Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [3]
Stacks of books, mainly classics and contemporary novels, lined the shelves and were piled up around an ancient computer. A game of computer Scrabble was in progress. Akeelah was hunched over the screen, studying it with a scowl of intense concentration. She muttered under her breath for a moment and then used all her remaining letters to spell “fuchsia,” and racked up 69 points. A small smile curved her lips and she whispered, “Way to go, girl.”
A moment later her older sister, Kiana, a single mother at the age of seventeen, burst into the room.
“You’re supposed to knock,” Akeelah said, still facing the screen.
“Mama says come eat.”
Akeelah sighed and turned slowly in her chair. “You’re the only one that don’t knock, Kiana.”
“I guess that makes me different.”
“I guess it does. It makes you a pest.”
“Mama’s not in a good mood. You better get your skinny butt to the table.”
Akeelah looked back at the screen wistfully. “I just got my highest score ever.”
“Well, whoop-de-doo. Do you think I care? The food’s on the table, li’l sister. Shake it.”
The Andersons ate their meals in the kitchen and the aroma was always delicious. The rich smell of beef stew made Akeelah’s stomach growl. She seldom thought of eating as anything more than a natural function to maintain strength and life, but suddenly she felt famished. Her eating habits were a source of frustration to her mother because no matter how hungry Akeelah might profess to be, a few bites seemed to fill her up.
Devon sat at the head of the table. Tall and handsome, he wore his hair in a military brush cut. From the way his mother looked at him, her eyes aglow, a tender smile on her lips, it was clear that her oldest child was the apple of her eye.
He looked up from his plate and winked at Akeelah.
“And how’s my baby sister?”
“I’m fine.”
She felt bashful around Devon. He was too good-looking and too charming, she felt, to be a member of the family.
Kiana flounced into a chair and pouted as she began to feed her baby daughter, who sat in a high chair making gurgling sounds. In the living room the TV was playing at high volume.
“I’m your baby sister, too, Devon,” Kiana pointed out.
“So you are,” he said. “But you’re also a mother. And you’ve lost your baby fat.”
“I’ve never had any baby fat,” Akeelah said.
“Shut up,” Kiana said. “Nobody asked you.”
“Mama,” Devon said, quickly changing the subject, “I’ve been dreamin’ about your cookin’ for the past five months. Military chow does not cut it.”
“Thank you for those kind words,” Tanya said. “Least I got one child who appreciates what I do ’round here.” Suddenly she frowned, touching her throat with her hand. “Where’s Terrence at? He should have been home from practice an hour ago.”
“Three guesses, Ma,” Akeelah said.
“Don’t get smart, young lady.”
“He’s probably hangin’ with Derrick-T.”
“Derrick-T?” Devon said, looking up from his plate. “That boy still alive?”
“Not after you get done with him,” Akeelah said, smiling. “I know how you two feel about each other.”
“That’s right, princess. Bad feelings all the way back to kindergarten. He’s got no damn sense and never did. Why does he want to hang out with a kid like Terrence, anyway?”
“Somebody to Step ’n’ Fetch for him.”
Tanya gave Akeelah a sharp glance. “Watch your mouth.”
Devon laughed. “This girl’s a smart one, Mama.” He reached for Akeelah’s hand. “Give me some sugar,” he said.
Akeelah leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
“Look, Ma,” Kiana said. “The girl’s blushing.”
“So how many planes you shot down so far?” Akeelah said, ignoring her sister.
“So far? Zero. You don’t do much shootin’ when they got you behind a computer screen in Nevada. Don’t make me out to be a war ace—not yet, anyway.”
“And that’s good, as far as I’m concerned,” Tanya said. “We want you on the ground where you belong.”
“Devon looks like a war ace,” Kiana said. “Denzel at the controls.”
“He don’t look anything like Denzel,” Akeelah said.
Devon