She looked around. Bax didn’t know either, she could tell. And neither did Marigold.
Oh! Nory realized: Everyone with their hand in the air had grown up here in Dunwiddle.
Pepper Phan, an Upside-Down Fuzzy who terrified animals.
Sebastian Boondoggle, an Upside-Down Flicker who could see invisible things.
Also, Elliott, Andres, and Willa.
Nory, Bax, and Marigold didn’t know the answer because they had all moved to town specifically for the Upside-Down Magic class.
“Yes, Pepper?” Ms. Starr said. “Why, as winter approaches, is it a special time for our town?”
“Because of Bing Day on November sixteenth,” Pepper said.
“That’s exactly right,” Ms. Starr said.
“Bing Day?” Marigold blurted.
“What’s Bing Day?” Nory asked.
“Bing Day is the most important holiday of the year for Dunwiddle,” explained Ms. Starr. She pulled down the projection screen and fiddled with the laptop on her desk. A video began. The title credits read: Bing Day—Bravo for Our Best and Brightest!
“This again?” complained Sebastian. He was the one who saw invisible things. Not every single invisible thing, but lots of them. Like sound waves. Right now, Sebastian had on a pair of large, dark aviator-style goggles. The goggles blocked his sight on the sides and helped reduce the chaos of the visible sounds. “Every single teacher makes us watch this, every single year,” he said.
Elliott groaned and put his head down on his desk. Pepper did the same. But Nory was curious.
The video was narrated by a man whose voice rumbled like a freight train. He explained that in the olden days, female Flares worked mainly as maids and cooks. Back then, other Flare jobs were only open to men.
“What? That’s crazy cakes!” Nory huffed.
“Shhh. Listen,” said Ms. Starr.
The film flashed to a clip of a middle-aged woman with tiny, round glasses and brown skin. She wore a tweedy jacket and a long skirt. Her name was Zeponiah Bing, Nory learned, and she was born and raised in the town of Dunwiddle. She was a Flare, but she had no interest in working as a maid or a cook. Instead, Bing went to an all-women’s college. While there, she developed her naturally strong Flare magic beyond what anyone had expected of her. She became able to heat extremely large areas to very precise temperatures. She graduated at the top of her class and went on to become a famous professor of Flare Studies at a fancy college, one of the only female teachers there.
During the famously long winter of 1893, the town of Dunwiddle was buried in snow. There was a shortage of food. People died. When Professor Bing learned of the crisis, she immediately and heroically returned to her hometown and used her remarkable heating magic to thaw the land without damaging buildings or crops.
She saved lives! She was awesome!
“For these reasons and many more, Dunwiddle celebrates Professor Bing’s birthday every year with a magnificent parade,” the narrator said as clips of past parades showed people wearing costumes from olden times.
“And for you young people, here’s a fun fact,” he continued. Nory’s classmates stirred, and to her surprise, all of those who’d grown up in Dunwiddle recited the fact along with him. “It has never, ever rained on Bing Day!”
The video ended with the idea that maybe Professor Bing’s unusually strong Flare magic was connected to the power of the sun. Some people believed that was why the sun always shone on her special day, the day of the parade. “Nonbelievers can roll their eyes all they want,” a young woman said fervently into the camera. “But this is magic, people. Sun magic. Bing magic!”
Ms. Starr turned off the film. Nory blinked.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Ms. Starr said.
“Do you believe in it?” asked Nory. “Bing magic?” She thought about how much was unknown when it came to magic.
Ms. Starr didn’t answer the question. Instead, she said, “This year, all the fifth graders will make a poster about some aspect of Bing Day history. You will work in pairs. Each pair will be expected to draw on at least five different sources to make history come alive!”
Sighs and moans rippled through the room.
“I’m asleep already,” said Andres from the ceiling.
“We have to do something like this every year,” Sebastian explained to Nory, Bax, and Marigold. “It’s terribly repetitive.”
“Then I suggest you find a way to make it not repetitive,” Ms. Starr said tartly. “Boredom is a failure of the imagination. Our posters will be on display all through the halls of the school on Bing Day. The sixth graders are making dioramas, and the seventh grade will perform the annual Bing Day music concert featuring folk songs of 1893. The eighth grade will treat us to an all-grade read-aloud of ‘Zeponiah Bing: An Epic Poem of Praise.’”
“Is she serious?” Marigold whispered to Sebastian.
“She is,” said Sebastian.
Ms. Starr went on. “The parade is at four o’clock next Friday.”
Nory loved parades. Like, she really, really loved them. “Will there be a marching band?” she asked.
“Yes!” said Ms. Starr. “And antique cars.”
Nory bounced on her seat. “What about people on stilts? And Fluxers who flux into really big animals, like rhinos and elephants?”
“To tell the truth—” Ms. Starr began.
“And Flare juggling?!” Nory exclaimed. “Please say there will be Flare juggling! Please!”
Ms. Starr laughed. “I don’t actually know. I moved to Dunwiddle for this job. This will be my first Bing Day Parade, too!”
Nory had a genius thought. “We should all wear silly hats,” she said. “Everyone in the whole UDM class, to show Bing Day spirit. Maybe antlers?”
“It’s not that kind of parade,” said Willa.
“It has historical costumes,” said Sebastian.
“And we all sing this traditional song,” said Andres. “It’s kind of ye olde.”
“What does that even mean?” Bax asked.
“People are in costumes from the 1890s. Bagpipes. Clog dancing.”
“Not everyone likes to wear silly hats,” added Willa quietly.
“We could still wear antlers,” Nory pressed. “Antlers are historical.”
Willa gave her a look. “They are not.”
“Yes they are!” Nory said. “Antlers came before people, didn’t they?”
Willa sighed.
Sheesh, Nory thought. What’s wrong with antlers?
“I’ve split you into pairs already, and I’ll announce them now so you can start brainstorming your project,” said Ms. Starr.
Nory wanted Elliott. Or Pepper. Definitely one or the other.
“Elliott and Bax, you two will work together,” Ms. Starr said. “Sebastian is with Marigold, and Andres is with Pepper. Nory and Willa, that leaves the two of you to partner up,” Ms. Starr finished. “Sound good? Good. Let the brainstorming begin!”
Boo.
Nory wasn’t in the mood to work with Willa. Willa had been rude about Nory’s awesome antler idea!
But whatever. They had to. The two of them met at the computer table. Nory brought a pad of paper. And a pen.
Willa brought nothing.
“So what are you interested in?” Nory asked, sitting down.
Willa sat down, too. She picked at her fingernail.
“Women’s colleges could be cool,” Nory said. “My grandma went to an all-women’s college. Or what if we did a poster about sun magic?”
Willa shrugged.
“How about unusual Flares?” Nory tried. “You’re an unusual Flare, so that could be interesting!”
“I’m an Upside-Down Flare,” Willa corrected her.
“That’s what I meant,” said Nory.
“It’s not the same thing.” Willa glared at Nory. “Anyway, I’m not interested in Flare Studies.”
“Fine,” Nory said. “Then what are you interested in?”
Wi
lla looked out the window.
“What about weather?” Nory asked.
“What?”
“Weather. Are you interested in weather?”
Willa gave the teeniest of nods.
Nory wrote WEATHER on her notepad.
“Okay, so what about weather?” Nory pressed. “I guess we could write about snow.”
Willa didn’t respond.
Sheesh.
Elliott always had opinions. Pepper was always enthusiastic.
Being partners with Willa was like being partners with a wet, blank notepad.
The next afternoon, Willa and Elliott met with their Upside-Down Flare tutor at the high school pool. They entered the large brick building and showed their passes to the guy in the main office. Then they changed in the locker rooms and met again at the pool.
Their tutor was the high school swim coach. Her name was Ms. Cruciferous. She was in her seventies, with olive skin, rosy cheeks, and soft gray hair that she wore loose around her face when it wasn’t tucked into a swim cap. She was lean and fit.
Willa had never seen Ms. C in anything other than a swimsuit: sometimes a red tankini, sometimes a one-piece splashed with flowers, sometimes a sporty blue two-piece with racerback straps.
“Willa! Elliott! Fantastic!” said Ms. C when she saw them. She stopped swimming laps and pulled herself gracefully out of the water. Her suit today was solid black, the top styled like a sports bra. Willa’s was her purple tie-dye, because her favorite pink two-piece was in the laundry. Elliott always wore blue trunks.
Ms. Cruciferous was an excellent Flare. She specialized in fireworks and in controlled explosions used for rocket ships or demolishing buildings. At the high school, she taught advanced-level Flares in the pool for safety reasons. After all, in a regular classroom, there were plenty of things a Flare student could set on fire while practicing. Also, the water provided an extra challenge for Flares. They might learn to heat it or flare through it.
For Willa and Elliott, Ms. C taught AquaMerge, a new technique designed to help Upside-Down Flares whose magic connected to water in some way.
“What are we going to do today?” Willa asked.
“Can we do wavemakers?” Elliott asked.
Wavemakers involved blowing softly on the water, making small waves on the surface, then trying to channel magic through the breath to make bigger waves.
“I think we’ll do Buckets today,” said the teacher. Buckets was an exercise where Ms. C threw buckets of water at Willa and Elliott as they stood in the pool. Elliott was supposed to try to freeze the entire bucket solid before it fell. Willa was supposed to transform the water from a big gush into tiny raindrops. They weren’t that good at it yet. It was hard to work quickly under pressure.
“Can we practice snow, too?” asked Willa. The snow she and Elliott had learned to create at the start of the year was the first real progress she had made with her magic.
“Snow makes the pool too cold,” said Elliott. “Plus we made snow just the other day. We’re always making snow. We don’t need to practice it.”
“All your magic makes the pool cold,” Willa teased. “Face up to it.”
“Elliott has a point, though,” said Ms. C. “We’ll do Buckets and then he can work on freezing ice cubes one at a time, getting his aim under control. You and I can work on something else. At the end of the lesson, we can have a free swim and the pool won’t be too chilly. Do you want to work on your tiny rain clouds?”
The second big thing Willa had learned in tutoring was to make a miniature, on-purpose rain cloud. She could rain slow or fast from it. If the cloud was super tiny, she could even get the rain to make a rhythm.
“Not really,” answered Willa. “Honestly, I want to learn how to stop making enormous gigantic rains without meaning to.” She had rained on the classroom twice that day already. Everyone had gotten soaked, and even Ms. Starr had seemed frustrated. “My goal is to never, ever rain by accident.”
Ms. C sighed. “I’m sorry,” she told Willa. “I simply don’t know how to teach you that yet. I’m doing the best I can, but your magic is very unusual. More upside down than Elliott’s.”
“I just—I really hate it,” Willa said. “It upsets everyone. My mom. My friends. It ruins their stuff. And it’s so hard to turn off.”
Ms. C patted her arm. “Let’s work on tiny clouds immediately. We’ll skip Buckets for today and see what progress we can make.”
While Ms. C set Elliott up with an activity, Willa made a small rain cloud over the pool. It was about the size of a cat.
She made it rain slow. Then fast. Then in a rhythm: Drip drip DROP drip drip DROP. When Ms. C rejoined her, the teacher asked Willa to move the rain cloud around. “Put it in the corner over there,” she said, pointing.
Willa couldn’t.
“What about just moving it a couple of inches?”
Willa couldn’t.
“Hm. All right. Try attaching it to something that moves,” said the teacher. “Can you attach it to Elliott?”
Willa grinned.
Elliott was sitting on the edge of the pool with an ice-cube tray of water, trying to freeze one cube at a time. He wasn’t doing that well. Often he froze two or three cubes at once. Every now and then Ms. C waved her hand at the tray to warm it up again, melting the cubes with her Flare magic so Elliott could start over.
Willa stopped her first cloud and made a new tiny rain cloud appear over Elliott.
“Don’t rain on me!” he cried.
“Brawahahahaha!” Willa laughed an evil laugh. “It’s an assignment! Ms. Cruciferous wants me to!” Elliott groaned but sat still, being a good sport.
Willa concentrated, and yes, she could attach the cloud to Elliott so it hung right over his head. It felt like stretching a rubber band from the cloud to his skull. She had done this skill once before, kind of by accident. This time it was definitely on purpose.
“Can I move?” asked Elliott.
Ms. C nodded and Elliott jumped into the pool.
The tiny cloud followed him.
He swam under the water, half a length.
It still followed him.
“No fair!” he sputtered, laughing.
“Can you turn off the rain now, Willa?” said Ms. C. “Make your cloud go away?”
Willa tried.
Nope. It still rained on Elliott.
She tried again.
More nope. It was too hard.
“Can you detach it?” said Ms. C. “Use that Flare technique we worked on, the one where you imagine putting out a match. Touch the tip of your tongue to the roof of your mouth.”
Willa did that.
The rain cloud stayed attached to Elliott.
Nothing was working. Willa’s heart started to race.
“Recite the mermaid poem!” called Elliott. “That’s what Ms. Starr has you do.”
“Okay,” she said. She forced her eyes closed. She recited the poem quickly at first. The second time she said it, she said it slower. By the third time, she felt calm. After the fourth time, the rain cloud over Elliott disappeared. It felt like forever. But it worked.
“It’s definitely harder to turn the rain off when the cloud is attached to something,” she said. “Usually I can turn off a tiny one.”
“But you did move a cloud,” said Ms. Cruciferous encouragingly. “And that’s more than you’ve done on purpose before! I think today was some good progress.”
They had free swim after that, and Willa and Elliott made the most of it. Willa loved being in the pool. She felt loose and relaxed. She and Elliott splashed each other like maniacs. They did cannonballs in the deep end until it was time for them to go back to school. It was the most fun she’d had all week.
Finally, tired out, they floated on green foam noodles and talked.
“What are you and Nory doing for your Bing Day project?” Elliott asked.
Willa’s sense of peace evaporated.
This morning, when Ms. Starr had
asked what their project was, Nory had announced they were studying storm patterns related to the Great Frost of 1893. “We’ll show how rare it was,” Nory had said. “We’ll blah blah blah and blah blah blah, and obviously, we won’t forget to blah blah blah.”
What? Willa hadn’t said yes to storm patterns! She wasn’t even sure they’d agreed on weather!
“I don’t know,” Willa told Elliott now. “She’s very pushy.”
“Sometimes,” Elliott admitted. “But she has really interesting ideas.”
“Well, her idea this time is boring.”
Elliott sighed.
Willa turned her head to look at him. “What?”
Elliott stared at the ceiling. He moved his arms back and forth to keep himself afloat. “I wish you two liked each other. That’s all.”
“Who said we don’t?” Willa stood up in the water, her toes gripping the bottom of the pool. “I like Nory. Does Nory not like me?”
“Of course she likes you.”
“Then what? Did she say something about me?”
“She just said …” Elliott’s voice trailed off.
“That I was stupid?”
“What? No.”
“Not paying attention?” she pushed. “Not a team player? What?”
“It wasn’t about that at all,” Elliott said. “It was … you know, she’s frustrated because you get so rainy sometimes.”
“Did she call me a crybaby?” The word jumped out of Willa’s mouth because her sister, Edith, called her a crybaby all the time. She didn’t really expect it to be true.
Elliott hesitated.
Willa’s throat tightened. “Omigosh, she did! Nory called me a crybaby!”
“She took it back,” Elliott rushed to say. “Like, immediately. Labels like that are mean, and she knows it.”
“Zowie. She took it back. That makes it so much better.”
“Don’t be mad,” Elliott said. “She just blurts things out sometimes. And you know she understands about magic getting out of control. It happens to her lots. I didn’t mean to tell you. I’m sorry.”
Willa flushed.
She was a crybaby, and she knew it.
She just didn’t know how to keep from being one.
And knowing that people like Nory noticed it—well, that made it so much worse.
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