Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [13]
Tanya seemed to struggle with what to say next. “Look, you got other homework. You know you’re way behind on things. I don’t want you spendin’ all your time on this game.”
Akeelah reluctantly looked up from her computer. “It ain’t a game,” she said. “It’s serious. So you gonna come see me in it?”
“Baby, you know I work at the hospital Saturdays. Maybe Kiana can go with you.”
Akeelah let out an exasperated breath. “I guess that’s okay if she don’t bring that whiny baby with her.”
“That baby happens to be your niece.”
“I know what she is. I just know she’ll start bawling when I’m in the middle of a word. That’s the last thing I need. I’m already scared out of my mind.”
Five
Early Saturday morning, Kiana brought her screaming baby out of the house and past Akeelah, who rolled her eyes to the heavens. Mr. Welch’s car, washed and waxed for the occasion, was idling by the curb.
“Come on, girls,” he called out. “We’re going to be late.”
They piled in the car. As he roared away from the curb, around the corner, tires squealing, Akeelah said quietly, “I don’t think we’re gonna be late, Mr. Welch. Either on time or dead.”
“I’m an excellent driver. Don’t worry.”
“Well, we’re all prayin’ you are.”
When they arrived at Beverly Hills High (ten minutes early, Mr. Welch announced proudly), more than a hundred middle school students and their parents were crammed into the auditorium—a spacious and spotlessly clean auditorium, Akeelah noted with envy. Many of the parents were giving their children last-minute spelling drills. Akeelah was dumbfounded, and more than a little overwhelmed, at the number of kids entered in the competition.
“Dang,” she said to Mr. Welch, “I didn’t know there would be this many.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, squeezing her arm. “Go get your number. We’ll sit as close to the front as we can get.” He smiled. “Break a leg, Akeelah.”
She looked puzzled. “Break a leg?”
“That’s an old saying in the theatrical world, wishing an actor good luck.”
“Break a leg,” she said, nodding. “That’s funny.” Akeelah eyed the baby apprehensively and said to her sister, “Maybe you shouldn’t sit too close.”
“Good luck, Keelie,” Kiana said with a grin and a wink.
Looking numb and scared, Akeelah walked slowly up to a long table at the front of the auditorium, where volunteers handed out large-size numbers for the contestants to pin to their shirts.
“Name?” a volunteer said, smiling up at Akeelah.
“Akeelah Anderson.”
The volunteer scanned the list and said, “Here you are, right here at the top. Hmm, I think you’re the first speller we’ve ever had from Crenshaw Middle School.”
Akeelah responded with a forced smile. “How many kids are entered in this thing?”
“One hundred thirty-nine.”
“That many?” Akeelah shook her head, feeling way out of her league. One hundred thirty-eight against her. Well, no. She had a one in ten chance to make it to the next round, but still, the odds were overwhelming. She took her number, thanked the volunteer, and struggled to pin it to her shirt.
“Need some help?”
Akeelah turned to face a young Hispanic boy, about her height, who had a cherubic face and a cheerful expression. He wore a hearing aid and his speech was slightly slurred.
“Javier Mendez,” he said with a wide grin. “Twelve years old. Brilliant speller. Suave dancer. May I pin you?”
“Akeelah Anderson,” she said with a giggle.
“Akeelah—that’s a pretty name. Well, Akeelah, l’ll try not to impale you. This your first time?”
“Yeah. Except for a bee at my school this week. You?”
“Second year. I made it to the Nationals last year. I finished thirteenth. Lucky thirteenth.”
He struck a heroic pose and flexed his muscles. Akeelah began to realize that he was a bit of a clown. She also sensed that he was kind and she instantly warmed to him.
“You went all the way to D.C.?” she said.
“Yup. Three of us made it from my school, Woodland Hills. See that kid over there? His name is Dylan Watanabe.” Javier pointed to a Japanese