Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [6]
As they turned the corner, they came upon Akeelah fending off Myrna and trying to butt Elaine in the stomach with her head.
“Girls!” Mr. Welch shouted, “Why aren’t you in class?” Dr. Larabee looked at the melee in dismay.
“She holdin’ us up,” Myrna said, nodding her head at Akeelah.
The two girls scampered off and when Akeelah started to follow them, the principal called out to her. “Akeelah—wait!”
She stopped and slowly turned around. Mr. Welch scrutinized her carefully. “What was that all about?”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t nothin’. Just a little misunderstanding.”
“I don’t associate you with rowdy behavior,” he said.
She shrugged again and stared at her shoes. She was very aware of the tall stranger but hadn’t once glanced at him.
“Are you signed up for the school spelling bee today?” Mr. Welch went on.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s hardly an answer.”
“Well, it’s the only one I’ve got.” She raised her eyes to his and managed not to flinch.
Mr. Welch said gravely, “Please come to my office. There are a few things we need to discuss.”
The two men and Akeelah, who was fighting hard to maintain her composure, walked down the hall in silence. As Akeelah stood in front of the principal’s desk, leaning first on one leg, then the other, Dr. Larabee studied some class pictures on the wall. Mr. Welch was poring over Akeelah’s file.
“Well,” he said, looking up finally, “Ms. Cross has an interesting record on you. According to her, you’ve never missed a word on your spelling tests.”
Akeelah was aware that the tall man had turned to look at her. She could feel his gaze.
Mr. Welch cleared his throat and tried to catch her eye. “Your attendance record, however, leaves a little to be desired.” He cleared his throat again. “More than a little, as a matter of fact.” He studied her, waiting for a response, but she said nothing. “You’re only eleven, according to your records. Did you skip a grade?”
Speaking to the edge of the desk, Akeelah said reluctantly, “The second.”
“Why was that?”
“The work was too easy. That’s what they told my mother.” After a moment she added: “I wanted to stay with my class.”
She glanced at Dr. Larabee for the first time as he took a seat beside the principal’s desk. There was something in his eyes—an intensity, a depth, an intelligence—that reminded her of her father. He looked at her and then quickly away. He seemed bored with the whole affair, and jiggled his left leg, crossed over his right, impatiently.
“Akeelah,” Mr. Welch said, “have you ever heard of the Scripps National Spelling Bee?”
Akeelah gave him a sudden intent look. “Uh…yeah.…I saw some of it on TV last night.”
“ESPN shows it every year,” Mr. Welch said, leaning forward in his chair, a note of excitement in his voice. “Middle-schoolers from all over the country compete in school, district, and regional spelling bees, trying to make it to the National Bee. That’s the goal, and the competition is keen.” He paused until Akeelah felt compelled to look at him. He then continued, saying, “I have a dream for this school. That one of our students will be there. Whoever wins our school bee today will represent Crenshaw at the District Bee next month.”
Akeelah stared at him but said nothing.
“Well? What do you have to say?” He smiled tentatively. “Have I made a convincing case?”
“Why would anyone wanna represent a school that can’t even put doors on the toilet stalls?”
Dr. Larabee looked at her sharply, revealing the ghost of a grin for just an instant.
“You have to learn to take pride in what you have,” Mr. Welch said, trying to cover his embarrassment. “Look, Akeelah… if we can’t show that our students know how to perform and perform well, there might not be money for books, let alone bathroom doors. Do you understand me?”
Akeelah slowly nodded.
“Now I want you to do that spelling bee today. I can’t order you to, but I really want you to. Will you do that for the school?”
Akeelah drew in a deep breath, sneaked a look at