Nory took off after Bax.

She ran across the stone floor of the bleachers, down the stone steps, and pushed through the heavy stone doors. She saw Bax ahead of her, running down the sidewalk. She called his name, but he didn’t stop.

It was ten blocks to Bax’s dad’s home. Nory followed him all the way there, running.

She caught up with him outside the house. He had stopped, finally, and was sitting on the porch with his head bowed. Next to him was a mournful-looking basset hound. Next to the basset hound were two lethargic squirrels. Nory also spotted two goats, several mutts, a German shepherd, some bluebirds, a ton of pigeons, and a teacup pig, all lying on the lawn. There were clusters of chipmunks leaning against the front windowsills. From the backyard came a low, grumbling, snorting moan, and a thread of fear snaked up Nory’s spine.

Something very large was making that moan. Something very large and very unhappy.

“It’s a rhino,” Bax said without lifting his head. “It arrived this morning.”

Nory sat down next to him. “Why? How? Where did it come from?”

“I have no idea,” Bax said. “Just like I have no idea how I … you know. Turned everything into stone at the kittenball game.” His voice caught. “I didn’t mean to, Nory, I swear I didn’t. I didn’t even know I was doing it until I looked down. It was all spreading from me!”

Nory was shocked. “Did you do the pennies, too?”

Bax shrugged miserably. “I guess I must have. But not on purpose, and I didn’t even know. I brought a pocketful of coins in for the Pennies for Potions jar that morning, and that must have been the start of it. It spreads out from something I touch, I guess? It doesn’t happen all at once.”

“And the stuff inside the lockers?”

“I must have done that, too. I came to school early that day. I had—I had had an argument with my mom about my dad. I was pretty upset. Maybe that had something to do with it. It must have started from something I touched in my locker, and spread from there.”

“Has it happened before?” Nory asked.

“Before what?”

“Before the pennies. Were there other times when you turned something other than yourself to stone?”

“I don’t think so. But I don’t know,” Bax moaned.

They needed a grown-up. “We should tell your dad,” Nory said. “Let’s go inside.”

“I’m not sure,” said Bax. “My dad has enough to worry about.”

“We have to,” said Nory. “Come on.” She got to her feet and opened the front door. “Hello! Mr. Kapoor?”

“He’s probably watching TV,” Bax said. “Watch out for ladybugs. They’re kind of everywhere.” They went into the living room. In the corner stood a piano. There was dust on the frame, but not the keys. In the middle of the room was a TV, also dusty, with a couch in front of it. On the couch sat a man with slumped shoulders.

“Hey, Dad,” Bax said. “This is my friend Nory. Nory, this is my dad.”

Mr. Kapoor switched off the TV and turned to face them. Nory took him in.

He looked like Bax, with high cheekbones and warm brown skin, but his eyes had bags beneath them. Kind, sad eyes. “Bax,” he said. “I thought the game wasn’t over till six. How come you’re home early?”

“Mr. Kapoor?” Nory said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

“Bax hasn’t been feeling well,” said Nory. “Something’s new with his magic and it’s pretty scary.”

Mr. Kapoor squinted. “What do you mean? The Burtlebox always works. It’s still working for you, right, Bax?”

“Yes,” Bax said. “This is something different. I’m turning things to stone, Dad. Other things. That aren’t me. I can’t control it. “

Mr. Kapoor shook his head, then exhaled deeply and sank back into the couch. “Wow,” he said. “I never heard of anything like that.”

“We need help,” said Nory.

“I’m not sure what to do,” Mr. Kapoor said. He didn’t get up. “Maybe you should take some more medicine, Bax?”

Bax sighed. “I don’t think that’s going to help. The whole kittenball arena turned to stone. Taking more Burtlebox isn’t going to turn it back.”

Poor Bax. He had to take that Burtlebox all the time. Every day.

Oh. Zamboozle! Nory had an idea. She clutched Bax’s arm. “Do you remember what Nurse Riley said?”

Bax shook his head.

“He said, With these individual potions, you don’t always know how a person’s body will react with long-term use.”

“So?”

“So maybe you’re taking too much potion and it’s messing up your fluxing!” cried Nory.

“But the potion helps me,” said Bax.

“It changes you back, yes, but maybe it has side effects!”

“The potion is making me turn things to stone?”

“Maybe. Maybe you take so much of it you get a side effect. I don’t know. We have to talk to a doctor.”

“The animals around the house—could that be because of my medicine, too?” Bax wondered.

Nory thought for a minute. “I don’t see how. But hey! What if I fluxed into a kitten? Maybe I could get a sense of what’s going on with the animals!”

“Would you try?”

Nory concentrated hard and fluxed. Pop! Pop! The colors around her grew muted, as they always did when she was Kitten-Nory. Far-off objects grew fuzzy, since cats had poor long-distance vision. Smells grew stronger. She tried to keep control of her human mind, but suddenly—she wanted to lie down.

She felt sad.

She didn’t know why.

She padded toward the living room, and to Bax’s dad on the couch.

There was something about Mr. Kapoor. It was like he was pulling her toward him with his unhappiness.

Stop! Danger! Nory’s human mind said.

But Kitten-Nory’s mind sank into sadness. Nothing mattered. Everything was gray. Moving was a struggle, so she dropped where she was, at Mr. Kapoor’s feet.

“Get out!” Girl-Nory said to herself. “Flux back!”

Why bother? Kitten-Nory thought. Then Kitten-Nory stopped thinking. Stopped thinking, stopped caring. Nothing mattered. The world was bleak, had always been bleak, would always be bleak. Why fight it?

Hands lifted her up. Boy eyes met her kitten eyes.

“Nory!” the boy barked.

Bax? her human mind thought.

“Nory. Flux back. You have to flux back, now!”

And with a huge effort, Nory did.

“Whoa,” she said, a girl again.

She ran over to Bax’s dad. “Mr. Kapoor?”

“Oh … ah, yes?”

“Something kind of weird just happened, and I was wondering …” She swallowed. “Do you have upside-down magic?”

Mr. Kapoor looked scared. His gaze flicked to Bax, then to Nory. Then he stared at his laptop and nodded.

“And when animals get near you, they get sad,” said Nory. “That’s what happened to me, just now, when I fluxed into a kitten. That’s why all these animals are around your house. You’re pulling them in and making them unhappy.”

“I wondered if that was the case,” Bax’s dad murmured.

“You’re an Upside-Down Fuzzy?” Bax said to his dad. “I thought you were an allergic Fuzzy.”

“I’m so sorry, Bax. I should have told you. I was ashamed of my magic, and then when I learned about you and your magic, and you started going to this new program, I got ashamed of being ashamed.”

*  *  *

Bax’s dad had known about his magic since he was ten, he told them. He explained that animals took on his emotions, whether good or bad. Sometimes he made them happy, and that was nice. Sometimes he made them nervous, or jealous, or sad. But back when Bax’s dad was young, people didn’t call wonky magic “upside down” and they didn’t have educational programs to help with it. All his friends thought his upside-down magic was scary and weird, so he had hated it, too. When he moved to a new town, he had started telling people he was allergic to animals, and resolved never to talk about his magic.

“I should have told you, Bax,” he said again. “I should have told your mother. I was just ashamed of being upside-down. And then I heard about the new class at Dunwiddle and I was so glad there was a chance for you to have a different experience.”

Bax regarded his dad. He was a kind man. And so sad. About his upside-down magic, about his divorce, about losing his job.

I will tell Ms. Starr, Bax thought. Ms. Starr, who wore bright clothes and matching sneakers. Who believed in headstands and Hula-Hoops and trust exercises. Who taught her students to understand their feelings deeply, rather than control them.

He would tell her right away, and explain everything, because if anyone could help Dad, it was Ms. Starr.

“Look,” Nory whispered, pointing out the window.

The chipmunks had left the windowsill. The squirrels were perking up. The cats stretched their backs; the mutts had started sniffing around the yard. The basset hound still looked mournful—but then, he was a basset hound. He hitched up his hind leg and scratched a flea.

Everything wasn’t instantly better, but Bax’s dad felt relieved, and so the animals felt relieved.

It was a start.