Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [52]
In the audience, Dr. Larabee rose from his chair, shocked.
“…-t-h-o-s-i-s. ‘Xanthosis.’” Her eyes were glued to the mike.
If I don’t beat Dylan, I still have next year…right?
The bell sounded. A groan of disappointment rose from the audience, with the exception of Mr. Watanabe, who pumped his fist in elation.
“I’m sorry, Akeelah,” the Head Judge said, and he did look sincerely sorry. “That is incorrect.”
She nodded and then glanced at Dr. Larabee. Seeing his shock, she quickly looked away and then went to stand next to Dylan.
The Head Judge waited for Dylan to approach the mike and when he didn’t, he said, “Dylan? It’s your turn.”
The stupefied Dylan was still staring at Akeelah, but she wouldn’t look at him. He wanted to read her expression, to understand what was happening. He was skilled at processing events and analyzing them, but now he was completely confused. Finally she turned to him and gave a little gesture to take the mike. He could read nothing in her eyes. He hesitated and then stepped to the microphone.
Ted Saunders said gravely to the TV audience, “Dylan Watanabe could take it right here.”
The Pronouncer said, “‘Xanthosis.’”
Dylan glanced back at Akeelah, but her eyes were glued intently to the floor. He tried to slow his racing mind. He now understood what Akeelah had done. He turned back to the mike.
“‘Xanthosis.’” He paused for a long moment and then began to spell: “X-a-n-t-h-o-s…e-s…. ‘Xanthosis.’”
There was a ding! and the room was deafeningly silent after an initial intake of breath. Mr. Watanabe sprang up from his chair, outraged. Akeelah shook her head when Dylan turned to her.
“‘Xanthosis’ is spelled x-a-n-t-h-o-s-i-s,” the Pronouncer said.
“Um…could I get some water, please?” Dylan showed no emotion, no disappointment. He simply stood there as though nothing at all had happened, as though he was not aware that his dream once again might have been thwarted.
The Head Judge waved a hand. “Can we bring both spellers some water?”
Dylan took advantage of this brief pause to walk back to Akeelah. He whispered furiously in her ear.
“What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?”
“You threw that word. You threw it.”
“So did you.”
“Come on, Akeelah. ‘Xanthosis’ with a ‘z’? I gave you that word and you misspelled it, and I know you. There’s no way in the world you’d misspell it twice.” He locked his eyes onto hers. “You’re just gonna give this away? Is that what you plan to do?”
“Your dad will be happy.”
Dylan drew in a deep breath and whispered, “Who cares? Who cares? He never won anything in his life. I’ve got three Regional first-place titles and two seconds in the Nationals. I’m doing okay.”
“And now you can have a first,” Akeelah said. “I can do it next year.”
“No way. I don’t need any help from you.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“You’ve got to do your best this year. There may never be another chance.”
“Dylan…” She implored him with her eyes. “We’re even now, okay? Whatever happens from now on, that’s up to us. But I couldn’t spell that word.”
“I couldn’t spell it, either.”
Her lip curled in the hint of a smile.
“Well, you see?”
He gripped her elbow. “You do your best or I don’t want it. I mean it, Akeelah.”
“I’ll do my best. I promise.”
Ted Saunders leaned toward the TV monitor and intoned, “Pretty amazing. Both spellers stumbled on the same word.”
Margaret Russell nodded. “I think we have a couple of very nervous kids up there. Trust me on this, Ted. The stress is simply unbearable.”
Akeelah came back to the mike and her word was “effleurage.”
She looked at Dr. Larabee, who had returned to his seat, gave a slight nod, and began tapping on her thigh. “E-f-f-l-e-u-r-a-g-e. ‘Effleurage.’”
The applause was deafening. As she stepped behind Dylan he nodded as if to say: “That’s more like it.” He took the mike.
Ted Saunders said, “Well, now it’s like watching two star tennis players at the net returning volleys, everything on the line. You can cut the suspense with a knife.”
“The word is ‘lagniappe,’” said the Pronouncer to Dylan.
He frowned and closed