Those prizes were nice and I couldn’t help but start planning which three I would choose. But it wasn’t until I got to the very bottom of that paper that my heart felt like it had just up and stopped. Here’s what it said:
The winner of the Freedom Middle School Spelling Bee will be eligible to compete in the Georgia State Spelling Bee in Atlanta. The lucky winner of the state spelling bee will be treated to a trip to Disney World.
That’s right—Disney World. So now you can see why that spelling bee was the ticket to my two goals in life: fame and glory, and Disney World.
I couldn’t hardly get my legs to run fast enough to Miss Delphine’s that day.
4
Miss Delphine shook her head and whistled. “Those are some real nice prizes,” she said.
I twirled my ponytail and stared down at the spelling bee paper in my lap. I had read that list of prizes about a million times.
“I sure would like to win,” I said.
“Then do it.” Miss Delphine pulled her sweater closed and tucked her feet up under the crocheted afghan on her lap.
“Yeah, right.” I rolled my eyes. “Like I got a chance.”
Miss Delphine lowered her head and looked at me through her long, fluttery eyelashes. “Well, you don’t have a chance if you don’t try, right?”
I shrugged.
“Right?” she said again, poking me with one of her long fingernails.
“I suppose.”
Miss Delphine’s eyebrows shot up and her lips squeezed together. The setting sun behind her made her red hair shimmer with streaks of gold.
“Which prize would you pick?” she said, nodding towards the paper in my lap. “Me, I’d go for that necklace.”
I cocked my head like I was thinking, but the truth of the matter was I had only one prize on my mind. Disney World. But (a) I’d never shared my Disney World dream with Miss Delphine before and now I felt silly doing it, and (b) I didn’t have one little smidgen of a chance of winning that prize, so what was the use in talking about it anyway. But when I looked up at Miss Delphine with her red-gold hair shimmering around her face and her eyes watching me with hope and expectation, I didn’t want to disappoint her. So I said, “Maybe that bike.”
But I knew my voice didn’t sound too much like a spelling bee winner.
“You are going to sign up for that spelling bee, aren’t you?” Miss Delphine said.
“Maybe.” I looked at my feet, at the rocking chair, at Miss Delphine’s turquoise sweater with the silver beads —anywhere but at her face.
She pushed the afghan aside and came over to me. I smelled her talcum powder and I knew I was about to feel better about myself.
“You can do this, Bird,” she said, real soft. “I know you can. Sure, you might not win. But you’ll be in there trying. It’s for certain you won’t win if you don’t even try.” She paused a minute and then added, “Right?”
I thunked the chair with my heels and scratched a mosquito bite on my arm. “I guess.”
Miss Delphine stood up and jammed her fists into her waist. “Burdette Weaver,” was all she said.
“I’m not such a good speller,” I said, my voice coming out shaky and squeaky-like.
“Then you’ll have to study, won’t you?”
Miss Delphine yanked the screen door open and disappeared inside. Then she marched back out and dropped a big, heavy book in my lap. Oxford American Dictionary.
“There,” she said.
It wasn’t too often I got irritated at Miss Delphine, but this was definitely cause for irritation.
“How am I going to study every word in here?” I said.
“Start with ‘A’ and work your way to ‘Z,’ I reckon.”
A bell jingled from inside and Miss Delphine said, “I got to go. You take that book home, okay?”
Then she turned and went inside.
That night, I put the dictionary under my bed so Colleen wouldn’t stick her nosy self into my business. I laid in bed and looked up at the ceiling and thought real hard about the spelling bee and Disney World and me. I closed my eyes and saw myself wearing that necklace and riding that bike to karate class. From there, I moved right on along to picturing me riding those spinning teacups at Disney World.
I woke up the next day still clinging to my fantasy. And then I went to school and got whopped upside the head with a big fat dose of reality.
5
Mrs. Moore told us more about the spelling bee and then she said one word that smacked me hard. “Partner.” We had to have a partner in the spelling bee.
Well, that was that, I said to myself. I could kiss that spelling bee goodbye. Who was going to be my partner? So while Mrs. Moore went on and on about two heads being better than one and blah blah blah, I slumped down in my seat and scribbled on my science notebook.
By lunchtime, it seemed like the whole world had turned into one big Noah’s ark. Two by two. Everybody all paired up except the losers. Well, so what? I didn’t even care about that spelling bee anyway. Charlene Stokeley could ride her new bike over to Celia Pruitt’s house and they could sit there and read their encyclopedias together. Then they could have a sleepover and stare up at the ceiling and see the time up there, shining like starlight from their Sears clock radio.
That afternoon, I walked slow to Miss Delphine’s, running my hand along the chain-link fences and kicking acorns off the sidewalk. My feet felt like cement blocks when I climbed the porch steps and knocked on Miss Delphine’s door.
“It’s open,” she hollered from inside.
The screen door squeaked and then slammed shut with a bang behind me.
Miss Delphine sat in her favorite beat-up old chair, working on her cross-stitch. When I told her I wasn’t going to be in the spelling bee, she took her pearly reading glasses off and dropped her cross-stitch in her lap.
“How come?”
“’Cause it’s stupid,” I said.
“Okay,” she said.
She put her glasses back on and went to work on her cross-stitch again, squinting down at the cloth with her tongue poking against the inside of her cheek. She pushed the needle through the cloth with her pinkie finger sticking up in the air like Queen Elizabeth drinking tea.
“So, what’s going on with that Harlem boy?” she said.
I was grateful she had changed the subject, but the spelling bee still hovered in the air between us like a spiderweb.
“I can’t think of a backup plan,” I said.
“You try talking to him?”
“I don’t ever get a chance,” I said. “He won’t sit with me at lunch. And if I wave at him in the hall or something, he acts like he don’t even see me.”
Miss Delphine raised her arm as she pulled the glossy thread through the cloth. She chuckled and said, “I like that in a man. That’s the kind I always go for, too. The kind that make like they don’t want nothing to do with you.” She leaned forward and winked. “Adds to the fun, don’t you think?”
I shook my head. “Harlem doesn’t want nothing to do with me or anybody else. I give up trying to be his friend.”
Uh-oh. I wished I hadn’t said that. Miss Delphine whipped her glasses off, squeezed her mouth up tight, and narrowed her eyes at me.
“Well, you’re just in a giving-up mood today, aren’t you?” she said.
“No.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I am not.”
“Okay.” Then she picked up her cross-stitch and started working again, but I knew she had more words tumbling around inside her ’cause she forgot to put her glasses back on.
“You don’t understand,” I said. “That boy is weird. He looks like a big ole giant and he’s got this long, greasy hair hanging down in his face and anybody so much as blinks at him and he’s glaring at ’em mean as anything.”
“So?”
“So, who’d want to be his friend anyway?”
“You did, not two days ago.”
“Well, I changed my
mind.” I flicked a fly off my knee and watched it land on the lampshade beside Miss Delphine. I could feel her looking at me. “Something wrong with that?” I snapped.
I wished I could take those angry words back but I couldn’t. They hung there between us, all tangled up in that spelling bee spiderweb, so the air in the room was thick with bad feelings.
And now you’ll know why I love Miss Delphine when I tell you that she set her cross-stitch aside and waded through that thick air over to where I sat. She knelt down in front of me with her hands on my knees and her powdery smell drifting up at me and she said, “That Harlem boy sure has a treat in store for him when you think of a backup plan and make him your friend.”
Now, who wouldn’t love a person that says a thing like that?
6
On Saturday, Mama was taking Colleen to get a perm and I had to go with them. I wanted to stay home with Daddy, but he had to sleep before he drove his truck up to Tennessee. I’ve been told about a million times that driving an eighteen-wheeler takes a rested mind and body, but sometimes it seems like all I ever see of my daddy is when he’s snoring on the couch or waving goodbye.
When we got to town, I figured I’d go over to Mrs. Eula Thatcher’s Have-to-Have-It Shop and see if anything good came in. Friday is drop-off day, when Mrs. Thatcher lets folks drop off stuff they want to sell.
I love poking around that store. You’re liable to find anything in there. I’ve gotten some good stuff real cheap. Boxing gloves, a light-up globe, a pocket calculator.
So while Mama and Colleen were at the beauty parlor, I ambled in the direction of the Have-to-Have-It Shop. It was nearly Halloween, but the air was hot and thick, almost like summer. I pushed my bangs off my forehead, wishing I hadn’t worn my sweatshirt. And then a funny thing happened. I had my mind set on the Have-to-Have-It Shop, but my feet took me right past it to Elite Tattoos, instead. Just marched me right up to the window and then stopped.
I cupped my hands around my eyes and put my face against the glass. Ray Davis was in there, smoking cigarettes and drinking soda. Ray is the owner of Elite Tattoos. He calls himself a skin artist. The sign on the door says so. RAY DAVIS, SKIN ARTIST.
He looked up.
I waved.
He waved back and took a big puff on his cigarette. And then guess what? Harlem came down the stairs and perched hisself on a stool. He picked up a blue marker and hunched over a big piece of paper on the counter.
Okay, Bird, I said to myself. Now you got two choices. You can go on back to the Have-to-Have-It Shop like you planned, or you can go inside this tattoo parlor and make Harlem Tate be your friend.
I opened the door and went inside.
“Hey,” I said. “What y’all doing?”
“Hey there,” Ray said.
“Don’t worry, I don’t want a tattoo,” I said, grinning.
Ray chuckled. Harlem had a look on his face that said, “You must be some kind of crazy girl, so get yourself on out of here.”
But I didn’t give him a chance to say it.
“What you doing?” I said.
Harlem’s eyes flicked up at me from under his hair. “Making a sign,” he said.
“What kind of sign?”
“For Ray.”
Ray made a whooshing noise as he blew smoke up towards the water-stained ceiling. I sure wanted to stare at those colorful tattoos running up and down his arms, but I didn’t.
I walked over to the counter and tilted my head to look at the sign in front of Harlem.
My design or yours, it said. Possibilities endless. No design too complicated. Under that was a list of some of the endless possibilities. Unicorn. Centaur. Submarine. Eagle. Orchid. Rattler. Lizard. Chalice.
I couldn’t help but admire Harlem’s writing. He didn’t even need a ruler to keep the words and letters straight. And then it hit me. Wham! Harlem was writing those words all by hisself. And, believe me, those were some hard words. All this time, I’d been thinking Harlem wasn’t too smart and now here he was, writing words like that! I mean, “centaur”? And “chalice”? “Orchid”? “Possibilities”? Shoot, I couldn’t even spell “eagle.”
Right here before my very eyes was my backup plan.
“Be my partner in the spelling bee,” I said.
Harlem squinted at me for a minute and then shook his head and said, “Naw.”
“How come?” I said.
Harlem started doodling in one corner of the poster.
“You already got a partner?” I said.
“No.”
“Then be my partner.”
Harlem shook his head. “No way.”
“Why not? Did you see the prizes?”
“No.”
“Didn’t you read that paper we got?”
“No.”
I reached into my sweatshirt pocket and pulled out the spelling bee paper. I had folded and unfolded it so many times it was beginning to tear. I put it on the counter in front of Harlem and smoothed the creases out.
“Read that,” I said, jabbing a finger at the list of prizes. “And each person gets to pick three prizes,” I added. “That’s three for you and three for me.”
Harlem didn’t even look at the spelling bee paper. He just shook his head and went back to working on Ray’s tattoo sign, drawing little red stars beside each word.
I pushed the paper closer to him. “Why not?” I said.
He kept his eyes on his little red stars and wouldn’t even look at that list of prizes. “’Cause I don’t want to,” he said.
“But why?” I heard my voice getting high and whiny. “You already got a partner?” I asked again.
He shook his head.
“Look how good you spell,” I said, pointing to the word “centaur.” “I bet that so-called genius Amanda Bockman can’t even spell that.”
Harlem’s star-drawing hand stopped moving and he sat up. I watched his face and in my mind I was saying, “Please, please, please.” And then I saw it. One tiny little flicker on his face that told me maybe I had a chance.
“Shoot, you could win that spelling bee, for sure.” I gave him a little poke in the arm. “All you need is a partner.” I held my arms out and grinned. “And here I am.”
I kept that grin on my face and tried to look calm and relaxed. But my insides were churning around like crazy. “Come on, Harlem,” my mind kept saying. “Say yes. Please say yes.”
Harlem looked at me and then down at that sign and then back at me and then he said, “Okay.”
“Okay?”
He nodded. “Okay.” Then he wiped his palms on his T-shirt, picked up a black marker, and started drawing a border of barbed wire along the edges of the poster.
I pumped my fist in the air and let out a “Yes!” Then I held my palm up so me and my new partner could slap each other a high five, but I guess Harlem didn’t want to. He glanced up, but then went back to his drawing.
I carefully folded the spelling bee paper and put it back in my pocket.
“We can start tomorrow,” I said. “Where do you want to meet?”
Harlem looked up at me through clumps of greasy hair. “Meet for what?” he said.
“To study.”
“I don’t need to study.”
“Well, I sure do.”
“Then study.”
“But you’re my partner. You have to help me.”
Right away I heard my bossy tone and scrambled to change it. “I mean, I need you to help me. I’m not too good at spelling.” I saw doubt dancing all over Harlem’s face, so I quickly added, “I mean, I’m good, but not as good as you. If you help me, I’ll be really good and then we can win those prizes. Which one you like? The bike?”
Harlem shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”
“So, you’ll help me?” I lifted my eyebrows and set a smile on my face.
“Okay.”
“You want me to come here on Monday?”
Harlem looked at Ray. Ray looked at the calendar on the wall behind hi
m.
“I got a customer at four,” he said.
“We’ll be done by then,” I said. I turned to Harlem. “Right here after school, okay?”
Harlem nodded and I charged out the door and skipped off down the sidewalk. I couldn’t hardly believe I had me a friend and a ticket to Disney World, all wrapped up in one. I didn’t care about the Have-to-Have-It Shop anymore. All I wanted was to get myself to Miss Delphine’s and tell her that I had found a backup plan.
7
“Well then, I think we need to celebrate,” Miss Delphine said. “Bird and Harlem, spelling bee partners.” She took a carton of ice cream out of the freezer. Then she stood on tiptoe and peered into the cupboard, pushing aside soup cans and boxes of macaroni and cheese.
“Aha!” she said. “Here we go.”
Cherries. Nuts. Chocolate syrup. She arranged them on the table in front of me.
We ate two bowls each.
“I figure if me and Harlem study every day after school, we’ll be ready,” I said. “That gives us three weeks and two days.”
Miss Delphine tossed her spoon into her empty bowl with a clang and patted her stomach. Her hair was pinned up on top of her head with rhinestone clips. Curly wisps of hair framed her face.
“I’m proud of you, Bird,” she said.
I popped one last cherry into my mouth. A little tornado of excitement was whirling around in my stomach. I’d been trying hard to keep my thoughts on the ground instead of soaring up into space and spinning out of control. If all you get out of this spelling bee is a friend, I told myself about a hundred times, then thank your lucky stars and be done with it.
But my greedy mind wouldn’t stop at that. Before I knew it, I was going over that list of prizes in my head. Should I choose the karate lessons? I just couldn’t decide. Then while I was pondering that, my thoughts would go skipping on down the road to Disney World. I pictured me and Harlem eating corn dogs and standing in line for Space Mountain. Harlem would want to go on all the same rides as me. He wouldn’t complain one little bit if we went in the haunted house four times. And he wouldn’t think I was a baby if I got Snow White’s autograph. It would be perfect. Me and my friend, there at the Happiest Place on Earth.
Fame and Glory in Freedom, Georgia Page 2