Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [49]
Tanya strained forward in her seat, holding tightly to the hands of both Devon and Georgia. It was obvious that Akeelah was struggling for the first time.
“What’s the language of origin?” Akeelah asked, still not moving her hand.
A bad sign, Dr. Larabee thought, as he tried to keep his composure.
“Greek,” the Pronouncer answered.
“It’s the suffix that could trip her up,” Margaret Russell said. “Most people would spell it ‘tious’ or ‘cious.’ A very, very tricky word, indeed.”
“You can see the strain on her face,” Ted Saunders observed.
Dr. Larabee muttered loudly enough for Mr. Welch to hear, “Come on, Akeelah. See it. See it.”
Akeelah stared at him again and something was communicated between them. She turned to the Pronouncer. “Is it derived from the Greek word ‘argos,’ meaning white?”
Dr. Larabee nodded. She was on the right track. If only she could keep her nerve and think logically and straight. This word was not too big for her. Others might be, but not “argillaceous.”
Akeelah scrunched up her face and thought hard. She remembered Dr. Larabee standing next to his huge pad full of words and pointing to one, and she strained to remember that word. In her mind’s eye she saw “argilla,” but she couldn’t see the ending. She sensed that the danger lay in the ending.
The Head Judge motioned to her. “You’ve exhausted your regular time, Ms. Anderson. You now have thirty seconds of finish time to spell the word.”
She nodded as her hand began to flutter and finally touched her thigh. She began moving back and forth rhythmically. Javier bit his lip, his eyes fixed on her. Dylan leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, the faintest of smiles on his lips.
“‘Argillaceous,’” Akeelah said finally. Her fingers began counting on her thigh. “A…r…g…i…l… l…a….” Her fingers slowed, paused. She could see all the faces staring at her, the world closing in on her, the bright lights blazing in her eyes. She felt a wave of faintness.
“Can I start over?”
“You may,” said the Head Judge. “But you cannot change the letters you’ve already spelled.”
Dr. Larabee and Mr. Welch exchanged worried glances. Georgia covered her eyes, overwhelmed by the tension. Tanya sat straight and still, as though she were meditating.
Akeelah put her feet together, forced herself to breathe deeply, and made her hand stop fluttering. She kept her eyes ahead, took a moment, and then started jumping up and down. There were looks and murmurs of confusion in the audience. What was this girl doing?
Dr. Larabee nodded and turned to Mr. Welch. “She sees the word now. She’s pretending to jump rope.”
“But why?”
“Because that’s how she visualizes.”
“A-r-g-i-l-l-a…,” she said slowly, in time with the jumps. She remembered now—Dr. Larabee standing at his desk slapping the pad of paper with his pointer. The pointer fell on…yes!
“…c-e-o-u-s. ‘Argillaceous.’”
She stopped jumping. There was no bell.
The applause in the audience was deafening, and Mr. Welch actually jumped out of his chair and pumped his fist. Dr. Larabee gave a quiet nod of satisfaction. “Good girl,” he said softly. “You knew what to do. You didn’t panic.”
Akeelah sat down and let out an exhausted breath. She saw Dylan stare at her intently and then slowly look away.
Ted Saunders, looking more serious now, said, “It’s the twelfth round now, folks. And the five remaining spellers are Mary Calveretti, age thirteen, of Tulsa, Oklahoma…fourteen-year-old Rajeev Subramonian of New York City…thirteen-year-old Javier Mendez of Woodland Hills, California…Dylan Watanabe, also from Woodland Hills. Wow, they really crank ’em out on the Left Coast, don’t they? And, of course, Akeelah Anderson of Los Angeles.”
Javier strolled to the mike, grinning to cover his nervousness.
“The word is ‘Merovingian,’” said the Pronouncer.
Javier scratched his head, drawing a titter from the audience. “Could you use the word in a sentence, please?”
“The Merovingian kings were known for having long red hair.”
Akeelah bit her lip, feeling Javier’s tension.
“Okay…uh…M-a-r-a-v-i-n-g-i-a-n? ‘Merovingian.