingers were shaking so much she couldn’t get it to work.
She tried again, this time stabbing the pin into her finger. “Ouch!” She jumped back…straight into Rajish, stomping on his toe.
“I’m so sorry,” India said. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not at all.” India could tell he was just being polite as he shifted from one foot to the other.
“I’m not very good at this people thing,” she explained.
“People thing?”
“You know—talking to them, being with them.”
“Which people exactly?”
“Strangers mostly.” India shrugged. “Which means everyone here.”
“My name’s Rajish.”
“I’m India.”
Rajish’s smile lifted right into the corners of his face. “Now we’re not strangers.”
“I guess not.” India laughed nervously and wondered how soon she’d be able to leave.
“India—that’s a nice name.”
“Thank you. My parents met in India. They said it was love at first sight and promised that’s what they’d name their first child.”
“Very romantic,” Rajish said, which made India blush even more.
“I guess. Maybe. Romantic. Sure.” She knew she was babbling. Stop talking, she told herself.
“Are you having trouble with your name tag?”
India sighed. “I can’t pin it on.”
“May I?”
India froze. Not only was she now talking to strangers, but one of them was about to approach her with a sharp object.
“OK.”
“I’m sorry about my parents,” Rajish said, carefully pinning on the tag. “They don’t normally argue; it’s only since I entered the bee. My mom thought it would be kind of fun, but my dad thinks there’s no point entering unless you win.”
“My dad says just being here makes us champions.”
“He sounds like a nice man.”
“He is,” India said, surprised that she was feeling more relaxed.
A shrill voice rang through the room: “Is it organic?”
It was Summer. Yelling at a waiter.
“I only eat organic.” Summer’s icy scowl sent the waiter scuttling away.
“That’s Summer Millicent Ernestine Beauregard-Champion,” Rajish said. “She flew here in her own helicopter.”
“She has her own helicopter?” India asked.
“Sure does. Her parents are high-flying types who travel a lot, so they bought her a helicopter to help her get around when they’re away. This is her first year in the spelling bee, but she completely blitzed her rounds.”
“How do you know so much about her?”
“Promise not to laugh?”
India nodded.
“My father has studied all the top competitors. He says if you know your enemy, your battle is half won.”
“Am I the enemy?” India asked.
“According to my father, anyone who stands in the way of me winning is the enemy.”
India was suddenly wary. “Do you know about me too?”
“You come from a small town called Yungabilla, have a mom, dad, nanna, and brother, and this is also the first year you’ve competed.” He smiled again, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You blitzed your rounds too.”
“Children.” A voice flittered across the room. A woman with high heels and hair twirled on top of her head like soft-serve ice cream stood before a microphone.
India’s hands flew to her mouth. “Philomena Spright!”
“It’s really her!” Rajish said with just as much awe.
“Congratulations on making it to the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee finals. My name is Philomena Spright and I will be your pronouncer. No doubt you’re all a bit nervous and, while we want you to do your best, we also want you to have fun. So, this afternoon, we’ve arranged a special tour of the city.” There was a murmur of excited voices. “But first we’d like you to get to know each other.”
“What?” India didn’t even try to hide her horror. “She wants us to talk to each other?”
“You’ll be fine,” Rajish said. “You did OK with me.”
“But that’s because…” She tried to find the answer. “Because…”
Rajish helped her out. “Because you are naturally charming and easy to talk to.”
India frowned as if Rajish had just spoken Russian.
No one—not anyone—had ever said anything like that to her before.
“You think so?”
“I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”
“On your name tag is a number,” Philomena Spright explained. “Find the seat that matches that number and your new friend will be sitting opposite.”
“Better go. It was nice talking to you, India Wimple.”
India blushed and said, “Thanks.”
In the center of the room, chairs were arranged facing each other in small circles. Kids searched excitedly for their numbered chair, but when India found hers, she quietly moaned, “Oh no.”
In the chair opposite was Summer.
India sat down and attempted to smile, but even without a mirror, she knew it looked all wrong.
When everyone was seated, Philomena cheerily continued. “You have two minutes each to say your name and a little about yourself.” She held up a stopwatch. “Your time starts now.”
Summer crossed her arms, her whole body shouting, I don’t want to be here.
“Would you like to start?” India asked.
“Not especially.”
There was a long silence. India wasn’t sure what to do next.
“Shall I start?”
“It’s all so pointless.” Summer scanned the room of chattering kids. “I’m here to win this spelling bee. If I’d wanted to make friends, I’d have gone to band camp.”
“But Philomena said we need to—”
“Oh, all right. What’s your name?”
“India.”
“Interesting.”
Even though Summer had said interesting, she didn’t sound at all interested.
“My mom and dad met and fell in love in India, which was so special that they decided to name their first child India.” She shrugged. “And that’s me.”
Summer eyed India, much like a cheetah sizing up a helpless rabbit. “So you think you’re pretty special?”
“That’s not what I meant. I just—”
“You should be careful,” Summer warned. “No one likes a show-off.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean to show off.”
Philomena rang a bell and announced, “Time to swap speakers.”
India was relieved. “Your turn.”
“Wimple.” Summer ignored the rules of the game and stared at India’s name tag. “That’s an unusual name. Does it come from the root word wimp?”
“I don’t think—”
“Alternative definitions being coward, scaredy-cat, chicken.”
“I’ve never really thought—”
“If I were to use it in a sentence, I could say, When I met Summer, I realized that, compared to her, I was an outclassed, hand-me-down wimp.”
India felt as if she’d been bounced from a trampoline and crash-landed to the ground.
They sat in silence. India squirmed in her seat, not knowing who should talk next.
“Where are you from?”
“Yungabilla.”
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“Yunga-where?”
“It’s in the country.”
“So you’re a hillbilly?”
“No, I—”
Philomena Spright rang the bell. “Time to make more friends! Everyone move one chair to your left.”
Summer gave India a little wave. “Good luck with the competition, India Wimp-le.”
It was obvious that Summer didn’t mean it. Not one bit.
India stood up and moved to the next chair. The room went back to feeling too big, too full of strangers. She searched for Rajish but couldn’t see him through the sea of kids.
India wondered how it was possible to be in the middle of a crowded room and still feel all alone.
17
Flabbergasting
(adjective):
Stupefying, astonishing, positively mind-blowing.
It was a flabbergasting turn of events that left them truly shocked.
“Ladies, gentlemen, and spelling bee champions, welcome to your exclusive tour of Sydney,” the bus driver announced. “My name is Freddie, and it will be my pleasure to show you the sights of our fair city, including a very special, secret destination.”
Freddie’s was the first in a line of open-topped, double-decker buses lined up outside the Hotel Grand.
The Wimples climbed the stairs to the top.
“How exciting.” Dad sat beside Mom; he wore a red polka-dot shirt and knitted purple tie that Mrs. Butler had given him for mending her chicken coop. “I wonder what the secret destination is.”
“Not sure,” Nanna Flo, who was sitting next to Boo, said, “but it must be somewhere fancy, since they asked us to get dressed up.”
India slid into the seat behind them.
“Are you OK back there?” Nanna Flo asked.
“Yes. Thanks, Nanna.”
And it was true. Everything felt much better now she was back with her family.
Summer climbed the stairs next, wearing a willowy, blue dress with sparkling, silver shoes. She took a hanky from her matching sparkling handbag and brushed her seat before sitting down.
Her nanny staggered onto the bus, carrying a large bag. “Wouldn’t you like to sit with the other children?”
Summer looked perturbed. “Why would I want to do that?”
“I just thought that maybe you’d like… Perhaps you’d enjoy…” Daniela gave up and slipped onto the seat beside her.
The Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee Page 8
