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  Copyright © 2016 by Deborah Abela

  Cover and internal design © 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Aleksei Bitskoff

  Cover and internal illustrations by Aleksei Bitskoff

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks, Inc., is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

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  Originally published in 2016 in Australia by Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd, an imprint of Penguin Random House.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Abela, Deborah, 1966- author.

  Title: The Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee / Deborah Abela.

  Description: Naperville, Illinois : Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, [2018] | "Originally published in 2016 in Australia by Penguin Random House Australia Pty Ltd, an imprint of Penguin Random House." | Summary: Terribly shy, India Wimple is brilliant at spelling and her loving family will do whatever it takes to help her compete in a televised national spelling bee in Sydney, Australia.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2017030951 | (13 : alk. paper)

  Subjects: | CYAC: Spelling bees--Fiction. | Family life--Australia--Fiction. | Self-confidence--Fiction. | Friendship--Fiction. | Australia--Fiction.

  Classification: LCC PZ7.A15937 Stu 2018 | DDC [Fic]--dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017030951

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

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  About the Author

  Back Cover

  Thank you, Jazzy and Declan, for sharing what it’s like to be champion spellers.

  To Catherine Sumsky, respiratory clinical nurse from the Sydney Children’s Hospital, for her expert asthma advice.

  And to Miss Gray, my fourth grade teacher, who made spelling a stupendously spectacular game.

  1

  Tremulous

  (adjective):

  Nervous, timid, a little frightened.

  The girl felt very tremulous about the challenging task ahead.

  India Wimple could spell. Brilliantly. On Friday nights, she and her family would huddle in front of the TV in their pajamas, in their small house in Yungabilla, and watch the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee.

  India adored her family—it was the thing that mattered most to her. There was her younger brother, Boo; Mom; Dad; and Nanna Flo.

  Nanna Flo hadn’t always lived with them. She’d moved in after she fell and broke her wrist during an especially enthusiastic yoga move. She wasn’t happy about leaving the home where she’d lived with Grandpop for over forty years. She made kind of a fuss, mostly by stomping around and saying “Fiddlesticks!” a lot, which was as close to swearing as Nanna Flo ever got. But she soon realized she was much happier surrounded by her family, and the stomping and almost swearing stopped.

  One particular Friday night, where our story begins, the Wimples huddled in front of the TV, as they usually did. But this night was different. It was the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee Grand Final and, as it happened, it was also the day the Wimples’ lives would change forever.

  Boo stretched out on the floor with his chin cupped in his hands, while Mom, Dad, Nanna Flo, and India sat snugly on the sofa. Ernie rested at their feet.

  Mom, Dad, and Nanna Flo were people. Ernie was a large statue of a bulldog that Nanna Flo insisted on taking with her everywhere, much to her family’s embarrassment. Not only was Ernie remarkably heavy, but he was also incredibly ugly and had the unfortunate habit of scaring young children.

  On the TV was a tiny, barely there girl with bouncy, black curls, whose mouth was wide open, as if she’d just had a very big shock. Her name was Katerina. After months of spelling bee heats held all around the country, there were only two spellers left. Katerina was one of them, and her mouth was wide open because her opponent had misspelled his last word. He moved aside with a shake of his head and Katerina stepped up to the microphone.

  She looked so small standing on the main stage of the Concert Hall at Sydney Opera House. Dwarfed by its huge, arched ceilings, she took a deep breath, looking more like a girl about to fall off a mountain—a very high mountain—than someone who was simply going to spell.

  Her body quivered. Her curls shook. It was indeed a tremulous moment.

  The camera cut to her parents sitting in the front row. Her dad gave her a thumbs-up and her mother raised crossed fingers.

  This seemed to make Katerina relax. A little.

  But then she looked like she was on top of that mountain again.

  Not far from her, sparkling in the stage lights, was the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee trophy. If she spelled the next word correctly, she would be the new champion and the trophy would be hers.

  The Concert Hall fell deathly silent as the pronouncer, Philomena Spright, prepared to reveal the next word. Philomena had been the official pronouncer longer than India had been alive. Philomena’s hair sat perched on her head in a perfect soft-serve-ice-cream swirl. She always wore very glamorous dresses and heels so high that India worried she might trip over them one day.

  But she never did.

  Philomena Spright held a small card with her bright-red fingernails in front of her equally bright-red lips.

  On the card was written, quite possibly, the final word of the competition.

  Very carefully, Philomena pronounced, “Tremulous, an adjective meaning nervous, timid, or a little frightened. Using it in a sentence, I could say, The girl felt tremulous at facing the next word of the spelling bee grand final.”

  The audience quietly chuckled before settling into an anxious silence.

  Katerina took a few seconds to think.

  In the
Wimple family home, far, far away, India whispered the spelling of the word without hesitation.

  “That’s the right answer, isn’t it?” Boo asked.

  India’s auburn ponytail swung as she nodded. “I’m sure of it.”

  Katerina crossed both fingers behind her back and began to spell. “Tremulous. T-r-e-m-u-l-o-u-s.” She finished by saying the word with one final, hopeful flourish. “Tremulous?”

  Philomena Spright paused for effect, which she always did. It was her way of building suspense, of making the audience and the contestants lean in, eager to hear her verdict. She never revealed the result too early by showing a smile or a frown. She stared at the girl for several excruciatingly long seconds before saying, in her most serious voice, “Katerina, I’m afraid that answer is…correct!”

  It was only then that Philomena Spright smiled a broad, victorious smile. “You are the new Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee champion!”

  Katerina’s hands flew to her cheeks. The lights flashed, theme music blared, and a shower of confetti sprinkled down from above like a colorful snowfall. The audience was on its feet, cheering and clapping.

  “You were right,” Boo whispered to his sister. “As always.”

  Philomena Spright handed Katerina the trophy, which was almost too big for her to hold. Her parents rushed onto the stage, crying and hugging their daughter.

  When the applause eventually died down, Philomena Spright spoke into the microphone. “Katerina, tell everyone at home how this moment feels.”

  Katerina hugged the trophy with both hands and thought for a few seconds before saying, “From the time I was a little girl, I’ve dreamed of winning the Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee.” She paused, a small tear forming in the corner of her eye. “And now it’s really happening.”

  More tears flowed as Katerina’s mom and dad hugged her tight.

  “It most certainly is happening,” Philomena Spright declared. “From thousands of spellers, competing in hundreds of rounds and one riveting grand final, you are our new champion! And now for your prizes.” She took an envelope from the trophy stand. “As always, there is a five-hundred-dollar gift card for Mr. Trinket’s Book Emporium.”

  Katerina accepted it with an awestruck “thank you.”

  “And that’s not all. We can now reveal your grand prize.”

  There was a drum roll.

  The Wimple family listened with great anticipation. There was a different grand prize each time. There’d been a family cruise and a trip to the world’s tallest toy store in New York. Once it was a vacation to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

  “You know how you like amusement parks?” Philomena Spright asked.

  “Yes.” Katerina nodded feverishly.

  “You and your family are going to…Disneyland, with five thousand dollars in spending money!”

  Katerina squealed. She couldn’t help it—it just came out. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

  “You are welcome, welcome, welcome!”

  The family fell into hugs and even more joyful tears.

  Philomena Spright turned to the camera. “That’s it for another Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee. I’d like to thank all our sensational spellers and our astounding audience. Were you able to spell all the words correctly? Would you like the chance to stand on this very stage? If you think you have what it takes, why not sign up?”

  She looked down the barrel of the camera and, for a moment, India Wimple thought the pronouncer was speaking only to her. “Because our next Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee champion could be you!”

  Philomena Spright didn’t move for what felt like several minutes, pointing her shiny, red fingernail at India with the smallest of knowing smiles on her lips.

  2

  Disconcerting

  (adjective):

  Unnerving, discomfiting, and more than a little bewildering.

  The memory alone was really very disconcerting.

  Boo nudged his sister. “Philomena’s right—it could be you.”

  India scoffed. “Me?”

  “Yes,” Mom said. “Why not?”

  “Because TV is only for the very rich, the very famous, or the very pretty…and I’m not any of those things.”

  “I disagree!” Dad argued. “It’s true we’re not rich or famous, but as for being pretty, you are beautiful from your head down to your toes.”

  “Thanks, Dad, but I think you might be biased.”

  “Fiddlesticks!” Nanna Flo blurted. “What a load of codswallop! Your father’s right or you can dunk me in a barrel of barbecue sauce!”

  “It would be exciting to see you onstage with all those other children,” Mom said, “showing the world how clever you are.”

  “It’s true.” Boo sprang upright in his pajamas, which were a little baggy and covered with planets and stars. “You’re the smartest person I know.”

  “Do you really think I could?” India asked, sounding a bit tremulous herself.

  “We know you could!” Dad scooted so far forward on the couch that he almost fell off. “Who do I ask when I don’t know how to spell a word?”

  “India,” Boo answered.

  “And who sits there spelling every word correctly every single time?”

  “India,” Boo repeated.

  The TV screen was jammed with people laughing and calling Katerina’s name, while photographers elbowed their way closer to take her picture. She was totally surrounded. India felt breathless and light-headed.

  She sighed. “And who freezes every time she stands in front of an audience?”

  There was a pause. Everyone knew who she meant, but they pretended they didn’t.

  It was true. India Wimple was terribly, horribly shy, and whenever she found herself the center of attention, her cleverness seemed to disappear.

  It all started a long time ago, when she had the starring role in her school play, Matilda. India loved Roald Dahl’s story of the shy but brilliant girl and had been rehearsing for weeks. At home, Boo had helped her practice every day, so she wouldn’t forget a word. On opening night, the school halls buzzed, while backstage, the actors nervously muttered lines.

  But not India. She knew her role and was ready.

  When the play began, India felt as if she were floating. The audience was enthralled and sat glued to every word.

  It was all going perfectly—until what happened next.

  India saw someone moving in the darkness at the back of the hall. The figure scooped something into his arms and was staggering along the row toward the exit. Another person quickly followed behind. People stood to allow them past. Whispers rippled through the air.

  And then she heard a faint series of coughs. India realized the shadowy figure was Dad—he was carrying Boo in his arms. And the person following was Mom. They reached the end of the row and hurried out of the hall.

  India shivered and stared after them.

  It was only when one of the actors nudged her that India realized the entire cast was waiting for her to speak, but she didn’t know what to say. It was as if every line she’d rehearsed had vanished from her memory.

  The audience shifted awkwardly in their seats. Some pointed. Others laughed behind their hands.

  India froze. She stared at the glowing green exit sign. All she could think of was Boo cradled in Dad’s arms, coughing and struggling to breathe.

  Boo’s asthma could sneak up on an otherwise perfectly fine day and squeeze his lungs so tightly that sometimes he’d even have to be rushed to the hospital and hooked up to special machines to help him breathe.

  The play went on, but India missed every cue and messed up every line. The other actors even began saying them for her until finally, somehow, they made it to the end of the show.

  Since that day, India had this small,
snarky voice inside her head—one that actually got quite loud sometimes—reminding her that she had failed and would fail if she ever tried anything like that again.

  “Don’t you think, India?”

  Dad had obviously been talking, but India hadn’t heard a thing.

  He got to his feet and tightened the belt on his bathrobe. “Because I’m sure of it. So sure, in fact, that I predict that we here tonight, in this humble home in Yungabilla, are in the presence of the next Stupendously Spectacular Spelling Bee champion.”

  Nanna Flo, Mom, and Boo burst into applause.

  India shook the disconcerting memory of the play from her mind. “Nice try, everyone, but I don’t think it’s for me.”

  “Why not?” Boo’s eyes widened beneath his floppy hair. “You’d be amazing!”

  “You’d wipe the floor with those other kids!” Nanna Flo sometimes said things that were a little inappropriate, especially if she was worked up.

  “Now, now.” Dad held up a silencing hand. “It’s India’s choice. If she’d rather not enter, then as a family we need to respect that.” He paused, only barely able to disguise his real hope. “But if she were to try out, she knows she’d have her family behind her one hundred and fifty percent.”

  He waited for India to be convinced by his heartfelt speech and imploring look.

  “There’s no such thing as one hundred and fifty percent, Dad, but thanks for understanding.”

  There was a brief silence, filled with the Wimple family’s collective disappointment. But Dad was right—who were they to ask her to do something she didn’t want to do, something that would terrify her? She’d made her decision, and they needed to accept that—even if they didn’t want to, which sometimes happens in families, as I’m sure you’ll know if you live in one.

  Dad tried to lift the mood. “Right then, my young Wimples, teeth brushing and story time before bed. Off you go!”

  India got to her feet but snuck a quick peek before she left the room. Dad had sunk back onto the sofa, the collar of his bathrobe bunched up around his neck as if he were in danger of disappearing inside.