To Lauren Walters and Deb Shapiro, because we are grateful for all their magic.
Contents
Title Page
Dedication
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
Teaser
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Card Page
Copyright
Pop. Pop. Boom!
Totally by accident, Nory Horace turned into a squid-puppy.
In other words, a squippy. When it happened, she dropped her backpack. And her lunch bag. In her squippy form, she couldn’t hold on to them. Zamboozle! she thought. Bad timing.
Before fluxing into the squippy, Nory had been waiting outside her classroom at Dunwiddle Magic School.
Waiting.
And stressing.
Alone in the hallway.
The other students had all gone home or to after-school programs. Nory was still here because she was waiting for her parent-teacher conference.
Nory’s teacher was Ms. Starr, and Nory’s parent-person was Aunt Margo.
Aunt Margo was late.
Ms. Starr was late, too. At the end of the school day, Nory had watched her shrug into a bright yellow cardigan and pin one of her braids back into her bun before saying that she was running down to the store for some chocolate.
Ms. Starr ate chocolate? Nory had never imagined teachers eating chocolate. She always pictured them eating vegetables.
Nory’s father ate lots of vegetables and he was a teacher. In fact, he was the headmaster of a fancy private magic school called Sage Academy. Nory’s older brother and sister went to Sage … but Nory didn’t. She had flunked the entrance exam.
It had been a terrible day. During the Big Test, Nory’s magic went wonky. She had fluxed into several mixed-up animals. Also, she had totally forgotten to hold on to her human mind, the way she was supposed to when she changed into animal form. She might have bitten someone.
Okay, she had bitten someone.
It was too awful to remember.
After she flunked the Big Test, Father sent Nory to live with Aunt Margo in the town of Dunwiddle. Here, Nory could go to an Upside-Down Magic class and learn to work her unusual magic.
At Dunwiddle Magic School, Nory worked hard. She studied magic, math, science, literature, and social studies. She grew to love Ms. Starr. She was even starting to love having upside-down magic.
But in Ms. Starr’s Upside-Down Magic class, it was difficult to know if she was doing things right. Ms. Starr taught headstands, hula-hooping, and poetry recital. The students learned to calm their minds and express their creative spirits. They even painted with their feet.
How was Nory supposed to know if she was doing good work?
What was good foot painting, anyway?
Nory could be failing and not even know it.
She checked the clock on the wall. It was 3:06. The parent-teacher conference was supposed to have started at 3:00.
Now it was 3:07.
AHHHH!
Where were Aunt Margo and Ms. Starr? It was very stressful!
That’s why Nory Horace turned into a squippy. Pop. Pop. Boom! Squippy-Nory had a golden retriever head and golden retriever front legs, with squid tentacles at the back.
Oh, drat-doodles, she thought. Not now!
Typical Fluxers turned themselves into typical animals, like kittens. When they got stronger, they learned to transform into dogs, goats, gerbils, and hamsters. But since Nory was an Upside-Down Fluxer, she fluxed into mixed-up animals. She was learning to control her magic and was getting pretty good at holding the shape of just plain kitten. But when she started off as something un-kitten? Like a puppy? She had a very hard time holding on to her human mind.
Squippy-Nory looked at the empty hallway.
Run! Play! thought Squippy-Nory.
No! Girl-Nory told herself. Sit down. Flux back to human form! Parent-teacher conference is about to start!
Yum yum yum, smell all the yummy smells! thought Squippy-Nory.
Her dog paws skittered down the hall, dragging her squid tentacles behind her.
What’s in that locker? wondered Squippy-Nory. Stinky, sweaty gym shoe smell—mine, mine, mine! Squippy-Nory nosed the locker’s metal slats. She got it open.
Books, papers, and pencils spilled out. Stinky sneakers spilled out!
Yip-yip-yooray!
Nom nom, slobber slobber.
Squippy-Nory took a sneaker in her mouth and hurtled farther down the hall.
Ooooh, paper bag! Lying there with nobody around! Smells like tuna sandwich.
Flinging aside the shoe, Squippy-Nory attacked the bag. It ripped open—zwoop!
Where was the tuna? All she could find was an empty bit of plastic wrap. Squippy-Nory grabbed the paper bag with strong puppy teeth.
R-r-ruff! Tear, rip, shred!
“Nory?” A voice spoke from above.
Squippy-Nory froze.
Surprise! Embarrassment! Stress about the conference!
Nory couldn’t help it. She did what squids do when they get nervous.
She squirted ink. On the floor.
Aunt Margo was standing with her hands on her hips. She wore sneakers, jeans, and a puffy coat. Her pale cheeks were pink from the cold November air, and her short hair was covered by a knitted cap.
“Nory, I know that’s you,” she said. “Can you flux back now, please?”
Sloop-slither-pop! Nory was human again, sitting on her bottom in the hall. A quick body scan told her that, yep, she was back to her full girl-self: smallish in size, brown skin, big hair, rainbow sweater, and three plastic rings she’d gotten from a vending machine at the corner store. Her pants were dry, thank goodness. But next to her was a medium-sized puddle of ink.
Nory scrambled to her feet. “I might have fluxed into a squippy.”
“Yes, I saw,” said Aunt Margo. She surveyed the mess. There was a smile at the corner of her mouth. “So did you piddle on the hall … or squiddle?”
Nory winced. “It’s squid ink.”
Aunt Margo laughed. She strode to the bathroom and returned with paper towels. She mopped up the squiddle, threw the lunch bag in the trash, and put the shoes and school supplies back in the locker. Then she squirted hand sanitizer on her hands.
“Ready for the conference?” Aunt Margo asked as they walked to Ms. Starr’s room.
Nory wasn’t ready at all—but she squared her shoulders and nodded.
When Nory was little, she didn’t have magic powers. Nobody did. Powers came in when people turned ten. So for preschool through fourth grade, kids went to ordinary school. Then, when their talents bubbled up, they started fifth grade at magic school.
There were five types of typical magic. Schools put students into classes based on those types.
Fuzzies communicated with animals. They learned how to direct schools of fish or send birds on errands.
Flares had fire magic. They studied heat and flames, from cooking to rocket launching.
Flyers practiced height, speed, and direction. Really powerful Flyers like Aunt Margo could take passengers. Others could make objects elevate.
Flickers had invisibility magic. Some learned to make things disappear. Others learned to make themselves vanish.
Finally, Fluxers could transform into animals. They learned to refine their animal bodies down to the last whisker. They practiced holding on to their human minds.
People whose magic didn’t fit neatly into one of these typical fi
ve Fs were said to have upside-down magic. That was the nice way to put it.
When Nory and Aunt Margo walked into the UDM classroom for their conference, Ms. Starr was eating from a bag of choco fire trucks on her desk. “Would you like some chocolate?” she asked. Then she and Aunt Margo shook hands and said adult things while Nory unwrapped a fire truck and ate it.
Ms. Starr walked Aunt Margo around the classroom, showing her poems pinned to bulletin boards, the collection of cheery umbrellas in the corner in case of indoor rain, maps the students had made, and reports they’d written on unicorns.
Nory was nervous. She sat at a table and folded the empty fire-truck wrapper into fourths.
Then she unfolded it and flattened it out.
Then she looked up. Ooh! Ms. Starr was taking a rabbit out of a box! It had to be her companion bunny, whom Nory had heard about but never officially met!
“This is Carrot,” Ms. Starr said to Aunt Margo. “She’s a Miniature Cashmere Lop, and she’s been working with Nory’s friend Pepper. My magic talent allows her to communicate in English when we’re under the same roof.” Ms. Starr patted the bunny’s soft back. “Carrot will be coming to school regularly from now on.”
Ms. Starr had upside-down magic just like her students. She was an Upside-Down Fuzzy who could make animals actually talk people language.
The bunny spoke. “I get bored while Eloise is at work,” she explained as Ms. Starr put her gently on the desk. “And I like the salad bar in the cafeteria. Nice to meet you, Nory and Margo.”
Wow. Nory had heard about Carrot from Pepper, but she had never met a talking animal.
Aunt Margo held out her hand, and the bunny touched it gently with her paw. Nory did the same.
“You can pet me if you’d like,” said Carrot.
Nory patted the bunny. The fur was dense and soft.
“And you can scratch my ears, if you’re so inclined,” Carrot continued. “But my tummy is off-limits.”
Nory scratched Carrot’s ears. They were like velvet.
Meanwhile, Ms. Starr pulled out a folder that said Elinor Boxwood Horace on it. “I have your report card right here.”
Oh. Right. Nory’s heart began to pound.
Would her grades be okay?
She knew she’d worked hard, but then, she’d always worked hard before, and she’d always disappointed Father.
With Father, a P on a report card was not acceptable. P stood for Proficient.
A lot of parents were happy when their kids got Ps. But Father wanted all Os, for Outstanding.
In ordinary school, Nory had earned Ps and Os, but she’d also had a few Qs—for Quite good, but nothing to bang a drum about—in science. And occasionally she’d had Rs in classroom behavior. R stood for Regrettable.
Father had scolded her about the Qs and Rs. And he had shaken his head at the Ps, too.
“Don’t be scared,” said Margo, squeezing Nory’s shoulder. “Whatever your grades are, they’re just a chance to learn how well your work is paying off. Then you can ask for help, or try a different approach, if you need it.”
“Or you can just celebrate,” said Ms. Starr, handing the report card to Nory.
O for literature.
O for math.
O for science.
O for social studies.
O for gym.
O for art.
O for magic.
Nory was a straight-O student!
“Zamboozle!” Nory grinned.
“You earned every one of those Os, Nory,” said Ms. Starr.
Aunt Margo swooped her into a hug. “I’m overjoyed,” she said. “So impressed.”
Overjoyed, Nory repeated inside her head. Another O!
“Knock, knock!” It was Coach Vitomin, sticking his bald head into the classroom.
“Coach!” Ms. Starr exclaimed. “Come on in.”
Coach bounded in and shook Aunt Margo’s hand vigorously. “Fantastic to see you,” he boomed. “Ms. Starr asked me to drop by to discuss Nory’s tutoring progress. How about a demonstration, hmm?”
Coach Vitomin was Nory’s fluxing tutor. He had helped her learn strategies to manage her magic. And yeah, today’s squippy adventure proved that she still didn’t have complete control, but she was getting stronger.
“Kitten!” Coach commanded now.
Remember, you are a straight-O student, Nory thought. Just breathe and focus. Keep your human mind. You’ve got this.
Stretch-pop! She fluxed into a solid black kitten. A perfect solid black kitten.
“Look how cute she is!” Aunt Margo exclaimed proudly. She hadn’t seen Nory’s kitten for a while.
“She has all the details she’s supposed to have,” said Coach. “Whiskers, yellow eyes, the length of the tail. A lot of beginner students have trouble getting more than a stubby tail.”
Kitten-Nory flicked her nice long tail.
“Now let’s see some sports skills,” said Coach. “Heads up!” He tossed a ball of yarn. Kitten-Nory leapt into the air and batted it. Coach caught it and threw it back.
Kitten-Nory spiked and tail-whacked, showing off the skills she had learned at her after-school kittenball club.
“When school started,” Coach told Aunt Margo, “Nory couldn’t hold any animal form. Now she keeps her kitten shape for at least fifteen minutes.”
“Can we see a dritten, please?” asked Ms. Starr.
Kitten-Nory readied herself, tail quivering. It was much harder to hold on to her human mind when she did mixed-up animals. Learning to do so was a big part of her UDM studies.
“Go on,” said Coach. “Show the dritten.”
Kitten-Nory felt her jaw muscles flex. Her teeth grew pointed. Her claws became large and powerful. She had the exquisite sensation of sprouting wings. They were powerful, shimmering dragon wings. She flapped them and launched into the air, flying gently around the room.
A rippling sensation fizzed in her belly, and she roared—but not too loudly. Red-and-orange flames licked the air.
“Great controlled fire breath!” Ms. Starr marveled.
“Nory, please land and chase your tail,” Coach instructed. He kept his tone level, but Dritten-Nory knew he was nervous. As a kitten, chasing her tail was no big deal. It was play. But dragon teeth were made for fighting. She really had to keep her human mind and not get overexcited.
Don’t rip your own tail off, Dritten-Nory told herself.
She landed. She swiveled her head and spotted her kitten tail. Her furry, fluffy tail. It swished and seemed to say, You can’t get me, ha-ha!
Dritten-Nory lunged for her tail. Round and round she chased it until she caught its end with her sharp teeth.
Attack! Attack!
Aunt Margo gasped. “She’ll hurt herself!”
“That’s too rough, Nory. Drop it,” Coach said sternly.
Dritten-Nory didn’t want to drop it! The tail was furry! It was alive! Arggggggghhhhhh! Kill! Kill!
But the girl part of Nory heard Coach’s command. Also, her tail kind of hurt.
Drop it, she told herself. That’s your own tail! Zamboozle! Keep hold of your human mind! This is your parent-teacher conference!
She dropped it.
Then she forced herself to sit down neatly with her front paws right next to each other. “Meow.”
“Well done,” Coach said, relief flooding his voice. “Flux back, please.”
Swish-crunch! She was Nory again. Girl-Nory, who as a dritten had chased her tail and not eaten it. Hooray!
“I’d say that concludes our conference,” Ms. Starr said. “Unless either of you have questions?”
Aunt Margo asked something about the curriculum. It was boring, and instead of paying attention, Nory ate another fire truck and glowed.
She, Elinor Boxwood Horace, had a perfect report card. Father would be proud.
Willa Ingeborg heard cheering inside Ms. Starr’s room.
She wanted to peek in, but she worried she’d be spotted. Instead, sh
e slumped in one of the chairs Ms. Starr had set out in the hall. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to avoid eye contact with her parents.
Who was in there?
It sounded like they were having fun. But why?
Parent-teacher conferences weren’t fun. Parent-teacher conferences were the opposite of fun.
Willa didn’t want to hear how she wasn’t “fulfilling her potential.” She’d heard it every year in ordinary school.
Every.
Single.
Year.
“Willa, sit up straight, please,” her mother said.
Willa’s mother sat on one side of her. Her father was on the other. Both her parents were six feet tall and blond. They looked like statues. Willa’s sister was the same.
Not Willa. Willa was short and looked more like an elf than a work of art.
More happy sounds from inside. Were they having a party in there?
Maybe it was Elliott’s conference. His family was very jolly. Elliott was an Upside-Down Flare. That meant he flared very weakly, but he could also freeze things instead of setting them on fire. His parents thought it was cool. He could make slushies out of plain lemonade.
Willa was an Upside-Down Flare, too, but her magic was more problematic. Her parents didn’t think it was cool at all.
Well, they didn’t come out and say that. But it was true.
Her father, Chase Ingeborg, was a Fluxer and a scientist. He spent a week each month in South America, fluxing into lizards to help other scientists study lizards in their natural habitat. Last year he was on the cover of Fluxing Science magazine.
Willa’s mother, Gaia, was a Fluxer, too. She worked from home doing watercolor paintings for greeting cards. When she needed to relax, she fluxed into a house cat and took naps in patches of sun.
If Willa had been a typical Flare, like her sister, Edith, everything would have been fine.
If she had been a cool Upside-Down Flare, like Elliott, it would have been fine, too. Slushies for everyone!
But no.
Willa Ingeborg made it rain. Indoors.
Only indoors.
She rained when she was scared. She rained when she was nervous. She rained when she was startled, and when she grew sad or angry. She rained without meaning to, and she couldn’t always turn it off.
Until Willa’s magic had bubbled up at the age of ten, Willa’s mother had spent part of every day fluxed into a house cat. But cats hate getting wet, so now Willa’s mother fluxed only outdoors—or when Willa wasn’t nearby.
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