Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [11]
“Is it derived from the Latin root ‘vagus,’ meaning to wander around?”
“Man,” Akeelah said aloud, “these kids sure ask a lotta weird questions. Sound like a bunch of show-offs.” Frustrated, she fast-forwarded through the tape, the words jumping out at her: “strophulus,” “murenger,” “xanthoma,” “bhalu,” “tichorrhine.”
Her brother Terrence came up behind her and grabbed the back of her neck.
“Wass ’at?” he said, nodding his head at the TV.
She turned with a start. Her fourteen-year-old brother was dressed all in black and was wearing a thick gold chain around his neck—his adopted gang look.
“Where you been?” Akeelah said. “Mama’s worried out of her mind.”
“Mama always worried,” Terrence said, clicking his tongue in annoyance. “She need to chill. Whatchu lookin’ at?”
“Spellin’ bee.”
“I heard ’bout dat. You goin’ up against a buncha rich white kids. You know what’s gonna happen, don’t ya? They gonna tear yo black butt up is what’s gonna happen.”
Akeelah shrugged and continued to stare at the screen.
“You hear me, girl?”
“I hear you, Terrence. You love to give advice. Now I’m gonna give you a little. Stay away from Derrick-T. He’s bad news. You’ll end up in real trouble if you stick with him.”
“Derrick-T is the man,” Terrence said. “Don’t be rankin’ on him.”
“I’m just warning you.”
“Okay, okay, whatever. I’ve had enougha you for one night.” Terrence turned away and head-bobbed and shoulder-swung his way to his bedroom.
“My brother don’t believe in me,” Akeelah whispered under her breath. “Mama’s too busy to care. And I’m all cramped up inside from big old doubts. But there’s Devon—Devon and Daddy—they believe in me….” She snapped the video off, removed her glasses, and rubbed her eyes. “Now how ’bout tryin’ to believe in yourself?”
The next afternoon, about thirty minutes after school let out, after frittering away fifteen minutes in the cafeteria drinking a soda with Georgia, Akeelah approached a large two-story house. It was unlike many of the grandiose houses in the neighborhood, which the owners had let slide into disrepair. In this place of declining hope and chronic despair, Dr. Larabee’s house stood out. It symbolized pride. The lawn was immaculately cut, the garden blooming with flowers, the windows sparkling clean, and the wraparound porch freshly painted.
Akeelah checked the address, then slowly proceeded up the path to the porch, and after a moment’s hesitation, rang the buzzer. She waited before ringing it again. There was still no answer. She then heard a clicking noise. Curious, she walked to the edge of the porch and peeked down the side of the house. She saw Dr. Larabee in the backyard on his knees, hammering something. She watched him for a moment and then climbed off the porch and walked down the path to the gate. She stood close by while Dr. Larabee, unaware of her presence, meticulously hammered a brick into the border of a well-maintained flowerbed.
He stopped, suddenly sensing that someone was watching him. He looked up at Akeelah, his expression blank.
“You’re late,” he said.
“You didn’t answer the door.”
“That’s because you’re late.”
“But I came right from school.”
He checked his watch. “You must have dawdled.”
“‘Dawdled.’ D-a-w-d-l-e-d.”
“That’s not funny,” he said. “In fact, it’s a little smartalecky.”
“Okay, I was talking to a friend and got held up a little.”
Dr. Larabee nodded and then motioned for her to come into the garden area. She hesitated before opening the gate and stepping into the backyard. He returned to working on his garden.
“So you want to learn how to spell,” he said, without looking up.
“I know how to spell.”
That caused him to look up and study her closely. “No, you don’t.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You don’t know how to spell with technique, language skills, memorization, and a mastery of strategies to correctly spell words you don’t know how to spell.”
She started to respond, but then simply nodded.
“Spell ‘staphylococci.’”
Akeelah began tapping on her thigh until she seemed to lose the rhythm and paused. “Uh…s-t-a-f—”
“There’s no ‘f,’” he