The Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee

by Deborah Abela

  “Will this take long?” Summer pouted. “The flight here has left me quite worn out. I’d like to get back to my room.”

  Daniela looked at her notes. “A few hours, I think, but I’ve been told it’ll be very exciting.”

  “I doubt that. I’ve seen Sydney many times before, mostly from the cockpit of Daddy’s seaplane.”

  The nanny sank back with a resigned look that suggested she was long overdue for a vacation.

  “Looks like Miss Hoity-Toity has left behind her manners again,” Nanna Flo whispered to Boo and India.

  Rajish’s mom appeared next, wearing a rich red sari with sparkling gold trim. India thought she looked like a princess. She smiled at the Wimples as she took the seat across from India.

  Rajish’s dad followed in a smart black suit and gold cravat. He was out of breath and, as usual, holding the spelling book.

  “Con…ceiv…able,” he puffed.

  Rajish opened his mouth to spell the word, but his mom interrupted.

  “Sit next to this lovely girl, son.” She nodded at India, but Rajish’s father objected.

  “But how can I test him if we don’t sit together?”

  His wife smiled a very wide, knowing smile. “Precisely.”

  “Would you mind?” Rajish asked India.

  “Not at all.” India shuffled to the far edge of the seat so that she was squeezed against the side of the bus.

  Rajish sat down while his parents quietly argued across from them. He couldn’t help but notice how uncomfortable and squished India looked. “OK, you can say it.”

  “I’m sorry?” India had to make sure he was talking to her.

  “You think I smell, don’t you?”

  “No, I don’t think—”

  “You can say it. I promise I won’t be offended.”

  “No really, I—”

  “Then why are you sitting so far away?”

  “Oh.” India edged away from the side of the bus. “I didn’t want to take up too much room.”

  They sat in an awkward silence while everyone on the bus chatted away. India wondered how the contestants could have so much to say when they barely knew each other. Kids who’d only met hours before seemed to be best friends already.

  Freddie’s voice drifted over the speaker. “Now that we’re all in, I want you to sit back, relax, and get ready for a day you’ll never forget.”

  As the bus pulled away from the curb and drove through streets of stately buildings and glass skyscrapers, the laughter and excitement grew even louder. India had no idea how they did it. How everyone made friends so easily. It was like they’d all been given a friendship manual, and hers had been lost in the mail.

  “We’ve finished the book three times now.”

  India hadn’t expected Rajish to say anything. “Sorry?”

  “The Spelling Bee Handbook that my dad carries with him. It has every word from every bee before this one.”

  “Your dad really wants you to win.”

  “India Wimple, you have just made the understatement of the year. Maybe the century.”

  India grinned. “Why is winning so important to him?”

  “My father moved here from India when he was a kid. He says he was so poor that when he and his brothers weren’t picking grass and weeds to thicken up their mother’s curry meals, they combed through garbage dumps to find things they could sell to help the family survive.”

  “What about school?”

  “He never went to school in India. That’s why it’s so important to him that I do well. He wants me to have all the opportunities he never had.”

  “He sounds like a good dad.”

  “He is.” Rajish leaned closer, whispering, “But a little uptight sometimes. What’s your trick to spelling words?”

  “I write them on my palm with my finger to see if they look right.”

  “I imagine the word appearing on a screen in my head and wait until it looks like the right one.”

  The bus swooped around a corner and alongside the Royal Botanic Gardens, which sat perched on the edge of the harbor. India wasn’t sure if it was the sun glittering on the water or the whooshing of trees that flew past, but she felt as if she were flying.

  “Are you enjoying the bee so far?” Rajish asked.

  Usually, India would say no to a question like that, mainly because being with strangers was never, ever something she enjoyed, but she realized she was enjoying herself.

  “Yes,” she said. “I was a little nervous during the first round, but it’s been really—”

  “Irritating.” Rajish’s dad leaned across the aisle. “This is an adjective meaning infuriating or exasperating. If I used it in a sentence, I could say—”

  Rajish’s mom leaned across too. “Your father’s obsession with winning the spelling bee is very irritating.”

  Rajish’s dad pouted. “I suppose that’s one way you could use it.”

  His mom’s hands flew into the air. “You are missing the tour.”

  “You are missing the bigger picture.”

  “You are smothering him.”

  “And you are holding him back. I am only speaking the truth!” Rajish’s dad said, hoping to put an end to the debate.

  But if the next word he chose was seething or furious or even volcanic, it would have perfectly described the look on Rajish’s mom’s face.

  She grabbed the book from her husband’s hands.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked fearfully.

  “Something I should have done weeks ago.” She flung the book from the bus.

  “Noooo!”

  It was a flabbergasting sight.

  The few people on the bus who weren’t already watching finally turned around when they heard Rajish’s dad cry out. The book fluttered through the air and landed on the street, where it was promptly run over by a recycling truck.

  The entire bus waited to see what was going to happen next, except, that is, for Summer, who frowned and turned away from the boisterous people interfering with her tour.

  Rajish’s dad’s nostrils flared and his eyes bulged. “Why did you do that?”

  His wife took his hand. “Because, my husband, you are a very good man who needs to loosen up.”

  “But—”

  “Your son is talented and smart, and he will do well because he works hard, but he also deserves to have fun.”

  Rajish’s father softened a little. “I only want what is best for him.”

  “And we know that,” she said.

  Rajish’s dad wasn’t about to give up yet. “Son, what would you prefer to do: ride along on a silly tour…or practice for one of the greatest moments of your life?”

  Rajish shrugged. “I’d quite like to be on the tour, Papa.”

  “But I thought you wanted to win.”

  “I do, but if it’s OK, I’d rather talk with India.”

  Rajish’s dad and India both looked shocked.

  India’s heart did one of its flips while Rajish’s dad sighed. “Of course it is, son.”

  Rajish’s mom kissed her husband’s chubby cheek. “Thank you, dearest.” Then she turned to India and Rajish. “Now, you two children enjoy yourselves.”

  And, just like that, India realized she may have made a brand-new friend, while somewhere far behind them, a recycling collector picked up a tattered book of words and threw it into the compactor of his truck, where it was squished into unreadable pulp.

  18

  Unexpected

  (adjective):

  Unanticipated, unpredicted, utterly surprising.

  She knew she was in for a treat, but this was most unexpected.

  Cameras and phones clicked as the bus drove across Sydney Harbor Bridge.

  “Not long now, folks.” Freddie’s v
oice floated through the speakers. “We’re almost at our secret destination.”

  He turned off the bridge, away from the crowded lanes of traffic and into quieter, leafier streets, until they pulled up before an imposing set of iron gates guarded by men in dark suits and sunglasses.

  “Welcome to Kirribilli House,” Freddie announced. “The secondary official residence of the prime minister of Australia.”

  “Are we going to meet the prime minister?” Boo asked.

  “Surely not.” Nanna Flo shook her head. “He’d be too busy running the country.”

  “But we do have the nation’s top spellers here,” Rajish’s dad said excitedly.

  “Yes!” India’s dad was getting excited too. “So he might make time for us.”

  The men in suits stood aside as the gates opened, and the buses trundled inside the grounds. They came to a stop before a stone building that reminded India of a doll’s house. She smiled as she imagined lifting the roof and rearranging all the furniture inside.

  Freddie pulled to a stop. “This is it! Your destination has been reached.”

  There was a feverish bustling as everyone clambered off the bus.

  They were greeted by a man in an immaculate suit and perfect teeth that gleamed in the sun. “Good afternoon, and welcome to Kirribilli House. My name is Mr. Reginald Noble, and I am the house manager. Please follow me.”

  Dad’s chest puffed out with pride. “Who would have thought the Wimple family would be invited to the home of the prime minister?”

  “It is truly a great honor,” Rajish’s dad said with his chest equally puffed out.

  As they entered the lobby, a hush settled over the group. They followed Mr. Noble across the wooden floor and under the chandeliers that sparkled like twinkling tiaras.

  He flung open two doors to reveal a grand room with the longest dining table India had ever seen, decorated with candelabras and vases of bright flowers. But what was most impressive was the wall of glass doors that opened onto a lush, green lawn and a rather commanding view of Sydney Harbor and the Sydney Opera House.

  Outside, waiters were putting the finishing touches on an equally long table filled with trays of sandwiches and cupcakes and, in the center, a bubbling chocolate fountain surrounded by strawberries and marshmallows.

  “I could get used to this,” Dad said.

  “It certainly is fancy,” Mom added.

  Nanna Flo was eyeing a dish of brownies and opened her handbag, ready to sweep them in. “Do you think they would mind if I took some for later?”

  Dad noticed more men in dark glasses and suits positioned around the yard, watching their every move. “Maybe it’s a good idea not to.”

  Mr. Noble stood at the head of the table with a sly grin, as if he was bursting to tell a delicious secret.

  “What do we do now?” Boo whispered to India.

  “I guess we wait,” she whispered back.

  “For what?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  They didn’t have to wait long, because right at that moment, two small, scruffy-haired dogs appeared from behind a bush, followed by a slightly disheveled man.

  “Oh, you’re here.” The man’s shirt was twisted, and he had a twig sticking out of his silvery hair. “Sorry I’m late.” He noticed the twig and pulled it out. “I was hoping to be here when you arrived, but the terriers got a little carried away.”

  “Is that him?” India asked.

  “If you mean the prime minister, then yes,” Boo answered.

  Two men in suits and dark sunglasses burst out of the same bushes. They brushed themselves off before taking on a serious bodyguard stance not far from the prime minister.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” Mr. Noble announced. “May I introduce you to the official patron of the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee, the prime minister of Australia?”

  The crowd stood still with their mouths open, their minds frantically trying to remember everything they’d ever heard about what to do if they met the prime minister.

  “Welcome to my home,” the prime minister said, smoothing down his messy hair.

  Still no one moved.

  “Normally what happens now,” he said, “is that you say some form of greeting—a simple ‘Hello, Prime Minister’ would be fine.”

  Everyone, all at once, in slightly awestruck voices, said, “Hello, Prime Minister.”

  “Excellent. Now that we know each other, there’s no need to stand on ceremony.”

  One of the terriers barked. “And Sally agrees.”

  The prime minister continued. “As someone who loves words, I congratulate you on making it to the finals of the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee. I wish you the very best of luck and, as a token of my admiration, I’d like to invite you to afternoon tea, which I always find delightful, whatever the occasion.” He eyed the cakes and chocolate fountain. “With those formalities out of the way, how about we all—”

  “Prime Minister.” Summer pushed through the kids and parents and dipped into her very best curtsy while holding out her dress. “My name is Summer Millicent Ernestine Beauregard-Champion, and I am honored to make your acquaintance.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Summer. Now, everyone help yourselves—” The prime minister tried to make his way to the table, but Summer stepped in his way.

  “I am a superlative speller, with exemplary results in every round.”

  The prime minister’s eyes darted to the marshmallows sitting temptingly next to the swirling chocolate. “That’s very nice.”

  Summer was getting frustrated that the prime minister didn’t seem more impressed. “I really am possibly one of the best spellers you will ever meet.”

  “Which makes me very lucky.” He held up his hands before Summer could say anything else. “Please, everyone, you must eat because I won’t be able to finish all this on my own.” He hurried to the table, swiped a marshmallow through the melted chocolate, and popped it into his mouth. “I’ve been dreaming about this all afternoon.” He turned to the Wimples, who stood transfixed beside him.

  “And what’s your name?” the prime minister asked Boo.

  “Boo Wimple, and this is Dad, Mom, Nanna Flo, and my sister, India.”

  The Wimples performed a clumsy combination of bowing and curtsying.

  “Are you one of the spellers?”

  “No, India is. She’s one of the smartest people in Yungabilla, maybe even Australia.”

  “Boo.” India blushed.

  “It’s true,” Dad said.

  The prime minister frowned. “Can’t say I’ve heard of Yungabilla.”

  “You will soon, when India wins the grand final,” Nanna Flo said before popping the rest of her cupcake into her mouth.

  “Nanna.” India wished her family would talk about something else.

  “Sorry, India,” the prime minister said, “but being part of a family means they have the right to say embarrassingly nice things about you, whether you like it or not.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” Boo said.

  “As your prime minister, I’d say yes.”

  “When you came out of the bushes, was that a secret escape route?”

  “Yes,” the prime minister whispered conspiratorially. “I have several of them around the grounds and a tunnel beneath the property for whenever I need to make a quick escape.”

  “From danger?” Boo asked.

  The prime minister picked the chicken from a sandwich and sneakily threw it to the terriers. “From danger of being bored. I love being prime minister, but you can meet some terribly boring adults sometimes, so that’s when I sneak away.”

  India and Boo giggled.

  “I was quite a good speller as a child,” the prime minister continued. “My brother and I would lie in bed at night and have
competitions. We’d find the trickiest word and see if the other one could spell it. I was so determined to win sometimes I’d fall asleep over the dictionary.”

  “I do that too!” India cried a little more loudly than she intended.

  The two men in suits moved in fast. “Everything all right, sir?”

  “Absolutely!” the prime minister said. “Couldn’t be better.”

  The men moved away, keeping an eye on everyone.

  “Now one of my favorite things to do is watch the bee in my pajamas with the family.”

  “We do that too.” India couldn’t believe a girl from Yungabilla could have so much in common with the prime minister of Australia.

  “What’s your favorite word?”

  “Illustrious,” she answered without hesitation. “I like the way it sounds.”

  “Mine is smorgasbord.” The prime minister wore a mischievous grin. “I like all the cold cuts.”

  India had never thought of the prime minister as smiley. Every time she’d seen him on TV, it was to announce something serious, which often meant he looked as if he had a terrible toothache.

  “I’d better go mingle.” He picked up a cupcake with a strawberry nestled on a swirl of cream. “Good luck, India.” He leaned in closer. “I’m not supposed to play favorites, but I’ll be watching from home, quietly hoping you win.”

  India thought that this was perhaps the most exciting moment of her life so far. “Thank you, Prime Minister.”

  “How about that.” Dad had a tear in his eye. “A prime-ministerial good luck.”

  “It doesn’t get much better than that,” Nanna Flo said, before sneaking some scones into her bag.

  The Wimples huddled over the cakes and sandwiches, talking excitedly about what the prime minister had said, while only a few steps away, an infuriated young girl in a blue dress had overheard it all—making her so angry she thought she might burst.

  She glared at one person in particular and whispered a vow: “The prime minister can wish you all the luck in the world, but there is no way you are going to beat me, India Wimple.”