Nory invited Elliott home after school. They sat in the kitchen of Aunt Margo’s small clapboard house, eating turtle-shaped sugar cookies. “We should do homework and get it out of the way,” said Elliott after a bit. “I promised my parents I’d try and get my math grade up.”
“I have homework from Coach!” Nory told him. She was feeling good about her magic.
“Fluxing homework?” Elliott grinned.
Nory wasn’t supposed to flux without adult supervision. No school-age Fluxers were. You had to get a license to flux into certain animals in public. You had to prove that you could hold on to your human mind while in animal form. But Aunt Margo’s house wasn’t public. And Nory had to practice.
“Kittenball drills!” said Nory. She knew Elliott loved kittenball. “Will you toss the yarn to me? I need to do ten minutes of tail whacks to build up my strength.”
Pop pop pop! Nory fluxed into a black kitten and then added some stripes to make a dark gray tabby.
Elliott grinned. “We do have a math test to study for, but I guess it can wait.”
Elliott tossed the yarn ball for her, and Nory chased it across the living room and whacked it back. She had kittenball club after school, and she wanted to join the team when she got to seventh grade. They did that for a little while and then Nory stopped for a minute, caught her breath, and fluxed into Dritten-Nory. Her beautiful Blurper-Dragon wings popped from her shoulders, and her claws grew large and scaly. She felt fire breath at the back of her throat, but she didn’t let it out.
Elliott tossed the yarn ball again. Dritten-Nory chased it and tail-whacked, flapping her wings sometimes to get to the ball faster. Coach had told her that nothing in the rules said kittens couldn’t have dragon features. He hoped having a dritten on the team would give them a chance at the championship.
“Nice!” said Elliott, catching the yarn ball one last time and holding on to it. “The dritten shape is definitely faster than the kitten. And you seem like you kept your human mind!”
Nory turned back into a human. “Yup,” she said. “I’m in serious control of my magic.” She knew it wasn’t totally true. After all, she had squiddled on the floor just a couple of days ago. But it felt good to say it, and maybe saying it would help make it more true. “Unlike you-know-who,” she added, sitting down and opening her math folder.
Elliott flushed. “Come on.”
“What?”
“Be nice about Willa. She doesn’t soak anyone on purpose.”
“Three times today! Three! And I know you’re friends with her, but she’s impossible on the Bing Day project. She doesn’t do any work! And she acts like she’s not even interested.”
Elliott sighed.
“Don’t tell her I said this, obviously,” Nory added. “Or that I called her a crybaby. I feel bad about that.”
Elliott got a blinky, worried look on his face. He tried to smooth it out, and Nory wondered if she had gone too far, but then the phone rang. She picked up. “Hello?”
“Elinor, hello.”
Whoa. It was Father.
Father called Nory on Sundays, never in the middle of the week.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Of course!” he said. “Everything is terrific.”
“It is?”
“Your aunt sent me a copy of your report card. All Os! That’s marvelous!”
Nory lit up. Marvelous might be even better than Outstanding. Nory reviewed other adjectives Father had used to describe her.
Unruly? Yes.
Disruptive? He used that one often.
Marvelous? Never, ever.
“Thank you,” she said, beaming. “I worked really hard.”
“I can tell. Keep it up, all right?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Excellent. I have to go. I’m still at school. But I wanted to congratulate you on a job well done. I’ll call again on Sunday.”
“Okay,” Nory said. “Thank you, Father. Bye.”
“Everything all right?” Elliott asked after she hung up.
Nory nodded, full of wonder. “Better than all right. Everything’s marvelous.”
Willa was glad to get home. It had been a tough day.
She knocked on the door to let her mom know she’d arrived, then circled her house to the backyard. Since she only made rain indoors, outside was the safest place if she wanted to relax.
Her mother came to greet her, bundled in a warm jacket and carrying her laptop and a thermos of hot chocolate. She and Willa sat side by side on the lawn chairs.
Gaia answered emails while Willa read a book of poetry Ms. Starr had given her. She knew she should study for the math test or work on the stupid Bing project, but she read poem after poem instead. They made her feel … well, she couldn’t find the right word for it. Poem-y?
Like the world was brighter and the colors more intense.
Like happiness was out there, somewhere.
As the sun began to set, Willa’s mother shut her laptop and fluxed into a calico cat. She wasn’t a huggy sort of person in her human form, but in cat form, she was affectionate and cuddly. She jumped onto Willa’s chair and walked the length of the armrest. Willa held out her hand, and her cat-mother turned around several times and settled in for a nap.
Willa knew that in general, Fluxers felt most at home in their human bodies. It took effort to keep an animal shape, so most Fluxers didn’t flux for long. But Willa’s mother seemed happiest in her calico form, as if some part of her was actually feline.
Willa read more poems. She even read a few out loud. Before she knew it, the sun had almost disappeared.
“Dinner!” her father called. Cat-Mom yawned and leapt off the chair. She fluxed back into human form.
Indoors, the carpenters who were replacing the living room floor were still at work. Willa wasn’t surprised to see them, but she winced at the sound of hammering.
She wished she hadn’t ruined the floor.
She wished she hadn’t ruined six mattresses since her magic came in, too. Now she, her sister, and her parents had to sleep in hammocks instead of regular beds. Because of her rain, her parents stored the bulk of their possessions in the garden shed. They owned an industrial wet vac to suck up the rainwater that flooded their home so often.
“Are you done with your homework?” her father asked. He placed stir-fried rice and marinated tofu on the table.
“Pretty much,” said Willa.
Her sister, Edith, entered the kitchen and slid into her chair. Edith was a typical Flare. “I’m not finished,” she said. “Not even close, because OMG, it’s Bing Day season again. I have to write a ten-page research paper.”
“Zeponiah Bing was a great hero,” said their mother. “I loved studying her year after year.”
“I’m doing my paper on famous Flares,” said Edith. “Hey, guess what! My English teacher told me about a summer program for student journalists. I’d get to go to Tornado City. Doesn’t that sound awesome?”
Their father sighed. “Edith,” he said, “I’m sorry, but I’m going to stop you right there.”
“Why?”
“Money is tight this year.”
“Ohhhh.” Edith glared at Willa. Repairing the water damage Willa caused had been expensive. “Great. Thanks for ruining my summer, Willa. And my chance of getting into a good college. And my dreams of being a journalist.”
“Edith, your dreams are not ruined,” their mother said. “You can get an internship at a local paper. None of this is Willa’s fault. She doesn’t wet things on purpose.”
“It’s not my fault either, but I’m still suffering from it,” Edith argued. “Isn’t it time we did something to stop her from damaging everything?”
“Like what?” Willa asked. “Kick me out of the house?”
“Yes, actually! You could live in the shed! That way you’d just rain in there and not in the house!”
“Your sister is not moving into the shed,” their mother said.
> “Think how much better our lives would be.” Edith folded her arms over her chest.
Willa swallowed.
It was cold in the shed. Plus, there was no bathroom.
And she’d be lonely.
“This conversation is over,” their father pronounced. With his chin, he gestured at Edith’s plate. “Eat your tofu and let’s hear no more about it.” He turned to Willa. “You’re not going to live in the shed, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And you’re also not going to quarrel with your sister at the dinner table. No more of that tonight.”
Willa opened her mouth to protest, but changed her mind and stayed silent. If her tears came loose, she would probably rain.
Her family might start thinking about the shed for real.
“Willa, sweetie, come watch this show with me,” her mother called after dinner.
Willa followed her voice and sat down on the plastic bench that now served as their couch.
“Look at that, will you?” She gestured at the TV (which lived under a rain tarp when not in use). On-screen, a reporter stood beneath a bright red umbrella. “It’s a show on special Flares in honor of Zeponiah Bing, and—oh! Your sister should watch this, too! For the essay she’s writing!” She raised her voice. “Edith! Come watch!”
Willa didn’t really want to watch a show about special Flares. It would just make her feel worse about her own messed-up magic.
Still, TV was better than homework.
“She is giving the traumatized citizens all the fresh water they need!” the reporter beneath the umbrella said.
The camera zoomed out to show a young woman with her arms spread and her face tilted to the sky. Her dark skin and cropped hair were dotted with raindrops. Her expression was blissful.
Willa’s mother patted Willa’s knee excitedly. “That’s Shaylene Waterhouse, from Bimplecester, England. Look, sweetheart! She rains!”
The camera swept across some onlookers, who cheered. Behind them, Willa saw charred buildings, all blackened wood and sodden gray ashes.
“We love you, Shaylene!” one woman called, cupping her hands around her mouth.
The camera focused back on the reporter. “Yes, Shaylene has literally rained blessings on this small mining town, which still relies on well water due to its remote location. Without her magic, they never would have been able to put out the fire. She stopped the flames from spreading and saved many people’s homes from destruction. Let’s check in with Shaylene herself, shall we?”
The reporter approached Shaylene and asked her how she channeled her upside-down magic.
“I’ve always rained. My teachers didn’t like me much, I’ll tell you that,” Shaylene said. “I was always flooding the playground, raining out kittenball games, stuff like that. But it comes naturally to me. And being upside down isn’t so different from other magics. Instead of flaring, I simply rain.”
Three more people were featured as the show continued. Willa watched, awestruck. All of them were able to make it rain outdoors, and all were labeled by the reporter as Upside-Down Flares. Shaylene Waterhouse was a firefighter. Two others helped during droughts, when people couldn’t grow crops. And one had created an oasis in the desert and built a fancy resort hotel in a green meadow where previously there’d been nothing but dust.
“Worldwide, there are only four known raining Upside-Down Flares,” the reporter stated. “Just Waterhouse, Keats, Birdy, and Carpenter-Balliwash.”
Willa registered the reporter’s claim—only four, and no more.
The reporter was wrong, though! Because Willa had this magic, or something like it.
More important, those grown-up Upside-Down Flares were powerful! And awesome. They used their rain, and people loved them for it!
“They’re like you, Willa!” her mother exclaimed.
“Are they, though?” Edith said sourly. “They rain outside. Where people actually want rain. Seems totally different to me.”
“Edith!” their mother scolded.
“I’d rather be a typical Flare any day,” Edith said. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Well, Willa would rather be a typical Flare, too.
But maybe … maybe one day she would rain outside like Shaylene Waterhouse.
The next day, Ms. Starr took the UDM kids to the school library to research their Bing Day projects. Nory brought a pencil case with supplies. Scissors. Markers. Glitter.
She wanted her poster to be Outstanding. No, she wanted it to be Marvelous.
What if one day the teachers gave out Ms? What if they gave Nory the first-ever M?!
The librarian, Mr. Wang, was a koala, at least for the moment. He was perched on top of a very high shelf, organizing books.
“Hello, Goodwin!” called Ms. Starr. “I brought my class. We’re all excited about Bing Day research.”
“Are we?” Sebastian muttered.
“It depends on how you define excited,” Pepper muttered back. “If excited means miserably bored, then sure.”
Koala–Mr. Wang clambered down the shelf and fluxed into human form. He was tall and reed thin, with balding black hair and a fondness for turtleneck sweaters.
“Hi, Eloise,” he said. “Hi, kids. What a treat this project is! There are so many directions your research can take you. What are your topics?”
“Old-timey snacks,” Elliott volunteered. “Bax and I want to know what people ate and how it was cooked.”
“Fantastic,” Mr. Wang said. “Perhaps cookbooks from the 1890s would get you started? You can find several historical cookbooks in the food and cookery section.” He pointed. “Next?”
He directed Pepper and Andres toward the education section, where they could look up single-sex schools. Sebastian and Marigold went to the archives to look for articles on the history of parades.
When everyone else was sorted, Mr. Wang looked expectantly at Nory and Willa.
“We’re going to explore weather conditions leading to big freeze of 1893,” Nory said, trying to sound enthusiastic. She wasn’t actually interested in storm patterns. She just wanted to do the best possible job on the project. Storm patterns had been the only topic Willa had seemed remotely interested in.
Mr. Wang clasped his hands together. “Terrific! Terrific! Begin in the Earth Science section, there, at the back of the library.”
“Thanks,” Nory said. “Come on, Willa. Let’s go.”
In the Earth Science section, Nory pulled potential books off the shelves. Weather Patterns. Understanding Weather.
Willa stood there, blinking. Doing nothing.
“Oysters on toast!” Nory heard Elliott cry from the cookery section. “Gross!”
Nory wished he were her partner, but she tried to look on the bright side. There were lots of books here! This almanac would be perfect! She opened it and flipped through the pages.
“Are you going to help?” she asked Willa. “We should look up average temperatures for this time of year. And … I don’t know what else, actually. Information about blizzards?”
Grudgingly, Willa pulled a book from the shelves.
They read in silence. Graphs and numbers swam in front of Nory’s eyes.
Sheesh, weather was boring. She could hear Marigold and Sebastian chattering as they ran back and forth from the shelves to the photocopier.
“Flare jugglers are fascinating,” said Sebastian.
“I know, right?” replied Marigold.
Willa looked up from her book. “I don’t really know what we’re concentrating on,” she said. “What should I be doing right now?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Nory snapped. “Take notes! Get an idea for our poster! Find out something interesting about weather!”
“It’s not that interesting.”
“Excuse me? You chose it!”
“I didn’t choose anything!”
“Just do your share of the work and let’s not talk about it,” Nory said.
“Fine,” said Willa. She sat do
wn and opened her book again.
Elliott was photocopying pictures of asparagus on toast.
Marigold was watching videos of Flare jugglers and marching bands.
Nory went to get her poster board from Ms. Starr. She brought over her scissors, markers, and glitter. “I’m going to use some sparkles to make a blizzard,” she told Willa. “That can be a background for a chart about temperatures.”
She copied out some numbers from the almanac and carefully applied glitter, while Willa read quietly.
“How’s it going?” Nory asked eventually. “Do you have an idea for what else to put on the poster?”
“Not really,” Willa said.
“Not really? How is that helpful?”
Willa shook her head.
A drop of water landed smack in the middle of the poster board.
No, no, no.
“Don’t cry! You’ll soak our project!” Nory moved the poster out of the way.
“I’m not crying,” said Willa.
Another drop landed right in the glitter. Then another.
Three more drops landed on one of the weather books.
“You are so!” said Nory. “Look!”
“I know you think I’m a crybaby,” snapped Willa. “But sometimes my rain has nothing to do with tears. Other Upside-Down Flares don’t cry when they rain. I saw them on TV. And look at my face. I am NOT CRYING.” Willa took a breath. “And besides, this isn’t even rain. It’s just a drizzle.”
A few more drops came down.
“I don’t think you’re a crybaby,” Nory said.
“I know you do.”
The way Willa said know made Nory flush.
Willa knew! She knew what Nory had said! Elliott must have told her!
Nory turned her back on Willa and stomped over to where Elliott sat with Bax.
“Did you tell Willa I called her a crybaby?” she demanded.
Elliott winced. “I didn’t mean to! It just came out.”
“Elliott! That was a private conversation!”
Elliott looked behind Nory to Willa. “Willa! I can’t believe you told Nory what I said!”
“I didn’t mean to!” Willa said.
Weather or Not Page 4
