Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [10]
“You want me to do this, Daddy? You think I can do it? Part of me wants to, another part of me is afraid to, and I just don’t know what to do. I know you’re in heaven, so pray for me. Pray that I make the right decision….”
Akeelah looked back at the red-haired girl, inhaled deeply, and slowly shook her head up and down, her lips pressed together in determination.
Four
Well before classes started the following morning, Akeelah was waiting outside the principal’s office. When Mr. Welch arrived, he waved her into his office and asked her to sit down, which surprised her. Students usually stood through interviews with the principal.
“I’ve decided to keep on with the bee,” she said before he’d had time to close the door.
Mr. Welch broke into a wide grin and vigorously pumped her hand.
“I think you’ve made an excellent decision,” he said. “An excellent decision.” He lowered his voice to a confidential whisper. “I don’t think I have to tell you that you’re Crenshaw’s best hope to advance.”
Akeelah nodded. “You think maybe the school could buy me a new outfit for the District Bee? I sure could use it.” With a shy smile she added, “You don’t want me to be a poster child for poverty, do you? We have to dress up Crenshaw a little.”
“Uh, well, maybe if you make it to the State Regional Bee, something could be arranged. But you need to finish in the top ten at the district level first. And, Akeelah, you’re going to be up against kids from Santa Monica, Woodland Hills, Beverly Hills. Some of them have been doing this for years and never even made it to D.C.”
“You’re not very encouraging, Mr. Welch.” With an elaborate sigh, she added, “I’ve heard better motivational speeches.”
“I’m just trying to stress the realities. I—we—we all have great belief in you.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should just give up now.”
“I’m not expressing myself very well, Akeelah. I’m just saying you’re going to need to train hard—with Dr. Larabee.”
Akeelah shook her head emphatically. “Uh-uh. I don’t need no help from him. I can do this by myself.”
“But, Akeelah, he knows all sorts of tricks and shortcuts. Besides, it would be good for both of you. He’s been on a sort of…uh, sabbatical for a while. Anyway, he doesn’t live too far from here. It could be convenient for you. Why don’t you just go talk to him? You’ve got nothing to lose.”
Mr. Welch handed her a sheet of notebook paper with Dr. Larabee’s address. Akeelah studied it and then looked up. “He lives in this neighborhood? I thought you said he was important.”
“And take this,” Mr. Welch said, handing her a package. “It’s a videotape of last year’s National Bee.”
Akeelah looked at the package and Dr. Larabee’s address. Then up at the principal.
“Professor Larabee’s kinda scary, Mr. Welch. I don’t think he likes me.”
“It’s just his manner. He’s really a very kind man. And an exceptionally intelligent one.”
Akeelah struggled with the words for what she wanted to say next. She said finally, “The thing is, I’m just generally scared.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “The one thing I hate more than anything is standing out. Kids hate you for that. And—and the other thing is, am I good enough for this? Is this just a foolish, stupid pipe dream?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I wish I was as sure as you, Mr. Welch.”
“It’s normal to be scared, Akeelah. Just do your best. That’s all anybody can ask of you—including you.”
Akeelah nodded and looked up at him with a weak smile. “And don’t forget about that new outfit if I get through the District Bee. I don’t wanna be up onstage lookin’ like the Patchwork Girl of Oz.”
That night Akeelah sat in front of the living room TV watching last year’s National Bee. A small, blond-haired boy wearing thick glasses was at the mike.
“‘Solivagant,’” he said, repeating the word the Pronouncer had given him. “Can I have the language of origin, please?”
“The derivation is Latin,” the Pronouncer said.
The blond boy nodded, his lips pressed together in thought.