Akeelah and the Bee - James W. Ellison [9]
Mr. Welch brought his hands together and grinned. “Akeelah, do you know who that was? Dr. Joshua Larabee. He used to chair the English Department at UCLA. He and I went to college together. And get this—when he was a kid he went all the way to the National Spelling Bee. And now he’s considering personally training you for the District Bee.”
Looking straight ahead, Akeelah said, “Well, he better find somebody else ’cause I ain’t doin’ no more spelling bees. I’m sick of people lookin’ at me like I’m some kind of bug. I just wanna be left alone.”
“Akeelah…,” Mr. Welch protested, but she stormed off, running down the street and around the corner.
Georgia joined her on the stoop of her house a few minutes later, dropped her book bag at her feet, and sat down with a sigh.
“Girl, you kicked some major booty on that stage today. I knew you was good, but that good?” She shook her head and whistled.
“Are you kidding? I couldn’t spell ‘pulchritude.’”
“Who can? Nobody I know.”
“The really good spellers can. Believe me.”
“But you knocked the other words right back at that dude.”
“They were just trick words, Georgia. Everybody knows ‘pterodactyl’ starts with a ‘p.’ Don’t be givin’ me too much credit.”
“Girl, if I could spell like you, I know I could be a flight attendant.”
Akeelah gave her friend an odd look. “You can be whatever you set your mind to.”
Georgia punched Akeelah softly on the shoulder. “That’s advice maybe you should take your own self,” she said.
Akeelah was nearly asleep when she heard “Keelie?” whispered in her ear. Through her drowsiness she recognized Devon’s voice. She opened her eyes and stared up at him, blinking the tiredness from her eyes. Devon had a knapsack slung over one shoulder and wore USAF regalia. He knelt down beside her. She rubbed her eyes.
“Devon…you leavin’? You just got here.”
“Gotta get back to the base. I think we’re bein’ transferred, and all leaves got cut short.” He ruffled her hair. “Hey, your principal called Mama. He said you did real good in a spelling bee. Knocked the ball out of the park.”
“I messed a word up.”
“Everybody messes up once in a while.”
“You only got one chance in a spelling bee.”
“He also said you got an opportunity to go to a bigger contest next week.”
“I don’t wanna do it.”
“Why not?”
“I dunno. It’s just dumb, you know? Everybody’s gonna be lookin’ at me, the weirdo who spells words. This black girl from Crenshaw thinkin’ she can spell with those rich white brainiacs. And the worst thing is, there’s gonna be tons of words I don’t know.”
Devon squeezed her cheek and looked into her eyes. “So you’re scared, huh, baby sister? Well, how do you think I felt the first time I jumped from an airplane? My whole body said, Don’t do it—you can’t do it, Devon. No way, man. But sometimes your brain’s gotta be smarter than your body.”
“But I don’t like my school, Devon. The truth is, I hate it. I don’t see why I gotta do anything for them. All they’ve given me is a crummy education.”
“Then do it for Dad,” Devon said. “You know how he was about words. He’d have loved to see you do something like this.”
Akeelah looked over at the picture of her father, her expression thoughtful.
“What’d Mama say about it?”
“Ah, you know how Mama is. She’s got a million things to worry about and she worries about every one of them.” He reached for Akeelah’s face with two hands and tilted it up so that she was looking directly into his eyes. “Tell you what. Just do this contest—and if you make it all the way to D.C., I’ll parachute down to see you.”
She smiled as Devon kissed her good night. When he softly closed the door, Akeelah crept out of bed and sat down at her computer. She turned it on and brought up the Web site for the Scripps National Spelling Bee, with a picture of the victorious red-haired girl. Akeelah looked up from the screen and studied the