Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [51]
Akeelah turned back and saw Mr. Watanabe lead a sullen Dylan out of the men’s room.
“But, Dr. Larabee, if I don’t beat Dylan—I still have next year, right?”
“Of course you do. But I don’t know how much time we’ll have to train together. I just accepted an offer to go back and teach at UCLA.”
“Really? That’s fabulous!” She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. “Maybe I’ll sit in on one of your classes. Could I?”
“Of course you could. But knowing you, you’d want to take over and start teaching the course.”
Her grin grew wider. “Maybe….”
As Mr. Watanabe and Dylan marched by them, without a glance in their direction, Watanabe sternly lectured his son. Akeelah looked down and sighed.
“Akeelah, what is it?” Dr. Larabee said, sensing her stiffen.
She hesitated before saying, “Nothing, Dr. Larabee. I should get back. No matter what happens—win or lose—I just want you to know I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”
Before he could respond, she scampered off to the staging area. Dr. Larabee looked perplexed; he sensed that something was wrong but he had no idea what.
Ted Saunders was saying to the TV audience, “Now keep in mind, if either speller misses a word, the other has to spell the missed one plus another to win.”
Margaret Russell nodded. “And, of course, they could exhaust all twenty-five championship words.”
“Has that ever happened?”
“No, not all twenty-five.”
“But for argument’s sake, let’s say they managed to spell all the championship words correctly. What would be the next step, Margaret?”
“Well, they would be co-champions,” she replied, “but that’s never happened before, as I said. The championship words are just too difficult.”
As Akeelah and Dylan took the stage, the crowd burst into applause. The seats were packed with spectators; the atmosphere was electric with anticipation. Everyone was expecting an exciting battle to the end. Akeelah smiled at the ovation, bowing her head slightly. But Dylan stood there stiffly, unsmiling, watching his father staring at him with his arms folded. Akeelah saw Watanabe’s icy demeanor and glanced worriedly at Dylan. Akeelah’s feelings toward Dylan had changed since they arrived in Washington. She was no longer bothered by his arrogance, which she considered a front, a protection against his father’s cold perfectionism. More and more she had come to realize how hard it must be to live Dylan’s life, how little joy he was allowed to feel, and her heart had begun to go out to him. Did she like him? Yes. In a strange way she had come to appreciate his intelligence and to take on his problems as her own—a sure sign of friendship.
The Head Judge said, “Ms. Anderson, you’re up first.”
She looked from Dylan to Dr. Larabee, whose eyes were on her intently, and then to the Head Judge. She moved slowly to the mike.
“The word is ‘xanthosis,’” said the Pronouncer.
Akeelah looked at him, startled, and then glanced back at Dylan, who was peering at her sharply. Her mind suddenly flashed back to the chemistry room in Woodland Hills. “Spell ‘xanthosis,’” Dylan had demanded, and Akeelah had said, “z-a-n—” and Dylan had said, “It starts with an ‘x.’”
It was as clear to her as though it had happened yesterday. Akeelah never forgot a misspelled word—and especially that word under those circumstances.
She continued to stare at Dylan and she could tell from his expression that he knew she knew the word.
“Would you like me to repeat the word?” said the Pronouncer.
She cleared her throat nervously. “‘Xanthosis’?”
“That’s correct.”
Akeelah saw Mr. Watanabe, arms crossed over his jacket, burning holes into his son with his dark eyes. She struggled with what to do. Her body was uncharacteristically still.
“Ms. Anderson,” the Head Judge said. “Akeelah?”
“‘Xanthosis,’” she said. And then slowly started to spell: “Z-a-n…”
Dylan looked up with a start, his mouth open. This wasn’t possible.