Extract 9

Prefatory note: This is old. I wrote the bulk of this document on the 19th of December 2013. It has been edited sporadically since then.

Two Regional Spelling Bees; Two Strokes of Misfortune Scuttling Hopes and Belying True Abilities

2005 (age 8):
“Breathe,” said the fat, bald man sitting behind the desk. “Breathe,” he repeated.  

“Ok,” Tom said, standing in front of the microphone. He looked around at the crowd of parents sitting to his left, and briefly met eyes with his mother. He looked at the man again. Breathe. Easy. It’s just the same as breath. B R E A T H, breathe. Level 3 is so easy. I can’t believe people are struggling with this stuff. Actually I guess I am pretty smart. He began to speak: “B, R, E, A, T, H, breathe.” He was confident.

But no – the man was reaching her hand over to press the bell: Ding!

What? I thought breathe was the same as breath. Maybe he misheard. Maybe I need to correct him because he didn’t hear what I said… Or maybe I am wrong. I must be wrong.

“The correct answer is B, R, E, A, T, H, E. You’ll have to sit down now.”

That sounds so weird. An e on the end? Really? Dammit. Why did I have to get that word? Everyone else got such basic ones. Dammit. I’m better than at least ten other people still in. Dammit. I could’ve won.

He sidled slowly, head bowed, through the aisle of parents seated on plastic blue chairs. At last he reached the seat next to his mum.

“Argh,” he said as he sat down next to her. As soon as he had got comfortable, he began whispering: “I was sure breathe was the same as breath. I was sure I was right. And I’m so unlucky too coz all the other ones were so easy. I’m so annoyed.” His mum stared back, a sympathetic smile on her face. “I feel like I should still be there… Argh.”

“I thought breathe was the same as breath too. Great minds think alike,” his mum whispered, still smiling.   

“Hmm,” he replied.

…

2008 (age 11):

He still remembered that terrible day in year 3, when he stood up to spell the word “Breathe”. What an absurd word to get out on. It wasn’t deserved at all. There were so many more long, complex words that could have been his downfall but it had to be breathe. He hadn’t even seen that word written down before that Spelling Bee, that was the problem. At least he’d learnt from his mistake though. You do learn from those mistakes.

He had reached Level 7 this time, a pretty good achievement already – especially for someone who’d made no effort whatsoever to study the official list. But he knew he could get further – a lot further. He had examined and analysed the rest of the field and deduced that he was definitely one of the best spellers there. Some of them were hesitant on words he found easy. Of course some of them weren’t, but still. He’d have to wait and see, when the really big words came up, but at the moment it seemed as if he was right up there – right near the top of the participants.

That said, one of the tough ones, a girl with quite a big nose and long black hair, was standing up now.  

“Clarify,” said the officious lady behind the desk. “Cla-ri-fy.”

“C L A R I F Y, Clarify.”

“Correct. Well done.”

He knew her name: Samantha Lucas. She was that girl he recognised, who he’d met eyes with briefly. She already had developing breasts, which bulged through her tight woollen turtle-neck jumper. Not that he was really aroused by breasts, that would come later he supposed, but anyway she thought he might like him because she was taught piano by his saxophone teacher Alison Clarke and she also had a brother who was a really really amazing saxophone brother.

She’s quite a good piano player. I mean she doesn’t seem that impressive really, but it’s really hard to play the piano so maybe she is about the equivalent level of me in saxophone. Though I’m probably better because people always rave me and how impressive it is to hear me play. Anyway we have a lot in common coz we’re both doing the spelling bee and so she’s probably wondering about how smart and multi-talented I am. And being in Level 7 now I’ve proved myself at least a bit.  

Ding! A slow, tall, big boy got out. He’d been really lucky all the way through with easy words but now this one “Eliminate” had got him out. He’d spelt it with “ait” at the end. Tom couldn’t believe these people were the best spellers in the school. Other people were so stupid.  

Suddenly his stomach twisted; it was his turn. He stood up and sauntered to the microphone.

The officious lady spoke: “Hallucinate.”

“Ok.” He inhaled. He looked around briefly. Ok, simple word, H,A,doubleL,U,C,I,N,A,T,E. I’m ready. “H A double L.” I have to make sure this is right. Ok. “U, N, I, C, A, T, E. Hallucinate.”

Confident he maintained an impassive expression. But no – the lady was reaching her hand over to press the bell: Ding!

What? He was bemused. He contorted his face into a bewildered expression. He looked around him and behind him, the words written on his face, ‘I’m right, I know this word. What’s going on?’ Everyone was silent.

 “The correct answer is H, A, L, L, U, C, I, N, A, T, E.”

He was utterly bewildered. That’s how he spelt it. He searched in the crowd for his mother and Ronnelle, Kimbrian’s mum. He looked at his mum, quizzically. She looked at him sympathetically. He looked round at the other contestants. He was pissed off.

Not again. I’ve gone out in a stupid way again. Goddammit, I hate spelling bees. I always thought I’d make up for year 3 and now… Shit. It’s made me swear in my head.

He sidled slowly, head bowed, through the aisle of parents seated on plastic blue chairs. At last he reached the seat next to his mum.

“Argh” he said as he sat down. “But I was right, I thought I spelt it right,” he whispered.

“I thought you did too.”

Ronnelle leaned over now. “No” she said in her croaky whisper. “I think you spelt it Hallunicate.”

“Ohh,” I whispered. But no I didn’t. No. But maybe I did. I mean, if she noticed a mistake and I’m – dammit, that must have been it. I spelt it dyslexically. I’ve never done that before. Dammit.

Kimbrian, his fellow school representative, was standing up now. Secretly Tom wanted him to fail. Yes that was mean but he didn’t want Kimbrian to beat him, that wouldn’t be right. Especially because Tom was the better speller anyway. Kimbrian was better than him at other stuff, Maths maybe (although Tom had done better in the Maths Olympiad), but he was definitely the better speller.

“Anchor,” said the woman. His word was anchor. That wasn’t so easy, that word. That was probably harder than some. Because there’s that butter brand spelt Anqor and then there’s that place Angkor, but the real spelling’s “anchor” I think, yes “anchor”.

Kimbrian began to speak: “A N.” He paused, a pensive expression on his face. “Q O R.”

Ding! He was gone. He’d fallen. Tom was relieved. It was bad but he was happy that Kimbrian got out on the same round as him. And he could’ve fallen for that word too; Kimbrian didn’t get an easy one. He confused it with the butter though. Tom would have to tell him that.