3
Valorous
(adjective):
Brave, fearless, maybe even a little daring.
She made a valorous decision to face her fears.
India couldn’t sleep.
Normally after the excitement of a Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee episode, she would nestle into bed, Dad would read a story to her and Boo, and she’d quickly drift off into a dream-filled slumber.
But this night was different.
She couldn’t stop her mind from thinking, and the harder she tried to sleep, the more awake she felt. She kept seeing Philomena Spright pointing her shiny, red fingernail at her, telling her she could win.
But could she really?
It was true she spelled every word correctly as she followed along from home. And even when she’d never heard the word before, she had an uncanny ability to work it out.
But it was also true that she was the girl who froze onstage during her school play, unable to remember a single line. What if it happened again? In front of millions?
This was one of those times when the voice inside her head got a little louder: A girl from Yungabilla could never be the next spelling bee champion. Most people don’t even know where Yungabilla is. It isn’t a vacation destination. No one famous ever came from here. There are no natural wonders. There aren’t even any unnatural wonders, like a giant pineapple or shrimp. It’s a small, forgettable place with a town hall, a few stores…and not much else.
India knew that was how most people would see where she lived, but to her it was perfect. She liked how quiet it was, and the frothy vanilla milkshakes at Gracie’s Café, and Mrs. O’Donnell’s Bakery, with her famous blueberry cheesecake. But what made Yungabilla really special was the people, especially in the last few years, when the drought drove families off the land and forced businesses to close down.
When anyone was having a hard time, a neighbor would knock at the door with a dish of lasagna or the community association would come around to fix a broken fence or the whole town would gather under the stars for a movie projected onto the side of the town hall. That made everyone feel better, for a while at least.
India felt at home in Yungabilla, and that’s where she was going to stay.
She shook the image of Philomena from her head and snuggled farther into her blankets. She tried again to sleep when she remembered her family staring at her in their small, squished living room, their hopeful faces all wanting her to say yes.
And the hardest memory of all was Dad’s disappointed look when he sank back on the couch after she’d said no. It’d been a tough few years, with Boo being sick, Mom quitting her job at school to homeschool him, and Nanna Flo moving in. Then Dad had lost his job when the local newspaper shut down. He’d started a handyman business called Arnie the Fixer. He was contacted at all times of the day and night and often came home with a bandaged thumb or covered in mud or cobwebs. He wasn’t a bad handyman or even especially clumsy, but his mind would often wander while he worked. He’d be fixing a drainpipe or unblocking a toilet and start thinking about his days at the newspaper. He’d remember uncovering mischief, like the time the bowling club’s chicken mascot was kidnapped or interviewing people who’d done a good deed.
Those were his favorite stories.
He’d written about Daryl, his best friend, who rescued a puppy from the roof of the elementary school after it had been swept up there by a dust storm, and Beryl, who ran over fifty yards in her slippers and nightgown to stop a runaway baby carriage just before it hit the railway tracks.
India knew Dad missed those days, but he hadn’t complained or lost his temper—and he never gave up. Not once.
It’d been a long time since the Wimple family had had anything to look forward to. Would it be that bad to stand onstage and spell? Was India being selfish not to even try? Every time Dad suggested it, his face lifted into a huge smile, and it reminded her of how long it had been since she’d seen him that happy. It was a smile she desperately wanted to see again, and if that meant entering the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee to make it happen, it would be worth it.
India made what could only be called a valorous decision.
It was then that Dad popped his head into her room. He did this every night, checking on Boo and India one final time before he went to bed. He leaned over, kissed her on the forehead, and whispered, “Nighty night. Sleep tight.”
But as he stood to leave, India said, “I’ll do it. I’ll sign up for the next spelling bee.”
And there it was—the smile. Again.
Dad sat beside her. “Are you sure, sweetheart? I won’t let you do anything you don’t want to.”
“I’m sure,” she said, trying to sound as sure as she could.
Dad’s face lifted into an even more dazzling smile, but then he did something he absolutely wasn’t supposed to do, something that India hadn’t counted on at all.
He started crying.
“Dad? Are you OK?”
“Yes,” he blubbered. “I’m just so happy.” Then he blubbered some more.
“You don’t seem happy.”
“Oh, but I am.” He wiped his sleeve across his teary face. “Really.”
“There are a few conditions,” India said.
“Anything.”
“I’ll need help practicing.”
“We’ll start first thing tomorrow.”
“And I’ll need the whole family with me. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to do it.”
“Try and keep us away.”
“And there’s one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll need lots of Dad hugs.”
“Well, that’s lucky, because I have plenty to spare.” He held her close. Being wrapped in Dad’s hug was one of India’s favorite places; she felt as if nothing could ever go wrong when she was there.
“You’d better get some sleep!” Dad sprang to his feet in a way he hadn’t sprung for years. “We’ve got a spelling bee to win.”
4
Endeavor
(verb):
Attempt, strive, make an effort.
She endeavored to give it her best shot.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” Boo was sitting at a small table covered with the Wimples’ best tablecloth. “Welcome to the mock spelling bee trial for champion speller India Wimple.”
From the sofa, Mom, Dad, and Nanna Flo cheered.
“Here’s how the trial will work.” Boo held up a small notebook. “I will read out specially selected words, India will answer them correctly—as she always does—and we will stand back in awe of how brilliant she is.”
There were more cheers. The Wimples could be very excitable.
“India?” Boo asked. “Are you ready?”
A mop had been wedged into Dad’s toolbox as a pretend microphone. India tightened her ponytail. “Yes.”
“Go, India!” Dad called from the audience.
“Quiet please,” Boo said in a stern, principal-type voice. “Our champion needs to concentrate. India, here is your first word.” He looked at his notebook and read, “Jocular. This means comical or humorous. My jocular uncle is very funny.”
Ordinarily, if India had been lying on the floor next to Boo, watching the spelling bee on TV, she would have simply spelled the word without missing a beat, but standing in the living room, behind a mop microphone, it wasn’t so easy. She wrote the word on her palm with her finger.
She frowned, not sure she had it right, and wrote it again.
“You can do it, honey,” Dad whispered.
India took a deep breath and endeavored to answer. “Jocular. J-o-c…” She thought about it some more. “J-o-c…k…u-l-a-r.”
Boo checked his notebook, even though he already knew the answer. “I’m afraid that’s…inco
rrect. The correct spelling is j-o-c-u-l-a-r.”
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Mom said. “You’re just warming up.”
“You OK?” Boo asked.
“I’m a little nervous,” India admitted.
“No need to be nervous, honey,” Nanna Flo said. “You’re with family.”
“I know, but the real spelling bee will be in front of strangers.”
“We’ll be there too,” Mom said. “Every step of the way.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” India said, not really sounding sure at all.
“Of course you will.” Now Dad was sounding unsure too.
“Absolutely,” Nanna Flo said. “Those other kids might as well give up.”
Now they were all saying things they weren’t so sure about.
“This next word is one of your favorites.” Boo paused dramatically, just as Philomena would have done. “Scintillating. This is an adjective meaning witty or clever. She had a scintillating way with words.”
India winced and shifted from one foot to the other, as if her shoes were suddenly too tight. “Scintillating,” she repeated shakily. She wrote on her palm. She stopped and started again. “S-i-n…s-i-n-t-a… No, wait. S-c-i…” India dropped her hands to her side. “I’m sorry, Dad. I think this is a bad idea.”
“But you know these words,” Boo insisted. “They’re from the last bee, and you spelled every one of them correctly.”
Then Mom stepped in. “Let’s try something I did with my students when they were nervous.” When Mom used to teach at Yungabilla Elementary School, she was an expert at helping nervous kids relax. “First, I’d ask them to smile. It’s a way of tricking your brain into feeling calm.”
India tried to smile, but her expression came out crooked and tense.
Mom soldiered on. “Then I asked them to say, ‘I’m excited.’”
“Did it work?” India was doubtful.
“Most of the time.”
“So I just have to smile and say, ‘I’m excited’?”
“Yes, but say it like you really mean it.”
“I’m excited,” India said without much excitement at all.
“And again.”
“I’m excited,” she said with a little more excitement.
“That’s it!” Dad said, getting a tad excited himself.
“I’m excited!”
Mom was right. India was starting to feel better.
“That’s the way,” Dad cried. “When you’re standing in front of that audience, they’ll never notice how scared you really are.”
India’s smile and excitement left her for the far more familiar feeling of sheer terror.
“Oh dear,” Dad said.
“I’m sorry,” India apologized, “but when I think of standing onstage in front of all those people, I start to feel sick.”
“Well, that’s no good,” Mom decided. “We’ll go back to watching it on TV, and you can be our champion at home.”
“I really thought I could do it,” India said softly.
Dad wrapped her in one of his hugs. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m as proud of you as the first time I held you in my arms. Prouder, even.”
India snuggled into Dad, closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the voice in her head that kept telling her she’d failed.
5
Perspicacious
(adjective):
Perceptive, smart, canny.
He had a perspicacious plan he hoped would work.
Dad had a plan. A perspicacious one. Even though he’d have to think hard about how to spell it, he had no doubt that it was perspicacious.
The next Saturday, while Boo and Mom were at a doctor appointment and Nanna Flo was at her judo class, Dad asked India to help him with a job.
“The roof in the town hall needs fixing, and I said I’d take a look. How’d you like to come along?”
India held a spoonful of cereal in the air. “Will we make it back before Boo and Mom come home?”
India always liked to be there when Boo got back from the doctor to know what she’d said.
“Um…sure.”
India thought there was something sneaky about his answer. “Really?”
“Yep.” Dad grabbed the spoon from her hand and dropped it in the bowl with sudden urgency. “Let’s go.”
They drove to the hall in Dad’s battered van. On the doors of his van he’d painted a sign that read:
ARNIE THE FIXER
YOU BUST IT, I FIX IT
Dad talked steadily all the way there—about the weather, his work, and a low-flying pigeon he suddenly found fascinating. In fact, he spoke almost nonstop, which was something he only did when he was nervous or excited.
“Are you OK, Dad?”
“OK? Of course I’m OK! Never felt better.”
He kept talking all the way to the hall and right up to the front doors, but when he flung them open, India’s nerves were instantly on high alert. Inside, she saw rows of chairs filled with people.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Dad hoisted his workbag over his shoulder. “A few of the gang said they’d help me out.”
He took a step forward, but India tugged his sleeve. “All these people are going to help you fix the roof?”
“Not the roof exactly. There’s another problem I need help with.” He winked. “Come on.”
“But I…”
Dad didn’t hear because he was already whistling his way to the front of the hall. India wanted to sneak back to the van before anyone noticed her—which, unfortunately, was when Dad’s best friend, Daryl, did just that.
“India’s here!” Daryl jumped up from his seat and waddled over, pulling on the hood of what was—India blinked to make sure she was seeing right—a onesie cow costume. He threw out his arms. “How do I look?”
“Like a… cow?” India frowned.
The rest of the crowd was pulling on hoods too, and it was only then that India noticed they were all dressed in costumes. There were chickens, pandas, frogs, even a peacock.
“What’s going on, Daryl?”
“I had a conversation with your dad about how smart you are at spelling—”
“Which is true,” Dad called before he ducked behind the stage curtain.
“And we wanted to let you know that Yungabilla is right behind you.” Daryl had a big, booming voice, which he always used, including now…when India wished he wouldn’t.
“Thank you.” She kept her voice low, hoping he’d take the hint. “But the problem isn’t my spelling. It’s my—”
“Nerves!” he boomed. “We know. Your dad told us. That’s why we thought we’d try another practice session.”
“Another practice?” India felt faint. “We tried that at home and—”
“But you didn’t have us. This time when you get nervous, just look up and see how ridiculous we look. It will take your mind off your nerves.”
The crowd of fluffy humans nodded.
“We’re here for you, India.” A large parrot, who looked like Mrs. O’Donnell from the bakery, flapped her wings.
India waved back and whispered to Daryl, “Thank you, that’s very nice of you, but I—”
“Don’t thank us yet. There’s more!” Daryl pointed his hoof toward the stage. “Take it away, Arnie!”
The Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee theme music blasted from the hall speakers. The curtains flew aside, and onstage, beneath a giant hand-painted banner that read Spelling Bee, were Mom, Nanna Flo, and Ernie, sitting at a large desk.
Boo stood at a podium in an oversize sparkly blue suit. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said into the microphone with the flair of a circus ringmaster. “I’d like to introduce you to Yungabilla’s candidate for the Stupendously Spectacular Spelli
ng Bee: India Wimple!”
The audience cheered, squawked, and mooed.
India’s skin tingled even more, and she wondered why the room suddenly started to spin.
Daryl held out his arm. “Ready for your big moment?”
India desperately wanted to say no and run from the hall, but Daryl hooked his hoof around her arm before she could move. He led her past the furry crowd and onto the stage beside Dad, who was now dressed in a crocodile costume.
Everyone quieted down.
“India Wimple,” Daryl boomed, “we in this hall would like to make a few declarations to one of our favorite families in Yungabilla and one of my favorite little girls.”
India could feel her face turn a fiery red.
Daryl pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and held one hoof on his heart. The audience did the same with their paws, flippers, and wings.
Daryl began: “We declare we will support you in your attempt to be the next Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee champion.”
“We do!” the audience cried.
“Because we think you’re brilliant.”
“It’s true!”
“And we will happily wear these costumes for as long as it takes to do it.”
“We will!”
“This is our declaration to you here today.”
“Hear, hear.”
“What do you say?” Dad asked, hope all over his face. “You want to give it another try?”
An expectant hush fell over the hall. India recognized even more faces. There was old Joe Miller the butcher, Gracie Hubbard from the café, and kids from school, all staring at her with looks of anticipation.
India hadn’t stood in front of so many people since that day when she froze onstage.
She shivered at the thought of it, but despite what she knew she should do, India found herself nodding. “OK.”
“That’s my girl!” Dad shouted. “Let the spelling bee begin!”
Cries and hoots erupted as Dad gave India one last hug before he and Daryl left the stage and took their seats in the front row.
India scowled at her brother. “I thought you were at the doctor’s.”
The Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee Page 2