The Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee

by Deborah Abela

  “Two minutes, everyone,” the floor manager called.

  “India Wimple,” Rajish said, “you don’t need a hanky to help you win.”

  “But Nanna Flo said it kept her dad safe during the war.”

  “Maybe that’s true, but no lucky hanky can change the fact that you’re an amazing speller.”

  India felt that familiar fluttering in her stomach, but not the kind that made her want to run or be sick. This one was different. This one felt…nice.

  “Thank you, Rajish.”

  He held a spindly finger in the air. “I am only speaking the truth.”

  India giggled.

  This time Rajish blushed. “You look very pretty.”

  “It’s the dress.”

  “No, I think you always look very pretty.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. Good luck.”

  The children were led onto the stage, which is when India saw it: the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee trophy. It sparkled under the stage lights and was so much bigger than she’d thought it would be.

  They took their seats, and India found herself beside Summer.

  Not the usual, confident Summer, but a more hunched-over, uncertain Summer, who didn’t look at all excited to be there.

  “Are you nervous?” India asked.

  “Me?” The old Summer returned, looking the very definition of confident. “Why would I be nervous? I am the only person in this competition who has spelled every word correctly.”

  India was disappointed. Summer was still cranky, which must have meant her parents never made it. Her ingenious plan hadn’t worked.

  “It’s true, but good luck anyway.”

  Summer eyed her warily. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  In the audience, a man wearing a security jacket buttoned over sunflower pajamas was being shown to his seat in the front row—it was Dad, in what looked like Arlo’s jacket. He sat beside the Kapoors.

  All three waved and gave a thumbs-up just before the lights dimmed.

  “Ten seconds, everyone.” The floor manager held her hand in front of the camera lens and counted down. “We’re on in five…four…three…two…”

  The theme music began and the audience burst into applause.

  Philomena Spright drifted onto the stage like a ballroom dancer. “Welcome to the grand final of the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee, coming to you live from one of the world’s most stupendously spectacular venues, the Sydney Opera House.” She was her resplendent best in an elegant white gown with her signature ice-cream-swirl hair. “We have the best and brightest spellers before us tonight, but our job today is to find the ultimate winner, so let’s begin.”

  Philomena explained the rules before calling the first speller to the microphone.

  While India waited for her turn, she practiced spelling each word, seeing them clearly in her head. There was no jumble of letters, no rewriting of words again and again on her hand. For the first time, being part of the spelling bee felt no more frightening than lying on her living room floor in Yungabilla on a Friday night.

  Transcendent.

  Delectable.

  Phenomenal.

  The audience sat as still as glass, waiting nervously for Philomena to pronounce the answer right or wrong.

  Rajish and India swapped smiles each time they spelled a word correctly.

  As the rounds progressed and the words became harder, more contestants misspelled their words and had to leave the stage.

  An hour went by, chairs emptied and dreams of being the champion faded, until there were only three spellers left: Rajish, Summer, and India.

  Each time they approached the microphone, they were presented with a more difficult challenge.

  Metamorphosis.

  Transmogrification.

  Chrysalis.

  They’d been spelling for over two hours.

  Rajish was next.

  Philomena held another card before her. “Scheherazadian.”

  Rajish paused before asking, “Could I have the definition please?”

  “This is an adjective deriving from Scheherazade, the imaginative queen who narrated stories in The Arabian Nights.”

  Rajish closed his eyes and his lips moved silently. He was taking longer than usual to answer. India knew he could do it, but she crossed her fingers for him extra tight just in case.

  Finally, he began. “Scheherazadian. S-c-h-e-h-e-r…” He paused and closed his eyes again, as if he were looking at the word one more time to make sure. “a-z-a-d-i-e-n.”

  The audience waited. There was absolute quiet.

  Philomena paused for effect. India already knew what she was going to say. She saw Mr. Kapoor’s lower lip tremble.

  “That is…incorrect, I’m afraid. The spelling is s-c-h-e-h-e-r-a-z-a-d-i-a-n, which means, sadly, we have to say goodbye.” She turned to the audience. “Please join me in congratulating Rajish on being one of our top three spellers in the country.”

  The audience clapped. Rajish’s dad wiped away a tear and cried out above them all, “Bravo, my son!”

  Rajish winked at India as he walked off stage. It was a wink that said, You can do it.

  “And now for the moment of truth.” Philomena invited Summer and India to stand beside the microphone. “Good luck to you both.”

  India tried to catch Summer’s eye for a last good-luck glance, but Summer kept her gaze firmly ahead.

  The parade of words continued.

  Reminiscences.

  Frabjous.

  Peripeteia.

  Each one was spelled perfectly.

  Summer stepped up to the microphone, eager for the next.

  “Consanguineous,” Philomena said. “This is an adjective meaning of the same blood or descended from the same ancestor, like your biological parents.”

  India saw Summer flinch, just a little, but she straightened instantly.

  “Con-sanguineous.” Summer actually stammered a little as she said it.

  She looked down at her shoes. They sparkled under the studio lights. But she said nothing.

  “Thirty seconds,” Philomena repeated, jolting Summer to life.

  She began to spell. “C-o-n…”

  But something caught her eye—or someone. Summer squinted into the audience.

  It was her mom and dad. They’d made it. They were really here!

  A bell sounded through the hall.

  “I’m sorry, Summer,” Philomena said. “Time is up, which means you forfeit your turn.”

  There was a brief moment when Summer didn’t move, until she nodded and, to India’s surprise, smiled.

  Philomena invited India to the microphone, the card for the next word held firmly in her hands.

  “India Wimple, if you spell this next word correctly, you will be our new champion. Are you ready?”

  After months of practicing, and all those nerves and the nagging voice inside her head, India Wimple had made it to the grand final. Just thinking about it made her teeter for an instant, but she grabbed the mic stand and steadied herself just in time. “I think I am.”

  From the front row, Dad sat in his pajamas and security jacket with a grin plastered across his face. He gave his usual Dad wave.

  India was indeed ready.

  “Your word is transcendent.”

  India glanced at Summer, who didn’t seem bothered at all that she hadn’t spelled her last word. She even seemed…happy.

  “This is an adjective meaning to go beyond ordinary limits, to surpass or exceed.”

  All around the country, people watched India Wimple stand onstage at the Sydney Opera House—from Saint Michael’s Hospital to the prime minister’s residence, from the lobby of the Hotel Grand to the packed community ha
ll in a small town called Yungabilla.

  “If I used it in a sentence, I could say, Her achievements could only be described as transcendent.”

  “Transcendent,” India began. “T-r-a-n-s-c-e-n-d-e-n-t. Transcendent.”

  Rajish’s smile lit up from the side of the stage.

  Philomena, who never liked to reveal the answer too soon, slowly and carefully began to speak. “India Wimple…that is correct! You are…our new Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee champion!”

  “I am?”

  The audience laughed.

  “You most certainly are.”

  India was caught in the sudden dazzle of flashing lights and confetti falling from the ceiling. A rush of applause and cheers filled the hall.

  Dad was escorted onto the stage, where he threw his arms around his little girl and swung her into the air.

  Philomena lifted the trophy from its stand. “It is my pleasure to present you with the official spelling bee trophy.”

  India reached out and took the handle, but it was heavier than she’d expected, and she almost dropped it. Dad caught it just in time and helped her hold it in the air while cameras flashed and clicked.

  When everyone quieted down, Philomena Spright continued. “As always, here is your five-hundred-dollar gift card for Mr. Trinket’s Book Emporium.”

  India clutched the envelope. She had seen the gift card handed out to so many children in the past, and she instantly ran through her head all the books she would buy. “Thank you.”

  “You certainly earned it, but we have something else.”

  Dad took the trophy and India tried to slow her breathing, but it wasn’t working.

  “Here is a check for five thousand dollars.” The audience gasped, and India held the piece of paper carefully. She was absolutely certain this was the most exciting moment of her life, but Philomena wasn’t finished yet. “Money you are going to need, because you and your family are off on a glorious vacation to the destination of your choice!”

  Now it was Dad’s turn to nearly drop the trophy and for India to save it from crashing to the ground. The audience laughed in relief.

  Including Philomena. “With the whole world at your fingertips, where would you like to go?”

  India Wimple instantly knew the answer. “There’s a small beach in India where my mom and dad met.” India looked at Dad, whose eyes brimmed with tears. “I think it’s time the Wimple family went there.”

  This, of course, made Dad blubber even more.

  The audience offered one collective sigh, and even Philomena wiped away a tear. “Is there anything else you’d like to say?”

  India took a deep breath. “I’m here today because of my family: Mom, Dad, Nanna Flo, and my brother, Boo—and also the town of Yungabilla. I’ve always loved spelling, but I’d never have been brave enough to enter this competition if it hadn’t been for them.” She looked directly into the camera. “This is for you, Boo, the best brother in the whole world.

  “But I also want to thank Summer and Rajish.” Summer looked up. “Two of the best spellers I know.” The floor manager ushered them both to the center of the stage. “I think they’re champions too.”

  There was another burst of applause and camera flashes as all three stood together. This gave Rajish’s dad another chance to stand up and cheer, “Bravo!”

  Philomena turned to the camera. “That’s it for another Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee. Thank you to our superlative spellers and to you, our magnanimous audience. Would you like the chance to stand on this very stage, just like India Wimple? If you think you have what it takes, why not sign up? Because the next spelling bee champion could be you!”

  As the theme music played, Rajish’s parents hurried onto the stage, and there was an explosion of kisses and hugs.

  India noticed something else through all the commotion. Two more people were hurrying across the stage.

  “Summer, darling!” The woman wore a figure-hugging dress and a long, fine coat, while the man followed in a finely tailored suit and silk cravat.

  Summer threw herself into their arms. “Mom! Dad! You made it!”

  “We couldn’t stay away,” her dad said. “Not after we received that message from your friend.”

  “My friend?”

  “Yes, your friend India.”

  Summer shot a confused glance at India, who simply shrugged.

  “When we spoke yesterday, we thought you preferred us not to be here. We were thrilled when India told us that wasn’t true. So we canceled everything and asked Nathaniel to fly us here immediately.”

  “You did?”

  “Why, yes! We didn’t want to miss your big moment.”

  India couldn’t help but notice that Summer didn’t look like the pushy, mouthy girl they first saw in the Hotel Grand. She looked like someone altogether nicer.

  “And to celebrate, we’ve booked a table at La Rendezvous, your favorite restaurant,” her dad said. “And we warned them we’d be bringing our very own champion.” He held out his hand. “Care to join us?”

  Her mom held hers out too, and Summer gripped them both. “I would love to.”

  As she left the stage holding her parents’ hands, Summer smiled at India and mouthed the words thank you.

  And India silently replied, You’re welcome.

  26

  Splendiferous

  (adjective):

  Excellent, wonderful, superbly marvelous.

  Who would have thought such a bumpy start would lead to such a splendiferous end?

  There’s really not much more to say about the Wimples and the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee.

  India Wimple appeared in newspapers and on TV shows all over the country and didn’t mind the attention at all—she even enjoyed it—but what was really special was the barbecue held in her honor at the Yungabilla Club. Everyone in town showed up, the school band played tunes that seemed somehow familiar, and the mayor gave a speech. For dessert, Mrs. O’Donnell baked a giant-size blueberry cheesecake with a message written on top that said:

  WELCOME HOME, INDIA

  WE KNEW YOU COULD DO IT

  India Wimple still adored her family, and that was still the most important thing about her, but she was no longer terribly, horribly shy. She was ingenious and fearless and a champion speller.

  And she’d made a new friend.

  Over one million people watched India become the new Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee champion, including one very special person, who sent a very special messenger to the Wimple home, who they discovered when they answered a knock at the door.

  India stood before a tall, well-groomed man who she instantly recognized.

  “Mr. Noble? What are you doing here?”

  It was indeed Mr. Noble, and when he opened his mouth to answer, Dad appeared beside India. “Mr. Noble? What a pleasant surprise.”

  “Why thank you, I—”

  Nanna Flo squeezed between Dad and India. “Who is it?”

  “Mr. Noble,” Dad said.

  “Why has he come to see us?”

  “We’re not sure,” India answered. “He hasn’t told us yet.”

  “I have come to—” Mr. Noble tried again, but Boo wiggled between them all.

  “Mr. Noble. What are you doing in Yungabilla?”

  “I am here to—”

  “Ah, Mr. Noble.” Mom this time. “What can we do for you?”

  Mr. Noble sighed, wondering if anyone else was going to pop their head out of the house. “On behalf of the prime minister, the official patron of the spelling bee, I would like to present India with a special gift in honor of being the new champion.”

  Mr. Noble handed over a rather heavy package and a card. India opened the card and read it out loud:

  Dear India,


  It gave me enormous pleasure to watch you become the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee champion. My family and I watched it last Friday in our pajamas. The terriers were very excited—I’m sure they recognized you. I can only imagine how thrilled you must have been—and how much your family is embarrassing you even more now by telling everyone how wonderful they think you are. As a token of my esteem and admiration, I would like to offer you a small gift. It is the very one I fell asleep on so many times as a boy. It was given to me by my father, who always believed in me.

  With best wishes,

  Your friend and fellow logophile,

  The Prime Minister

  “Logophile?” Dad asked.

  “Word lover,” Boo explained.

  India tore off the wrapping paper. Inside was a battered, well-worn dictionary.

  India thought it was one of the nicest presents she’d ever been given.

  • • •

  So we leave this story for the last time on a beach, in the sunshine, with the Wimples reclining on deck chairs.

  Nanna Flo, Dad, Mom, Boo, and India. And beside them were the Kapoors.

  India and Rajish sat beside Mom and Dad, who told stories about the first time they met. Mr. and Mrs. Kapoor held hands and laughed, just like they used to before the spelling bee.

  Boo had a book nestled on his lap and was reading fascinating facts about India out loud. “Did you know shampoo, chess, and Chutes and Ladders were invented in India?”

  “No,” India said, sipping her drink, “but I do know they have the world’s most delicious mango lassis.”

  Nanna Flo opened her bag, wondering which of the treats she’d taken from the breakfast bar she should eat first. “Banana, anyone?”

  She handed out her stash of fruit while Rajish took a sip of his coconut juice. “It has been very nice getting to know you, India Wimple.”

  “You too, Rajish Kapoor.”

  “But there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he said, suddenly very serious. “And you may not like it.”

  “What is it?”

  “I think you’re wrong.”

  “About what?”

  “I think you are good at this people thing.” His smile lifted his cheeks. “In fact, I think you may be better than anyone I know. You just didn’t realize it.”