Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [48]
“Yeah, an easy word,” Javier agreed.
Turning to Margaret Russell, Saunders said, “You might want to explain how they determine the winner.”
“It’s whoever’s left standing,” she replied. “But the final speller must spell the last word missed—plus an additional word—or the competition continues.”
Dylan took the mike and gave Akeelah a barely perceptible glance. She stared at him and then looked away. He spelled his word with no trouble and slowly ambled back to his seat.
Ted Saunders said, “These kids are fabulous. I thought I was a decent speller, but now I know better. This could go on forever.”
“Well, once there are only two players left, they begin with the twenty-five championship-level words, which are so difficult someone always misses one.”
“You mean these words are not championshipcaliber?”
“Oh, yes. But the twenty-five are at the highest end of difficulty.”
On Dylan’s next turn at the mike, the Pronouncer said, “The word is ‘oersted.’”
Dylan stared at him, expressionless. Mr. Watanabe suddenly shifted forward in his chair. “What’s the language of origin?” Dylan said.
“Danish,” said the Pronouncer.
Dylan nodded. “I’d like a definition, please.”
The Pronouncer looked carefully at a card in his hand. “The centimeter-gram-second electromagnetic unit of magnetic intensity equal to the magnetic intensity one centimeter from a unit magnetic pole.”
There was a rumble in the audience.
Ted Saunders turned to Margaret Russell. “Did you understand that definition?”
“I plead the Fifth,” she said, smiling.
“O-e-r-s-t-e-d,” Dylan said quickly. “‘Oersted.’”
The audience broke into applause. Akeelah saw Dylan glance down at his father, who betrayed no emotion. Dylan looked away and slowly took his seat.
Javier was now at the mike.
“The word is ‘xylem.’”
“X-y-l-e-m. ‘Xylem.’”
Mr. and Mrs. Mendez applauded their son. Akeelah gave him a big smile when he returned to his seat. They slapped hands between their seats.
“They thought they had me—but I was too much for’em.”
Akeelah laughed.
“You wanna know a secret?”
“Yeah.”
“I learned that word last week.” He wiped his forehead in a mock-relief gesture. “Just in the nick of time.”
The opening rounds of the spelling bee were a showcase for the expert spellers and a bloodbath for the others. Spellers battled one difficult word after another. The kids had all kinds of ways of coping: some of them wrote the words in the air, some turned in circles, rolled their eyes, held their breath. Akeelah was alone in tapping her thigh. They all asked for definitions, alternate pronunciations, and languages of origin. Akeelah, Dylan, Javier, and a handful of others successfully navigated through the first rounds to the delight of their families and fans.
A boy in a wheelchair was now at the mike, one of a scattering of survivors.
Margaret Russell looked intensely into the TV monitor. “Here in the eighth round of the National Spelling Bee, with only sixteen spellers remaining, Peter Adams is faced with the word ‘excursus.’” She turned to Ted Saunders. “Not an easy word.”
“No, indeed not.”
“E-x-c-o-u-r-s-e-s. ‘Excursus.’…” He looked fearfully at the Head Judge and then heard the bell sound. He shrugged as he motored away from the mike. “Hey,” he said, loud enough for the audience to hear. “Sixteenth place. Not bad!”
He popped a wheelie in his chair and rode off the stage, getting a big laugh from the crowd.
Javier leaned over and whispered to Akeelah, “Peter is cool. I really like him.”
“He reminds me of you,” Akeelah said.
It was her turn to step up to the mike. Each round took her closer to her goal, and each time felt more difficult than the time before.
Ted Saunders said, “Here is Akeelah Anderson up to attempt her eighth word.”
“The word is ‘argillaceous,’” the Pronouncer said.
Akeelah stared at him, then sneaked a quick look at Dr. Larabee. It was clear to him that she had never heard of the word. “Excuse me?” Her hand remained frozen at her side.
“‘Argillaceous,’” the Pronouncer repeated.
“Can I get a definition, please?” she said.
“Like or containing