Akeelah and the Bee

by James W. Ellison

  “Don’t forget your poem, Derrick-T.”

  “Later, girl. You got a job to do first. That’s our deal. You cool with that?”

  “Yeah, I’m cool.”

  He rolled down his window and stuck out a hand. “Give me five,” he said.

  They slapped hands and grinned. She was beginning to think that maybe Derrick-T wasn’t so bad after all. If only she could get Steve off the booze and Derrick-T off drugs…. She shook her head and smiled.

  The next day the football team was practicing for the fall season in a weedy lot behind the school. One of the players called her over when she went skipping by. They sat in a circle with Akeelah continuing to jump rope as they drilled her with words.

  On their porch each night, Tanya, Kiana, and Terrence (who was showing surprising enthusiasm) took turns with her flashcards. Akeelah sneaked a look at her mother and smiled, and a proud Tanya smiled back.

  “How long since you missed a word?”

  “About two thousand cards ago.”

  “That’s very impressive, Akeelah.”

  “Not impressive enough. My goal is not to miss another word before the Nationals.”

  “You don’t want to miss none there, either,” Terrence said.

  They all laughed.

  “You feel confident?” Tanya said.

  “More and more.” Then she thought of Dr. Larabee and sighed.

  As though reading her mind, Tanya said, “He’s going to be in touch with you. I know he is.”

  Each evening before the sun went down, Akeelah jumped rope in her front yard, repeating words to herself as she jumped. “...P-e-l-l-u-c-i-d-i-t-y. ‘Pellucidity.’ I-m-p-r-e-s-a-r-i-o. ‘Impresario.’” And on and on and on, until the sun had set and she was jumping rope in the dark.

  Often as she jumped in the front yard, cars would drive by, horns would honk, and drivers would shout out, “You go, Akeelah! Make us proud!”

  One night when she stopped jumping and was winding up the jump rope, she noticed some markings on the wooden handle. She squinted at them closely. Etched into the ends of the handles were the initials “D” and “L.”

  She continued to stare at the initials, her mind racing. She sat down on the front steps, still looking at the “D” and “L.” Then she shook her head and said, “Well, I’ll be….”

  “L” for Larabee.

  And the “D”?

  “Denise,” she muttered excitedly. “The name he called me by mistake….”

  Akeelah slept poorly that night, tossing and turning and wrestling with her pillow. She was waiting for morning to come, and the time crawled by an agonizing moment at a time. She knew what she had to do. She had to go see Dr. Larabee. Her mother was right—her friend, her mentor, was holding something dark inside and it was festering. She wasn’t sure what she could do, if anything, to help him, but she had to try. She had to accept the truth: he meant more to her than she could say—and it was way beyond spelling. He gave her confidence in herself, something she hadn’t had entirely since her father’s death. He made her feel that she counted. He had done so much for her since they had begun working together; the question that faced her now was, What could she do for him?

  She knew that Dr. Larabee was an early riser and she arrived at his house at eight o’clock, cradling a box of flashcards in her arms. He was already at work in his garden, planting flowers. She quietly set the boxes of flashcards on the ground next to him. He glanced at them and then turned to Akeelah, a welcoming light in his eyes.

  “Five thousand,” Akeelah said. “Learned ’em all. But I had some help—my mom, Kiana, and Terrence, neighborhood people, and other kids, even the Crenshaw football team.” She grinned. “It seems like everybody wants a piece of the action.”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “You should be very well prepared, then.”

  Akeelah nodded, then took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “You know, Dr. Larabee…a few years ago my daddy died. It hit me really hard—harder than I knew at first, but when I understood he was gone, gone forever…well, that was when things got really bad. I used to cry all the time. But then I found something that helped.”

  Dr. Larabee was standing with a spade in his hand, staring at her. The expression in his eyes was new to her. She wondered if it was fear.

  “What was that?” he said.

  “I spelled.”

  “You spelled?”

  “Yeah. Over and over again. When I spelled words, I felt better. My daddy had always loved words, he read all the time, and I think I learned the beauty of words from him. I learned Scrabble from him when I was seven, and we used to play it all the time together.”

  Dr. Larabee nodded, absorbed in what she was telling him. “But I wonder why spelling words would make you feel better.”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It just did. It seemed like words were my friends.” She paused, stared directly into his eyes, and said slowly, “Maybe when you’re thinking about her, you can try spelling. It might help.”

  He returned her stare, and now she could see the vulnerability, the hint of fear.

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out the wound-up jump rope. She set it down next to the boxes. “Thanks for the loan of it, Dr. Larabee.” She then turned to leave.

  Dr. Larabee reached for the jump rope, saw the initials, and felt the sadness welling up in him. He called out to Akeelah’s retreating back: “Wait a minute. Come back.”

  She stopped and turned to him.

  “Who…told you?” he said.

  Akeelah walked slowly back to him. “You did,” she said. “You called me by her name—Denise. That’s her jump rope, isn’t it?”

  Dr. Larabee studied the dug-up soil at his feet, his face etched with sadness. He nodded.

  “Was she your little girl?”

  Again he nodded.

  “What happened to her, Dr. Larabee?”

  It was the question he did not want to answer. He had never discussed Denise’s death with anyone, and for years he had managed to keep his anguish to himself. But Akeelah’s simple honesty was hard to deflect. He moved away from the garden and sat on a bench. For a moment he sat in silence while Akeelah waited for him to speak, knowing that he would, but in his own time.

  “She got very, very sick,” he said finally. “There was nothing the doctors could do. She was a few years younger than you when she passed.”

  Akeelah sat on the bench next to him. “Where’s her mama?” she said.

  “She lives in another city now. After it happened, my wife, Patricia, and I slowly… found things to be difficult. Denise was a shadow that blotted out any lightness and joy between us. We would look at each other and Denise was always there and somehow we blamed ourselves. Eventually we began to blame each other. All that was left for us was guilt and sorrow.” He paused and cleared his throat. His voice had grown thin. “That’s Patricia’s garden. I’ve maintained it just as she would have. I guess it’s a way to keep something of her in my life.” He paused again. “You see, I need a lot of order in my life now. That’s why I don’t teach in the classroom anymore. It’s too unpredictable. And this whole spelling bee thing and working so closely with you had become…unpredictable as well.” He turned to her. “I don’t expect you to understand that.”

  “But I think I do,” she said. “You can’t allow yourself to get too close to anybody. And maybe…you were getting too close to me.”

  He nodded. “You spend years building up your defenses. You simplify your life. It’s a way of being able to go on.”

  They sat together on the bench in silence. Akeelah said finally, “Dr. Larabee? I have to tell you this, and not to put pressure on you…but it’s the truth. I can’t go to D.C. without you.”

  “Yes, you can,” he said. “You can do anything you want, Akeelah. You still don’t have a proper respect for your gifts.”

  “No. I can’t beat Dylan.”

  “Don’t say that. It’s a way of setting yourself up for
failure.”

  “I need you there. Don’t you understand that?”

  He said slowly, “I understand what you’re saying.”

  “It’s really true, Dr. Larabee. It doesn’t matter how many words I learn. He’ll always know more. I don’t have what it takes to beat him. Especially not without you.”

  Dr. Larabee regarded her for a long moment.

  “You know, one of the things I thought about after Denise passed…I thought that maybe the person who could have cured that horrible disease didn’t do so because…he was too busy being hungry in Somalia…or oppressed in Afghanistan…or maybe he was poor in Appalachia…or dying of AIDS in Chad.…” He paused, his jaw working with emotion. “Maybe he just didn’t think he ‘had what it takes.’” Dr. Larabee looked into Akeelah’s eyes. “Your destiny, Akeelah, lies far beyond winning any spelling bee. I hope you know that.”

  “Okay,” she said. “But I still can’t beat Dylan. Not without you.”

  Dr. Larabee’s solemn features suddenly brightened in a smile. “Well, let me tell you about Dylan. And I want you to listen to this closely. There’s only one person who can push him to spell as well as he possibly can. Only one—and that’s not his dad, not the spelling bee people, and not even himself with his swollen ego and fear of his father. That person is you.” He held her gaze as he added, “So when you and I get to Washington—let’s just make sure we give him a run for his money….”

  “You and I, Dr. Larabee? Did I hear you right?”

  He nodded. “You and I, Akeelah.”

  She clapped her hands, grinned, and gave him a big hug. She saw tears glistening in his eyes and hugged him even harder.

  Twelve

  Akeelah ran down the street, hopping and skipping as she went, being the eleven-year-old she sometimes forgot how to be, and bounded up the front steps of a small house. She rang the bell. When Georgia answered and saw that it was Akeelah, her eyes grew cold.

  “Hey,” Akeelah said. “What up?”

  “ Hi.”

  “I been callin’ you a lot.”

  “Guess I haven’t been around all that much.”

  “I’ve left a bunch of messages.”

  Georgia nodded but said nothing. She stood in the half-open door, not inviting Akeelah in.

  “Well, I’m off to D.C. tomorrow,” Akeelah said, ending an uncomfortable silence.

  “Yeah, well…have fun.”

  “You know, Georgia, I have to say this. Everybody’s been workin’ with my flashcards. Did you know that?”

  “Yeah,” Georgia said grudgingly.

  “Everybody but you. You haven’t offered to help me once.”

  “You don’t need my help.”

  Akeelah slowly shook her head. “Yes, I do.”

  “I’ve been too busy for that stuff,” Georgia said, her voice tight.

  “Look,” Akeelah said, “I’ve been busy, too. Too busy to spend time with my best friend, which is wrong. Just…this whole spelling bee’s been real intense.”

  Georgia nodded, her eyes still cold. “You don’t need to apologize to me.”

  “But you know what? I’d give it all up if it meant you and me could hang out again. Friends are more important.”

  Georgia gave a short laugh. “That’s stupid. You’re doin’ something nobody else can do.”

  “You think what I said is stupid?”

  “Yeah, it is. ’Cause people wanna see you do good.” She paused, and for the first time there was a flicker of life in her expression. “I wanna see you do good.”

  Akeelah smiled and reached for her friend’s arm.

  “You know, Georgia, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and you always tell me I can do things even when I think I can’t. Well, I gotta tell you something. If you wanna be a flight attendant, you first gotta ride in an airplane.”

  “I will someday.”

  “Yeah? Well, how ’bout tomorrow? Is that too soon?”

  She smiled and held up a plane ticket. She handed it to Georgia, who stared at it for a moment, frowning, and then broke into a mile-wide smile.

  Akeelah had never seen her mother move so fast. She cleaned the house and paid for a taxi so that her brother Ralph could come stay with Terrence and keep an eye on him (Kiana and Terrence did not get along) and packed a suitcase for herself and one for Akeelah. She had worked two extra weekend shifts to satisfy her bosses, who were not happy about giving her time off, as the hospital was severely short-staffed. She made an enormous lunch to take on the plane over Akeelah’s protests, and at the last minute she called five of her closest friends and told them, without bragging but with a hint of pride, that the principal of Crenshaw Middle School, Mr. Welch, had actually purchased her round-trip ticket himself. Wasn’t that the sweetest thing for the man to do?

  She and Akeelah were up at the crack of dawn and into a taxi to the airport more than an hour ahead of schedule. When Akeelah walked up the ramp to the interior of the plane, she felt a sense of wonder. She was not only flying for the first time in her life, but was leaving the state of California for the first time in her life and going all the way across America. She was on her way to Washington, D.C.! She was on her way to the National Spelling Bee! Her mother was right. She understood it now. Win or lose, her participation in the bee was a win all the way.

  When the airplane raced down the runway and took off gracefully like an enormous bird, she pressed her face to the window and watched the checkerboard world spread out below. She drew in a breath and muttered to herself, “Girl, is this really happening to you? On a plane across the country?” She had dreamed about making it to D.C. for so long that the fact of it actually happening, here and now, in this present moment, no longer seemed entirely real to her.

  Georgia came rushing along the aisle and plumped herself down next to Akeelah.

  “They let me sit in the cockpit for, like, two minutes,” she gushed. “Forget flight attendant. I’m gonna be a pilot.”

  “That’s right, girl. Aim high.”

  Georgia pumped her fist and laughed. “That’s right. I’m gonna aim as high as this plane can fly.”

  “And hope the passengers do not die.”

  “Not with me at the controls flying the friendly sky.”

  Georgia nodded. “Thass right. And you don’t lie.”

  They broke up laughing.

  Hours later, when the plane was beginning its descent into Dulles Airport, the girls heard a moaning sound from across the aisle. They quit chatting and stared at Javier, who was leaning his head against the seat in front of him. “I know we’re diving directly toward D.C.,” he said to the seat. “I know it. It’s time to become a man of prayer. It’s my only chance. Cover all your bases, Javier. You’re gonna need ’em.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Georgia said.

  “He has an aversion to flying. Takeoffs, landings, and also while in the air,” Akeelah answered.

  Javier shook his head. “It’s an aversion to plummeting. A fiery descent to earth when the pilot loses control. I may puke.”

  “My brother’s in the Air Force,” Akeelah said. “He says fear is all in the head.”

  “You coulda fooled me. I’d say it’s in the head, the stomach, and every nerve of your body.”

  “Here. Devon gave me this for luck.” Akeelah removed an Air Force wings pin from her shirt. She reached over to pin it to his tennis shirt. “I’ll try not to impale you.” He kept his eyes closed and breathed in short gasps. “You know, Javier, I never really thanked you for helpin’ me out at the State Bee.”

  “No biggie.”

  “Actually, it was very chivalrous of you.”

  He answered with a loud groan.

  “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m dying.”

  “No, you’re not. Maybe this will help.” She leaned across the aisle and kissed him on the cheek.

  His eyes popped open and he turned to her. “Wow. This must be what’s meant by a
miracle. I’m not thinking about the plane at all now, about missing the airstrip. I think I just reached heaven.”

  “Really?” Akeelah said with a smile. “Well, in that case…”

  She flung open the window shade next to Javier, and he let out a howl of anguish as the plane lowered its landing gear.

  The baggage area was a circus of yelling and laughter as the spellers collected their luggage. A chauffeur carrying a sign reading “National Spelling Bee Finalists” opened the door of a stretch limousine. Georgia stared at the rich interior and said to Akeelah in a whisper, “If I flunk out as a pilot, I can always get a license to drive one of these babies.”

  “I think that’s called lowered expectations,” Akeelah said. “Keep your eye on the sky.”

  As the limousine drove past the Capitol building, the Washington Monument, the Lincoln Memorial, and the White House, Akeelah was dumbstruck. She was vaguely aware that Georgia was burbling on about something, but her mind was elsewhere. History was all around her. She pressed her face to the window and absorbed it all. She knew that she was living in a dream, and it was a dream from which she didn’t want to awaken.

  They registered at the hotel, and later that day, she was beside herself with excitement when she learned that she and a group of other spellers were scheduled to take a tour of the West Wing of the White House.

  “Will I meet the President?” Akeelah asked the tour director.

  “I’m afraid he’s out of town,” he said with a smile. “But the First Lady will greet you all.”

  There was actually a receiving line to walk through. Suddenly Akeelah was pressing the warm, soft hand of the First Lady and returning her bright smile.

  “I’ve read about you,” the First Lady said. “You’re Akeelah Anderson from California.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I wish you the best of luck in the National Bee.”

  “Well, that makes two of us. I’m wishing myself the best of luck, too.”

  The First Lady laughed and Akeelah blushed, wondering if she had just said something incredibly stupid.

  The hours flew by. Inside the Frederick Douglass National Historic Site, Akeelah and a group of other young spellers read one of the speeches by the famous abolitionist. Suddenly Dr. Larabee stepped up behind her, smiled, and they read it together.