Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [45]
“No biggie.”
“Actually, it was very chivalrous of you.”
He answered with a loud groan.
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
“I can’t help it. I’m dying.”
“No, you’re not. Maybe this will help.” She leaned across the aisle and kissed him on the cheek.
His eyes popped open and he turned to her. “Wow. This must be what’s meant by a miracle. I’m not thinking about the plane at all now, about missing the airstrip. I think I just reached heaven.”
“Really?” Akeelah said with a smile. “Well, in that case…”
She flung open the window shade next to Javier, and he let out a howl of anguish as the plane lowered its landing gear.
The baggage area was a circus of yelling and laughter as the spellers collected their luggage. A chauffeur carrying a sign reading “National Spelling Bee Finalists” opened the door of a stretch limousine. Georgia stared at the rich interior and said to Akeelah in a whisper, “If I flunk out as a pilot, I can always get a license to drive one of these babies.”
“I think that’s called lowered expectations,” Akeelah said. “Keep your eye on the sky.”
As the limousine drove past the Capitol building, the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, and the White House, Akeelah was dumbstruck. She was vaguely aware that Georgia was burbling on about something, but her mind was elsewhere. History was all around her. She pressed her face to the window and absorbed it all. She knew that she was living in a dream, and it was a dream from which she didn’t want to awaken.
They registered at the hotel, and later that day, she was beside herself with excitement when she learned that she and a group of other spellers were scheduled to take a tour of the West Wing of the White House.
“Will I meet the President?” Akeelah asked the tour director.
“I’m afraid he’s out of town,” he said with a smile. “But the First Lady will greet you all.”
There was actually a receiving line to walk through. Suddenly Akeelah was pressing the warm, soft hand of the First Lady and returning her bright smile.
“I’ve read about you,” the First Lady said. “You’re Akeelah Anderson from California.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I wish you the best of luck in the National Bee.”
“Well, that makes two of us. I’m wishing myself the best of luck, too.”
The First Lady laughed and Akeelah blushed, wondering if she had just said something incredibly stupid.
The hours flew by. Inside the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site, Akeelah and a group of other young spellers read one of the speeches by the famous abolitionist. Suddenly Dr. Larabee stepped up behind her, smiled, and they read it together.
“How do you feel?” he said.
“I don’t know. What’s that thing—you know, out-of-body experience? That’s what I think I’m having. I’m just floating.”
“That must be a good feeling.”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s kind of scary.”
He scrutinized her carefully. “You look well rested. And I like your outfit.”
She beamed. “You do? Mama picked out three for me and the school paid for them. Next stop will be the cover of Vogue.”
“Or Harper’s Bazaar.”
The day was sunny, with none of Washington’s usual summer humidity, and Akeelah and Dr. Larabee began walking back to the hotel. It was a long walk, but they were in the mood for exercise. After they had walked a while, Akeelah’s hand stole into Dr. Larabee’s. He gave no indication that he was aware of it, but he did not pull his hand away.
“So do you think you’re ready for the big event?”
She hesitated before shaking her head up and down. “As ready as I’ll ever be. I know I’m up against a bunch of genius spellers. But I don’t let that bother me. I’m pretty good myself.”
“You’re better than pretty good, Akeelah. You have the mental architecture for this—visualization, memory, patterns, a great eye and ear.” He glanced at her. “I wonder what