Akeelah and the Bee

by James W. Ellison

  Akeelah shook her head, unable to believe this conversation with her oldest and best friend. First Dr. Larabee and now Georgia. She sensed that her safe existence was no longer safe. It was suddenly falling apart.

  She sighed and started to open the box again when Kiana called from the living room. “Keelie, get in here. You’re on TV!”

  Akeelah walked slowly out of her room and joined her sister and mother, whose eyes were fastened to the TV.

  “Look!” Kiana said.

  On TV, Akeelah saw her own image on the news and for an instant she felt weirdly divided between two Akeelahs—the public one and the private one. Which one was she really?

  The reporter on TV said, “Akeelah Anderson’s ascension to the National Spelling Bee has captivated her community. All over South Los Angeles, people are talking about her—this eleven-year-old girl from Crenshaw Middle School who never entered a spelling bee till this year. She has quickly become an inspiration for her community, a beacon of hope for many.”

  She stuck the mike in front of Steve, who was hanging out, as usual, in front of the neighborhood liquor store, very shaky but offering the reporter a sweet, toothless smile.

  “What do you think of this young girl, sir?”

  “I know her, a good li’l girl. And she, ah, the whole thing…uh…it’s good for all of us. You could say not too many good things happen around here.” The top of a half-pint bottle of whiskey was sticking out of his pants pocket. “Let’s hope she go all the way.”

  The scene shifted to an old woman outside her home.

  “If she wins,” said the old woman, “it’s gonna be like all of us wins. It’s ’specially a wonderful thing for all African Americans.”

  A thug on a street corner hopped up and down with excitement. “Yo, dat girl’s dope! She da best.”

  As each of these sentiments was expressed, Akeelah’s expression grew darker and darker, like a terrible weight was being placed on her shoulders, a weight she couldn’t hope to carry with any semblance of grace. Dr. Larabee was right: it was all a trap, a trap set for her. She was beginning to understand that fame might have pitfalls. It was a spiderweb to capture you and put you on display for others to view, not as a human being but as an object.

  “Oh, no,” she muttered as she turned and ran from the room.

  Tanya looked up, confused by her daughter’s behavior.

  Eleven

  Akeelah threw herself on the bed and let the tears come. They were tears that she had been holding inside since she left Dr. Larabee’s house. She beat her fists on the bed and wept with true anguish. A few minutes later Tanya entered the room, sat on the edge of the bed, and began rubbing Akeelah’s back. She didn’t speak until Akeelah’s sobbing subsided and she began to breathe more evenly.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” she said. “Everything is going so good for you.”

  “I don’t wanna do the bee no more, Mama. I’m sick of the whole thing.”

  “Not do the bee? But I just don’t understand. You have your heart set on it.”

  “Did have. Not anymore.”

  Tanya increased the pressure on Akeelah’s back and waited for her to continue.

  “’Cause it’s making my brain hurt. It’s drivin’ me crazy. Dr. Larabee won’t coach me no more and Georgia don’t wanna hang with me. My world’s fallin’ apart, Mama. And all those people, people in the streets, they’re expectin’ me to win—and if I don’t win, what then? It’s just too hard. I want it all to stop.”

  “But baby—”

  “Please, Mama. Try to understand what I’m tellin’ you.” Akeelah hugged her mother and began to sob again. Tanya held her, rocked her, and looked very worried. She made a decision. She would go to Dr. Larabee’s house and confront him. He must have some answers for her. Somebody had to have some answers, and she would dig and dig until she found them.

  Dr. Larabee answered the buzzer immediately, as though he had been expecting a visitor. His expression was mildly friendly but she could tell he was surprised to see her.

  “Come in my office,” he said. “Would you like coffee? I have some made.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “I’m having a whiskey. Could I offer you that?”

  “I don’t drink.” She sat down and plunged right in to the concerns that had sent her out of the house late at night. “I’m worried about Akeelah,” she said. “She’s talking about quitting the bee.”

  “That’s her decision to make, Mrs. Anderson. Akeelah is a very strong-willed girl. She’s going to do what she wants to do.”

  “But that’s not what she wants to do. I know my daughter. Right now she’s just very, very upset.” She paused and then added, “Mainly upset with you. She says you won’t go on working with her.”

  Dr. Larabee sipped his drink as he stared at Tanya. “Well, I certainly didn’t mean to upset the girl. I actually thought I was doing the best thing for her.”

  “How can abandoning her be the best thing for her? I don’t understand that.”

  Dr. Larabee shook his head and leaned forward. “I’m not abandoning her. That’s absolutely not the case. I’ve given her all the tools she needs to succeed. And if I may say so, Mrs. Anderson, I was supportive of Akeelah’s spelling endeavors long before many others were.”

  Tanya nodded, absorbing his veiled criticism. “I know you were, Dr. Larabee, and I appreciate that. I was too busy earnin’ a living to pay much attention. And that was wrong, I realize that now. And I want to make amends any way I can.”

  Dr. Larabee nodded. “I appreciate your candor.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Tanya said, “You know, Dr. Larabee, Akeelah is only eleven. She seems much older in many ways, but that’s because she’s so bright. She’s already been through so much in her life. Her father was killed three years ago. It was a drive-by shooting when he went out to buy a pack of cigarettes.” She grimaced and tried to smile. “That’s the kind of neighborhood we live in.”

  “I live in the same neighborhood.”

  “Then you can understand. Do you have any idea what it’s like for a young girl to lose a father that way?”

  He slowly nodded as his eyes slid away from her. “I can imagine.”

  “Well, then, why do you want to cause this child any more grief? Hasn’t she had enough?”

  “I feel you’re accusing me, Mrs. Anderson, and that’s unfair.” Suddenly Dr. Larabee, so articulate, was struggling for words. “And I’ve told you…I’ve tried to make it clear that I’m just not in a place where I can be of much help to Akeelah right now.”

  “But she needs you.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I just know. Call it a mother’s intuition.”

  “Well, I beg to differ, Mrs. Anderson. It’s not me who Akeelah needs.”

  He looked her straight in the eye. Tanya stared back, fire in her eyes, then angrily got up and stalked out of the house.

  Akeelah, watching TV in the living room, looked up expectantly when Tanya returned home.

  “What’d he say?”

  Tanya expelled a deep breath. “He’s just not feeling good, Akeelah. If you want my opinion, something is eating at that man. Something deep. And he’s having a whole lot of trouble dealin’ with it.”

  Akeelah looked down, fighting to control her emotions. “He just doesn’t think I can win and he’s backin’ away.”

  “No, that’s not true. I’m good at readin’ people, and Dr. Larabee is a good man. But he’s hurting inside. You don’t see it because you’ve got your own concerns.” Tanya turned off the television and sat next to Akeelah, holding her hand.

  “Listen, I wanna tell you something. You know why I didn’t want you to do the bee at first? ’Cause I watched that video of yours. And I saw one winner and two hundred losers. I didn’t want you to be one of those losers.” She pinched Akeelah’s cheek, forcing a smile from her. “But when I saw you on that stage, I realized you’d already won. Just by goin’ for your dream
, you won. Anything more would be gravy.” She studied Akeelah’s face, but there was no reaction. “Did I ever tell you I went to college right after high school?”

  “No,” Akeelah said, looking at her mother with interest. “You never mentioned it.”

  “Well, I did. I had a scholarship to USC. My ambition was to be a doctor. But I felt completely out of place at that school. And I convinced myself I was gonna fail. So before that could happen, I dropped out. I felt I was protecting myself from failing, but I was setting my own self up for failure.” She ran her hand through Akeelah’s hair and said softly, “I don’t want you doin’ the same thing with this bee.”

  “I don’t wanna drop out, Mama. But I need Dr. Larabee, I really do. I can’t see doing this without him.”

  Tanya studied her daughter carefully.

  “You’re very fond of that man, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I think you know.”

  “Well, I do respect him a lot. He can be grumpy and difficult…and yet…well, there’s something about him—he’s really kind underneath and he’s so smart.”

  Tanya said softly, “Your father was kind and he was very smart.”

  “What are you sayin’?”

  “He reminds you of your father, right? Doesn’t he remind you of your father?”

  “Yeah, in some ways.” She added bitterly, “But not right now, he doesn’t.”

  Tanya opened one of the boxes sitting on the table in front of the TV, carefully removed a card, and studied it. “I’m just gonna have to play Dr. Larabee,” she said. “‘Gabbro.’ A group of dark, heavy rocks. ‘Gabbro.’” She looked up. “Can you spell it?”

  “G-a-b-r-o,” Akeelah said.

  “Actually, there’s two ‘b’s.’”

  Akeelah nodded and sighed. “I guess I’m just not in the mood right now.”

  Tanya said, “Y’know, you’re not short on people who’d wanna help you, Akeelah. This is what fame is like—even a little bit of fame. You don’t know these people, but these people know you. They’ve read about you, they’ve seen you on TV. And believe me, they’re pullin’ for you. Look around you: there’s probably fifty thousand folks who’d like to coach you. Starting with me.”

  Akeelah smiled and gripped her mother’s hand. “Mama…you ever think you might go back to college? How cool would that be?”

  Tanya looked into her daughter’s eyes for a long moment. “I just might,” she said. She pulled out another card. “‘Cedilla….’”

  The next day, in a much brighter mood, Akeelah went outside with one of her boxes to study words. Suddenly Terrence appeared beside her.

  “Yo,” he said.

  Akeelah stopped and turned to him. “Hey, Terrence, you on your way to summer school?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. For me to know and you to find out.”

  “You better stop skippin’ school, boy. They’re gonna hold you back.”

  “Not for the first time.” He gave a wry grin. “Pretty soon you’re gonna pass me and graduate first.”

  “That’s not true,” she said. “You’re smart. You can do whatever you want to do.”

  “You one of them motivational people now?”

  “Only with you, big brother.”

  Akeelah always tried to be gentle with Terrence because she knew his history, especially his early academic woes. He had taken his father’s death very hard. When Terrence was ten he was diagnosed as dyslexic (no one in the school system had ever suggested that his language problems were a direct result of dyslexia). During the last year of Mr. Anderson’s life, he had worked with Terrence on a daily basis. Terrence had begun to flower under his father’s tutelage, and then suddenly his father was taken away. From that day on, Terrence grew colder and more inward. He began skipping school and hanging out with the wrong crowd. A year ago Akeelah had suggested that maybe she could help him, and for weeks afterward he wouldn’t speak to her. She realized that she’d made a mistake by insulting his dignity and pride.

  “So why y’all punkin’ out on the spellin’ bee?” he asked.

  “I ain’t punkin’ out.”

  “Mama says maybe you is. What, you afraid of all them suburban kids?”

  “No.”

  Terrence grabbed the box.

  “Hey, give it back,” she said, reaching for it.

  Terrence began rifling through the cards. “So how you spell all these words, anyway?”

  “I study ’em,” she said.

  A Ford Explorer rounded the corner, blasting its horn.

  “Whatevah. There’s my ride.”

  The Explorer pulled up and Derrick-T, sporting thick sunglasses and a New York Knicks cap, looked out the passenger window from the driver’s seat. “What up, Terrence? Who dat?”

  “Nobody,” Terrence said. “My little sister.”

  Derrick-T pulled down his glasses and peered at her. “What up, li’l thing? Seen you on TV. You was very pro.”

  Akeelah said nothing.

  “You winning contests?” Derrick-T continued. “Goin’ to some big one pretty soon, huh?”

  Akeelah still said nothing.

  “Yo, answer the man, Kee,” Terrence said. “He ain’t talkin’ to the wind.”

  “You know, I won somethin’ once. Fifth grade, wrote a poem. Got me a blue ribbon, can you believe it?”

  Terrence snorted laughter. “You wrote a poem? Oh, that’s good, man.”

  “Shut up, dawg. Whatcha think rap is? Poetry, man. Poetry of the streets, and I was into that at an early age.” He put his head close to the window. “What’s that in your hands?”

  “Nothin’,” Terrence said. “Just stupid words.”

  “Stupid words? Words ain’t never stupid.” He gestured toward Akeelah. “You helpin’ her?”

  “Naw, man. I’m goin’ with you.”

  Derrick-T stared at Terrence and slowly shook his head. “Nah, man. Not this trip. You stay with your sis. Help her with the words.”

  “Why?” Terrence said, looking puzzled.

  “’Cause I said so. Ain’t that enough reason?”

  He started to drive off when Akeelah raised her hand and shouted, “Derrick-T!”

  He braked the car and looked out at Akeelah.

  “I wanna read your poem.”

  He broke into a wide grin. “You do?” He nodded and said, “Okay. After you win the contest. That a deal?”

  “Sounds good to me. But what if I don’t win?”

  “Maybe I’ll let you read it anyway.”

  He drove off. Terrence and Akeelah stood watching after the Explorer for a moment, embarrassed to be together. Their lives ran on very separate tracks.

  “You don’t gotta help me if you don’t want to. I know it’s a pain for you.”

  He stared at her with a half grin. “I didn’t say it was a pain.”

  “It sounded like it when you were talkin’ to Derrick-T.”

  “He don’t have to know all my business.” Terrence pulled out a card and after a struggle pronounced, “‘En…fran…chise…ment.’”

  “You mean ‘enfranchisement.’”

  “Whatevah. Can you spell it?”

  “Sure.” She quickly spelled it and Terrence stared at her, impressed. He pulled out another word and with a smile Akeelah said, “Yup, Mama, you’re right. Fifty thousand coaches.”

  “Say what?” said Terrence, his forehead wrinkled.

  “Nothin’, Terrence. Give me another word.”

  They walked down the street together as Terrence continued to feed her words and she continued to spell them flawlessly.

  “Fifty thousand coaches” was not far off the mark. Over the next three days it seemed that everyone she knew grabbed her flashcards and threw words at her. Ms. Cross was waiting to grill her with words. Half the kids in her class insisted on having the honor of getting their hands on the flashcards. Even Myrna warmed to her a little.

  “You are a nerd, Akeelah,” she said, “but you a
in’t so bad a nerd.”

  “You want to give me a couple of words to spell?” Akeelah said.

  The girl’s expression brightened. “Ya don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Pick out a couple of hard ones.”

  Myrna burst into laughter. “You think I know hard ones from easy ones? This is Myrna, girl. I ain’t suddenly growed a brain.”

  On the way home, skipping rope as she went, the postman stopped her and asked if he could see her flashcards, which were rapidly growing in fame. He gave her two words. “I don’t know how to pronounce them. I don’t know what they mean. But you sure did get ’em right, Akeelah. We’re all proud of you ’round here.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Keating.”

  “I’ve been knowin’ you since you was a little-bitty thing. You was the smartest little thing I ever did see.” He hesitated. “Just like your daddy.”

  When she reached the Korean grocery store, a block from home, she sat on a high bench, drinking a Coke and rhythmically tapping her hand on the counter while the Korean grocer read words to Akeelah. He was proud of his American accent and took any excuse to use it.

  Even Steve was eager to get into the act. Relatively sober for so late in the afternoon, he sipped on a container of coffee Akeelah had bought him and screwed up his face as he tried to decipher a word.

  “‘Ap-teery-goattie,’” he stumbled, looking up at her.

  “What?”

  Steve showed her the card. “That right there. Maybe I ain’t sayin’ it right.”

  “‘Apterygote,’” she said. “You really shouldn’t show me the cards.”

  “Oh yeah, sorry,” he said, taking a shaky sip of his coffee. “Head hurts.”

  Akeelah smiled. “Stick to the coffee, Steve,” she said gently. “And I really appreciate your help.”

  “You’re gonna do good, li’l girl. I talked to that psychic down the street—Madam Adorne? She says you’re gonna go all the way.”

  Derrick-T’s Explorer was parked at the curb down the street from her house. She tapped her hand on the hood while he and two of his homies read from the cards.