Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [17]
“That sounds like fun.”
“You’re good, Akeelah. You really are. I think you’ve got a great chance to get to D.C.”
“I sure hope you’re right. I’ve got a lot to learn.”
“We all do,” Javier said, showing a new seriousness. “The thing about spelling is, there’s no end to the learning. Sometimes I feel like I’m one yawning pit of ignorance.”
“Me, too. I feel exactly that way.”
“Hey, there’s my folks,” he said. “I’ll catch you later.”
Javier scurried off with his parents, leaving Akeelah waiting for Mr. Welch to finish chatting with the Judge. Suddenly Dr. Larabee was looming over her. It was impossible to read his expression.
“Why didn’t you ask if ‘syn’ was the Greek root meaning ‘with or together’?”
“Excuse me?”
“Or ‘ekdoche,’” he continued, “meaning ‘interpretation.’ Syn-ecdoche. The only difficult word you were given all day and you missed it.”
“Well, maybe if I had a coach I woulda done better. I’m really surprised you’re here. I thought you didn’t have time to waste on this kinda thing.”
“You’re wrong. I have all the time in the world for someone with talent who wants to learn. What I don’t have time for are rude little girls.” He paused and then said, “Spelling bees are terrific entertainment, don’t you think?”
“Yes. But more for the audience than the speller.”
He nodded. “Anyway, good luck to you. You’ll need it.”
He put on his hat and walked out of the auditorium. Akeelah stood there, tapping her foot and looking perturbed.
Six
Mr. Welch drove back to South Los Angeles, much more slowly than earlier, in an ebullient mood. He had bought double-dip ice cream cones for Kiana and Akeelah (chocolate for Kiana, vanilla for Akeelah), and they were busy licking them in the backseat and replaying the bee.
“That little Hispanic kid,” Kiana said. “You like him?”
“Javier Mendez,” Akeelah said. “He’s nice. Really a cool kid.”
“Seems like a funny little dude. He kind of makes you smile.”
“He invited me to join his spelling group in Woodland Hills.”
“Whoa. Look at li’l sister, movin’ up in the world.”
“I need to do anything I can to improve my spelling skills.”
“You’re right,” said Mr. Welch enthusiastically. “You’ve got the right attitude, Akeelah.”
She sighed. “What bothers me is, I’m only movin’ on because that woman cheated.” She reached for Kiana’s hand and squeezed it. “You made it happen.”
“A little luck never hurt nobody.”
“I second that,” Mr. Welch said. He drove in silence as they entered their neighborhood—back to a big dose of reality, Akeelah said to herself—then he said, “Just think, Akeelah, if you can place in the top three at the State Regionals, you’ll go all the way to D.C. How great would that be!”
“It won’t happen if I can’t spell ‘synecdoche.’”
“Uh-oh, look,” Kiana said, pointing out the window.
A police car was parked in front of their house, its lights flashing. Two police officers were taking handcuffs off Terrence. He looked mildly bored. They walked him up to the porch where Tanya was waiting for him, hands on hips.
The police drove away, after a quick conversation with a very annoyed Tanya. The two sisters thanked Mr. Welch for the ride and cautiously approached the porch, where Tanya had Terrence by the arm and was shouting at him. He hung his head but his face was a blank, as though he were somewhere far away.
“As long as you’re living in my house you’re gonna do as I say. That means no drugs, no gangbangers—and no three-hundred-dollar watches. It’s my way or the highway, Terrence, and you better believe I’m dead serious.” She punctuated her angry outburst by ripping the watch off Terrence’s wrist.
“Hey,” he said. “Chill out, will ya? Derrick-T gave that to me. What are you doin’?”
“I’m giving it back.” Aware of the girls, she waved a hand toward the front door. “You two go inside.”
“Mama, I made it,” Akeelah said.
Tanya looked at her blankly. “Made what?”
“The cut,” Akeelah said. “At the District Bee? I’m goin’ to the State Regionals.”
“You’re what?” Tanya was torn between disciplining Terrence and listening to Akeelah. “Well, fine,