Page 52

“There’s three of us,” Nell said, “and Zara was sitting this round out because, honestly, she’s a liability.”

“That is accurate,” Zara agreed, without looking up. She patted her hands back and forth across the napkins. “I’d be happy to team up with you if you need a partner though. I’ll defer to you completely. I can’t promise I’d be much help otherwise.”

“Her mind’s like an empty kettle,” Asha said.

“With holes,” Nell added.

Tempest didn’t think that was nice of them, but she held her tongue.

“Don’t mind them. My sisters love me just the same.” Zara grinned. She shook out the cardigan and handed it back. It looked as though it had been dry-cleaned, and smelled of lilacs.

“How did you do that?” Tempest asked.

“I have no idea.” Zara shrugged. “It’s in my bones. Seems to be the only kind of smarts I’ve got. Everything that goes in up here just…” She wiggled her fingers near her temple, miming information making a hasty exit. “Vamooshes. So, do you want to team up?”

Tempest thought about the bus full of books. She pictured Fortune waiting patiently for her return. There had to be a reason the atlas had brought her here.

“Okay,” she said, and took a seat.

“What should we call ourselves?” Zara asked, pulling the entry card toward her.

Tempest considered this for a moment. “Trivia in a Teacup.”

Zara’s face split into a grin. She wrote it down in careful looping letters, then began curling the letters into a small decorative design around the edges of the card.

“Everyone give a Loaded Spud welcome to Tom Horner of Lucky Duck Trivia Co. Tom’s made the trip out here tonight to lead us all through this regional qualifier. He says he can’t guarantee there’s any questions about potatoes on tonight’s docket, but our fingers are crossed for you tater tots!”

The quizmaster stepped up to the podium. Tom Horner was wearing a plaid suit with a T-shirt that read Let’s Be Best Spuds, cowboy boots, and thick horn-rimmed glasses. He was a wizard, but he was sticking to Ordinary behavior tonight. Nothing too magical for such a mixed crowd.

The questions came quickly from the start, pulled from categories that rotated without warning. Science. Literature. Geography. Film. Natural history. Ancient civilizations. Mythology. The room sharpened, competitive and close.

Tempest answered every question correctly.

For most of them she couldn’t say how she knew. The answers were there when she reached for them, arriving the way a fact arrives when you have read it somewhere once and cannot remember where. But some of the questions were different. Midway through the second round, Tom Horner read out, “This Arctic species, whose flesh is toxic when fresh, is estimated to reach sexual maturity at approximately 150 years of age and may live for up to five centuries. Name it.”

She knew the answer before he finished the sentence. Not because she’d found it in the usual formless way, but because she recognized the phrasing. Dan Wilder had written that same question in his book. She could picture the typeset on the page.

She wrote down: Greenland shark.

“How do you do that?” Zara asked, between rounds. “You’re like a machine.”

“I don’t know,” Tempest admitted. It was the most honest she had ever been about it. “I’ve touched a lot of books.”

“I’ve touched a lot of books too,” Zara said, “and I retain absolutely nothing. I’m like a colander.” She didn’t say this with any dismay. It was an observation, delivered with the same cheerful equanimity she seemed to bring to everything. “But,” she held up one finger, “I can draw really well. Show me something once and I can recreate it perfectly. Faces, maps, diagrams, text. That’s my party trick.” She flipped the scorecard over to reveal a tiny typhoon made of the letters of Tempest’s name worked into the border design. “It’s how I remember people’s names. I sketch them in. See—I’ve got you now.” She tapped her head.

Tempest looked at the small illustration.

“You should try drawing more things you want to remember,” she said. “Work the facts into your designs. If it’s your hands that help you hold on to things rather than your head, feed the facts to your hands.”

Zara went very still. She stared at her own forearms. A small flower bud that was part of the design near her wrist bloomed then, right there in the inked design. “Oh!” she said. “Oh, Tempest. I think you just blew my mind.”

“Really?” Tempest asked.

“Yes.” Zara looked up. “That is actually going to change my life.” She threw her thin arms around Tempest. “Thank you, friend.”

Tempest felt something loosen. She was shy, and she had been awkward coming through the door, still feeling slightly exposed out here in front of these quirky strangers. But Zara had made her feel both smart and useful tonight. Two words she had never thought to apply to herself.

The rounds continued. Their team accumulated points, gathering momentum as the competition grew fiercer.