”No... Fucking... Way...”
Panda gestured to the stage as the wolf left. “Goren, everybody!” He said to the crowd beside him, who had so reverently praised and flaunted him just a moment ago.
”Lyza, your word is: Arrogance.”
”Arrogance,” Lyza said up on stage, and then paused for just a second. “A-R-R-O... G-A-N-C-E.” She finally spelled. “Arrogance.”
”Well... this isn't going to last much longer.” Betty mumbled.
”Tell me about it.” Her sister spoke in the same, dampered tone. “And I was looking forward to spending more time away from studying.”
”James, your word is: Lightbulb.”
”Lightbulb. L-I-G-H-T—B-U-L-B. Lightbulb.”
”Lyza, if you're ready again—”
”I am—”
”Your word is: Pampering.”
”Pam-per-ing,” she switched the mic to her other hand. “P-A-M... P-E-R... I-N-G. Pampering.”
”I think she can do it.” Ket spoke up.
”You really think so?” Rini questioned.
”If she signed herself up because she thought she could,” he replied, “Then I think she can, too.”
”Oh look, they speak.” Kelly grumbled.
”That's because they're actually watching the game.” Emeral replied.
”...If she signed herself up,” Rini muttered, under her breath.
* * *
”Alexis, please spell: Carnival.”
”Carnival. C-A-R—N-I-V... A-L. Carnival.”
”Lyza again. Please spell: Gutteral.”
The rabbit felt the top of her forehead buzz. She lifted the mic to her lips. “Guteral. G-U-T—E-R...” She hesitated. There was something off about the word, she could hear it in her ears.
”Five seconds,” Mrs. McGuire announced.
”Gutteral,” Lyza began again. “G-U-T—T-E-R—A-L. Gutteral.”
There was a slight pause. “That is... correct.”
Lyza could almost hear an exhale of relief from the audience. She didn't bother to sit down; she was going to be up again in a second no matter what, anyway.
”James. Your next word is: Ember.”
”Heh.” He giggled, silently thanking his favorite game. “Ember. E-M-B-E-R. Ember.”
”That is correct. Lyza, your next word is: Thorough.”
”Thorough,” she said aloud, and then in her head she quickly thought: t-h-o-rough. “T-H-O—R-O-U-G-H. Thorough.”
”That is correct. Hannah, your turn: Cucumber.”
”Cucumber,” the glider spoke rapidly. “C-U-C-U, M-B-E-R. Cucumber.”
”Very good. Lyza—do you want a quick break honey? You're having to spell quite a lot, now.”
”No.” She said, adrenaline in her voice.
Mrs. McGuire still waited a second before responding, shuffling her cards and straightening them. ”All right. Well then, please spell, for me: Knock.”
”Nock. N-O-C-K...” Her ears twitched. “Uhm... wait, could you use that in a sentence?”
”Yes: 'I knocked on the front door.'”
Lyza nodded. “Knock. K—N-O-C-K. Knock.”
”That is correct—very nice catch. Alexis, your next word is: Kidney.”
”Kidnee. K-I-D—N-E-E. Kidnee—Oh no wait! I meant Y, I meant Y!”
”I'm sorry, Alexis, but I have to count that as wrong. Lyza, your next word is: Peppermint.”
By now, the rabbit felt like peppermint was in her blood. She felt tingly and light, like she was in a trance. She let the letters fall from her lips and tongue as if they couldn't wait to get out: “Peppermint. P-E-P-P—E-R—M-I-N-T. Peppermint.”
”That is correct. Alexis, I'm afraid you've been eliminiated; please go join your class.”
”Ugh! That's so not fair!” She huffed, slamming the mic at James and stomping off.
Mrs. McGuire ignored the outburst and continued; “James, get ready. Your next word is: Candelabra.”
He swallowed. “Um... c—can I get that in a sentence, please?”
”Certainly: 'One of the candles in the candelabra was missing.”
”C—candlelabera...” The rat managed to squeak. “C-A-N-D-L-E—A—B—E... R... A. Candlelabera...”
”I'm sorry, James, but that was a very difficult word. Lyza, would you please spell: Bargaining?”
”Bargaining!” Lyza said, almost with a bark, her adrenaline quelling the tingle in her veins. This was a word she knew, a word she could spell with confidence: “B-A-R-G—A-I-N—I-N-G. Bargaining!”
”You are very correct, good job. James, you played a very good game, but I'm afraid you have to head back to sit with your class.”
The audience began to clap, and James nodded his head, his ears turning bright pink. He received a pat from Hannah, and waved at Lyza as he passed her on his walk off the stage.
And then, Lyza and Hannah were the only ones left.
* * *
”So uh...” Emeral folded her arms. “How about that Lyza knocking everyone else off the fourth-grade team, hm-hm-hm?” Emeral questioned, her head cocking to a different angle with each hm.
”Don't you go and act that way,” Kelly grumbled. “Wait until she actually wins.”
”I had hope for us,” Bitty said.
”But now we're going to get beaten by a bunch of fourth-graders.” Finished her sister.
”You guys are jerks.” Panda declared.
”Takes one to know one!” Kelly jabbed her tongue out.
”Would you guys stop acting like babies?” Rini spoke.
The two siamese cats looked at the rat. “Y'know, you haven't really said much.”
”What're you thinking?”
”I think this is a game,” Rini replied, sourly. “Just watch it and stop getting on my nerves.”
* * *
”Okay, now that we only have Lyza and Hannah, it's time to change things up a bit. If you two will come up to the front of the stage...”
Hannah stood, and both girls walked to almost the very edge of the stage.
Lyza got a sense of vertigo, her ears bending forward as she stared out onto the front row of faces all craning their necks to look up at her.
”This last bit will be set up like a lightning-round. I'll announce the word and the person whose turn it is to spell it will spell it the same way as before. I'll just keep firing words, and we'll keep alternating between Lyza and Hannah until one of them gets a miss.
”Once either of them misspells a word, the other will have the chance to win. In order to win, they must first spell the word that the other had to spell correctly to get the advantage; then, they must spell another word correctly to take the win. If they don't get it right, they lose the advantage and we continue as if neither had gotten a mistake. Understood?”
”Yup,” the sugar glider spoke.
”Yes ma'am,” Lyza nodded.
”All right, since Lyza just went, we'll start with Hannah. These words will probably be a little bit tougher than before, so get ready. Hannah, your word is... Custard.”
The sugar glider's voice was quick: ”Custard. C-U-S—T-A-R-D. Custard.”
”Lyza: Spicy.”
The rabbit's tongue was a bit hesitant: “Spicy. S-P-I-C... E... Y, Spicey.”
”That is correct.”
A wave of relief swept her—she wasn't sure if the 'e' was there or not.
”Hannah: Cantaloupe.”
”Cantaloupe. C-A-N-T—L-O-U-P—E. Cantaloupe.”
”Lyza.”
The rabbit's heart thudded in her chest; she had barely had a break!
”Scissors.”
”Sc—scissors... S-C-I—S-S-O-R-S. Scissors.”
”Hannah: Pumpkin.”
”Pumpkin. P-U-M-P-K-I-N-pumpkin!” The audience chuckled at her cheer-leader-esque flourish.
”Lyza: Caterpillar.”
She began to lose focus; the images in her vision began to tremble and bounce. “C—c-catapillar. C... A... T... A—” The cold stage began to heat up. She lost her place; started over. “Caterpiller. C... A... T... E—” Wait—was it 'e' or 'a'? “Wh—what was the word again?”
”I'm sorry, Lyza, your time is up. I have to count that as a miss.”
It felt like she had shoved a pound of cotton in her mouth. The microphone in her hand trembled. The audience chuckled at her fumble.
She was about to lose.
”Hannah, please spell: Caterpillar.”
”Caterpillar. C-A—T-E-R—P-I-L-L—A-R. Caterpillar.”
Among the audience the front row cheered loudly. It sent Lyza's vision warping and quivering, like she was looking through the surface of unsteady water. Her head began to spin, her ears feeling dizzy. She swiveled them behind her head.
It was all over!
Han-nah! Han-nah! Han-nah! Han-nah!
”Hannah, for the win, please spell: Armadillo.”
”A-R-M-A-D-I-L-L-O! Arm-a-dillo!”
Go Hannah!
She got it right!
Lyza's a loser!
The fourth-grade audience was louder than anything Lyza had ever heard. Her knees went weak. The only thing holding her up was the position of her feet, placed just right to keep her catatonic body balanced as she was.
”That is correct—” Mrs. McGuire spoke louder over the following cheer, “but, I'm sorry. You did not spell it in the right form.”
The fourth-grade audience booed and hissed. They voiced their opposition for a moment and Mrs. McGuire seemed content to just get yelled at. Finally, she spoke into the microphone again.
”Hannah, you must say the word, spell it, and then repeat it. You did not say it first, so I have to count that as a miss.”
”Psh. Fine.” The sugar glider shook her head. “I'll just get it right the next time around.”
”Lyza, you're safe. Do you need a moment?”
The rabbit heard Mrs. McGuire but it took her just a second to realize she was being talked to. “Uh-hmn... n-no, I'm—I'm ready,” she said, but her brain wasn't quite yet there.
”Okay. You're word is: Applejack.”
”Applejack,” she said, the syrup in her blood beginning to thin. “A-P-P-L-E, J-A-C-K. Applejack.”
”That is correct. Hannah: Blacksmith.”
”Blacksmith. B-L-A-C-K—S-M-I-T-H. Blacksmith. There, I did it right that time.”
”Yes you did,” Mrs. McGuire stated, “But Lyza is still safe. Lyza get ready: Paperweight.”
The rabbit felt her temples throb and her shoulders tense. It was like her scalp was matted with water or sweat. She reached up to brush it away, but it was dry. “Paperweight,” she said slowly, as if back in her trance from before; “P-A-P-E-R—W-E-I—G-H-T. Paperweight.”
”Good. Hannah: Whispering.”
”Whispering. W-H—I-S-P—E-R-I-N-G. Whispering.”
”Lyza: Apricot.”
Suddenly, a rush of energy hit the rabbit. She felt more alert and aware than before. She could see into the farthest distance, her own classmates sitting in the audience. Bitty and Betty were looking grimly at each other. Kelly was focused on her nails. Ket, Emeral, Panda and Rini were all watching her.
She never signed up to be here. She wasn't supposed to be here. Yet here she was. She had gotten rid of the entire fourth-grade team, save for the one standing to her left.
She hadn't signed up for this, but whomever did, was either really glad—or really surprised.
”Time is almost up, Lyza.”
”Apricot,” she spoke with vitality, the letters shooting off her tongue like bullets, “A-P-R-I—C-O-T. Apricot.”
”Well, that's correct, but remember to spell slow enough for me to hear, okay?”
”Yes ma'am.” She replied quickly.
”Hannah: Potluck.”
”Potluck. P-O-T—L-U-C-K. Potluck.”
She just had to wait for Hannah to mess up.
”Lyza: Mustard.”
”Mustard. M-U-S—T-A-R-D. Mustard.”
”Hannah: Patchwork.”
”Patchwork. P-A-T—C-H—W-O-R-K. Patchwork.”
”Lyza: Cauliflower.”
She smiled. She was getting a lot of food-words. “Cauliflower. C-A-U—L-I—F-L-O—W-E-R. Cauliflower.”
”Hannah: Lumberjack.”
”Lumberjack. L-U-M—B-E-R, J-A-C-K. Lumberjack.” The sugar glider yawned.
”Lyza: Raspberry.”
The rabbit closed her eyes confidently.
”Razberry. R-A-Z—B-E-R-R-Y. Razberry.”
”I'm sorry that's incorrect. Hannah, please spell Raspberry.”
”Raspberry. R-A-S-P,” she said, looking at the rabbit, “B-E-R-R-Y. Raspberry.”
”Correct. Now, please spell: Guacamole.”
”Guacamole. G-U-A—C-A—M-O-L-E. Guacamole.”
”Congratulations, Hannah. You're this year's Spelling Bee Champion!”
Again there were cheers. Again, Lyza's vision blurred. She opened her eyes to the sounds of the fourth-graders, calling Hannah's name; rallying behind their champion.
She looked to the classmates in the distance. Emeral was rubbing her forehead; Bitty, Betty and Kelly-Elly were laughing. Panda hugged his knees. But Ket and Rini looked almost the same. They just watched her.
”Thank you all for your participation,” Mrs. McGuire spoke over the ruckus. “And we hope you all do well on your RSBTs. Contestants, please return to your classes in the cafeteria and we'll dismiss in an orderly manner.” But when Mrs. McGuire looked to the stage, only Hannah was there, throwing her arms up and lightly dancing about, relishing in the cheers of the crowd.
Han-nah! Han-nah! Han-nah! Han-nah!
* * *
Lyza stumbled down the stairs at the side of the stage. She approached the door to the hallway, catching it for support and busting through it, sunlight blaring through the windows on the opposite wall. Her eyes began to water; she pressed her fingers against the bottom lids and wiped the water off. Then, her hand flung sharply away, throwing the tears at the ground.
This wasn't worth crying over, she decided.
She took a breath to step out into the hall, and then it hit her: she would have to face the crowd. She had lost. It all hinged on her, and she had failed. They said it was for fun, but everyone knew that pride and dignity of an entire grade were on the line; and she had lost it, for a whole two years.
The fourth-graders, still cheering their victor's name, began trickling out toward her. She wove against them for a moment, before she broke through the stream and into the calm. There, in the distance, the fifth-graders began to move.
She quickly darted into the cafeteria, once again brushing past jeering fourth-graders that thought of her as fondly as tenderized meat; joking and taunting her loss. She kept close to the wall, hoping to not be seen by the standing and leaving groups.
She dropped her ears and folded her arms, tilting her gaze to the ground. She felt eyes on her, but she tried not to think about them. She was just delaying the inexorable; her own class would never let her hear the end of it.
So she decided to just meld in, and move.
She walked with a copse of her grade, blending in. She wove between them and found another copse. She travelled idly, half-blending into the groups. If they recognized her, she was quick to move away.
She progressed into the hall, and as she made her way her mind reviewed the day; the week.
What ever made her think this was a good idea? She should have backed out, there was no way she could have done this. Archery, yes, that was new but she could do that. It was like the flute. It didn't rely so much on thought or intelligence.
But this? She could barely spell her own last name, and that was if she tried. She was just going to have to face the ice-cold truth that no matter what she tried to do about it...
L...
She was an idiot.
Y...
A moron.
Z...
An imbecile.
A...
A doofus.
Lits-see-ya...
A retard!
L-Y-Z-A—Lyza... L-Y-Z-A—Lyza...
* * *
The chant was low at first, a gentle rumble in a small pocket of voices, barely audible amongst the murmur. But it spread like a pandemic, infecting more and more voices. It swept up and down the hall, drowning out the hooting and calling of the fourth-graders, almost in defiance. It raised fists into the air; it set the pace of an impromptu march of rubber soles upon scuffed tile. It became an almost four-minute mantra, steadily rising in volume and clarity.
L-Y-Z-A—Lyza! L-Y-Z-A—Lyza! L-Y-Z-A—Lyza!
L-Y-Z-A—Lyza!
Nowhere was it louder than from within the classroom of Ms. Hupp, not yet presently in the room. As soon as the rabbit herself entered, she was taken by the hand; almost yanked. The other hand was colored cream, like a root-beer float. It dragged her to the center of the room. She fought and struggled to get away, but it lifted her hand into the air, stretching it awkwardly up toward the sky, forcing her to stand on the toes of one foot.
L-Y-Z-A—Lyza! L-Y-Z-A—Lits-see—”
An ear-splitting scream erupted within the room. It lasted for three seconds, before everything was muted by the slam of a door, and the most angered voice the class had ever heard: “You all better shut your mouths!”
The silence that swept the room was definite. Ms. Hupp saw her kids standing on their desks, on their chairs, or the sane ones on the floor. In the center, Lyza stood awkwardly looking downward, her face red as a raspberry and her left arm stretched up by;
”Rini! Let her go!” The raccoon snarled. “Everyone: I want you in your desks. Now!”
Rini dropped Lyza's hand, “But Ms. Hu—”
”No, Rini; I didn't say anything about you talking back.” She scolded, folding her arms. “I've had it with you. This is the last straw. Lyza's never done anything to you, so I don't know why you and your little group insist on hazing her all the time! It stops now, understood?”
”Ms. Hupp, please,” Rini spoke again, “Let me expla—”
”You wanna explain?” The teacher huffed, and then her hand lashed at the door, whipping it open. “Explain it to Mr. Pretty.”
Rini's mouth hung open for a second, staring at her teacher, and the open door.
”You think I'm kidding?” Ms. Hupp snapped. “Go. Get out of my classroom!”
With only a second longer of hesitation, the rat scurried forth and out the door.
”Does anyone else want to join her?” Ms. Hupp called out. She didn't wait before barking: “Then get in your seats. Open up your spelling books and do the unit tests of every unit, starting from the first one. If you finish that, there are dictionaries over there.”
Quickly, the rest of the class obeyed. The scuffle and kerfuffle of desks and chairs and books was brief; there wasn't a pupil that meandered or slowed. It was almost a competition, for fear that the last one to start their work would be left with the fate of a visit to the Office.
Even Lyza was a bit afraid. She had never seen her teacher act so harshly. And yet, as she opened her spelling book and looked upon the glossy keratinized pages, she felt her stomach pitch sharply.
”Lyza?”
The rabbit immediately looked up; no other student did.
”Could you come here, sweetie?”
Though Ms. Hupp's voice seemed quiet and gentle, just as she had known it to be, Lyza hesitated as she got up from her seat. She made barely a sound as her chair's feet slid across the carpet, and disrupted the scratch of pencils with only the softest of footsteps.
Lyza stood at the open end, near the tiers of turn-in baskets, a place where she was comfortable standing; the place she had stood just before the bee.
”Could you please take this note to the nurse for me?” The teacher extended her hand, and within her grip was the stationery she often used for sending messages to other teachers. It had a tree growing upon the left side of the paper, and it had just a slight olive-green hue saturating the white.
The rabbit took the paper. “Yes ma'am,” she managed to choke out.
She went toward the door, her skin crawling. She felt like a traitor, allowed to escape while the others, through no fault of their own, suffered a great punishment. Even Rini didn't deserve what she had gotten. It took her a great force of will to press down on the handle and pull upon the tension of the door.
”Good job up there!”
The whisper came just as she left. With her hearing, it could have been almost anyone on the near side of the room. It had been too fast to localize, and at the whispering level, voices were hard or impossible to distinguish. She decided, as she let go of the opposite-side handle upon the door clicking shut, that she had misheard or imagined it, just like before.
Carrying the note, she walked briskly down the hallway. She saw not a single soul. It was deslolate, a stark contrast to the vitality and energy it had harbored just a short while ago. She passed the restrooms; not even a bear was hung to see her by.
She opened the door to the clinic, situated at the beginning of the hall just before the turn to the cafeteria.
”Hey there, kidd-ooo!” The assistant greeted. The owl scooted her chair out to face the girl as she walked up. “Whatchya got there?” Silently, the girl handed the note over.
And only then Lyza realized she hadn't the curiosity to read it before.
”Hoo... I see. Come on then,” the assistant beckoned.
Confused, Lyza followed. She was taken to the room with the beds, and the smell of polyurethane foam ever-pervasive.
”No one else here,” the owl said, patting the nearest bed. “Just lie down and close your eyes. Schoool is out in about half an hour or sooo.”
Still confused, but warming to the offer, she climbed upon the smelly, flat bed, barely wider than her shoulders. The curtain was drawn around her, giving her privacy. The glow of the window was blue upon the ceiling, casting a shadow behind the lightbulb, presently off. Though the room wasn't cold, her legs shivered.
It was impossible to sleep on such an odiferous bed. But, she did close her eyes, and managed to forget all of her previous thoughts. She tried to relax as much as she could, but deep down there was only one thing she wanted to do.
She couldn't wait to get home, and open every book she had, and spell every word she could.
