Willa’s mother struggled with Willa’s magic in other ways, too. Willa’s rain had ruined many of her paintings. It had spoiled the carpets. And the couches. And the mattresses.
No matter how many times the family tackled the house with bleach and cleaning products, their home still smelled of damp and mold.
“Chase, I really do need to get back to my studio,” Willa’s mother said now as they waited in the hall. “I have an appointment at four fifteen. Would you please see what’s holding things up?”
Willa’s father fluxed immediately into a tiny lizard. He skittered over and crept underneath the door of Ms. Starr’s classroom. After a minute, he popped back out and turned into a human again. “There’s a cat with wings in there,” he said to Willa’s mother. “Wonkiest fluxing I’ve ever seen!”
“Don’t say wonkiest,” chided Gaia. “Remember the UDM handout Ms. Starr sent home? She wants us to say different or unusual. Not wonky.”
“Different is certainly one way of putting it,” Willa’s father said. He shook his head. “A cat! With wings! When it opened its mouth, I saw flames shoot out!”
“My goodness, I don’t like the sound of that,” Willa’s mother fretted. “Why is everybody sounding so cheerful, then? Are they laughing at that poor child—a child who can’t even manage a proper cat?”
“Her name’s Nory,” Willa said, knowing what her father had seen. “She turns into a dritten.”
“Dritten?” said her mother.
“Kitten plus dragon,” explained Willa. “She fluxes into a dritten on purpose, actually. She’s getting really good.”
Just then, Nory (in human form) flung open the classroom door. She strode into the hall, followed by Coach, Ms. Starr, and Nory’s aunt Margo.
“Willa!” Nory cried, putting her hands on Willa’s shoulders and bouncing up and down. “Are you up next? Guess what? Ms. Starr brought her bunny! Do you like bunnies? Of course you like bunnies. And Carrot is, like, the smartest bunny in the world. She talks! Omigosh. Best conference ever!”
“Um, these are my parents,” Willa said.
Nory put on her parent face, straightened her spine, and shook hands. “Hello, I’m Elinor Horace. Nice to meet you.”
Ms. Starr smiled brightly at the Ingeborgs. “Come in, come in!”
Willa waved good-bye to Nory and followed her parents into the classroom. Inside, Ms. Starr took a seat. She gestured at the chairs arranged in a semicircle in front of her. “Make yourselves comfortable!”
Willa glanced around the room. “Where’s the bunny?”
Ms. Starr winked. “Carrot, sweetheart,” she called. “Hop on out and meet Willa!”
“Sleeping,” came a crotchety voice from behind the desk. “It’s past my nap time.”
Willa craned her neck. She couldn’t see the bunny.
“She’s persnickety,” Ms. Starr said, waving her hand through the air. “You’ll meet her another time.”
“When I’m not sleeping,” Carrot called. Willa decided Carrot must be cozied into one of Ms. Starr’s desk drawers. Ms. Starr shrugged and looked at Willa’s parents like, Rabbits! What can you do?
Willa was disappointed. Carrot had talked to Nory. Why not Willa?
“Well, Mr. and Ms. Ingeborg, I am delighted to chat with you,” Ms. Starr said, offering them choco fire trucks.
Willa’s mother handed one to Willa but didn’t eat one herself. She leaned forward. “We do hope this class has helped our daughter,” Gaia said. “She has such potential. But Chase and I both worry that—”
“Has she made progress?” Willa’s father asked flatly. “That’s what we’re here to discuss, isn’t it?”
“Willa is a joy to have in the classroom,” said Ms. Starr. “But we are having some challenges.” She grabbed a folder with Willa’s name on it and handed it to the Ingeborgs.
“In terms of academic subjects, Willa is very capable of mastering the material. She’s quite musical. At memorizing poetry, she’s at the top of the class. Math, literature, social studies—if she applied herself, she could excel at every one of these subjects.”
“She isn’t applying herself?” her father asked.
“She could work harder,” Ms. Starr admitted.
Gaia pursed her lips. Chase frowned.
“But that’s a simple issue, easily solved,” continued Ms. Starr. She looked at Willa. “We can brainstorm some study habits that might help you. What I’d really like to discuss is her magical talent. You have a remarkable daughter, Mr. and Ms. Ingeborg. You should be very proud.”
Willa’s mother nodded cautiously.
“I’m sure you have noticed that Willa becomes anxious in social situations,” Ms. Starr continued.
Willa’s cheeks burned. Of course she was anxious! Wouldn’t anyone be anxious, knowing that at any moment, for any reason, you might rain all over everyone?
“I think her anxiety is connected to her struggle to control her magic,” Ms. Starr went on. She shifted her gaze to Willa. “I want to help you with this, Willa.”
Ms. Starr turned back to Willa’s parents. “She’s well liked by her classmates. She’s a kind and loyal friend. She has strong connections to Marigold and Elliott in particular.”
Willa’s mom was looking at the report card. “She has mostly Qs. She has a Regrettable in gym and a Proficient in literature.”
“Proficient?” Willa’s dad asked. “Didn’t you say she was top of the class? Why isn’t she getting an Outstanding?”
“Willa is at the top of the class when it comes to memorizing,” said Ms. Starr. “But memorization is only one of the skills we work on. Willa wrote the first three-quarters of a lovely essay on ‘Mermaids of the Kelpy Forest,’ but she stopped midway through. She never wrote the conclusion.”
It was true. Willa hadn’t finished her essay, even though she had liked “Mermaids of the Kelpy Forest” and could recite it by heart.
It was also true that she hadn’t done all her math homework.
Or even very much of her math homework.
She had let Marigold write up the science labs when they were partners.
And she had never memorized the things she was supposed to for the social studies test because, honestly, it was really boring.
She liked gym, but often forgot to bring her sneakers. She liked art, but had lost her portfolio a couple of times. She liked Ms. Starr’s magic studies, and she liked her tutoring sessions with Elliott and Ms. Cruciferous, but she didn’t feel like she was making good progress. Yes, she could now make rhythms with raindrops over small bowls, and could form tiny rainstorms over people’s heads—but the hard truth was, she continued to soak the UDM classroom at least once a day.
There was a bin of umbrellas in the corner because of Willa’s rain. In fact, the Ingeborgs had just donated nine new ones in bright colors, because the yellow ones from the start of the school year were bent and broken from so much use.
There was no rug in the rug area, because of Willa’s rain.
People’s projects had been ruined.
People’s clothes were always wet.
It was depressing for everyone. Especially Willa.
“Willa, sweetie, I can tell by your face that I’m making you sad,” Ms. Starr said kindly. “That’s not my goal. I believe in you. You know that, right?”
An enormous soggy rain cloud pressed down on top of Willa. That’s what it felt like. She had a lump in her throat that she knew too well. She was going to cry.
Do not cry, she told herself. Don’t do it! Stop!
A small raindrop hit the garbage can with a plink.
Please!” her mother snapped. “Not now!”
“I can’t help it,” Willa whispered.
Her rain was coming down hard and spreading out to soak more and more of the classroom. Ms. Starr grabbed three umbrellas. She opened one for herself and handed the other two to Willa’s parents.
“Thank you,” Willa’s dad said, holding his umbrella high. Willa duc
ked under it with him as the rain poured.
“Eloise!” came a voice from Ms. Starr’s desk. A rust-colored bunny with sleepy, grumpy eyes peered at the group from over the edge of the desk. She was sopping wet.
Ms. Starr ran to the rabbit and scooped her up.
“I’m sorry!” wailed Willa. Tears dripped down her cheeks.
Ms. Starr placed the rabbit gently in an empty cupboard where it was dry.
“Just relax, Willa,” ordered Willa’s father. “Do your mental exercises or whatever.”
“Calm down,” her mother said.
Willa hated being told to calm down.
She felt what she felt! She couldn’t just change it! The rain came down harder. Puddles formed on the floor.
“Why don’t the three of us finish our discussion in another room?” Ms. Starr said to Willa’s parents. “Willa, stay here for a minute so the rain doesn’t move outside the classroom. Try your centering exercises, like reciting ‘Mermaids of the Kelpy Forest.’ Or do a headstand. Maybe you want to try the deep-breathing exercises.”
Water poured down the back of Willa’s shirt, into her shoes, and down her face. Ms. Starr and Willa’s parents left her alone in the classroom.
Worst. Parent-teacher conference. Ever.
Willa was in a headstand when she heard the classroom door creak open. Elliott Cohen’s sneakered feet walked over, protected by an umbrella. He was a thin boy, pale and tall, with hair that sprung in loopy curls all over his head.
“Did Ms. Starr send you in?” asked Willa, still upside down.
“She didn’t send me,” said Elliott. “I thought I could help. My family has the next conference.”
Willa flipped out of her headstand and stood up. Strands of sopping hair clung to her face. She pushed them away.
“My parent-teacher conference was bad,” she told him. “I knew my report card wouldn’t be perfect, but it was worse than I thought.”
“Come under the umbrella,” said Elliott.
Willa joined him, and he gave her the handle. Then he opened his palms, stepped out into the storm, and … the rain turned to snow. Puffy snowflakes swirled across the ceiling. The snow was colder than the rain, and would still damage the furniture, but it was beautiful. And calm. Happy, instead of sad and angry.
Snowing was something Elliott and Willa had learned to do in tutoring, as a pair. Willa made the rain. Elliott froze it just as it began to fall.
They watched the snow cover the desks.
“Let’s do the deep-breathing thing,” said Elliott.
“I hate the deep-breathing thing,” said Willa.
“It’s hokey, I know. But it does kind of work.”
“Okay, fine.”
They breathed deep breaths as the snow fell. Then Willa recited three poems.
Then they deep-breathed some more, and the snow finally stopped.
The classroom was white. They were shivering.
But Willa’s storm had passed.
After changing into dry clothes, Willa and Elliott found the janitor and told her about the snowstorm in Ms. Starr’s classroom. The janitor said not to worry, and that she’d take care of it. Willa’s spirits lifted.
When they returned to their classroom, though, Nory was still in the hall. Her aunt was cheerfully chatting with Elliott’s parents. Ms. Starr and the Ingeborgs were nowhere to be found.
Drat.
Willa did like Nory. Usually. Nory was friendly and always looked on the bright side. She had good ideas and a big heart, and she wore fun clothes.
But: Nory talked a lot. And she was a bit of a show-off.
And Nory was Elliott’s best friend. He always went off with her.
“Nory!” he called. “Since Ms. Starr’s not here, let’s see if the library’s open.”
“The library?” Nory wrinkled her brow. “Why?”
“I found a book about Blurper Dragons! Come see!”
“Oh! Because Blurper Dragon is the kind of dragon I flux into!” cried Nory.
Sheesh, thought Willa. Ever since their class had been on that field trip to the dragon rescue center, Nory jumped at any chance to talk about Blurper Dragons. But Nory didn’t flux into a dragon, not technically. She only fluxed into a kitten and then added bits of Blurper Dragon to make the dritten.
“That’s why I want to show you the book!” Elliott said.
He took off running, toward the library. Nory followed.
Willa leaned, forgotten, against the wall. She listened to Margo and the Cohens talk about the school fund-raiser until her parents came to collect her.
The next morning, Nory ate breakfast alone. Aunt Margo had left early to fly a taxi client.
Nory didn’t mind. She played loud music on the radio. She put on her striped leggings and the dress with the owls on it. She poured herself a bowl of Fruity Doodles, ate them quickly, and ran out the door when Elliott rang the buzzer, like he always did.
She had stayed up late reading the Blurper Dragon book. “Hey, listen to this,” she said as they walked to school. “Blurper Dragons love fruit! And guess who else loves fruit. Guess guess guess!”
“Is this a trick question?” Elliott asked.
“Me!” Nory cried. “I love fruit, too!”
“You don’t say.”
“I do say. I am all about fruit. I had fruit-flavored cereal for breakfast, and I have plans to eat an orange at lunchtime.”
The day felt sparkly and bright. Ahead, they saw their friend Andres Padillo high in the air. His sister, Carmen, held his leash. Andres was an Upside-Down Flyer who couldn’t come down from the sky. Whenever he was outdoors, he had to be on a leash or wear a backpack full of bricks.
“It’s a good morning, right, Andres?” Nory called, waving. Andres waved back. Nory turned to Elliott. “So. How was your parent-teacher conference?”
“Medium good,” he answered. “My tutor couldn’t be there, but I got an O in magic and Ms. Starr said a lot of stuff about me being a good community member that made my dad all proud. My grades aren’t perfect—but good enough that my parents are happy. We ended up meeting in Coach Vitomin’s office while the janitor dried out the UDM classroom. That place smells like seaweed snacks.”
“It totally does,” Nory agreed. “Did you go back in the UDM classroom? Were the sculptures safe in the cupboard? Or did Willa soak them again?” Three days ago, Willa had drenched Nory’s clay Blurper Dragon sculpture. Everyone’s sculptures had been ruined, in fact. Willa had gotten frustrated in math class, and then—whoosh—rain everywhere. They’d had to start their projects over and hide the drying sculptures in a cupboard. All their papers were always stored safely in plastic boxes in their desks.
“The sculptures were fine. She can’t help raining,” Elliott said.
“I know,” Nory said. “I just wish she wasn’t such a crybaby. Every time she gets upset, the whole class has to suffer.”
Elliott stopped walking. “Whoa.”
“What?”
“You shouldn’t call her a crybaby,” he said. “Labels like that are pretty mean.”
Nory’s face heated up. She knew he was right. She hadn’t meant to be mean; it had just slipped out.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I won’t say that again.”
Neither of them spoke for a minute. They resumed walking.
“Did you get to meet Carrot?” she asked, finally, to change the subject.
“Carrot is the best,” Elliott said. “So fluffy! I got to see Ms. Starr blow her dry with a hair dryer.”
They linked arms, laughing, and chatted the rest of the way to school.
In Ms. Starr’s class, the students started the day with headstands. Nothing new, but it was fun. Nory was crushing her headstand. She could hold it for two minutes easily. It made her feel strong. Ms. Starr said that learning the control it took to hold a headstand would help her learn to manage her fluxing. Plus a headstand changed the way a person saw things: What was upside down? What was right side up?
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Then the students did interpretive dance. Ms. Starr put on music and encouraged them to get in touch with their emotions through movement. The idea was that art and magic were both related to feelings. If you expressed your feelings in art, they wouldn’t build up and overwhelm you in magical ways.
No one much liked interpretive dance. Marigold Ramos, who had unusual shrinking magic, said it wouldn’t be so bad if Ms. Starr let them dance to pop songs. (No one had been able to put a label on Marigold’s magic. She wasn’t an Upside-Down Fluxer, Fuzzy, Flare, Flicker, or Flyer. She just shrank things and couldn’t make them big again.)
Nory’s friend Bax Kapoor said it was embarrassing no matter what they danced to. Bax was an Upside-Down Fluxer like Nory. But he fluxed into objects, never animals.
Today, just when the music started, Bax turned into a piano. Had he done it to avoid dancing? Possibly.
Still, his piano looked really good! And Nory could tell that Bax still had his human mind in his piano shape. He played “Crazy-Daisy Shame,” one of her favorite songs.
Don’t don’t don’t
It’s a crazy-daisy shame
Don’t keep your honey bunch
Out in the rain!
It was amazing, watching the keys move up and down on their own. The class danced to “Crazy-Daisy Shame” instead of the boring classical symphony Ms. Starr had been playing through the speakers. It was much more fun than usual.
When the song was over, Ms. Starr told Piano-Bax she was happy to see his progress. She assigned Elliott to wheel him to the medical office. Bax still couldn’t turn back into his human form without help from the school nurse.
Later, after Bax and Elliott returned, it was time for social studies. “For the next week and a half,” Ms. Starr explained, “we will take a break from studying government and focus instead on the history of our very own town of Dunwiddle. Can anyone tell us why?”
Most of the kids put their hands up, but Nory didn’t have a clue. Why did everyone know the answer?
Weather or Not Page 2
