The Spelling Bee
by Ralph E. Shaffer
Prologue
Michael wasn’t accustomed to saying. “Hello” to girls he didn’t know, but something about the expression on her face compelled him to speak. She stood just above him on the old footbridge over Sierra Creek on the pathway that led to the county hospital. He was sloshing through the creek on this last day of summer vacation, holding his fishing pole and creel as he stumbled over rocks hidden by the shallow stream.
She barely seemed to notice him. Michael sensed that the girl was in deep thought about some terrible problem. Maybe she needed a cheery greeting so he offered her a “Good morning,” sincerity clearly in his voice. “My name’s Michael. I’m fishing.” Realizing that she could see that, he quickly added, “But I guess that’s obvious.”
For a moment she smiled as she replied, “I’m Michelle,” but the pained expression gradually returned. Michael could see that she did not want to talk, so with a friendly wave of his fishing pole, he crossed under the bridge and continued up the creek. He had never seen the girl before, but he would not forget the sorrow he saw on her face. He blamed himself for not trying harder to cheer her up. Next time he’d make more conversation, the stuff 13-year olds usually talk about. Next tine he’d make her really smile.
The Contest
The Spelling Bee highlighted the end of the fall term for eighth grade middle-school students in the Sierra Vista district, a sprawling, foothill area with five small schools, one in each of the district’s little towns. Each year, two students from each school — a girl and boy, the winners of their local Spelling Bee — came to Sierra Vista High School for the Bee that determined the district’s champion speller. On this Thursday night in mid-January, families and friends of the ten contestants assembled in the high school cafeteria for the final contest.
The front two rows were reserved for the immediate families of the contestants, with a vacant chair in each family group to be filled as, one by one, disappointed participants were disqualified as they failed to spell a word or follow the rules.
The rules were simple. The student would be given a word, carefully pronounced by the high school speech teacher, and the contestant would then repeat the word to make sure that the student was attempting to spell the right one. Thirty seconds were allotted to spell the given word, to be followed by a repetition of the word itself.
Failure to follow the procedure would result in disqualification, a rule that had been strictly enforced, without exception, for years. This night, only one winner would be chosen, not two as had been the case at each of the participating schools. There would not be a winner among the boys nor one for the girls, only a single champion.
Initially, the students came one at a time to the podium at the front of the stage and introduced themselves. Each had a minute to give name, school, and anything pertinent they would like to tell the audience. Most talked about their outside interests, their families, where in a few years they’d like to go to college, and the career they wanted. Some were jovial and comfortable at the podium. Others hurried through their introduction, seemingly anxious to get on with the contest.
That was when Michael, the boy selected from his school, realized that one of his competitors was Michelle, the girl he had seen on the footbridge. He noticed her when, in a barely audible voice, she quickly gave her name and school, and mentioned that her grandparents had come from San Francisco for the contest. Michael noticed that her parents were not present.
The Bee began as each entrant was called individually to the podium. Twenty minutes into the contest the first error occurred when a girl from Mountain Aire Middle School misspelled “dis-com-bob-u-late.” Unfortunately, at home as she had practiced spelling words fed to her by her Dad, they had joked about it: a boob would misspell this word. And as soon as she had put the extra o in the middle of the word she realized what had happened. By then it was too late. She didn’t even wait for the official to declare her disqualified. She was halfway to her parents’ seats when the speech instructor ruled her spelling in error.
After that first elimination, the disqualifications came more rapidly. Forty-five minutes into the contest three students were left: Michael, Michelle, and an exchange student from Norway.
* * *
Ilsa, the exchange student, was called to the podium for her next word. She was nervous, the audience tense. That a foreign student could even win the contest at her school was surprising to many in the audience. Now she was close to winning the district championship.
Her word was “disambiguation,” a word often found atop a Wikipedia article.
Ilsa didn’t hesitate. “Disambiguation. d-i-s-a-m-b-i-g-u-a-t-i-o-n.” She turned and took her seat between Michelle and Michael. As she sat, Michael turned toward her, anxiously.
“Go back to the podium, Ilsa. You didn’t repeat the word at the end.”
A look of consternation came over Ilsa’s face. She started to rise, but it was too late. The speech teacher was already informing the audience of the judges’ quick decision.
“The contestant failed to repeat the word after spelling it, a violation of the rules. We have no recourse but to disqualify a bright young lady. We are sorry, Ilsa, but those are the rules that all contestants have followed tonight.”
A muffled groan of discontent reflected the view of the audience. As Ilsa, dejected, walked to the row where her host family sat, the audience burst into applause. She smiled to the assemblage. Her host mother put an arm around her.
“We, the judges, know the hurt Ilsa must feel at the moment, and we admire her good sportsmanship. Thank you, Ilsa. You’ve shown us a great deal of character tonight by graciously accepting our decision without protest.”
The audience applauded again and Ilsa waved in acknowledgment.
Michele and Michael continued to spell words correctly, and another fifteen minutes elapsed without a champion. Then the tie was broken.
“Pompeii - that’s the Roman city, not the Senator,” said the speech teacher as Michelle stood at the podium.
Michelle thought for a moment, repeated the word, then spelled it: “P-o-m-p-e-i, Pompei.”
Most in the audience thought she had it right and some began to clap. The judges looked at each other only for a moment. The speech teacher raised his hand to silence the audience and announced: “Regrettably, Michelle has misspelled the word, which ends with two i’s, not an ‘e-i.’ She is disqualified.”
Michelle walked to a seat with her grandparents amid great applause from the audience. Some stood and clapped. Others shouted encouragement to her. Michelle was nearly in tears as her grandmother hugged her. Those seated nearby offered words of encouragement.
When the cafeteria was again quiet, Michael was called to the podium. Before he was given his spelling word the district assistant superintendent, one of the judges, clarified the rules.
“When there are only two contestants left and one misspells a word, the remaining contestant must correctly spell the next word in order to be crowned champion. If the one remaining contestant misspells that word, then the contest continues with those two even though both missed their last word.”
Michelle still had a chance. If Michael missed the next word, she would be back in the Bee.
Michael waited at the podium. The speech teacher pronounced the word: “Cretaceous — a geologic time.”
Michael knew he had won. He didn’t need the thirty seconds to think about the answer. He was anxious to win. “Cretaceous. C-r-e-t-a-c-e-o-u-s.”
There was great applause as he finished and sat down. The judges smiled, glad the contest was over, glad that the winner was so decisive in his spelling. The district assistant superintendent came over to shake his hand, quieting the audience. The superintendent came to the stage to make the presentation.
Michael, however, was perplexed. Before the superintendent could speak, Michael turned to him.
“Sir, I think there was a mistake. I forgot to repeat the word after I spelled it. Ilsa was disqualified for that. I should be, too. The contest should go on, with Michelle still in it.”
The superintendent turned to the three-judge panel, none of whom had realized there had been a violation of the rules. They conferred for only a moment. The assistant superintendent, as chairman of the judging committee, made an announcement to the audience, some of whom were starting to leave the cafeteria.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the Spelling Bee is not over. Michael has correctly and honestly called to our attention that he violated the rules by his failure to repeat the word after correctly spelling it. We, therefore, declare that Michelle is back in the Bee and the contest will continue. There will be, however, a ten minute intermission while we find another set of words and the two competitors have a chance for a brief rest.”
* * *
Michelle and Michael retreated to a quiet place in the cafeteria kitchen, not quite sure what to say to each other. Then Michelle spoke.
“Michael, thanks for being so honest. You had won the contest and no one would have even thought of your error in not pronouncing the word if you hadn’t told the judges.”
“It was the right thing to do, Michelle, especially since Ilsa was disqualified for the same error. I’ll bet she’d still be in the Bee if it weren’t for that.”
Michelle wasn’t fully satisfied. A nagging thought had occurred to her.
“Did you deliberately not say the word after spelling it? Did you do that so I’d still be in the Bee?”
“Hey, I want to win but I want to win fairly. I might still beat you, but I don’t want to win that way.”
That didn’t entirely satisfy Michelle, who thought there was something in his voice as he spoke that betrayed his claim of genuine error. She still felt that he had done that so that she would be put back into the Bee. Either way, she admired his honesty and compassion.
“I wish my grandmother could have been here,” Michael said, “but she lives so far away and it’s a long drive. I’ll call her when this is over, win or lose.”
“You’re wondering why my parents aren’t here, aren’t you?” asked Michelle. “My father’s dead, and my mother’s in the hospital. She has a serious illness and may not live. When you met me at the footbridge I had just come from the hospital that’s across the creek. They were doing surgery. There was some rule about a kid being alone in the waiting room so they made me leave. I guess I wasn’t very polite or pleasant when you said hello. That’s why.”
“Gee, I’m sorry, Michelle. I wish there was something I could do.” He paused. “Don’t you have brothers or sisters?”
“No, I’m an only child, sometimes a lonely one. That’s why I spend so much time reading and studying. It made me a good speller but not a very good friend to other kids.”
“Michelle, I hope you win although I’m gonna try my best to beat you... fairly... but I hope you spell your word correctly if I miss one.”
A loud voice from the main floor of the cafeteria called the two of them back to the Bee. The final round was about to start.
* * *
As Michelle and Michael took their seats the district superintendent stood at the podium. The crowd quieted and he began to speak.
“The Bee tonight has been marked by an unusual display of honesty and character, so much so that the judges, with my consent, have agreed after considerable discussion, to announce that a continuation of the contest is not necessary. There are two winners this year: Michelle and Michael.”
The two winners looked at each other, excited and obviously relieved. Without a sign of awkwardness or embarrassment, Michael hugged Michele. She whispered something in his ear and smiled.
The announcement brought cheers and applause from an approving audience. The contestants who had been eliminated earlier rushed up to the winners with hugs and handshakes. The judges’ decision obviously met with overwhelming approval.
The presentation of the winning medal created a slight problem. Since the judges had expected only a single winner, just one medal was on hand. It was given to Michelle with the promise that a second medal would be prepared for Michael. He understood. Michelle let him hold hers for pictures with his parents. Then the photographers took one of Michael and Michelle holding it together.
While their families joined with the relatives of the other contestants to enjoy refreshments, Michelle took Michael’s hand and, without a word, led him back to the quiet of the kitchen.
“Michael, I won’t see you again. When the term ends next week, I’ll be moving to Seattle, where my other grandparents live. My mother’s being transferred to a hospital there. It’s her only hope. I wish we had known each other better.”
“I’m sorry you’re leaving, Michelle, but let’s meet once more: both of us on the footbridge. I’m not gonna be in that cold water again. When can we meet?”
“Is Saturday O.K. for you?” she asked. “That’s the last day mother will be at the county hospital. I’ll meet you at noon.”
With that, they hugged again and returned to the main room for more congratulations.
Epilogue
Saturday morning dawned, a cold, gray day. By noon, the temperature was still very chilly, with no sun in sight. Despite the depressing weather, both Michael and Michelle arrived at the footbridge early, eager to see each other.
“I can only stay a few minutes, Michael. I have to catch a plane to Seattle, and there’s still some packing to do.”
Michael had thought all week about the question he wanted to ask her, but now he found asking it difficult. Before he could find the words, she did it for him. “Do you think we could have been real friends, you know what I mean, don’t you — boyfriend, girlfriend — if I did not have to move?”
“I would have liked to be your boyfriend, Michelle. It would have been hard, because we’re in different schools now, but next year we’d both be at Sierra Vista High, in the same grade, and everyone would know that we’re a great couple.”
“But” — and here her voice weakened to that almost inaudible sound that Michael remembered from her introduction at the Spelling Bee — “that will never be for us. We’ll be a thousand miles apart soon. We won’t see each other again; never. But I won’t forget you... in the creek, or at the Spelling Bee. Whenever I’m on a footbridge, I’ll watch for you. You won’t be there really, but I’ll see you in my memory.” Michelle began to cry.
Michael put his arms around her and held her close. She wiped the tears from her cheeks, looking into his eyes, their faces nearly touching. Without thinking, Michael kissed her.
Then, with a slight smile, she said, “I love you, Michael.” Without another word, she turned and ran from the footbridge. As Michael watched her race down the pathway toward the hospital, she turned once, waved, and then she was gone.
Copyright © 2023 by Ralph E. Shaffer
